A/N
Thanks you so much for the kind reviews! It really encourages me to keep writing :D
Just a note; all the chapter names from here on out will be of flowers. If you want to see their relevance, have a look at some flower meanings and it should make sense!
Enjoy, and please review if you can ! ;)
something-unexpected
I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones
Enough to make my systems blow
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
- Imagine Dragons, Radioactive
The city that never slept was so far proving most accurate.
Magnus Bane grinned widely as he surveyed the club from his perch at the bar. Flapper girls in fluttering, sequinned gowns sashayed past, more often than not dragging an unsuspecting mundane behind them. Magnus rolled his eyes as one jumped about a mile in the air, his eyes goggling in shock.
This was a Downworlder club. What was he expecting, if he found a 'girl' with a tail shocking? That was one of the least adventurous warlock's marks that stalked the dancefloor.
He downed his drink, shuddering at the bitterness, and felt the rich, spicy smell and the sharp howl of the saxophone envelop him. He wasn't here for the girls, or even the boys, just to live in the crazy atmosphere that was New York City.
It was growing fast, he had heard. Londoners came back from holidays and raved about it; new trains, people from cultures almost unheard of, sights and sounds never before experienced.
Of course it would pique his interest, he was Magnus Bane; warlock extraordinaire, life, soul and sass of the party, serial womaniser (and maneater). And now he was here, and all he could seem to do was sit on a blood red lounge, observe, and drink strange beverages until he was dizzy.
"Magnus Bane. I should have known you would be here, dragging your filthy half breed germs all over my establishment. Have you no manners?"
Magnus gave a deep sigh and downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. "Go away, Violet. Not in the mood. And also, be careful who you're calling half breed."
There was a low, musical chuckle, and Magnus felt a pair of long, smooth fingers rest on his shoulders, before gripping them hard enough to leave a bruise. He turned in annoyance just as a tall, elegant girl slid into the booth beside him.
"What are you drinking? Please don't tell me that's it on the carpet, Magnus. Blood Sacrifice tends to stain, you know." She rolled her sleeves up gingerly and reached towards the red blotch with a grimace. Recoiling, she delicately waved a hand and the stain disappeared in a fizz of sparks. Catching Magnus looking at her, she shrugged again. "I was trying to be domestic for a minute. Shoot me."
"So, you conniving, snakelike, thieving cow, what are you doing owning a bar in New York City?" Magnus snapped his fingers and another drink appeared on the table. Violet sniffed in distaste, and the warlock deliberately took his time with the first sip. She crossed her legs, and ran her tongue over her lips thoughfully.
"Well, after that insult, I'm not that inclined to tell you anything except get out of my club… But, since you are now surrounded by dozens of faery knights hidden in the walls, I'm going to turn a blind eye." Her eyes gleamed, and Magnus scowled childishly at her. She laughed again, the sound like bells rising above the thumping sound of the music.
"Fine. I heard this was different, and you were in London so I wouldn't have to come across you and your disgustingly colourful wardrobe." Magnus downed another gulp. "I have to say, though, I missed you wit. Razor-sharp as a hammer, as usual."
"Leave me be," Magnus groaned, and put his head in his hands. "I surrender. Let me finish whatever this thing is, don't shoot me, and I'll go. I'm drunk and you're irritating me."
Violet pursed her perfectly full lips and pouted. "You aren't nearly as fun as normal, old friend. Having a dry run?"
Magnus looked at her pointedly from his vantage point on the table. "I know, you've told me before, you don't have herpes," she retorted. Magnus sat up, straightening the gold threads on his waistcoat. He was leaving.
"I'm going, Violet. Don't try and keep me here just because you want me to see your 'games.' I know how your parties get after dark."
Violet's eyes had darkened to a glowing red, and her expression was vaguely primal. "Oh Magnus. Always such the buzzkill."
"You're not lying to me, but I know what you're doing." Magnus reached out to tuck a lock of her dark hair behind her pointed ear. Violet regarded him curiously, her lips curved into a half smile.
"You surely have duties. All day, every day, all year round. You don't have the time or luxury to come to New York City because it's 'different,' and you certainly wouldn't do it just to avoid me. What's your game?"
Her face had frosted over while he spoke, and was now as hard as stone. If he had not been who he was, Magnus would have run for the hills. For now, he sat back in the booth and waited.
"Meliorn. Gaspar." Two fey knights materialized out of the shadows to flank her, and Magnus regarded them with cool detachment. Clad in night-black armour and their icily beautiful faces unmoving, they seemed to glow with an unnatural light that only faeries possessed. Violet crossed her arms and leaned back, her body language oozing danger and aggression. Her eyes had lightened again, but now to a rich red that spoke of anger and blood.
The dance hall around them froze. Magnus opened his mouth as if to say something, then decided against it. Time seemed to move as if underwater, and he could see the ripple of the space rift that Violet had distorted to place them in this bubble. He wasn't afraid of her; maybe once, but she held no power over him now.
"Listen to me, Magnus Bane," she hissed, leaning close enough that Magnus could feel her sharp nails cut his cheek where she clutched it. The warlock pushed her off, fury rising in his veins. "Get off me, you ..."
Violet narrowed her eyes, and Magnus could see the cogs working furiously behind the mirror of beauty that surrounded her. He stood up straight, and looked at her dead on. She leaned in again, her skin shifting colours and images until he could barely see straight.
Dragging a sharp nail up his throat, Magnus could feel blood running down his shirt collar. She spoke in a low voice, her words imbued with an ancient power that only her kind possessed. The faeries beside her shifted on their feet uncomfortably, and Magnus could feel the space-time rift shudder under the impact of her magic. No Book of the White had taught her any gifts, that was certain.
"Listen to me very closely, warlock. Apart from it being none of your bloody business," she purred, "there is something in New York I want. And believe me, I will get it. It has been hidden from me for thousands of years, and I want it back. You are here now, and from much experience I know you won't let it rest, but I am warning you; do not touch me, interfere, or try and cause any kind of trouble. Have I explained enough?"
She flicked a blood soaked nail in Magnus's face, and he flinched when he felt it splatter his cheekbone. He opened one eye, and she smiled catlike at him.
"Great. I do hope you're enjoying the bar," she stood and twirled, her raven locks shimmering under the neon lights. "Meliorn, Gaspar, come with me." She fluttered a hand, and the bubble popped, leaving a hall full of dancing couples and the music once again twining around the roof. Magnus clenched his jaw and Violet paused, mid-step. Turrning slowly around, she gasped, and laughed. Magnus jumped, and various patrons looked curiously at their little party. The music had slowed, and now it played a seductive tango.
Violet's crazy laugh echoed around all corners of the room, and when it once sounded like clear bells on a bright day, it now was a deep cackle, writhing with images of dying men, thorns piercing their chests, and a dark forest on a winter's night. Magnus tasted blood.
"Oh, this is priceless!" Violet giggled again, predatorily. "It seems you may have a good time in New York after all, Magnus Bane."
Without a sound, she turned, her scarlet dress swishing, and melted into the shadows with her guard. All Magnus could see was the glint of the faery spears against the air.
Before he even had time to think about Violet and her crazy schemes, another hand tapped him on the shoulder, more gently this time. He whirled around, ready to bite.
"Violet, get away from me or I swear…"
It wasn't Violet. Extinguishing the blue flames he had ready to fire in his palm, he wearily gazed at the new arrival. "What do you want?"
A young man in Shadowhunter gear drew a seraph blade warily, and held it out in front of the warlock. Magnus raised his eyebrows, raising his hands in submission.
"Are you Magnus Bane?"
The Nephilim's voice was tight, but Magnus could feel the hatred and bottled fear leak through the velvety tones. He should have known; all Shadowhunters did was distrust Downworlders of any kind.
"The one and only." The Shadowhunter didn't lower his blade, but his face loosened in apparent relief.
"Good. The New York Institute requires your help."
Magnus barked a laugh, and got up to leave, pushing his glass to the end of the table where it dropped off. Smashing on the floor into shards of brilliant glass, a faery waitress appeared out of nowhere. Magnus knew that it was his signal to her that he was going. "You must be joking. Why would I help the Clave?"
"Because we have leads on the Book of the White."
Magnus turned slowly, curiosity overriding his suspicion. "Why should I trust you? What makes me believe that you don't want it for yourself and will double-cross me the minute you get your hands on it?"
The Shadowhunter shrugged, sheathing his blade. "I suppose it all depends on how much you want it, then."
Magnus considered, then lit up a small flame on his hand. "I'm well armed. I'll take my chances. Lead me to it."
The young man smiled like a cat, satisfied. As they left, the spicy smell and heavy air receding to dim streetlamps and the soft, cool scent of recent rainfall, Magnus felt a hand touch his cheek, then dissipate into the night.
He knew the hand, and he knew the voice that followed.
"This is the new age, Magnus Bane. Watch your back."
With a shiver, and without knowing where they were going, he led the Shadowhunter out.
Magnus Bane never followed.