Google Translate stuff, though in this chapter (in my personal opinion) it's better if you check the A/Ns after you've read the whole thing untranslated to get the feel I was going for. The long-ass conversation in Spanish is meant to be sort of vague.
03: Offering
Of the three potions Magnus has tried to remold- onlyonehad any visible effect on Alec; it turned his skin blue. One almost blew up the loft. Neither stopped the progress of the curse.
The following days are spent in silence as all three of them huddle around paper sheets and coffee, the television mute in the background.
At first they are hunters, hungry and ferocious. They circle and pounce, teeth bared and eyes alight. Knowledge runs away, eluding and evasive, a perfectly adjusted to black-on-white print chameleon. It skips from one page to the other, light and swift like a fire, but they are relentless and stubborn enough to keep chase. They retire with hope still burning, just a step behind their prey.
The second day is disheartening, but in an entirely predictable manner. Encouraged by the volleys, they run forwards, chasing what they can no longer pick the scent of among the tome's destruction. The game is no less determined, quick and cunning it remains unseen and uncaught.
On the third day- they are lost amongst pages, words and incantations. On the fourth, they have scouted most of the land. On the fifth they yield and remain stationary, hope lost- too many potions already brewed and rejected.
Jace suggests trying looking elsewhere. Magnus gives him a level look and tells him he won't find it anywhere else. Jace glares. "At this rate, we won't find it here either," he says and takes off, door slamming behind him. He comes back a few hours later with a name of a potion he's managed to extracts from a warlock he got the name of through Izzy's- admittedly questionable- social circle. Magnus' smile is all teeth and no humor when he tells him, "It's the one that made him blue."
Jace sticks to the stolen tome after that.
On the sixth morning that Alec is still turning human Izzy has to face a mission alone. Alec begs her to refuse it, ask for someone else to deal with the Raum demon in the bay.
"I can't," she tells him. "Don't worry, I can handle it."
He doesn't hear from her for hours. Alec spends the whole day in the training room, going through Katas and punching the air in frustration, one of Magnus' CDs stuck on a loop for company. Alec's body grows slower by the minute, muscles losing the extra flexibility the runes had gifted them with, his eyes growing unfocused, his lungs weakened. His body aches and screams, but he does not yield until he's blinded by the sweat trickling into his eyes. Shaking his head like a dog, he keeps on moving, steady motions cutting the air about him.
"Hello, handsome," Magnus' voice greets him from the door. Alec doesn't spare him a glance. Spinning, he kicks out the invisible enemy before him, turning again to elbow the air to his right and duck from an attack no one but him can see.
"I appreciate a sweating, shirtless Shadowhunter as much as the next sparkly warlock but don't you think you're pushing it, darling?"
Alec tackles the air with a vicious punch, using his momentum to roll, land on all fours and deliver a low kick.
"Izzy's gone," he tells Magnus, but doesn't bother with eye contact. "She's out there all alone and," he kicks out, adds "I'm," spins, hisses out "-stuck-" throws out a fist and grumbles bitterly, "-here."
"It's nice here," Magnus argues, a finger trailing the intricate design on the walls. "The décor is fabulous."
Alec's strikes become harsher. "I don't care," he snaps. "I'm turning human and my sister's all alone facing a demon." With a particularly cruel swipe, he whirls around, eyes blazing.
"True," Magnus nods. "Is that why you're killing yourself fighting air?"
Alec turns away from him and resumes his previous actions. Magnus seems content standing there and watching. By the time the CD's looped enough for him to recognize the tunes, Magnus asks whether he'd like a challenge. Alec grumbles an affirmative and a second later something hits his back. His brain doesn't catch up fast enough so he lands on hands and knees and rolls onto his side, one wrist spraining in the process.
"The hell?"
Magnus frowns. He seems concerned. Alec shrugs and gets up, wincing when the movement takes its toll on his wrist. "You were supposed to be able to dodge it."
"Maybe if you'd have bothered warning me-"
"Duck."
Alec does without thinking. He's not fast enough. Something hits his shoulder. A spell like a wreck ball. He ends up on the floor again.
"You were supposed to dodge that." Panic seeps into the warlock's voice. Alec gets up and levels him with a stare. He's not going to let him think he's gotten that much worse in a week. He can't. Won't. He didn't.
"Let's try this again," he says. Magnus opens his mouth to protest, but Alec interrupts before he can, "Come on."
Magnus' jaw tightens, but he remains silent. With a flick of his wrist, the spell hits Alec's back again. He can't even hear it sailing through the air, can't sense the crackle of magic or sudden movement. He groans but stands up again, gesturing for Magnus to continue.
He won't lose, not to it, or her, or him.
He gets beat by the first ten. Magnus seems more reluctant to summon the spell each time Alec ends up sprawled on the floor. Alec doesn't let him. His body gradually adjusts to the pain and the speed Alec demands of it. His muscles scream. Alec keeps pushing and a rhythm is created.
Hit, fall, up.
Hit, down, stand.
It's an hour before he feints the first hit. Magnus seems surprised. When the second, third and fourth miss just as spectacularly, and a smirk grows on Alec's sweaty features, he finally asks, "How?"
"You're very predictable." Alec shrugs. Magnus lifts an eyebrow, his eyes somewhat hopeful. "Try again." Magnus does. Several times, in quick succession. Alec parries.
"Who's Amy?" Alec asks after a while, but doesn't cease moving. Magnus gives him a dumbfounded look.
"I haven't the faintest. And you're avoiding the subject."
"All of the boys and all of the girls," Alec grinds as he moves about the room, sweat beads gliding from temple to jaw. "Are begging to if you seek Amy." He almost hums the words along with the muted sound of the playing music.
The spell misses again.
Magnus laughs at his words. An evil glint enters his eyes before he says, "Are begging to if you seek Amy." He joins Alec's dance on the mats, expertly deflecting his halfhearted swings. There are no more spells, just dry hits of skin against skin.
Alec aims for the warlock's stomach. Magnus moves to the side, but Alec's knuckles graze his ribs, trashing his balance. Using the opportunity, he goes for a kick. Magnus' long fingers wind around his calf and he repeats, "Are begging to if you seek Amy" before letting go. Alec growls somewhere in the back of his throat and lunges. Magnus keeps on humming. Alec's fist is only a few inches from Magnus' nose when he hears it. "All of the boys and all of the girls are begging to f.u.c.k me," Magnus whispers in his ear before smacking his arm away and tripping him. Alec squawks indignantly.
"And that statement, honey, is especially accurate without your shirt on," Magnus tells him with a wink.
Alec's cheeks flood with red. Magnus laughs and leans down to whisper, "You look hot when you blush."
Alec groans and lets his head hit the mats. He stares intently at the ceiling, still burning with embarrassment. "Don't say things like that."
"Why? It's true."
Alec doesn't answer. Magnus settles next to him.
"How'd you figure it out?" he asks. "I didn't even realize I was doing it."
Alec tilts his head to the right so he can see Magnus' face. "I've been listening," he mumbles. "And I know you."
Magnus smiles. "I'm impressed."
"You should be," Alec huffs. "I actually got the rhythm right."
"You got more than just that right," Magnus mutters before leaning in. They kiss slow and messy, but Alec's too tired to care. His brain shuts down- thoughts, worries and distractions shoved to the side.
Giving in feels good, relaxing. It's been a while since he's felt that way.
When they break apart, breathless, Magnus' mouth is shaped into a wide, satisfied grin. His eyes glim. "Have I told you I think found our potion?"
Alec's surprise is painstakingly obvious. Magnus has barely the time to boast before the Shadowhunter springs and engulfs him in a tight hug. Neither can breathe.
"You are welcome," Magnus murmurs into his hair. Alec doesn't let go. "But you should know it's not exactly easy to make."
Alec's smile is brilliant when he lifts his head. "But it's possible," he says. Magnus smiles in return.
"Thanks," Magnus cocks an eyebrow, his grin quickly morphing into a sly smirk.
"Oh, you can thank me-" he laughs when Alec colors. Alec pulls Magnus up, murmuring something about brewing, heading decidedly towards the exit. Magnus lets him, but they don't make it two steps before he is kissing Alec again- stalling their purposeful motion.
"You are procrastinating." Magnus covers Alec's mouth with a laugh. Alec shuts up without protest, tangling his fingers in soft, black hair instead.
When they pull for air, the warlock murmurs, "I love procrastinating," and kisses Alec again. "Procrastinating is my favorite pastime activity."
Alec rolls his eyes, "I thought I was your favorite pastime activity." Magnus grins.
"You're somewhere down that list." The syllables grow fainter as Alec trails a path down Magnus' throat, faint, red marks left behind. Magnus' breath becomes uneven, and Alec can feel his pulse stutter against his mouth.
"Somewhere?" He pulls on Magnus hair until they're face to face again, too close for Alec's eyes to be able to focus. Stray hands rake up and down Alec's sides, one settling on his shoulder, the other pulling him by the belt loops. Alec groans. He thinks the blur that's Magnus' face in front of him grins.
The smile widens as Alec moves to nip under Magnus' jaw. "Keep that up and you'll move-" a moan. Alec grins. "-up to top three."
"Stop talking." Magnus complies. His back hits the wall with a loud thud. Neither cares; the wall doesn't complain.
Magnus twists them around, and Alec finds his shoulder blades digging painfully into the wall behind him. The protest dies in his throat as soon as Magnus' mouth settles on a spot beneath his ear, gentle hot breath a ghost against Alec's wet skin. Alec's breath escapes him. He shuts his eyes but the colors seep in, staining the dark.
He feels Magnus' mouth curve against his skin into a smirk. Alec figures Magnus ought to put it to better use- so he cranes his neck and pull his head in, crashing lips.
The light filtering through the single window shifts gradually, already dim when they separate- lips swollen, skin red, eyes glimming and dilated. They leave the training room reluctantly. Alec doesn't realize he has the look of total debauchery before Jace comments on it.
"Someone's been busy," he says as soon as they enter the living room, the papers strewn across his lap forgotten. He gives Alec a grin, his eyebrows lifting and lowering several times in one fluid motion. Alec's face reinvents the color red. He doesn't try to deny it this time though, the hurt look on Magnus' face still clear in his mind. Jace won't believe him anyway. "I did wonder how come you didn't get kicked out as I did."
"I have my ways," Magnus replies with a sly grin.
"I can see that." Jace laughs at Alec's scandalized face.
"Also, I came bearing good news."
"He's found the potion," Alec exclaims, clamping a hand to the hickey on his neck Jace has been eying. Jace's head snaps back in surprise. His eyes widen, looking for confirmation. Magnus gets a crumpled paper from his breast pocket and unfolds it. Jace scrambles up in haste, the ancient paper sheets on his lap slipping to the floor.
The sixth day is the salvation no one expected to find.
"How the hell are we supposed to get the hoof of an Empusa?" Jace asks as his eyes scan the ingredients of the potion on the crumpled papyrus.
"There's a market in Staten Island for those kinds of exquisite goods."
"Do they happen to sell Lamia teeth too?"
"Yes."
"Hair from a Kirin's mane?"
"Yes."
"Rusalka scales?"
"I think it's logical to assume they do," Alec interrupts before Magnus opens his mouth to drawl something about Jace's apparent lack of common sense. "Is there anything in there you don't know where to get?"
Magnus' clicks his tongue. "Human blood," he says. "We all know where to get that, but I thought I'd share before I mix it in with your drink."
Alec shifts. "Do I have to become a serial killer now?"
Magnus shakes his head. "Easy, Dexter. The potion requires the blood of the assumed form- in your case, human. It doesn't specify how fresh it should be." Alec makes a face at that. "It also requires Shadowhunter blood, but that's easy enough to get," Magnus continues with a smirk. "We can just drain Golden Boy."
"Should we approach the vampires about the blood?" Alec completely ignores Magnus' comment. Jace tries to fry him with his eyes, grumbling profanities loudly enough for them to get the gist of it, but not the actual words.
Magnus' face twists in distaste. Alec can't decipher if it's due to Jace's childish antics or his suggestion. "No one should ever approach vampires."
"Unless they want blood," Jace deadpans. "In which case they don't really have a choice."
"There are blood banks, you know?" Magnus interjects, face sour. "And I happen to know a gorgeous clerk from NYBC. Looks like Kate Moss before she went Corpse Bride, can tell your blood type with a glance."
Alec can't tell if Magnus' voice softens or is it his ears malfunctioning. Something unpleasant twists in his gut. He wonders how Magnus 'happened to know' her.
"Mind introducing me?" Jace inquires.
"You have Clary," Magnus tells him. "Polygamy is frowned upon these days."
Jace lips reveal perfectly white teeth. His grin is wicked in its joy, a dozen kinds of charming oozing of every skin pore. It makes Alec's heart beat painfully. "There's always room for someone as hot as Kate Moss." Jace says.
Magnus eyes him critically. "She's out of your league, darling. You're the tramp to her lady."
"They end up together in that movie."
"True, but life isn't a Disney cartoon," Magnus taunts. "And you are not a sweet, furry mutt. Well, not sweet anyway. It's hard to deny the other two."
"Isn't it simpler to just nick some blood bags with magic?" Alec cuts in, stomach rolling and throat dry. Magnus cocks an eyebrow.
"You think they won't notice?"
"Vampires do it."
"Vampires have connections."
"Apparently, so do you," Alec almost snaps. There's something dark in his voice he does not want to dwell on. He hates the name Kate. "How long before she can get us some blood?"
"Depends on how long it'll take her to pick up the phone," Magnus says, summoning his cellphone with a snap of his fingers. It's small, sleek and black- responding quickly when Magnus' fingers poke at it. Alec marvels about it as they await an answer. Alec isn't sure he wants one.
Magnus' face brightens abruptly. "Helena!" Alec frowns. So her name's Helena. "How've you been, hon?" Magnus is far too excitable. A short silence, "Fabulous, more so than usual." He laughs. "Yes." A pause. "Obviously, yeah. My favorite combo, just like Will." Who's Will? "Is that so? We should totally meet up, drag 'em along. Do some shopping while they mope." The silence this time is longer. Magnus looks sheepish when he says, "I know, and darling, believe me- it burdens me every day. Your voice is like music, seriously." Alec grits his teeth. He can hear them creek. "-Yeah, a potion. Mm, for him. No, not much, two portions should be enough. Uh, wait a sec-" Magnus turns to Alec. "What's your blood type?"
"O."
"Oddly fitting," Magnus says before he's back on the phone. "O. Yes, thank you, sweetie. I know, yeah. For real?" he seems amused, "I've been there. Service is shit, but they make one mean cheese soufflé and the waiters are surprisingly attractive." Another laugh. So now there are waiters to worry about, too. "'Course. Yeah. Make it work." Magnus' grin widens. "Oh, I know hon. And I'd look better in that suit." He hangs up with another clear, loud laugh and a 'Chao'. He snaps his fingers again and two blood bags appear on the table.
"What was the phone call for if you just stole those anyway?" Jace demands, baffled.
"So she'll write them off as hospital supplies. No need to raise suspicion amongst mundanes." Magnus turns to Alec with a wolfish grin. "So, shall we?"
Alec nods.
x
Raphael makes it to the Center as early as possible, out of the hotel as soon as the sun has settled beneath the sea. He heads to one the employee's back doors, lodged on the other side of the large building, far enough from the glassy, front entrance. It's the same faded, brown color as the door to the garage next to it, both locked for the night. Leigh comes a few minutes later, a small key in his palm.
"Raphael," he greets. Raphael barely nods. Leigh rolls his pretty blue eyes and storms to the door, key held like a weapon. He jams it into the lock ferociously, twisting until there's a faint click indicating surrender.
"You have absolutely no common courtesy," Leigh tells him as they pass the door and lock it. The room is dark and soundless in the afterhours- a vacant store-room full of bandages, sterile gloves and syringes.
"I believe we'll both agree you are not common," Raphael replies briskly. Neither bothers to switch on the lights- their eyes making a quick adjustment. Leigh's face twists in a snarl.
"Only if we both agree you're a bastard," he mutters. Raphael doesn't even bother glaring. He doesn't look back as he strolls out of the room, certain Leigh would follow. He does. They walk through the pristine halls in smothering silence, full of unspoken, yet plainly obvious mutual distaste. From the corner of Raphael's eye, Leigh is a blur of auburn hair and painfully tight black clothes.
It's been two weeks since he last saw him, months since they were civil to each other, years since they has more than bites and rage to offer one another.
"Stop staring at me," Leigh snaps at him as they turn to another deserted hall. Raphael lifts an eyebrow.
"Your eyesight is lacking."
Leigh snorts. "Right," he says, "you were staring at the wall behind my head."
"It's far more attractive than you," Raphael shoots back. "It's probably far more intelligent as well."
Leigh growls, shoves past Raphael's shoulder and slams the door to the main hall open. The clerk behind the reception desk jumps with a shriek.
"Do you mind not scaring the shit out of me every single time?" she demands, whirling on them with a scowl. It might have been intimidating were she a little more stable on her heels.
"Blame him," Leigh grumbles. The girl glowers at Raphael. He shrugs. The motion deepens her scowl, her face darkening in annoyance.
"Both of you are insufferable," she tells them, settling back on her chair. "How much do you need this time?"
Raphael leans against the table. Leigh scoots away. "About forty," he answers.
"It's more than usual," the girl murmurs. She bends down to retrieve a clipboard, grabbing a pen from the table top. She writes something down in haste and hands Leigh the clipboard and the pen. "Do your thing."
"Thanks, Hell."
"Don't call me that."
Leigh grins.
"It's Helena," her voice is harsh, but her expression remains mildly affectionate. "With your memory, you should've gotten it by now."
Leigh hm-s in response. He gets to work, writing down social security and ID numbers to be identified with the missing blood. Raphael has no idea how he gets them- or how come no one has ever noticed- but the center seems to believe the blood serves humans, not the entire New York vampire coven.
Raphael stares at the growing list of names with disinterest. When Leigh's done, he shoves it in his face with an irritated, "There".
Raphael scans his work without a word. His eyes stop on the last name Helena's filled in. Marcus Bane.
"Is that a human?" he asks Helena, pointing at the name. She chuckles.
"Nope." Helena smiles. "But that's what I always fill for Magnus. It was his idea. It's some dude in Binghamton with a niece up here."
"Magnus as in Magnus Bane?" Leigh seems surprised. Helena nods.
"That's the one."
Raphael's eyes narrow. He remembers smelling magic on the blue-eyed Shadowhunter boy he's met a week ago. Magic leaves a peculiar scent- sharp and pungent like a lemon- distinctive and unique for each warlock and witch. He's met a witch with the scent of raspberries once. Magnus Bane stinks of ink and rain.
Alexander Lightwood smelled the same.
"Did he tell you what he needs it for?"
"A potion."
"For whom?"
Helena gives him an odd look. "His boyfriend."
"Does he happen to have blue eyes?" At that, Helena turns outright suspicious.
"Yes," she offers after a contemplative moment. "How do you know?"
"Never mind that. Can you give me an empty bag?" she nods, leaning further back on her chair when his glare intensifies. "Good, so we're done here," he practically growls at her, shoving the clipboard in her chest. She gives him a nasty look, so he adds gracias. Helena nods, takes the board and gives them both a wry look.
"Break anything while I'm in the storage and I'll break your necks," she threatens before turning away and heading to bring the blood.
"What was that about?" Leigh asks as soon as she's out of range.
"None of your business."
"What business do you have with Magnus Bane?" Leigh's usually light tenor is an octave deeper. He's seething. "He's the High Warlock of Brooklyn, isn't he?"
Raphael nods absentmindedly but doesn't say anything.
"Is it about his boyfriend?"
Raphael remains quite. High warlock or not, Bane must be a moron to try and heal Alexander with the blood Helena can offer. If he swallows a potion with it- he'll drop dead after the first sip.
Helena returns with a something like a picnic cooler in tow. It's large and neon-blue, heavy with forty portions of blood. She opens it for them to see and count the bags. When they're done, Raphael takes the empty bag Helena offers him. He seals the container and hands it to Leigh.
"Take it back to the guarida," he commands. "I have something else to tend to."
Before they part ways outside the Center, Leigh grips Raphael's shoulder. "I don't like this."
"I don't care," Raphael tells him sincerely. "Let go."
Leigh does. Raphael is gone seconds later, heading to Pandemonium. He doesn't want to risk it on the streets. They're always too crowdy in New York, always some wannabe hero in close proximity.
His journey is uneventful but quick; he arrives at the club fifteen-minutes later. He doesn't bother with the line, sliding past the bouncer too quickly for him to even notice. He's inside the club and on the dance floor in seconds.
Raphael's eyes scan the crowd hungrily, assessing the humans grinding against each other to the electronic beat. A young brunette catches his eye. She's short and lithe, her hair iron-curled and dump with sweat. Her outfit is tiny and unnoticeable. The only part of her anatomy that's covered properly is the length of her legs- knee high leather boots.
Her eyes are closed, but she moves flawlessly.
She looks like someone no one would look for.
Raphael's by her side in a heartbeat, grinning slyly. "Hello," he purrs. She lifts her eyes from his chest to stare into his eyes, and just like that- she's caught. He leans closer, filling her nose with pheromones, heating her skin with butterfly touches. "Wanna get out of here, cariño?"
He doesn't wait for an answer before dragging her away from the cluster of bodies and into the backroom. Thankfully, it's empty and dark.
The girl plasters herself to his back all the way, her breath warm against his neck. He turns and pins her to the wall.
She's the first to make contact, kissing him feverishly. Raphael can feel her pulse through her flesh, her heart hammering against her ribcage, desperate to reach him. He doesn't let her move, attacking her throat with his lips- sharp fangs grazing the surface of her skin. He doesn't bite, although he wants to. She seems to want it too, trashing against his body and placing her neck to his mouth with quiet, soft moans. Holding her head against the wall with one hand, he grips one wrist and pulls it closer, ignoring her pleas to take her neck. He bites down close to her vain, opening a wound. She doesn't struggle as he thought she might.
Pulling the plastic bag from his back pocket, Raphael presses it against the bleeding wrist. The bag slowly fills- opaque white turning bright red. When he's done, his victim is a supple weigh supported by the wall. He laps at the torn skin until it heals. Her blood is bitter with the tang of alcohol and arousal.
Raphael pulls away with great difficulty, teeth still sharp and extended, body still aching for human blood. The bag is warm against his palm.
He turns away and exits, the girl left alone at the wall. He makes his way out of Pandemonium and deeper into Brooklyn, moving as fast as his legs can carry him, navigating through the dimly illuminated streets and pitch-black alleyways. Rushing past houses and stores, he makes it to State Street faster than he thought.
He can recognize the warlock's den without knowing the exact address. It's an old Victorian relic of red bricks and gaping, white-framed sash windows, immersed with a thin web of crackling, golden magic threads. Like a cage, it girts the house with sheer, flickering bars. Raphael stops before it in hesitation.
Reaching out a tentative finger, he pokes at the barrier. It sends static up his arm and straight up his spine- a tingling feeling that is not entirely uncomfortable, barely even hostile. He goes past the magic barrier and enters the building.
A blond boy opens the door on the second knock. He's familiar.
"Raphael," the boy greets. There are runes peeking from beneath the collar of his shirt. A Shadowhunter. The one who came to save Simon Lewis the first time around.
Jace, Alexander has called him.
Raphael nods. "Invite me in?"
Jace leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. Raphael briefly wonders what Valentine's spawn has to do with the High Warlock of Brooklyn. "And why would I do that?"
"Because you care for Alexander Lightwood's life." Raphael doesn't know that for sure, but he has heard the rumors about the Wayland and Lightwood alliance even before the notion of Valentine was thrown into the mix.
Jace eyes him wryly, but doesn't object. "Come in," he says and steps back to allow Raphael entrance. Raphael strolls past him, following his nose to where the smell of potion brewing is most prominent. He ends up in the kitchen, face to face with Alexander, Jace a few steps behind him.
"Mi chico," the boy is a delightful sight."Cómo estas?" Alexander's blue eyes widen in surprise. Raphael leans closer. "Todavía te estás convirtiendo en ser humano?".
From the glazed look in the boy's eyes- he is- fast and hard. Still washed with pheromones from his encounter in the club, the vampire's body acts as a magnet, a field force Alexander has no way to fight off. It's stronger this time, the pull almost immediate. Raphael grins. Alexander takes a step forward into his personal space, fingers tightening on the soft fabric of his shirt.
"What are you doing here, Santiago?" an arm snakes around Alexander's middle before he can plaster himself to Raphael's form completely. Raphael's eyes snap up to see one furious warlock.
"Preventing you from killing him," Bane's cat eyes narrow. He doesn't seem to appreciate the effort.
Pulling Alexander away, he huffs, "Oh really?" as though he really meant screw you.
"Am I missing something?" Jace asks behind Raphael's back. "Alec's into Polygamy and no one's told me?"
"Trust me, he isn't," Bane's tone is as acrid as the glare he throws Raphael. The vampire smiles at him innocently.
"Have you mixed in the blood yet?" he asks. Bane covers his surprise at this tidbit of information Raphael shouldn't possess almost too well. He sees it though- a slight widening of the eyes, a crackle of the magic around him, a twitch of his fingers on Alexander's chest.
"No," he retorts suspiciously. "Why?"
Raphael throws the bagged blood at him, forcing him to release the entrapped Shadowhunter in order to catch it. Alexander immediately steps closer, eyes glazed. "Because the moment you do and he drinks it- the Lightwoods will lose their heir."
This time, Jace is the one to keep Alexander away from him when he steps closer. Raphael scowls. "I won't bite."
There's a dangerous glint in the blonde's eyes when he snarls, "Oh, I know you won't", as if it's a threat. It probably is.
"Where did you get that?" Bane's tone is disgusted. Raphael exhales slowly through his nose, feebly trying to hold back from lashing at the pompous moron.
"I'm sure you can figure it out," he says. "Use it."
"Why should I?"
"It'll save his life."
"How do I know you're not lying?"
Raphael rolls his eyes and stalks to the brewing cauldron by the counter. Dipping in a random glass snatched from the table, he takes some of the potion to prove his point. "Where's your blood?" he asks.
"In the fridge," Jace answers. "Should I lock him somewhere?" he asks Bane, nodding at Alexander. Bane shakes his head grimly, barely taking his eyes off Raphael.
Raphael takes out one of the blood bags stored on the top shelf of the fridge and adds a small portion to the glass he's holding. The potion turns from light orange to moss. Unceremoniously, Raphael spills the glass' contents into a nearby pot. The plant sizzles and dies.
"Ahora me cree, brujo?"
The warlock's face winds into an ugly, scornful grimace, fists furling by his sides. "How did you know?" he stresses the first word, almost spitting it.
"I have my ways."
Bane doesn't seem pleased with the answer. Nonetheless, he grabs a wooden-spoon and pulls open the blood-bag Raphael has presented. He pours its contents and stirs the mixture, chanting incantations Raphael can hear but not decipher the meaning of. The warlock's body glows as his voice gets stronger, casting a green tint on the entire room. When Bane's murmurs die, a strong flash illuminates the room, a lightning strike of burning, White Magia Raphael can barely stand the heat of.
Protection spells, is his best guess. Most likely against every sort of poison Bane knows the antidote to. Raphael feels almost hurt at the plain distrust.
With the last incantation uttered, the potion turns the same jade color as before, yet it seems more vibrant, brilliant and saturated. When the warlock scoops some of it with the spoon and pours it against another plant- it remains alive.
Raphael has the urge to parrot I told you so over and over until Bane admits he's not good enough. He's unsure what, exactly, he's not good enough for, but he doesn't care for the details.
Bane fills a glass with the clear, green liquid and offers it to Alexander. The boy drinks it without shifting his intense stare. Bane checks his watch. "Thirteen minutes past eight. The potion requires regime. We'll need more blood tomorrow by eight." He doesn't look at Raphael, his eyes firmly trained on the boy before him, but his voice suggests none too gently that he'd better be on time or else.
When the glass empties, the last of the green liquid gone, Alexander remains the same. Jace's arms tighten their hold on their captive.
"Shouldn't he be normal now?"
Bane's answer is a frustrated grumble, "It might take hours until he's remotely 'normal'." The warlock glowers at Raphael, his next words forced out through clenched teeth, "And the fact you're oozing pheromones does not help." He turns to Jace. "It'll be three hours until the potion has any effect at all. It'll start slowing down the process. It won't regress it, just minimize the shifts to his essence."
"How much slower will it get?"
"Without it he has a month," Bane's expression is bitter. "Now he'll have-" he trails off, narrowing his eyes in calculation. "About four."
"Not terribly effective, your potion," Raphael drawls. Bane huffs and with a snap of his fingers an obnoxiously pink air-freshener appears in his palm. Bane proceeds in emptying its contents all over Raphael. As the spray empties, so do Alexander's eyes, the lust dimmed as a new fragrance covers the raging vampire-pheromones. The boy gives Raphael a glare when he finally comes to his senses- no longer affected by his demonic allure.
"Do you mind not doing-" the boy's lips twist in distaste and his cheeks redden. "-that every time I see you?"
"To be fair, I wasn't doing anything, blue-eyes."
The warlock's energy crackles behind him. It makes Raphael's grin widen maliciously.
"Being attractive is what vampires do," Raphael shrugs.
"I should claim copyright," Jace grumbles.
"Why did you come here?" Bane stalks forward, now in front of Alexander, positioned on the left of Jace- effectively silencing both.
"To see the new place. You've moved since Camille." Raphael leans back on the counter. "I like it. More furniture."
Magnus blurts a baffled, "What?".
"You know," looking from under thick, black eyelashes, Raphael sees comprehension settling onto the warlock's face a second too late. "Something more than a bed."
"Who's Camille?" Alexander's question comes unexpected for all of them, but terribly awkward for just one. Tension travels slowly up the warlock's spine, his form quickly turning rigid. So Alexander doesn't know; Raphael grins.
"Yet another lover," he explains just as Bane grumbles, "the evil ex."
"How many were there?"
Raphael's smile widens at Bane's grim expression. The warlock remains silent. The tension grows.
"Why are you here?" Jace asks before Alec has the opportunity to raise his voice again, exasperation coloring his words an ugly, dark shade. Raphael can see his head behind Bane's looming form, a feral snarl painted across the blonde's face.
"I have told you already. I was saving Alexan-"
"Mierda." Silence follows the warlock's sudden outburst. Raphael may be the only one to understand the word's meaning, but the tone is universal enough for both Shadowhunters to get the gist of it. Raphael marvels at the choice, wondering what, exactly, it is the warlock has left to hide. "Qué quieres?"
"No es obvio?"
"No te acerques de él." Raphael's expression seems to unnerve the warlock further, so he bites out "él es mío", although he seems unsure of his own statement. Alexander remains oblivious, and Raphael reckons it's a mistake to leave him uninformed of the warlock's true intentions.
"No hay marca." Raphael makes a feeble gesture towards his neck. Bane stares at him through slit cat eyes, his face shadowed ominously."Usted no tiene ninguna reclamación sobre él."
"Más que usted."
"En serio?"
"I don't speak español," Jace butts in the cockfight, clearly trying to dispel whatever murderous intent he can see building in their eyes.
"Yo tampoco." Everyone turns to stare at Alexander. When Bane's eyes land on his form, he stiffens and turns away, hurt. "That doesn't count," Alexander tells Jace, ignoring them both.
"It's more than I know!" Jace protests.
"You know how to ask 'do you come here often?' in seventy-two languages."
"Pick-up lines do not count either." Jace moves to block Alexander from both of them during their meaningless banter- a human shield that is effective and sufficiently subtle. As Raphael stares at the two of them, he wonders if perhaps Magnus Bane is not the only obstacle in his way.
"I think it's time for you to go," the warlock's announcement disrupts the moment. Bane doesn't seem too pleased and in that Raphael is willing to sympathize. He turns to him with a chuckle.
"I'll be back tomorrow with more," he says.
"Thank you," Alec's voice is soft and sincere. Raphael grins and shrugs. He can feel Bane's glower heating up his skin.
"No problem at all," Raphael replies before heading to the door. No one sees him to the exit but the awkward silence. He's out the door and down the stairs before a hand grips his shoulder and forcefully turns him around midstep.
"I need a favor," Jace tells him with urgent fire in his eyes.
"So you do." Raphael isn't willing to give in.
"From you."
Raphael cocks an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"If you won't do it, I'll report Simon's death to the Conclave."
Raphael's eyes harden before he mutters, "I thought the Children of the Angels were above blackmail."
"They are, but it doesn't necessarily reflect on me." With the slight light from upstairs, the boy's face is cast in shadow, only the bridge of his nose and golden, mischievous eyes visible. In that moment, he truly seems like Valentine's son.
"What do you need?"
"A bike. One of your kind."
"Why would you need that?"
The Shadowhunter seems reluctant to share his secrets, but Raphael is curious enough to risk pushing. "Rumor says you already own one."
"I do," Jace admits. "But it's stuck on the roof of the Institute. I can't exactly get it."
"When do you need it?"
"Tonight." Jace's eyes trail upward, towards a door on which BANE is engraved. "The wards should be down."
Raphael nods. He can feel them weakening. "Should I throw rocks at you window, amigo?"
Jace grins. "Nah, just serenade."
A/N:
Here's what I hope the Spanish means (really really hope):
Thanks to KairacahraFlower Goddess for correcting!
Guarida- lair.
Cariño- honey.
Todavía te estás convirtiendo en ser humano?- are you still turning human?
Ahora me cree, brujo?- Do you believe me now, warlock?
Yo tampoco- me neither.
(I leave the conversation between Magnus and Raphael untranslated for a few reasons, one of them being the fact Alec's got no idea what they're saying, and although it's told from Raphael's pov, I want to keep the feeling, if just a bit. If you're curious- you can either pm me or translate it yourself. Maybe I'll put up the translation here later, as I'm not entirely certain how I should handle FF's formatting. I miss my word's footnotes :( )
Excerpt from the next chapter: Alec doesn't know what to tell him; Jace is an issue he can barely admit to having, much less discuss with his boyfriend. He's the unresolved dirty laundry he's been keeping and hiding from the maid. He's the 'Do Not Touch- Fragile' stamp across his forehead. He's what Magnus can't and should not approach.
(Anyone 'sides me thinks CoB movie fucks up Alec's character, what with his omg-it's-so-tight-I-can't-breathe leather vest and Danny Zuko inspired hair?)