Chapter Seven

~Magnus Bane~

*Sigh*. So tired… all the time… sorry, that's irrelevant. This will be the last chapter that I post for the year, until February, and language cautions for this chapter, so let's just get to the meeting with Magnus Bane already.

Review Responses:

IridescentxPetals: Don't worry, Simon will emerge one day… and yes, I noticed that about that paragraphing… I'm not sure why it's doing that, I'm trying to fix it up, but whenever I upload the chapter (I've deleted and uploaded that chapter quite a few times now) it always turns itself back into that big, messy clump of words. Sorry for that, though!

umdiddle: Ah, thanks for the advice. The perks of google translate… -_- Maybe I should have learned Chinese…

guest: Yes, it is continuing… I was just having this writer's block… UH.

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Nobody approached her. Nobody tried to help her. She remained in her own little bubble of remorse, and for once in her entire life, she was not willing to leave it.

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Magnus Bane looked over Tessa once again, his pale yellow eyes rather expressionless. His pinkie finger was hooked around the handle of a delicate china teacup, along with his thumb. It was a strange way to hold a teacup, but Tessa had already grown to see it as normal after so many years of watching him do so.

But now, she was rather preoccupied. Her limbs felt clumsy and tired, her chest tight with dread, and her heart was fluttering at what Tessa could have sworn was a million times a minute.

"Sometimes the past should remain buried," Magnus said to no one in particular, and Tessa merely kept her eyes glued upon his teacup, hands clasped firmly in her lap, and she knew that if she saw her reflection in a mirror, she would look deadly. Quite literally. Like a ghost.

Tessa mustered up the courage to look over at Jem. He had most certainly taken a toll from the appearance of another angel, and he stood in the far corner of the room, arms crossed and legs folded against one another. His face was cloaked in shadows, his expression unreadable. As though he had sensed her gaze, Jem's eyes flicked upwards, the light specks in his irises glinting, like chips of amber, distant and aloof. Flat and unaware. As though he was in his own world.

"Clary's gone?" Magnus confirmed, and Jocelyn nodded stiffly from her seat, diagonal to Tessa. Luke Graymark, the werewolf, stood behind her shoulder, his hand on her shoulder. He had shown up several minutes ago, and at Magnus's words, Tessa vaguely noted that his knuckles paled, as though he was pressing down on Jocelyn's shoulder. Other than the five of them – Tessa, Jem, Magnus, Jocelyn and Luke – there was also Maryse, solemn and dark, standing opposite to Magnus; Jace, occupying another shady corner of the room, following Jem's lead; Isabelle, grim curiosity scrawled across her face; and Alec, who had arrived with Magnus, and was unwilling to be left out of the drama.

"Any thoughts?" Maryse asked, her head inclined slightly towards Magnus, who exhaled deeply through his nose and folded his legs. Despite his laidback position, Tessa could sense the acuity in his eyes; the gears in his mind were whirring, and hard.

"I would like nothing more to say than all of these events are coincidental," he said steadily, holding Jocelyn's eyes first, and then Tessa's, "Except that from my many experiences of this world, I'm afraid that that is not the case. Axel Mortmain's resurrection? A load of poppycock."

"Yes, bullshit," Jace agreed, and Alec said, loud enough for Tessa to hear, "How can you be so cavalier?"

"I'm only supporting Mr. Bane," Jace returned innocently, but Magnus tuned the conversation away from the pair of parabatai.

"Yet, diabolical winds, a demon sighting? The abduction of a shadowhunter directly under the nose of the New York Institute?" Magnus pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's unheard of, Maryse."

"I understand that," Maryse replied, rotating on the spot and moving away to pace as Magnus turned to Tessa. Tessa looked back at him, her eyesight still unstable, as though the room was tipping back and forth.

"You, Theresa, have an entirely different case," he said finally, and Tessa's chest tightened. She had thought she was over it all. She had thought that all of those years ago, what had been done was done. But it had still found a way to creep back up to her, catch her off guard. Again. "I have no explanation for those few moments of ticking from your angel," Magnus continued, "But everything else? Either somebody managed to dig up a piece of history and have a bone to pick with you, in which they are pulling innocent pranks. Or. Something truly dreadful is recurring, and in that case, we must prepare ourselves."

"Truly dreadful?" Jem echoed, his voice tight, and it was the first time that he had spoken for a time as he emerged from his shadow. "What does 'truly dreadful' mean, in your dictionary?"

"Magnus?" Tessa stared directly into Magnus's eye, imploring him for an answer, and received a breathy sigh in return. A horrible feeling twisted in Tessa's gut as she awaited an answer.

"'Truly dreadful' meaning that the demons have gotten themselves involved in this whole mess, and it could indeed be possible that they are angel hunting."

"Angel hunting?" Tessa said hoarsely.

"It would explain the ticking in your necklace, and the fact that it has a sister." Magnus looked at the copy of the clockwork angel which lay in a tangle of delicate chains on the coffee table. There was undisguised dread in his feline-like eyes. "The demons are attempting to obtain another angel, for their own protection, this time."

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Lights blinked on in the corners of her vision, which was still a fuzzy, opaque blackness.

At first, Clary looked around, eyes still half-lidded and extremely disoriented, and she vaguely wondered why something scratchy was cutting into her wrists. And why there was a big, sticky flap against her mouth.

And then it all came rushing back to her. She, Clary, had been kidnapped, right outside the New York Institute. The room that she was now in wasn't even a room. It was a sort of long, dark corridor, and there were flickering lights above Clary's head. The lights didn't line the entire pathway, however. It was almost pitch black further down the path, but sure enough, at the far end, Clary could make out a small rectangle of light. The outside world.

"Mmm!" At first, she tried to scream for her mother or Jace, or Isabelle or Alec or whoever might turn up to help her, and then her eyes hardened. Whoever had taken her was stupid enough to think that some ropes could contain her, and had also been dumb enough to leave the entrance door wide open. She hoped that they had also forgotten to take her stele, and with bound hands, she twisted her hands upwards to try to rub at her pocket. It was void of any stele.

Dammit, Clary thought furiously, and she sat there silently for several moments, wondering what on earth she could do to escape. And then she remembered something; a sharp smile tugged at the corners of her mouth beneath the strip of tape. She opened her mouth slightly, praying that the tape wasn't too strong, and to her delight, the whole piece stretched slightly, and she opened her mouth a little wider, the tape stretching dangerously now. Desperately, Clary glanced at the door down the corridor and silently begged that nobody would come through now.

Clary's jaws opened as widely as possible, and for several seconds, the tape held. Her heartbeat faltered for several seconds, and just as her hope plummeted in her chest, the tape snapped off.

Clary couldn't repress the grin which was creeping up her face, though it was a strange time to be smiling. The flaps of stickiness were still stuck to her cheeks, but Clary decided that she'd deal with it when she had the time – meaning, when she'd busted out of her 'prison'. Leaning downwards, so that her stomach and chest were pressed against her thighs, she craned her neck down to her three-quarter length cargo jeans and clamped her teeth around the seam of the right leg.

If somebody walked in, Clary thought to herself, I would be a very strange sight. She inwardly shook her head to distract herself, and then forced her attention back to her trouser leg. Several months back, she had taken a leaf out of Jace's book and had begun wearing a dagger, strapped to her calf.

"For those tempting little dangers that can't resist creeping up on me," Jace had told her once, when Clary had discovered it while they had been, erm. Other matters at hand here…

Tugging the material up slightly, Clary paused, her teeth grazing the handle of the knife. Cutting herself free would be difficult, but she couldn't give in with her abductors being such idiots, not even checking her for weapons other than her stele.

With a sharp intake of breath, Clary released the material and skipped across to the knife, her teeth closing on the steel handle. Exhaling deeply through her nose, she jerked at the knife, drawing it out of its sheath for several tedious seconds. Her neck was beginning to seriously ache when the dagger finally came loose, and she straightened, quite proud of herself. And then she tilted her head backwards, so that she was twisted enough for her chin to hover directly above her hands. Clary gave her hands an experimental shake, to get the blood flowing again, and praying to strike her target, released the knife. For a few slow, never ending seconds, the knife fell, and Clary struck out with her hands, snagging the knife before it could pass. She fumbled for a moment, turning it so that if faced the ropes, and then expertly began to saw at her bindings.

It took her roughly two minutes to do so, but when she was free, Clary bounded to her feet, tearing the strips of tape from her face and spinning the knife in her hand, cautiously beginning down the corridor. Her head span, a mother of all migraines developing as the outcome of being knocked out, but she pushed on, taking another five steps, debating silently whether she should make a break for it. If she ran, the old movie cliché would probably occur, in which traps sprouted out of nowhere… Clary was not all too willing to be snagged in another net, like a fly in a cobweb.

And then he emerged from the shadows, a tall, lean figure. Clary jerked back in surprise, and on impulse, lifted the knife and gave her wrist a skillful flick, sending the dagger flying with perfect precision at the accused. But the knife rebounded from an invisible barrier, and clattered to the ground. It was so silent that the knife making contact with the floor was the equivalent of a pin dropping. But the knife was the least of Clary's problem – her abductor was not as much of an idiot as she had initially supposed. She was indeed in a barrier. One made from magic.

"Shit," Clary whispered, frozen to the spot, and then the person made a small noise – was it a chuckle, a snigger, or a whimper? Clary couldn't tell.

"He knew that you could break loose from that," the person said, and Clary's heart jumped. She knew that voice. Who, though? There was one person, but what, in the Angel's name, would he be doing here?

"'He'?" Clary questioned warily, unsure of whether she should try to fetch her knife or do the sensible thing – back away.

"My overseer." The boy made no move to leave the shadows. As though he was purposefully concealing his identity. "You have a gift, Clary."

While she should have been quite preoccupied fretting over who the hell this person was, only one thing caught her attention.

"Clary?" she asked. "How do you know what–"

"Clarissa." The wince was visible through the boy's tone of voice. "I meant Clarissa."

"Who's your overseer?" Clary snapped, her nerves jumping feverishly. The boy made no attempt to silence her. He said no words. "By the Angel, who is he?" the words tore from Clary's mouth viciously, and she pressed her hands against the invisible barrier, wishing for nothing more than to smash the obscure wall and drag this person out of the shadows, maybe slap him about a bit…

"I shouldn't have come here." The boy sounded distraught. "I shouldn't have seen you." Remaining in the corridor's shadows, he moved down, towards the block of light further along, and Clary gritted her teeth, her instincts screaming at her to lash out at the wall, try to break it down, though it wasn't possible without her stele. She resisted the violent temptations and curled her hands into fists against the barrier.

In the doorway, the boy turned his head to look at Clary temporarily, no more than a black silhouette against the bright lighting outside, and Clary saw his eyes glint, even from her place, so much further down. And then he continued to walk.

She fell to her knees, unseeing, because it was him. But why would? How could he? Shouldn't he have been trying to save her, to bust her out of this hell hole?

But all that she saw were his brown eyes, once hidden behind a set of glasses.

Her best friend, her only friend, the one who had given his memories to a demon to save them…

Simon.

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"Shit," Tessa breathed, for once swearing in the presence of others, and she stared straight at Magnus with terrified eyes. Her whole body was rigid with horror, and her fingers burrowed into her scalp, as though she could squish the memories out of her head. "Oh, shit. Fucking hell. Fucking shit." From the corner of her eye, she could see Maryse, Jace, Alec and Isabelle staring at her, perhaps shocked that Tessa Gray had just sworn, or perhaps from the tension between her, Jem and Magnus. Jocelyn and Luke paid little attention, on the other hand, obviously to preoccupied with the concept of Clary being stolen away by, what, a demon?

"Impossible," Jem said, though his voice was uncharacteristically stony, and colder than even ice. "Ludicrous. Unthinkable. Beyond the bounds of possibility. Completely mad."

"Listing synonyms of 'impossible' won't help," Magnus said, all too calm about the whole matter, but then again, he would have seen many, many more dramas in his lifespan, hadn't he?

"What can we do?" Tessa murmured, and while her voice was almost inaudible and slightly calmer, her mind was still a complete cyclone, having finally spilt out of the closet that she had stored the past away in.

"Let us give prayers to Ithuriel," Magnus said, obviously having not heard Tessa, "and hope that he is not, once again, the unlucky angel to be captured."

"An angel's imprisonment is inevitable?" Jem demanded, and Magnus repeated, "Let it not be Ithuriel once again."

"This is seeming to be a very one-sided conversation," Tessa heard Jace say, and she probably would have laughed and agreed if she had not been in her position. But she was.

"Perhaps it would be best if Jem, Tessa and I have a chat somewhere else," Magnus said, his voice meaningful, and Maryse nodded.

"We should begin to gather possibilities of Clary's location," she agreed, and Magnus inclined his head slightly, before striding out of the door, his bright eyes glowing yellow temporarily as he left. Tessa took the hint that she and Jem were to accompany him, and stood reluctantly, her movements slightly loitering, as though she was a zombie. Which she felt like. Her fingers itched to touch her angel, but her conscience went against the motion, and the weight of Jem's arm settling around her waist managed to distract her as they exited the room, Luke's words lingering on her skin as she walked, leaning on Jem for support.

"It'll work out."

The words were so comforting, so hopeful, that it drew out another sentence from the jumble in her head.

"Will? Will, is that you?"

"Oh, God, Jem," Tessa breathed, pausing and arching her neck back to stare at the ceiling. "What has the world come to?"

Jem's gaze was on her the entire time, serious and unblinking as he hooked his other arm around her, pulling her against him.

"We'll work it out," he declared.

"But last time we had Henry, Charlotte, Sophie…" and another one. An unspoken name that hung precariously between them.

"We've still got Magnus," Jem said. "And this time, we also have the others."

Henry and Charlotte's descendants, Sophie and Gideon's, Cecily and Gabriel's… lives which were woven into Tessa's destiny, into all of theirs.

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Stop, don't talk. Just… soak up the blissful silence. Christmas is approaching fast, and while I'm sorry to say that the Mortal Instruments characters, and Tessa and Jem are all in a bit of a pickle for the upcoming event, I still say, "Why not enjoy yourselves? Leave them to me! I'll make sure that they still get Christmas pudding!" Sooo, thank you for the follows, favourites and reviews so far, and have a great remainder of the year! I'm taking a holiday break…

~Black Cat Widow~