01: Gobles
"And here I thought you'd say he has cancer," Jace's tone is stiff. No one bothers to comment. The silence is thick and suffocating, like the heart of the Turtle Pond where one cannot swim but only drown. When Alec leans back on the stool, there's a warm weigh behind him, and it's not the backrest. As he leans his head back, a warm set of hands settles on his shoulders. Magnus' grip is iron tight, eyes bright in a shadowed face.
"Can I have cancer instead?" Alec asks feebly. Magnus shakes his head but doesn't smile. Alec hopes it means forgiveness.
"Can you do something about-" He makes a vague gesture with his hand, unsure of how to define and form the words. 'Curse' seems too light, a fairy-tale terminology that has little to do with reality. His heart stutters, eyes locked on Magnus' lips forming syllables.
"I don't know."
Izzy grips Alec's left hand like a life line. Alec sags into it.
"Isn't there some kind of spell to counter the curse?" His sister's hopeful tone sends Alec's heart plundering. If there was, he'd be able to breathe. If there was, he wouldn't feel like crying.
"Maybe. I'm not an expert." Magnus runs a hand through his hair, messing the carefully arranged spikes. "It's an intricate ordeal. The Queen-" he says it like an insult. "-somehow managed to suppress the angel in him. Without it he's-"
Alec's heart stops as Magnus' voice trails off.
"So that was the whole abs ordeal?" Jace asks, realization dawning on his face.
"My runes." This time, Alec's the one to lift his shirt. The white, thin scars mar his skin in patches, but Alec can see the edges fading, the complex patterns dulled. Speed is already mostly faded, Agility close on its tail. Alec exhales slowly and drops the shirt back on. He leans back against Magnus and lets himself tremble.
"How long?" Izzy asks.
Alec knows the details don't really matter. However long it is- may it be hours, days or weeks- will be too little, too soon. When Magnus says, "He'll lose most of his runes in a month," he feels as if the earth has opened its mouth beneath him, his heart falling somewhere into the dark abyss.
"And there's nothing you can do?" Izzy demands.
"There's better be something you can do," Jace growls, fists already up.
"Stop it." Alec's voice is quiet, but it seems to be enough to postpone the upcoming scrimmage for a few moments. Both Lightwood siblings whirl on him, surprised. "If there's nothing he can do, there's nothing he can do." And it is the simple realization of helplessness that cuts deeper than a blade to flesh. It is the lack of immediate reassurance from anyone, the missing 'it's gonna be alright' that makes him heavy with dread and shaking with desperation.
"I didn't say that, sweetheart." Magnus' tone isn't exactly hopeful- it's seething, sour and somewhat somber- but it's a tad warmer. He doesn't let go of Alec's shoulders. It makes Alec's heart beat again. "I don't know how to stop the process completely-" Jace gives him a glare. "But I know we can slow it down."
"How?" Izzy exacts.
"Since the curse mucks about with something as fundamental as one's nature, it's slow in progression compared to other types. It won't manage to suppress the Angel's part of his physique for weeks yet." Magnus looks down at Alec. "That's why you can't enter the Institute. You're not a Shadowhunter anymore, but you're not human either. You have the Fey's Mark."
"Fantastic." Alec's free hand flies to his temple. "I'm a hybrid." He spits the last word out, loathing and fear coloring his voice. Magnus' expression darkens, but he doesn't comment.
"There's a potion I read about long ago that's supposed to be able to stop the turning process. It won't make you a Shadowhunter, but it'll stop you from becoming human for a while."
"At least that'll give us some time to find a cure," Jace mumbles. Izzy nods briskly. Alec doesn't let himself hope there is one.
"Do you know how to make the potion?" he asks, although he can already hear the negative answer vibrating though Magnus' chest.
"I know where to find the book with the recipe," Magnus replies with a grin that's not entirely fake. Alec is positively surprised.
"Let's go then!" Izzy whoops beside him. Magnus stops her cheerful march with a hand clutching at her hoodie. Alec can see her struggling not to punch his face.
"You are not going anywhere but back to the Institute."
"Why?"
"Because Alec's gonna need clothes if he's planning on staying here," Magnus says. "I've only so many shirts without glitter which I'm willing to give away."
"How about ones without dirty jokes on them?" Jace asks, eyeing the I WANNA TAKE A RIDE ON YOUR DISCOSTICK imprint on Alec's shirt.
"What dirty joke?"
"Nothing you should worry about," Magnus mumbles, glaring at Jace. Izzy sighs. Jace just snickers, wiggling his eyebrows and leering ridiculously at Izzy. She thwacks his head. Magnus gives her an approving smile. "You're going with Isabelle," he instructs with a curt nod to Alec when both Jace and Izzy settle. "Jace and I will go to the library."
Alec isn't sure it's worth arguing over, so he nods and gets up. Magnus lets go of his shoulders after a moment's hesitation.
"Why me?" Jace asks suddenly.
"I don't trust you alone in the house," Magnus answers snidely. "You might find a way to burn it."
Jace smirks. "Feels good to be appreciated."
"Today's children." Magnus sighs heavily, shaking his head in surrender. He spins on his heel- five inches high boots- to sweep everything on the kitchen table right onto the floor. Plates, glasses and books end up in a messy heap to the left of him. Opening a drawer, Magnus draws out a gleaming, silver fruit-knife. With a smooth movement, he pulls up his sleeve and makes a shallow cut just under his elbow. The blood drips on the table top in rhythm with the clock's ticks.
"Heel, blonde-hazard. The rest of you, shoo." Magnus' voice manages to stay level, even though he's drawing a rune with his own blood. His hands don't even shake. Alec recognizes the design. A portal.
"How will we get back in after you're gone?" Alec asks.
Magnus looks at him, startled. "Haven't thought of that. C'mere." Alec steps closer. "Give me a second to finish-" he makes an elaborate line. "This." Magnus inspects his work, adds a few more strokes and turns with a flourish to face Alec. "Give me your hand."
Alec extends his right, palm up. Magnus grins, dips his fingers in the cut again, and scribbles something onto Alec's skin. It looks like a rune, but Alec can't tell which. "When you're back, touch the door."
Alec nods and steps back.
Magnus murmurs something in Latin, and then slams his bloodied palm right in the center of the circle he's drawn. The room gets gradually colder, all energy stripped off and flowing to the center. Breathing becomes harder, inhales slow and shallow in the spell's wake. The symbols on the table darken and spread until the circle resembles a tunnel. Alec can't help but think of Alice in Wonderland.
"Why on a table?" Izzy asks.
"Easier to replace a table than a wall."
"You can paint a wall," she reasons.
"Not after this," Magnus replies. "You two, out the door. You-" he shoots a look at Jace. "With me."
Crawling on to the table, Magnus comes to the edge of the portal. With another step, he's gone. Jace grabs a bag follows suit.
x
Jace lands right in the center of someone's rose bush. Magnus doesn't bother hiding the smirk forming on his face. It widens with each curse uttered from his companion. By the time Jace finally makes it out of the red death-trap, the warlock is hiccupping, tears in his eyes.
"Shut up."
Magnus ignores him and keeps on laughing at his expense, howling like a mad hyena. Jace has the urge to punch his pretty face in an awful, irreparable way. He can't fathom what Alec finds so appealing about him beside the magic tricks.
Jace looks around while Magnus calms himself down. It's a small town, probably smaller than the smallest park in New York. It's yellow and dry with the promise of a few snow inches come January. The main road is deserted, most of the houses quiet. The only movement he can see is on the other-side of town, where a white-clad crowd is gathered. Even from afar, Jace can see the cross against the dreary, blue sky.
"Where are we?"
"Gobles, Michigan," Magnus says, a grin still plastered on his insufferable face. "Population less than a thousand. It was founded about a hundred and fifty years ago by a witch and her mundane husband."
"Was she a librarian?"
"A seamstress. Her gowns are fabulous."
"I'll assume you tried one on."
"And looked far more fabulous in it than Gisele ever did."
Jace rolls his eyes.
They start walking towards the center of town. The buildings are dusty and solid, made of yellow and red brick, some chipped off, only a few repainted. The sidewalk's wide and clean, all the stores already closed. Jace feels lost in a last-century ghost town.
"Do you really believe we can stop Alec from turning human?" Jace asks as they round a corner. He isn't sure what he'd like for an answer.
"If we find the book with the recipe, yes."
"Is there a chance we won't?"
"There's a chance we won't make it out of The Library."
They cross the street and duck through an alley, although it's too bright and spacious to be called so. It leads them to a boulevard with a couple of trees and a bench. Magnus stops him before he steps out of the shadows the buildings provide.
"Is that why you chose me and not Alec?"
Magnus nods slowly. "You're expendable," he says, voice sharp and honest; the dislike is still apparent, if slightly frayed at the edges- dulled with time.
Jace hardly gives a damn.
"Where's the library?"
"Just Look."
Jace does. The buildings scattered in front of him remain the same, but where the small town hall stood unaccompanied, now another building grows at its back, spearing the sky in vicious, straight lines. Its pointed arches, blind arcades and spires are adorned with gargoyles, all entrances guarded by large stone-curved lions. The walls are made of marble, dark like the heart of the sea, dulled with time to have no texture and no shine. The shadow it casts covers most of the town. Jace can't help but feel impressed.
"That's our Library," Magnus declares, catching the awe in Jace's face and rubbing it in. Jace ignores him but schools his features, expression lost.
"How do we get in?"
"Hereby lays the problem," Magnus' eyes trail the lines and arches of The Library, not once resting on the actual entrance. "I'm not too welcome here."
"Why? They're not into pink highlights?"
"Let's just say I missed a few return deadlines."
"You stole books?" Magnus seems affronted by Jace's indignant tone.
"Stealing's for the inadequate," he huffs in reply.
"What would you call it then?"
"Larceny."
Jace snorts. Magnus pointedly ignores him. "I can't get past the guards." He points towards the lions. "And even if I could, I wouldn't be able to touch the books."
"What're we gonna do then?"
Magnus grins, teeth sharp and white against his sun kissed skin. Jace takes a step back and tersely declares, "Whatever it is you wanna do- I refuse."
"I believe you don't have much of a choice, honey."
Jace gives him a glare. Magnus snaps his fingers twice and something black appears in his palm. Upon closer inspection, Jace realizes it's a tiny camera. And an earpiece. "Dark days are before us," Jace mutters, voice purposefully low and ominous, "for Warlocks have turned to plain, ol' Mundie technology for help."
"Don't you think they'd recognize a magic pattern if I put some sort of spell on you?" Magnus asks him, his tone suggesting he believes Jace has thought just that, and that he's a fool for it. Fool being a term loosely applies to include all sorts of other nasty names. "It's safer that way." Magnus throws him the earpiece and sets the camera's settings before attaching it to Jace's front collar.
When he's done, Magnus steps back with a satisfied grin. "Can you hear me?" he asks, and Jace hears it double.
"Affirmative, Captain Sparkles."
"Good." Magnus steps behind him and with one push throws him right into the light. "Atta boy!"
When Jace looks back to shout a response Magnus is already gone.
"Not funny." There's no answer on the line.
"Magnus." Still no reply. Just static.
"Damnit, I swear to God if you-"
"Relax, darling." A voice murmurs through the earpiece. "I don't want to risk being seen. It'll kill you and make it even more inconvenient for me. Not to mention that Alec would sulk for days if you died on my watch."
"Years," Jace corrects testily, "He'd sulk for years." Magnus doesn't bother with a response. Jace heads to the library's main entrance with his head held high and his pace even. "What's the book called?" he asks under his breath.
"Nosce Te Ipsum. A bit tacky, but it gets the idea across." Jace agrees.
"That's the curse type?"
"Not really, just a fancy name for it. The book contains a research done on everything that concerns altering one's self, willingly or not."
Jace can see the entrance clearly now. The doors are twice his height, made of an ancient, twisted bark, tinted red and honey. On one of the higher panes, a small branch catches Jace's eye, a single leaf attached to a thin stem, still green. As Jace stands before the entrance, the wood creaks and sighs like a rusty engine. It starts with a subtle movement on the lower panes, a slight shift of the bark, a small motion, a minor change. It is far more fundamental on the center panes, the heavy bark slowly moving to form a face- two hollows for eyes, a branch-stump as a nose and a deep gash for a mouth.
"Name," the tree utters. Jace stands before it speechless. The doors are alive; he's never seen anything quite like it.
"That's Cyparissus. The Gatekeeper," Magnus' voice whispers in his ear.
Jace just stands there, gawking.
"Name." the face repeats.
"Say hi."
"Jace."
"Incorrect."
"What do you mean, incorrect?"
The doors remain silent. Magnus just laughs. "My name's Jace."
"Incorrect," The doors reply.
"Jonathan Morgenstern."
"Incorrect."
"Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern."
"Incorrent."
"What's wrong with you?" Jace has the urge to kick the doors just for the heck of it. Then maybe make them into a stool. Or wooden toilet bowls. "That's my name!"
"Incorrect."
"Magnus," Jace growls under his breath. "What the f-"
"Touch the doors." Jace does. The wood gradually smooths until Cyparissus is gone, leaving no mark to indicate its lurking presence behind the panels. The doors swing open.
The revealed space is fusty. It smells of dust bunnies and wax. Shelves cover every available surface, from floor to ceiling, from one wall to another. The only source of light is a grand rose window, upon which, even from afar, Jace can discern a stunning depiction of the Creation story- with the figures of demons, angels and Downworlders vibrant against the filtering sun. The bookshelves tower over him as he enters the library, looming and hiding away the ceiling and the light.
Jace feels like a mouse trapped in a maze- small, insignificant and a tad claustrophobic.
"Mind telling me what Cyparissus was on about?" Jace mumbles into the earpiece. A voice in the back of his mind tells him that curiosity has killed the cat. Jace tells it to shut up. He's had enough with this familial shit.
"Cyparissus is the Gatekeeper. His job is to bark whenever an intruder enters or a hazard stands before the door. That's why I sent you in." Jace nods without realizing the gesture won't translate to sound. Magnus doesn't seem to mind the quiet. "The gate keeps record of anyone who goes in, and anyone who goes out. Shadowhunters get special treatment- you don't have to sign in the guestbook."
"Why?"
"Mainly because you have no use of the books inside. Even if you knew how to read the scripts- which you don't, by the by- you won't be able to use the spells or potions inside. Fortunately, some warlocks have the bizarre notion that your kind's all noble and whatnot. They assume a Shadowhunter won't steal books for someone else."
"Your respect for Shadowhunters warms my heart."
"If it weren't for Alec, I'd have even less of it."
The library seems to grow bigger the deeper Jace wanders.
"Won't they notice a Shadowhunter has come by? It sounds like a rarity."
"Probably not. Your presence isn't too important."
"I am offended."
"It's good for your ego, kid. It needs a diet."
Jace snorts quietly. His steps are loud on the floor, every other plank creaking under his weigh. He loses himself trying to figure out the sorting system in place. He fails miserably- even the labels turning to riddles of unfamiliar script.
"You're not much help," he tells Magnus, whose lame excuse is the fact he hasn't been to this particular library for over a century so he's not up to date with its new interior design. "How am I supposed to find this freaking book?"
"Find the letter N?"
Jace grumbles in response and takes a sharp turn to the left. He finds himself facing yet another hall, its walls made of sturdy bookcases, just wide enough for him to pass through at an angle. He turns left again and again, surrounded with shelves, lost among innumerable books. They all look the same to him- leather bound, thick and chained tightly with silver. Some volumes rattle as he goes through, the whole shelf shaken by the force of the motion. Jace figures the chains aren't there to prevent theft. "How are we gonna get past those?" he asks Magnus. The warlock hums some top-forty in his ear as he mulls it over.
"Call a librarian."
"What?" Jace squawks at him. "I thought the whole point was not to alert anyone!"
"Are the chains magically reinforced?"
Jace squints at the shelf right in front of him, comfortably positioned at eyelevel. The chains glow slightly, a thin thread of blue energy woven through the metal links. It shimmers softly, the energy moving smoothly from one link to the next throughout the whole shelf section. "Damnit."
"I'll take that as a yes."
"Can't you do anything about it?"
"I can, and then you'll be deader than Alec's fashion sense." Jace snorts. "Find a librarian. If I end up with an unflattering tan- I will charge you."
"And how am I to find a librarian?"
Magnus sighs heavily in his ear, as if he's just lost all faith in humanity's defenders. "Just ask for help."
Jace inhales deeply before saying, "Can I get some help?" as if the world, and its librarians, owed him much more. Soundlessly, a short figure appears further up the hall.
"Coming, dear," a voice tells him, high and sugary sweet with the customary accent to the English documentaries Jace can't stand. It's an old voice, and the lady sporting it looks about ready to crumble down.
"What does she look like? It's too dark for the camera."
"Like a grizzly with a bad perm."
"Must be Selma then."
"Selma Warwick," the lady shakes Jace's hand enthusiastically as soon as she's close enough. Her grip is surprisingly strong, her skin dry and rough. "Nice to meet you, boy, I haven't seen your kind here in a while."
She smiles at him, so he reckons she doesn't mean it as an insult. He grins back, charm oozing out in waves. "I'm glad you met me, then."
Selma laughs. "Indeed, boy, indeed." She finally lets go of his hand. "What was it you wanted help with, lad?" she asks.
"I've had trouble finding a book. I seem to get further lost with every turn I take- this library is so big." Jace schools his expression and adds a little spike of innocence to his voice. He's drawing from memories of Max and Alec in a bookshop- mimicking Alec's poorly suppressed glee and his little brother impatient movements. Selma melts.
"What's that book dear?"
"Nosce Te Ipsum."
Selma's mouth reshapes itself into a surprised 'O'. "Why would you need that? It has nothing but potions in it."
"A friend of mine was cursed. I think I might find the cure there," Jace blurts.
"Why are you telling her that?" Magnus demands. "Weren't you the one against alerting anyone?"
"Why didn't you hire a witch for that, dear? Surely you cannot brew a potion."
"I hired a witch but she's watching my friend right now. She sent me here to copy the recipe so she won't have to leave him." Jace lowers his eyes and voice. "He's in a really bad state, ma'am."
It seems to be the right thing to say though, because Selma's face splits into a blinding smile and she tugs Jace's hand to follow her. "That is sweet of you, lad."
The shelves around them are a whirl of papyrus and leather. Jace tries to remember the turns, but after the fifteenth he loses patience and quits. It's not as if he knew how to get out from when Selma picked him up anyway.
Suddenly, the woman stops. Jace miraculously doesn't topple over her. With a flick of her bony wrist, a book breaks free from the chains somewhere over their heads. It floats down into Selma's waiting hands. She hands the heavy volume over to Jace with a kind smile and a warm "There you have it, boy."
Jace thanks her and she disappears without a response. He blinks at the empty air before him. With a shrug, he turns to study the book in his hands. It is quite big, but not unusually so for a script its age, and jeweled to the point of being ridiculously tacky; he can feel gemstones digging into his palms. There's no title on the front cover, but as Jace opens the book, it glares at him with bold, black letters.
"Found it," he tells Magnus. The warlock sort of yeeps in his ear. Jace just grins.
"Fabulous. Now you just have to sneak it out without the tracing notifying anyone."
Jace's grin slips. His gut tells him everything's about to go to shit. "How?" he demands.
"Cut the pages out and put a concealment rune on them. It's weak enough to go unnoticed by the guards. They aren't trained to notice Shadowhunter tricks." Jace complies and gets out his stele. Opening the book, he slowly cuts it right at the seams, pages slowly coming apart in his grip. In a few moments, the cover is no longer connected, the pages newly branded.
"How come they don't have protection spells on those things?"
There's silence on the other end.
"You haven't thought of that, have you?" the guilty silence proves his statement. "You," Jace pauses for dramatic effect. "Are an idiot."
"It was an educated guess," Magnus snaps at him irritably. Jace huffs out uh-ha with as much disbelief and disappointment as he can manage to convey with his vocal cords. "It'd take far too much energy to sustain so many protection spells."
"Educated my ass," Jace counters. He crouches down to rummage through his bag. He finds a book there, a simple hardcover titled THE MAN WHO FORGOT HIMSELF: W. B. YEATS, A MUNDANE SEER. Vaguely, he recalls using it as a lever to get to the sword Magnus holds over his bookshelves. He has no idea how it ended up in his bag, doesn't particularly care either. He opens the book and performs the simple surgical motions over again. He switches the ancient book's content with the hardcover, carefully stuffing the jeweled leather cover with the new, white pages and sealing them in with another rune. It looks a bit off, but Jace hopes Selma won't look too closely. He shoves the hardcover and its new content inside his bag and shoulders it.
"Think I should call Selma?" Jace asks. "I can just leave it on the floor or something. Maybe I'll even have enough time to run before she reappears."
"I wouldn't try that if I were you." Magnus' voice is tense.
"Why?"
"It'll make her suspect you." The warlock replies. "She gave you a book and you disappeared. What d'you think she'll make of that?"
"What does it matter? I'll be long gone before she does."
"Not worth the risk."
"Is letting her take it back a better option?"
"The gate won't let you out anyway without her permission."
"Should've said so in the beginning," Jace grumbles before clearing his throat and calling out to Selma. She appears silently before him.
"Are you finished, dear?"
Jace plasters on a smile and nods vigorously. "Yes, ma'am." Selma smiles back, but her hand quickly comes forward for the loan. Jace hands over the book with barely shaking hands. He can feel sweat drying on his nape in the stale, cold hall. Selma takes the volume, small hands curling around the robust leather binding. She pats it fondly, skimming over the jewels and gems, her thumb brushing across the pages. Jace sees it before it happens- dry palms opening the book to check he hasn't dog-eared anything, that the script is safe and sound. Panic rises in him as Selma's arm flexes and her fingers inch closer to the edges of the cover in order to flip it over.
"Magnus, do something," he murmurs as softly as he can, urgency coloring his tone. In the next moment, there's an explosion outside.
Selma's eyes shift from the book in her hands to the rose window far, far ahead. "Oh, my," she mumbles and a soft, ghostly sigh follows. She doesn't move, though. There's another explosion, louder this time. Jace's eyes are glued to Selma's hands. She refuses to bulge, but at least she's stopped with her check.
For now.
"We should check what's happened out there," he tells her, manipulating his shaking voice to seem concerned. "There may be civilians hurt."
"There may," she answers, apathetic. She turns to smile at him. "My concern is only for my books, dear." With that said, Selma flicks her wrist and sends the book back to its shelf. Jace slowly lets his breath out.
"I will lead you to the exit." With a decisive nod, she turns and starts walking ahead. Jace quickly falls into step. It takes them long to reach the entrance, and by the end of it Jace's tense muscles are aching. He's vibrating when Selma's hand lifts to Cyparissus, pulling at the handles. The soft breeze is a welcome chill for his heated skin. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Jace waits some unknown signal- a nod, a smile- that it is alright to go, leave, run.
"I hope you'll find a cure for your friend," Selma tells him before turning away. Jace bolts out the door without a second thought.
As soon as his feet touch the ground outside, something screams. It's a metallic sound, the animalist screech of metal against wood. It's groan of something awakening.
All around him, statues tremble with the force of it. A ripple goes through the air, and the ivory marble of the lions before him darkens as veins appear beneath the inanimate coat. Stretching their muscles, the guards come alive.
Looking behind him, Jace finds Cyparissus' face staring right back with ferocious malice and burning, empty eyes. The bark breaks and remolds with a definite snap, sturdy young stems visible through the cracks. As they make their way through Cyparissus' old skin, they thicken and grow suspiciously pointy ends.
They lash out at Jace with the intent to kill just as Selma turns around again. Her eyes are dark, her lips pierced. She waves her slight hand and the lions roar, leaping towards Jace. She doesn't bother to stay and watch the battle. The doors close.
Jace sidesteps one of the bolder vines, intent on gouging out his eyes. It leaves a deep gash from chin to ear on his left side. His earpiece drops. Making a sharp turn on his heel, he manages to escape the giant paw of a nearby lion. The hit leaves an impressive imprint on the ground, almost as deep as Jace is high. He slips between the beast's legs, swiftly snakes his hand into his backpack and tightens a fist around a seraph blade.
"Sandalphon," he names the blade and quickly cuts through some of the offending greenery. He feints another try for a stab and runs. The lions roar behind him. Cyparissus' arms tangle themselves in his feet, effectively tripping him. A lion almost crushes him while he cuts through the plants around his shins. Rolling on his side, its claws only cut through his pack.
"Fuck." Reaching back, he grabs the remains of the bag. The rip goes through the whole front. "Fuckety fuck." Praying the book's safe, Jace thrusts a hand in, feeling the insides until his fingers collide with a large, rectangular shape of a book. The hardcover is badly damaged, but it seems intact. Jace doesn't have any more time to spare checking it as another vine catches his shoulder, reaping the trapezius through his shirt and knocking him back into a lion's front paw. Everything blacks out before him, the moving assailants barely a smudge of color against his eyelids. Pain blooms somewhere above his calf, ripping muscles and striking bone. Jace bites down a scream. He can feel the lions prowling around him, slowly inching closer and closer. The earth is jarred as one of the beasts springs towards him.
Jace prays for a quick death.
It takes him a moment to realize something's off. It takes him another few to realize it's the sound that's missing. There's no crushing weigh over him, no marble claws shredding his neck, not a single vine embedding itself in his heart.
Jace looks around- vision still blurry, black spots here and there. The scene around him is frozen, everything suspended, all motion paused. The lion behind him is halfway through his leap, hanging in the air like a puppet taut on its strings. Its fellows are stuck mid roar. The vines surrounding him are still.
"How did you survive long enough to meet my fabulous self with poor skills like those?" Magnus voice booms at him from behind. Jace doesn't care enough to respond to the patronizing lilt. He doesn't have the energy to spare.
"Get me out of here or those skills will wipe the floor with your bony ass," he says, pulling himself up slowly, carefully trudging to Magnus' lanky form. The warlock shakes his head with an exasperated sigh and appears right in Jace's face in five, large steps. He grabs hold of Jace's shoulder with a shaking, bleeding arm. There are faint magic bursts all about him, red and orange like sparks from a campfire. The lions are moving again.
Jace sees them closing in when their forms turn hazy and blurred, like violent spurts of color flickering in the corner of his eye. Magnus' grip is strong, his tight grasp Jace's sole support. The ground beneath him drops and changes, the air stolen and replaced- time and place shuffled, shaken and thrown about like a tennis ball. It's over before his gag reflex kicks in.
Jace falls into the rose bushes again. Magnus laughs at him and shoves him into the portal. They land on the kitchen table in a harsh, loud thump. Jace holds his breath, prepared to launch until Magnus breaks the portal circle by smudging the blood.
Jace closes his eyes with a deep, satisfied sigh and gets prepared to fall asleep right there in the kitchrn before Alec's shrill "God, are you alright?" forces his eyes open. Magnus is practically plastered to Alec's side, the book Jace has risked his life to bring back lying before them on the counter.
"This," says Magnus. "Is it."
Catching sight of Jace's intense staring, Alec morphs into a humane tomato and tries to push Magnus away. Jace drops his head back onto the table. Alec stops struggling, but takes a measured step back, the distance between him and the warlock now firmly established. Magnus' face falls and his demeanor quickly cools.
"Where's Izzy?" Jace demands grumpily.
"She's with Max, trying to explain why his brother's not gonna come back for a while without him having a fit."
"Harsh." The tabletop is cool against Jace's forehead. He doesn't bother getting up.
"How is Yeats' biography going to help me?" Alec asks, eying the stolen book.
"It's just the cover," Jace answers. "I kinda ripped it apart." He can hear Alec's scandalized inhale and warns, "Don't give me grief about it. It was either that or trying to kick the crazy librarian's ass. And she looked like a bear."
Alec shuts up with an audible click of his jaw. Magnus opens the book without a second, scathing glance. He gets out the thin, yellow pages from their ruined, impromptu cover and skims through them. A weak grin breaks on his face, charm notwithstanding, dim but enough to warm Jace's cold skin and shatter Alec's resolve. "I think we've got it."
Alec's shoulders loosen, some tension lost. He leans back against Magnus almost unconsciously and smiles. It's been a while since Jace saw him smiling that smile- the one that makes him want to make the world a little better, just to see that hope still has a place in it. It's shaken off quickly, sodden reality and years of hunting settling in, but the warmth isn't lost. Alec shakes himself, declares he's going to bring bandages and disappears in the hallway leading to the bathroom.
When Jace lifts his gaze, he sees Magnus' green eyes fixed on his face. He scowls.
"What?"
"Don't hurt him."
Jace frowns. "Why would I do that?"
"Unintentionally, you already did."
"What are you talking about?"
"I've been trying to erase you for a while now, but Alec's stubborn and now he's here."
Alec's back before Jace has the chance to sock his boyfriend. He's got gauze and sterile pads, some needles and strings. "Jace, get up," he instructs as he fills a bowl with lukewarm water from the tap. Magnus sits in a chair, eyes boring into Jace's broad back.
Jace straightens with a wince, his shoulder torn and screaming. He tries not to flinch while Alec cleans the wound, but can't help it when the alcohol is applied. He grits his teeth when the needle goes in, precise and quick. Alec is practiced, and his hand is steady as he stiches Jace back together. When it's over Jace's teeth ache and Alec's hands are stained red. Once he moves on to his leg, the pain subsides slightly, the skin thicker- less sensitive to the applied pressure.
Jace looks over at Magnus as Alec works, but his eyes aren't glaring at him. They are trained on Alec, bent head, mop of black hair and pale, nimble fingers. Magnus doesn't say a word, but he doesn't have to for Jace to feel as if he's in the middle of something he has no right to meddle with. As he stares at Magnus, Jace comes to the conclusion that he's not so bad a person, and perhaps not so bad a boyfriend, if judging by the way he's carefully following each of Alec's movements.
When the treatment is finished, Alec turns to Magnus. "Think I can still use a stele?"
Magnus nods slightly. "I think you should still be able to in the first few days."
"Good." Alec smiles and his eyes brighten. He makes a 'gimme' motion at Jace and the stele is carefully handed over. "Where do you want it?"
Jace doesn't want to move his arm to pull up his sleeve. "Do it on the shoulder." Alec nods and bends again, branding Jace's skin. This time, Jace does get a glare from Magnus. He gives the warlock a dry look, not apologetic- but not defiant either. It's a look that says, I think I get it and I won't.
The Iratze burns, and with one final, decisive stroke- Alec is done. He turns to Magnus, eyes intent on his arm. It's still bleeding a little, nothing life threatening, but just about deep enough to make one slightly wobbly and faint. "I'm fine, darling. Really," Magnus says, but Alec gives him an unimpressed look, already armed with gauze and a sterile pad large enough to cover the gash.
"Why did you cut so deep?" Alec demands as he inspects the wound. "I thought those temporary portals don't need that much blood sacrifice."
"It wasn't the portal," Magnus answers. "We ran into the guards. I had to stop time for a while."
Alec's eyes widen. He seems a bit stricken. "And you say it just like that? I just had to stop time for a while?"
Magnus' mouth unfurls into a stupid, cocky grin Jace is well accustomed to. "I really wanted that book, sweetheart," he explains. Alec ducks his head, embarrassed but visibly preening.
"That's why you're bleeding?" Alec asks as he soaks a towel in alcohol. "Does that require a blood sacrifice too?"
"You have to give something in order to gain something. Magic comes with a price."
Alec mumbles "You didn't have to do that," and lifts Magnus' arm a bit. His motions are careful but firm, bloody flesh slowly cleansed. Pressed down against his injury, the towel quickly turns maroon. Magnus lets out a hiss, his other hand tightly clasping Alec's shoulder. It takes a while, but the bleeding stops eventually. Alec throws away the towel and places the sterile, snow-white pad onto olive skin. Applying some pressure, he starts unrolling the gauze and wrapping it around the warlock's arm. When the gauze runs out, he tears it with his teeth to create two even ends. Jace sees Magnus' eyes snap to his brother's mouth.
The gauze is quickly tied and Alec straightens with a smile. "Done."
Magnus smiles like a child in love. It's painfully sincere, truly beautiful and so very obvious in its intensity and intent. "I did have to." He says it like an axiom.
Jace expects Alec to blush and stare at the floor like it's terribly fascinating. He doesn't- he looks back, and with earnest stubbornness etched all over his features, says Thank you as if Magnus needs it.
Jace exits the room without either being aware of his sudden departure. He goes to the bathroom to wash his face and change his clothes. He stays outside the living-room longer than necessary because he feels they are entitled to something and he has nothing more to offer than some privacy.
When he returns, Magnus has a handful of the book's torn pages in his hands. Alec sits across him, more sheets strewn on his lap. Jace unceremoniously grabs another few and sits down.
"What are we looking for?" he asks.
"Anything that has to do with reverse transfiguration," Magnus replies. "The chances you'd be able to read that-" Magnus gestures towards the papers Jace holds, "-are slim."
Jace looks at the text and realizes Magnus is right. The script looks like a blind man's doodles, or Izzy's handwriting. Magnus hands him some of his own material and takes the pages Jace has no idea how to read. "That's Latin," the warlock explains. "That should be readable enough, even for thee of little intellect."
They spend hours digging through spells, potions and rituals. Most of it doesn't make much sense, some seems too ludicrous to actually work, enough too disgusting to digest.
"Why's that half of those potions have spiders in them?" Alec asks, voice quivering.
"They have therapeutic qualities, especially the bigger ones. Tarantula fangs, for example -"
Alec shivers and gags, his face suddenly colored all sorts of green. Magnus takes one look at him and shuts up, quickly averting his eyes. Jace snickers and gets on with his reading. By dinner, he's found a potion used to turn one's limbs into wings, and a spell to discover the environment best suited for your soul.
"Anyone found anything?"
Alec shakes his head. "I have learned how to transfigure metal to gold, though."
"So alchemy's real?"
"Of course it is." Magnus says it like it's obvious. Jace tries to convey it's totally not with a single, seething look.
"I haven't found the exact potion," Magnus continues, "But there are few I can maybe remold for our needs. It's a good sign."
"How?"
"It means we have the right book," Magnus returns his eyes to the scattered papers in his lap. "It means we're close to the answer."
Alec nods. There's a moment of shared relief before Jace slumps over and demands to be fed.
"I'm hungry. Can you make the cat into a burger?" Jace asks Magnus. "Or at least summon a pizza?"
"Nope," Magnus grins. "Injured." He nods at his bandaged arm with a smirk. "You can go and buy something though."
"You're just lazy."
"The fridge is right there."
"I can cook," Alec offers suddenly.
"But you cook healthy food. I want jun-" Jace counters.
"I'd love that," Magnus disrupts him. The self-satisfied smirk morphs into a gentler expression.
Alec nods without hiding his smile and gets up. He puts on his snickers, hoodie and fingerless gloves.
"Aren't you gonna look in the fridge first?" Jace asks when Alec heads to the door.
"There's nothing in there anyway," Alec says, and he seems so certain Jace feels he knows Magnus' apartment better than he does, and Jace is living there.
"Anything specific you two want?" Alec's hand is already on the handle, but he turns before he leaves.
"That chicken salad thing you do," Magnus replies. Alec grins, says ok and is out the door before Jace manages to formulate 'not veggies'.
A/N: I'm a firm believer that a/ns are for rambling, thus I shall ramble.
Gobles is a real town in Michigan (phoenixfire44, fixed! thank you), and (according to wiki) had the population of 829 in 2010. From pics I've seen of the place it looks like the perfect location for a concealed, enormous library. It also has the most perfect name- right out of a fantasy book.
On the subject of names, Selma is the feminine form for the name Anselm (Ans- God, Helm- protection, as she guards the library), brought to England in the 11th century. As for her surname- I was thinking War of the Roses.
(I called her Dorothea in the original draft because I totally forgot CC has a character by that name. I finally remembered when there were casting news for Madam Dorothea, so I had to find a replacement. Shame on me for forgetting Madam Dorothea.)
Nosce Te Ipsum- means 'Know thyself' in Latin.
Hope this chapter wasn't too terrible :)
(typo fixed! thanks Can't log in)
Excerpt from the next chapter:
"Why didn't you save him?" she demands. "You could've, couldn't you?" her small frame is shaking terribly, like a leaf caught in a tornado.