This story was first write and publish in Polish, now - thanks to my best, dearest Yugi - it's translated to English :) Hope You'll like the story! Any comments are really welcomed so don't hesitate! ;)

1. The Lost One

Magnus was reclining on the couch in his living room, which was once again adjusted to its owner's mood and resembled a damp stone dungeon from at least a few centuries ago. Chairman Meow's hair stood up in disapproval of the present décor, but the warlock ignored it, staring unseeingly at the glass of wine in his hand that kept changing its color.

He had returned home in the evening as he had told Alec. He had expected that the boy would have already gathered his things but he immediately noticed that nothing in the rooms had changed. Alec hadn't been there. Magnus unconsciously tightened his fingers on the stem of the glass, and the purple wine turned pale green to the accompaniment of a soft puff. He knew the boy well enough to say that Alec didn't usually argue his orders. But he also knew him well enough to know that sometimes a Shadowhunter could unexpectedly resist him and stubbornly try to get his way.

But what was he going to get by not complying with the request to leave Brooklyn?

Chairman Meow mewed from his place of an adjoining chair, his nose tucked into the sleeve of Alec's jacket dumped casually on the back of the chair, and Magnus's wine puffed softly once again and turned a deep blue shade.

…

Isabelle cursed a string of swear words that would make sailors blush, taking advantage of the opportunity that there was no one else in the room who could witness a vocabulary so unlike to her image. She threw her broken with hundreds of cracks phone on the bed as if it was its fault that another of her calls went straight to voicemail.

Once again, Alec didn't pick up his phone. The same thing had happened to her previous thirty-seven calls, but around the thirtieth one , Isabelle's fury began to turn into uneasiness. She bit her lower lip in an inelegant way that sometimes allowed her to express her growing frustration and fear, then reached for the phone lying in the folds of the blanket.

Magnus – for a change – answered after three rings.

"Tell me my brother is with you," the Shadowhunter said firmly as soon as she heard the tired and reluctant "Hello."

"No, he's not here," the warlock cut her off.

"How is that?!" Isabelle let out a startled exclamation; then stopped quickly. "I mean… sorry, I know you're still weak after the fight, but I'm worried about Alec. He hasn't shown up at the Institute since yesterday. He doesn't answer any of my phone calls, nor has he sent any fire-messages." she spoke nervously. "Such a silence is unlike him, and if he's not with you... I mean, Sebastian is out there somewhere, and..." she said, louder.

She had already noticed that her voice had started trembling and she was losing control of herself more and more, as if verbalizing all her worst fears had only deepened the anxiety that had taken over her. Magnus was silent for a moment and all the girl could hear was his steady breathing. Finally, he sighed heavily and said:

"Isabelle? Could you come to my apartment? I don't have much strength right now, but I'll try to cast a tracking spell so I can locate him and then bring him back, save him or whatever." he muttered.

"I'll be there in a moment!" The Shadowhunter announced hastily, jumping up from the bed. Now that she had a plan, she was ready to act and direct those overly realistic images of what might have happened to her brother to a series of actions. "I suppose you don't need any of Alec's belongings?" she asked with renewed energy, reaching for her coat already.

"No," the warlock snapped tiredly, and broke the connection.

Quickly, Isabelle pulled on her long high heels, wore her coat, and stuffed the phone into her pocket. As she left the room and made her way to the golden elevator cage, she involuntarily thought it was all right that Jace was under the guard of the Silent Brothers in the infirmary. It was more than enough that, for an unknown reason, he had liquid heavenly fire in his veins. Isabelle wasn't going to further bother him with Alec's disappearance, which probably was quite easy to explain. . She took the elevator downstairs and when she was close to triumphantly sneaking out of the Institute, she ran into her mother in the front door.

Maryse looked pale, with dark circles under her eyes, but she regarded her daughter with a keen look. Reconnaissance couldn't have gone well, because she frowned and her shoulder blocked Isabelle's exit as the woman leaned against the doorframe.

"Where do you think you are going, young lady?" She asked in a tone that suggested the answer was certainly not going to be to her liking.

"I'm going to see Simon," Isabelle said, seemingly lightly.

I'm going to be doomed for all these lies, she thought as she offered her mother a studied smile that made Maryse only look up in an expression of motherly helplessness. Unexpectedly, she raised her hand and pushed a strand of hair away from her daughter's face.

"By the Angel, probably only God knows why my children are so determined to cling to the Underworld races..." she sighed with a weak smile.

"Do you think Max would have one day brought some insanely beautiful faerie or a lycanthrope?" Isabelle returned with a similar smile. Her little brother's death was still a sensitive topic for everyone.

"Oh, that's for sure." Maryse ruffled her daughter's hair, though with a look – nostalgic and sad – that had Isabella think she was looking at something far away. "Don't be out too late. I know you can handle most situations, but you know it is not safe right now."

An unspeakable "I don't want to lose another baby" hung between them in the warm late afternoon air. Isabelle nodded to her mother and slipped under her arm, walking outside. As she ran down the stairs, she heard Maryse calling her name, so she turned to answer her before reaching the gate leading to the street.

"Alec is at Magnus's, isn't he?" The Shadowhunter asked, her tone devoid of a questioning tone, as if she were merely stating an obvious fact. "Could you tell him there's a council meeting tomorrow at noon? I wish he showed up on it. It's important."

"Sure, I'll tell him," Isabelle promised, though her throat felt tight.

Brother, better be somewhere where it will be easy to get you out and deliver you to the Institute tomorrow, she thought, tapping her heels on the pavement. She marched quickly down the street, and after a moment's thought, she reached for her phone.

"Simon? Could we meet at Magnus's apartment?"

…

The warlock's fingers were smeared with navy blue glitter from rubbing the corners of his eyes. He lay down on the couch with Chairman Meow peering at him from the backrest. The cat gave him a lot of accusing glances, and Magnus had no desire to wonder if the furry creature was expressing dissatisfaction about the cold and dampness in the apartment, now stylized as a gothic dungeon, or rather for the painful absence of Alec, who always found a moment to pet him; even when he was very busy, which made to Chairman Meow a significant difference from Magnus, who sparingly caressed the cat.

The warlock sighed once again, hiding his face in his hands to free himself from the pet's dissatisfied gaze for a moment. The more he tried not to think of him, the more clearly his memory recalled the image of Alec. He had a detailed vision of him under his eyelids, taking into every little detail. He gritted his teeth, opened his eyes, and lowered his hands, helplessly.

He loved Alec more than he liked to admit to himself. He loved him like no one else in his lasting for so many centuries life. The warlock slammed his fist furiously on the vertical surface of the couch so that Chairman Meow snorted in response of the sudden seismic shocks beneath his paws.

Magnus felt disappointed and disgusted with himself. He must have insatiably been in love, to death and madness, if he still had such a strong affection for a man who had seriously considered the possibility of turning him into a mortal. He would like to forget about him, move out of Brooklyn, have no more to do with Alec, his twisted family, and the gang of their mutual, crazy friends who he used to think of as a suicide gang.

The presence of Alec's belongings made everything seem complicated. They lay quietly wherever they were thrown, and gave the illusion that nothing bad had happened and that the owner would be returning to the apartment soon. Magnus eyed the jacket on the chair next to him. He'd love to replace it with a simple piece of tailor-made black leather jacket with zippers and buckles, so he was irritated by the fact that the piece of clothing almost automatically made him think of a rainy night in Vienna when Alec had taken it off and spread it over their heads to protect them against the cold streams pouring down from the sky. The warlock groaned in disapproval and slid helplessly onto the dirty, damp carpet, defeated by his own memory, which gave him an image of Alec, still vivid in his mind, with wet, sticky hair, a gentle, tender smile and raindrops hanging from his eyelashes.

Why was it so hard to fall out of love? Rationally, he should have immediately hated someone who contemplated assaulting his immortality. In fact, he should have even planned in detail the torture that would lead to the long, painful death of the delinquent who would raise his hand against the High Warlock of Brooklyn. He rubbed the corners of his eyes again, for the thought of harming Alec in any way made him flinch. Falling out of love was certainly a complicated and long-term process, and hate was definitely not as close to love as the Downworlders believed.

Suddenly, there was a loud noise from the intercom. Chairman Meow scowled at him. The cat had learned that Alec never rang the intercome because he had his own keys. So, the cat knew it wasn't Alec.. The furry creature could even recognize the boy's footsteps on the stairs and have enough time to run into the hall to greet him. The intimacy of Chairman Meow and the warlock had definitely never come to such a stage that the cat would show similar enthusiasm for his returns to the apartment.

The intercom rang again, so Magnus waved his hand in its direction and used a little magic to unlock the lock on the door leading to the loft staircase. An Isabelle looking for her missing brother was definitely determined enough to try to get in through the window, if necessary. After a moment, he heard her quick footsteps and the loud clicking of her heels on the stairs. Without shifting his position on the carpet, which gave the impression that had been rotting for the last half-century in a seasonally flooded basement, Magnus waved his hand towards the apartment door before the Shadowhunter could burst in along with the doorframe.

She was not alone. The warlock wanted to raise an eyebrow at the sight of Simon meekly following Isabelle, but after a moment's thought, he decided that nothing would surprise him, because the young Lightwoods seemed to just like to surround themselves with Downworlders, and all you had to do was just go along with it. Magnus didn't bother standing up from the floor but rather leaned back against the couch when the girl was a few strides away from him.

"Alec hasn't been answering phone calls since yesterday," she said in a matter-of-factly way. "We saw each other at Jace's last morning, and then he said he was going to see how you were feeling. Did he get here?"

"Yes," said Magnus, feeling as if he was on fire. "He snuck out while I was asleep." He didn't want to be the one to break the news of their breakup to the furious Shadowhunter.

Isabelle sat down, carefully, on the armrest of the chair, which looked as if it was about to fall apart from age even under the weight of a single heavy glance at its direction. She drummed her fingers on her phone screen expressionlessly as if by doing so she could activate her brother's phone, but eventually she gave up the idea.

"There aren't many places Alec could go, and certainly no place where he would spend almost two days without giving us any sign of life. Do you think you could cast a tracking spell?"

Magnus nodded slowly. Without a word, he gestured to Alec's dumped jacket on the armchair, which Simon silently handed over to him. The warlock crumpled the cool material in his hand and sighed, closing his eyes. Wonderful, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, he thought bitterly. I decided to break up with you, and now – ironically – I'm the one looking for you.

He thought deeper, blue sparks whirling at the tips of his fingers. He could only use a very small amount of power. After the fight, he put most of his recovered magic into regeneration and recovery after the blow he had received from Amatis, so he had little left to cast any spell. If it hadn't been for Alec – his beautiful, beloved Alec – he would probably have dismissed the customers. Unknowingly, he pressed the jacket closer to him. For a moment he thought he could almost smell the scent of sandalwood on it.

A shimmering map of New York City flashed through his mind, marked with glistening dots and pulsating lines. Blue sparks flashed past the visualized urban network, racing past the glowing contours of buildings, luminous figures, and the blurry, bright spots of vehicles speeding down the streets. Magnus had once felt very uncomfortable with this tracking spell, but with time he grew used to the insane, mental escapades through the cities. Magic sparks raced tirelessly forward, and when they finally reached their destination, they flashed with a stronger light, signaling that the sought location had been found. Magnus opened his eyes jerkily and shook his head in disbelief.

It's impossible. This place... Alec would never go there! The warlock clenched his fists. He wouldn't go there. Definitely. Not willingly, anyway...

"What is it? Have you found him?" Isabelle crouched down next to him to keep her eyesight at the same level as Magnus. "You found him, right?" The longer she looked into the warlock's cat's eyes, the faster her face grew paler. "Tell me," she whispered. "I have to get him, wherever he is."

Magnus slowly turned his gaze to the jacket clutched in his hands.

"Hotel Dumort," he announced at last, his voice weak and husky.