Magda, POV
Pandemonium is packed as always. I'm the only warlock here right now, but there are plenty of vampires and the humans they prey on. We warlocks, born as beings of darkness rather than made, just aren't as stupidly social as vampires. They rarely live long enough to learn better because they're constantly getting into trouble.
If someone who is a thousand years old tells you something, you listen. But the rest of the Downworld rarely listens to warlocks, and we feel no obligation to babysit them all. Seelies are as old as we are and born dark, but they're...different. And always will be.
There are Shadowhunters in here tonight. Nephilim. The golden children of the Universe, offspring of humans and angels long ago, they still carry the blood of the highest choirs of angels. We're all supposed to worship them because they're protectors of the innocent mundanes; they're protected and beloved by "God", but I don't know the fellow. A god who never paid any attention to me. What they truly are inside is something else—discriminatory hateful beings who used to use Downworlders for everything from target practice to medical experiments.
My secretary, a male warlock with horns, sidles up to me. "What brings the angels tonight?"
"I don't know, but I don't like it", I respond. There is a handsome blond male and a pretty red-headed female causing trouble with the vampires. Then two darker ones stroll in. I'm a curvy woman and prefer the same if I'm looking at a girl. This one is luscious and beautiful. I think I've really seen something until another follows behind her. A male, tall, as he passes by I get a glimpse of his face. "Who is THAT?", I ask too loudly.
"Helen of Troy", my secretary laughs, following the Shadowhunter with his eyes. Elijah prefers men and knows a pretty face when he sees one. An angel indeed.
Suddenly the tall male fires off an arrow. And all Hell, or most of us who visit there occasionally, breaks loose.
Two Circle members I hadn't spotted down go in a heap. I don't allow their ilk in my club. "Well spotted", I say as they pull the two Circle members to their feet.
"You're going to love Idris, even from jail", the blond one mocks.
"Shadowhunter business", the tall dark one says loudly to get everyone to stop looking at them. There's something menacing about him, beyond the terrifying look on his face and those incredible highly arched black brows. The angels frog-march their prisoners along with them and to the exit.
"Did I ever mention I have a thing for archers?", I toss at him as he goes by, but he doesn't know who spoke.
"Who was that?", I hear the red-head ask.
"That's Magda Deus", the blond one whispers conspiratorially. "She's a warlock." He says it like Americans said the word "communist" in the 1950's. I smirk.
"She seems pretty important", the red-head adds.
"Oh she is! She controls all the warlocks in New York City. There are boroughs which each have their own leader—Manhattan is run by Lorenzo Rey, Brooklyn by Magnus Bane, and Queens is getting Mama T. But Magda is in charge of them all."
"Why her?"
"She's the most powerful warlock anyone has ever known", the blond guy says, "You see her father is..."
I turn off my distance-hearing. I already know all about my father.
Alec POV
I can feel the tension in the air since I destroyed Clary's chance of getting her memories back from that warlock. The person I love the most is Jace? He's my brother. I was raised in the Institute and have never understood what anyone was talking about when they discussed sexual attraction. I've known a handful of women, two of which are my mother and sister. I've known a handful of men, and my parabatai is one of them. What do they want from me? Isabelle has been to bed with every Seelie in the realm, but I just...
The idea of touching Jace is not an unpleasant one, but not the kind of fiery passion Isabelle describes. I just don't understand what they're talking about. Maybe I do love Jace. Maybe I'm gay. It would be all right if I was even though the Clave STILL judges minorities. It would be enough to keep me from my goal of running the New York Institute. Maybe pleasantness is the best or more than I can hope for. I'm a soldier. This isn't about what I want. It's about what must be done.
"Is the warlock here yet?", Jace asks.
"What warlock? A WARLOCK in the Institute? No! NO, Jace, we've broken about 12 Clave rules already. The mundane that follows Clary around like a puppy dog is bad enough", I pronounce. They don't care about anything. They don't understand the responsibilities that come with being a leader.
"Was he "dad" the day he was born?", Clary smirks.
"Pretty much", Isabelle offers, "Heavy is the head that wears the crown." She winks at me.
"Finally", Jace says as our warlock strolls in.
God works in mysterious ways, and by the Angel, he has again. I was just thinking I wasn't able to feel the passion everyone goes on about while I organize the data, wipe up messes, buy new armor, and clean the weapons, but...
She's tallish, with long blonde hair, pale and bright like that movie star I saw on TCM. Veronica Lake. Her eyes are brown, but laced with the warmth of red, orange, yellow, and gold, they look mahogany. Brown decorated with the flames of Hell. Her skin is astounding. I've never seen a color that fair. Even Jace, whom I've always teased for being pale as the dead, doesn't match her. But her skin is luminous, more like a moonstone than a dead fish.
Large breasts hold her shirt open a few inches and I can see the very tops of her creamy ivory breasts. Her hips and bottom are rounded, but her waist is small. Red lipstick colors her curved lips. She's beautiful. Mesmerizingly so. And she keeps looking at me. I feel...odd. "Hi", I say with a smile that fades immediately.
Jace and Isabelle look at each other like they've seen the eighth wonder of the world.
"Hello", she says, looking me over. "If it isn't the archer."
"Did we meet before?", I ask.
"I saw you. At Pandemonium, my club", I mention.
"Oh, it's your club. Ohhh, okay, it's a great place. I know a lot of people really like it. I wish I could...spend more time there. It's really fun."
Jace and Isabelle look at each other again, and this time they burst into laughter.
"I was wrong, buddy", Jace says, smacking me lightly on the shoulder.
"About what?"
"You", he says, laughing again. "I was so sure you were...I... misread you. You just don't have any experience."
"I don't understand", I say.
"Let's get started", Jace says. Isabelle puts her arm around my shoulders and squeezes, still giggling. What the hell is so funny?
"Miss Deus, you're here to help us locate and take out Valentine, and rescue Clary's mother", Jace offers. "Are you willing to help us?"
"I am", I answer. "The man wants nothing more than to see my kind dead. Sometimes I think no Shadowhunter is much better. But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."
Jace frowns at her. But doesn't stop looking at her breasts. Suddenly part of me wants my parabatai to go do something else. Why does he have to stand so close to her?
"I assure you we are nothing like Valentine", he says aggressively.
"Glad to hear it", she snaps back. "How have you tried to find him so far?"
"A necklace that is a shard of a portal Jocelyn gave Clary", Jace offers.
"Which Alec stole", Clary says.
"Do you understand the damage you could have done with that thing?", I boom back at her, "It created a wormhole straight to him. I know you miss your mother, but you weren't thinking clearly; he easily could have stepped right through it and into the Institute."
"He's right", Magda says, "I would only use the shard off the premises."
I stand taller. She agrees with me.
"We tracked him here", Jace says, pointing at the huge interactive map on our touchscreen.
"Hand me that, Cheekbones", she says. Everything stops and everyone looks at me. She's holding out her hand in my direction. I pick up the stylus and hand it to her.
She doesn't even glance at me, but touches the screen with the tool. "Can you narrow down the borough? The zip code?"
"We haven't been able to yet", Jace says.
"What is going on here?" We all look up to see a blonde, shortish, pretty at least by mundane standards, young woman who apparently thinks she's in charge. I raise an eyebrow at her.
"Magda Deus, this is Lydia Branwell. She's the head of the Institute", Jace offers, and I notice how uncomfortable he is.
"What happened to the elder Lightwoods?", I ask him in a whisper.
"They're in Idris. We're all in the dog house for spending our time saving Clary. I don't regret a second of it", he whispers back.
"I can see you don't", I smile.
"We're trying to locate Valentine", Jace says, running a frustrated hand through the top of his blond hair.
"With the most powerful warlock in New York?", she asks, "It didn't occur to you this was dangerous? It's no wonder the Clave decided to send me here to run things."
Magda POV
She looks me up and down and steely loathing fills her gray eyes. I know this kind of woman inside and out; the only real emotion she feels is jealousy.
"I'm sorry, Miss Deus, but these three don't have the Clave's permission to bring a warlock here..."
"She's here to help. Please just let her try", Jace suggests.
"I will contact the Clave about it. I can do no more", Lydia informs him. "We can't have Downworlders in the Institute without permission. Your kind represents a real danger", she finishes.
I toss her an aggressive half-smile that has her stepping back. They walk me to the door.
"I'd like to continue this", Jace suggests.
"Would tonight work?", the archer asks. "The Hunter's Moon around 8?"
I smile broadly. I want to know so much about him. His likes and dislikes, what he thinks about, what his dreams are. Why he flirts like a third grader who just saw his first pretty girl. "It's a date", I say, "Your name, I'm sorry..."
"Alec", he offers.
That's not a name, it's a syllable. Too short and ordinary for the man standing in front of me. "I'll see you there at 8. Alexander."