Paris, 1756

There was really no place in the world like Paris, Magnus thought.

The balcony at his apartment overlooked the Seine, and Magnus was relaxing with a bottle of champagne, enjoying the late-night sounds of the city, when Ragnor joined him at the railing.

"Hello, Magnus," he said. "You're up late. I suppose I can't blame you. The city is so much less," he said, waving his hand to indicate the bustle of life below them, "at night."

"Do you think so?" Magnus asked, taking another sip of his drink. "Nights in cities are far more interesting, I've found. How did you get into my apartment? I don't remember giving you a key."

"Your wards are down," Ragnor said.

Magnus glanced over at his old friend. "No, they aren't."

Ragnor sighed. "Catarina let me in."

"Traitor," Magnus muttered. "What can I do for you, Ragnor? I thought you'd sworn off speaking to me for the next century."

"I'm afraid I need your help," Ragnor said. "I've been offered a job protecting a group of mundanes who have had, shall we say, a run-in with the law. I'm taking them out of the city tomorrow night. I'd appreciate an extra set of eyes and hands."

"You're helping someone who broke the law?" Magnus asked. Ragnor shrugged.

"The pay is good, and I hardly think a group of petty criminals deserve to be hung."

Magnus sighed. It wasn't as though he'd had specific plans for the next evening.

"I'll help," Magnus said.

"Thank you, old friend," Ragnor said. "I'll make sure you receive a portion of the payment."

"Good," Magnus said. "The rug in my sitting room here needs to be replaced. There's a bloodstain from the last time vampires came to one of my parties."

o-o-o-o-o

Buenos Aries, 1899

The Shadowhunters of the Buenos Aries Institute were driving Magnus mad. It would be a miracle if he made it out without setting any of them on fire.

Of course, if he did, he would be in breach of the Accords, and they would probably hunt him down for sport. Magnus took a deep breath.

"Please repeat that," he said. "You want the demon summoned where?"

"Outside the city, of course," said the Shadowhunter. Five minutes ago, he'd wanted the demon in the Sanctuary. "Haven't you been listening?"

"Not really," Magnus confessed, "As you seem to be changing your mind every time I ask a question. I'll be honest, I've been listening so little, I don't seem to have caught your name."

The man's face flushed bright red, and he straightened his back, puffing his chest to look as imposing as possible. Magnus, who towered over the Shadowhunter, found the effort to be ridiculous. "I'm Esteban Dalí Garza!" he barked. "The Head of this Institute."

"Of course," Magnus said. "And you wanted the demon summoned…"

Esteban sighed. "Let's do it in the Sanctuary. Easier to clean up afterward. Let us know when it's done, warlock. And please be quick about it."

Magnus barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "I certainly will. There will be the matter of my payment to settle, after all."

"What?" Esteban's eyes widened. "Oh, of course. We will discuss that later."

Magnus sighed again, turned on his heel, and started for the Sanctuary.

"On second thought," Esteban called after him. "Do it outside the city, will you? I don't want to risk mundane lives."

o-o-o-o-o

London, 1907

"Magnus!" Lucie cried. "Thank the Angel you're here. I have no idea what to do with… any of this."

Magnus surveyed the trunk Lucie was gesturing to. It sat open at the foot of her bed, exposing a pile of shimmering gold fabric. In a chair beside it, Cordelia sat calmy reading a book.

"Cordelia," Magnus said. "Could you please be a dear and help your parabatai with her wedding dress? I don't think I'm supposed to be up here."

"I will help her with her wedding dress when she stops being ridiculous," Cordelia said, without looking up from her book. "Lucie, you could shave off all your hair and walk down the aisle in a mourning gown, for all Jesse will care."

"I will care," Lucie wailed. "I will forever remember that I looked an absolute disaster on my wedding day."

"At least your marriage is real from the start," Cordelia said. "Magnus, would you please help her? She's not listening to me."

Magnus sighed and stepped into the room. He ushered Lucie behind the changing screen in the corner, shooed Cordelia after her, and hung the dress over the top. He sat down in Cordelia's recently vacated chair to wait. He didn't know much about wedding gowns, but if they were anything like most women's fashion, it would take two people and fifteen minutes to get Lucie into the thing.

When Lucie stepped out from behind the screen, Magnus stood and snapped his fingers.

Blue sparks flew around her head, arranging her hair into an elaborate twist at the nape of her neck. More magic settled onto the hem and sleeves of her long gold gown, highlighting the wedding runes sewn there, so they shimmered as Lucie turned. A crown of golden flowers appeared and settled onto her head. The Blackthorn locket Lucie had been wearing for years shone as it was magically polished.

"There," Magnus said. "A little extra sparkle for your big day. It doesn't matter, as Cordelia said, but no one will be able to look away from you tonight."

"Thank you, Magnus," Lucie said. "You're an excellent friend."

"It was my pleasure," Magnus said, and he saw himself out.

o-o-o-o-o

New York City, 1988

"My God," Magnus said. "At this rate, there won't be any werewolves or vampires left in the city. I understand, Raphael, but I'm not sure what it is you're asking me to do."

Magnus was pacing back and forth in front of his apartment's windows, listening to Raphael's voice on the other side of his cell phone. The sun was just barely peeking over the edge of the horizon; who knew how long Raphael had been up dealing with this.

"I need you to talk to the werewolves," Raphael snapped. "We can't keep killing each other. Territorial battles are stupid, and ultimately get no one anywhere. Either we discuss this like adults, or we keep dying until the Clave steps in. I do not want Circle members in my city, Magnus."

"And Camille can't deal with this because…?" Magnus asked.

"It's not that she can't," Raphael said. "It's more that she won't. She isn't as wary of Shadowhunters as she perhaps should be."

"You know the Clave isn't entirely Circle members," Magnus said.

"Oh, I know," Raphael said. "But if we keep killing each other at these rates, the Clave will send reinforcements to the New York Institute, and you can be sure Circle members will make sure they get to come."

"Alright!" Magnus sighed. "I'll talk to the werewolves. For all the good it will do."

"Good," Raphael said. "I'll send them a message so they know to expect you. And, Magnus?"

"Yes, Raphael?" Magnus asked.

"Do me a favor and make sure Camille doesn't find out about this," Raphael said. "That's a headache I don't need."

"She won't," Magnus said. "That's not a favor for you. I don't want to see her again if I can help it."

o-o-o-o-o

New York City, 2006

It was two o'clock in the morning when someone started pounding on Magnus's front door. He was still half asleep when he opened it, wearing his nicest dressing gown and fuzzy slippers.

"Magnus Bane," the girl in the stairwell panted. She had long red hair tied up in a bun, and when she spoke, Magnus caught a glimpse of razor-sharp teeth. Gossamer winds fluttered at her back.

Faerie, then.

"What can I do for you?" Magnus asked. "And more importantly, what can I do for you now that I can't do in six hours?"

"There's been a fight at the Hunter's Moon," the faerie girl said. "A werewolf and a warlock got into it. We didn't want to call the Shadowhunters."

Damn the Shadowhunters, Magnus thought. Damn them for not being able to get their heads out of their asses and do their jobs.

Not that Magnus trusted them to do their job, where Downworlders were concerned. The only thing Magnus had ever trusted most Shadowhunters to do was kill demons.

"Alright," he said. "I'll be right there. Do you know who was fighting?"

"I don't know their names," the girl said.

"Okay," Magnus said. "I'm going to Portal there. Give me five minutes."

The girl nodded and bolted back down the stairs.

Magnus sighed and went into his apartment, closing the door behind him. Five minutes, and it was going to take him at least three to change out of his pajamas.

o-o-o-o-o

+1. New York City, 2014

It was almost ten o'clock when Magnus finally looked up from his work. The living room was quiet. He'd been set up at one end of the sofa and coffee table for almost four hours, and no one had been in or out of the room in almost all that time.

It was disturbingly quiet.

Magnus shoved a stack of papers off his lap and stretched his arms over his head. Something in his shoulder popped, and he winced.

"How's it going?" someone asked. Magnus turned to find Alec standing in the living room doorway, a cup of tea in each hand. He crossed the room and set them both down on the table, careful to avoid Magnus's piles of notes and spellbooks.

"Well enough," Magnus said. "We might have a way to spy past the Idris wards soon."

"Hmm." Alec sat down next to Magnus and leaned into his side, wrapping one arm around his waist. Magnus automatically pulled Alec closer.

"You made tea," he said.

Alec shrugged. "I also put the kids to bed."

"I noticed that," Magnus said. "I appreciate it."

Alec tilted his head up so he could frown at Magnus. "They're our kids. I want to take care of them. You don't need to thank me for it. And you needed the time."

"I did," Magnus admitted.

"Okay," Alec said. "So I took care of everything. Don't worry about it. Next time I'm working late, you can read six different bedtime stories."

Magnus smiled and leaned down to kiss Alec. "You're the best," he murmured.

"I'm glad you think so," Alec said.