Chapter 26

Gerard McKenzie paced the length of the small stone cell under the Gard where he was being held pending his trial at the Court of Assize. Waves of tension and barely contained fury radiated off the man. How had things come to this, all his work, all his planning and effort ruined by a half-breed demon and disgrace of a shadowhunter. There was nothing he could do now to retrieve the situation, to prevent the public humiliation of a trial, as far as Gerard was concerned his failure was not due to what he'd done, but to the fact that he'd been caught. Mckenzie believed there were many shadowhunters who secretly agreed with his beliefs, but lacked the courage to live on the edge, as he had. Head of the Edinburgh Institute, Abbot of the Hellfire Club, he'd been a force to be reckoned with. He spanned worlds, angel, demon, mundane, downworld, and he'd had a good time doing it.

Well, maybe there was nothing McKenzie could do to salvage his own situation, but he was going to make damn sure he did everything in his power to destroy as many of his enemies as he could. Magnus Bane was in a cell waiting trial, Alexander Lightwood would likely be stripped of his marks and exiled, but there were others that Gerard wanted to punish, and he would not be content until each and every one of them felt some of his pain. Chief among these was Shivaun McRae, the wretched girl who, instead of being grateful for the honour he'd intended to do her, had conspired with his enemies. His resolution made, McKenzie strode to the cell door and called for the guard.

Jessie Bradshaw moved reluctantly over to the cell; "What do you want? He asked, irritation clear in his abrupt tone. If there was anything that disturbed Jessie more than downworlders, it was shadowhunters who had gone wrong, and everything he'd heard about this one told him, McKenzie had gone very wrong indeed!

"Tell Consul Penhallow I wish to see her, I have some information she'll want. Oh, and bring me writing material I have some correspondence to attend to."

"Arrogant sod!" Jessie muttered under his breath; "You'd think this was a palace and I was his valet, not his prison guard." Bradshaw would take his sweet time doing McKenzie's bidding. Funny, Jessie thought, his other prisoner, the warlock, was far less trouble and much more polite. He had to admit, though it surprised him, he felt some sympathy for Magnus Bane. Jessie had grown children of his own and a grandchild on the way. He couldn't imagine how desolate his life would have been without children. If he was honest, he would have done a great deal to help his wife if she'd had difficulty conceiving, maybe even break Clave law if that's what it took. 'Sed lex dura lex' the law is harsh, but it is the law, was the motto he'd lived his life by, believing that as a shadowhunter he had to hold himself to a very high standard. Still, who was any of this effort for, if not the children, to make things safer, better? Would he have been as willing to dedicate his life to this hard, demanding vocation if he hadn't been allowed to have a child of his own? Shaking his head, Jessie moved down the long, dark hallway. There didn't seem to be any answers to these perplexing questions.

~~~~!~~~~

A few hours later...

Robert Lightwood paced the width of Consul Jia Penhallow's office, a note clenched tightly in his right hand. "I can't believe this! How dare he make such accusations! The angry shadowhunter snarled coming to a stop in front the cluttered desk.

"I understand;" Jia said gently. Despite being slightly past his prime, Robert was still an imposing figure, especially when angry, as he was now. "I don't like this any more than you do;" she added.

"Then why are you dignifying it with a response, never mind an investigation?" Robert demanded. "Josh Cameron and Ian McRae are two very promising young shadowhunters who do not deserve to have the likes of Gerard McKenzie taint their future!" Not to mention that Alec didn't need any more stress than he was already under.

Jia sighed heavily; "Robert, please sit down. I'm between a rock and a hard place here. Idris is rife with rumours and suspicions right now. Accusations are being made that the Clave has lost control of the Institutes, that at best, we don't know what is going on, and at worst turn a blind eye to infractions. People are asking how we could not have known what was going on in Edinburgh, and see Magnus Bane as a corrupting influence in New York. I have to take these allegations seriously, and as such I am instructing you, as Inquisitor to investigate. How you go about this is up to you, but I expect a full report."

"Mark my words Jia, this is nothing but a witch hunt!" Robert said as he left the Counsul's office, more troubled in his mind than when he'd entered it a scant hour earlier. Jia had left the investigation up to him, and somehow he had to make sure that no more innocent people were hurt by Gerard McKenzie.

Robert rubbed his arm where the faint remnants of a parabatai rune remained. He had long felt regret over his treatment of Michael Wayland all those years ago, when the young man had confessed his love for Robert. They'd been the best of friends, Michael was the only one who saw Robert, and accepted him as he truly was, and Robert had repaid him with anger and rejection. He been so afraid of not fitting in, of what others would say that he'd pushed away perhaps his only true friend, unwilling to believe that Michael didn't expect anything from him. Robert carried that guilt with him always, and it had made him awkward and unsupportive when Alec first admitted his love for Magnus.

Jia had left the matter of investigating the allegations that Josh Cameron and Ian McRae had an inappropriate relationship. He would find a way to do his job without harming the two young shadowhunter, he had to, he owed it to Michael, and Alec.

~~~~~!~~~~~

On the northern coast of Ireland sat a small cottage. In many respects, it was the quintessential dwelling of its type, with whitewashed walls, a thatched roof and bright red door, but that's where its conformity ended. The main body of the cottage was a six sided, two story tower-like structure, with a small lean-to on one side. The windows were gothic in shape with pointed arches at the top, and the thatched roof, that sat over the squat tower, looked like a great witch's hat. The cottage sat among beautiful, rolling hills overlooking an inlet that led out to the Atlantic ocean. It was rugged, picturesque and isolated, the perfect place to hide.

On the old, stone porch sat a young woman and a little boy. Morag Nightshade had owned this cottage for many years. It was her sanctuary, her bolt hole, and she had run here with little Aiden to await the outcome of the terrible events at Eilean Donan.

Every day, Aiden asked for his papa and his daddy, every night the little boy woke screaming from the nightmares that plagued him. The child had no appetite and it took Morag a great deal of coaxing at every meal to get a little bit of food into him. Worried as she was for the child, it was the waiting that was excruciating. The healer could not promise Aiden what was beyond her power to deliver, and was afraid that any attempt to reach out for news might alert the wrong people of their whereabouts.

Still as the days passed, Morag's need to get answers increased exponentially. She had to risk some communication, and at last settled on sending an innocuous message through the healers network to Catarina Loss. She would couch it as a medical inquiry and pray that it aroused no suspicion. That decided, she grabbed Aiden's hand and took him into the cottage. "Come on, my love;" She cooed; "Time for a nice hot chocolate, Aunty Morag has a letter to write, and then we'll have a story by the fire;"

The child looked at her, a small sad smile playing on his innocent face, and allowed her to lead him inside.