A Voice from the Past
"You are in big trouble Magnus," said a dawdling rich voice from the other side of the closed door; a voice that echoed in the darkness; a voice that Magnus had thought he would never hear again; a voice from the past. That deceptively sweet and velvety voice, like milk chocolate and honey licked off skin the color of caramel, sent shivers up and down Magnus' back. The hair on his arms and at the nape of his neck stood on end; the reaction a mixture of longing and dread.
A shower of welcomed and unwelcomed memories washed over Magnus. They were memories of nights spent under a white gauzy canopy, wrapped in strong arms; moving against a body that seemed to have been made for debauchery and transgression; lost in a pair of eyes that gleamed like polished black coral; swimming in a sea of purple silk, the kind of silk that came from that part of the world that Magnus once called home. Other memories followed: those same black eyes hard and unyielding; those same arms that had once sheltered Magnus raised in the air, red and orange streaks of dark magic pouring out of them, setting fire to wood and sails; a brutal smile on a golden face while hundreds of screams pierced the black silence of the night. Magnus wondered about the kind of power that one voice can wield to evoke such conflicting memories, and whether one can desire and despise someone with such intensity that desire and loathing become fused into one feeling.
Magnus pushed the memories and thoughts out of his mind as he readied himself for the man that was about to walk through the door and back into his life with the inevitability of night following day. He swiftly brought his hand to the burn on his chest and concentrated in slowing down his speeding heart before it escaped through his throat. Determined not to show weakness, he got to his feet with some difficulty, his head still swimming; smoothed his hair and clothes; took two uncertain steps away from the wall; and straighten himself to his full height.
Magnus wasn't surprised that Annaliese Fen had sent her most loyal abettor ahead of her. In fact, this is what he had been waiting for since the day before, when Gwydion and an unfamiliar warlock pulled him into a narrow dark entryway in the Gothic Quarters, pushed him against a hard stone wall, and told him that he was a wanted man. The impact of his back against the wall had momentarily startled Magnus but he had swiftly recovered, fear for Alec quickly replacing surprise, and he had flicked his fingers and cast a spell of protection, silence and distraction that would prevent Alec from noticing that Magnus was gone for a minute or so.
"We have been waiting for you," had said Gwydion; a malicious smile on both his and the other warlock's face. "We have a message."
"Gentlemen," Magnus had replied in a slow drawl. "If I had known you were waiting I would have hasted my arrival. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Magnus had not struggled despite the pressure that Gwydion's companion was exerting on his chest and the painful impression the stone wall was likely leaving on his back. He did ready his fingers for magic, however, just in case any of them made a move for Alec, who was now distractively turning a corner a dozen meters ahead.
"Don't try to be smart, Magnus," Gwydion had retorted with a sarcastic smile, his face so close to Magnus that his horns almost touched Magnus' forehead. "You know we have been following you and your boy toy since Venice. We haven't forgotten what you did in Batavia or in Berlin. You betrayed us, not once but twice. If it was up to me, I would kill you right now traitor."
"Since you know so much, you should also know that it is no longer Batavia; it is Jakarta now," Magnus had said, ignoring the threat. He doubted very much that Gwydion had the power to kill him, not by himself at least.
"Shut up and listen," Gwydion had pushed him even more forcefully against the wall, cutting his airways. "If you do not want the Shadowhunter to die right now and right here, along with the hundreds of innocent mundanes walking about the Quarters, you will come tonight. And, don't think the flimsy protection spell you just casted would protect the Shadowhunter; we are not the only warlocks here. We have eyes on him right now. We could kill him so fast that neither you nor he would have time to react."
"There is no need for threats; I am happy to accept the invitation," Magnus had replied, willing his heart to slow down before Gwydion noticed his rising panic.
"In that case," Gwydion had said as he signaled to his companions, who had remained silent and impassive throughout the exchange, "we will see you tonight."
The two men had let him go. They had walked away at an almost inhuman speed and disappeared into one of the narrow passageways in the opposite direction from where Alec had walked just a minute or two ago. Magnus had bent down, put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath and settle his racing thoughts. This was bad, very bad, he had thought; things were moving too fast, faster than he had calculated. He was running out of time.
He saw Alec turning the corner before Alec saw him. He was likely retracing his steps looking for Magnus; a fearful expression on that lovely face of an angel; fear mixed with loss and confusion, and perhaps panic. Alec was perhaps thinking that Magnus had abandoned him, run away after someone prettier or worthier. Alec who didn't know the effect he had on those around him; who always hid in Jace's shadow, whose golden brilliance, he thought, obscured his silvery one. Alec who thought that because Magnus was an all-powerful warlock and an immortal, couldn't really love him; who thought he wasn't deserving of Magnus' love, not knowing that it was actually the opposite. It was Magnus who wasn't enough.
Magnus' spirit sunk ever deeper then; for he realized right there and then what he would have to do to ensure Alec's safety; he would have to break his heart so badly, so completely, so irremediably that Alec would never forgive him, and would never go after him. He would have to use Alec's own insecurity as a weapon and he hated himself for that, he hated himself more that he had hated himself for all the other transgressions he had committed in his very long life. He had had to exercise inhuman self-control to straighten and put a smile on his face, before walking out of the dark doorway and casually stroll towards Alec.
Now as he waited for the door of his cell to open, Magnus prayed that breaking Alec's heart would pay off. He had had to do it; it had just taken him some time to come to terms with the decision. He should have walked away a few days before, in Venice, when he first felt the burn of a pair of ruby red eyes staring at him from a dark archway at the Saint Marco's Basilica, a gaze so strong that filled him with a feeling of foreboding he hadn't been able to shake since. He should have walked away then, but he couldn't bring himself to; he couldn't imagine not waking up to Alec's angelic face, to the even rhythm of his breathing, to the gentle touch of his fingers. Even when he knew that departure was inevitable, he had stayed a bit longer, trying to stretch the minutes. He had been unable to stop himself from reaching for Alec, and Alec's body had heeded his call. "Make love to me," he had asked and Alec had, with all the generosity of his spirit, with all the openness of his heart, and Magnus had had to exert all his self-control not to cry, not to break down and tell him everything.
Now that familiar voice echoing in the darkness had told him that the time to face his worst demons had finally arrived, and he was not surprised. Annaliese was, in this regard, predictable, always discharging her sharp weapons before she attacked with her deceptive softness and vulnerability. She had done this before; in fact, Magnus might have even been the weapon once, when he was too innocent, lost and susceptible to realize that he had been played. Not this time though; this time he was prepared; for he had nothing and too much to lose at the same time. The only question was whether the sound of this familiar voice announced an advance attack or just a recognisance mission.
The door to his cell –for this is how he had begun to think of this room in the basement of the Royal Palace –creaked open breaking the pitiless darkness and casting a sharp streak of light across the floor. Magnus involuntarily squinted, the piercing brightness momentarily blinding, and he had to rearrange the impassive expression he had plastered on his face before turning toward the source of the light. There, against the illuminated backdrop of the hallway, stood the dark outline of the familiar silhouette of the man, the warlock, that once had been an object of Magnus' all-consuming desire.
"Magnus, Magnus, we have been waiting for you" said the man as he entered the room and approached Magnus, his drawl as slow and lazy as his catlike movements. He stopped so close to Magnus that the man's breath felt like a light breeze against the skin on Magnus' neck, and the familiar scent of coffee and spices on the man's skin tickled Magnus' nose evoking a new wave of memories. "Naked, aren't we? Where is the make-up, outfit, and jewelry you were wearing yesterday? You looked so dashing."
"Khuno Jarh," Magnus replied, infusing his voice with the cadence he thought cobras' voices would have if they had voices. "Didn't you hear? Simplicity is the new fashion."
"Simplicity has never been your style," Khuno retorted, looking Magnus up and down, appreciation tinted with desire in his eyes. Magnus felt Khuno's featherlike fingers brush against his arm and shoulders as Khuno began to take a turn around Magnus, surveying him as one surveys a sculpture one is considering purchasing, or a potential lover one is considering inviting to bed. The touch and the gaze sent a new wave of shivers through Magnus and goosebumps raised on the spots that Khuno touched. Noticing the involuntary response that his fingers provoked on Magnus, Khuno smiled, a coy and seductive smile that had not changed in three hundred years. Even after all these years, he was confident that he could read Magnus's body like an open book.
"You have missed me," Khuno said, not a question but a statement, certainty mixed with self-satisfaction.
"As much as a toothache," said Magnus, a demure smile on his face, his eyes covertly following the warlock's feline movements.
"I don't believe you," Khuno whispered in Magnus' ear, one of his hands resting briefly at the nape of Magnus' neck, before he slowly retrieved it and moved to face Magnus, his piercing eyes intent on him.
As his pupils adjusted to the illumination now filtering into the room, Magnus could take a first unobstructed look at Khuno Jarh, the first man with whom Magnus ever had sex; the man that once introduced Magnus to the secrets of carnal love; the man that Magnus once considered his best friend, the only one ever to see him without his armours.
Occasionally, Magnus caught himself looking for evidence of the passage of time on his own features and demeanor and in that of other immortals, wondering whether time left a mark even when bodies remained immune to aging. He did this now, and was unsurprised to discover that even after centuries, Khuno remained mostly unchanged. The warlock had stopped aging in his early twenties, his handsome boyish features concealing the fact that he was at least five hundred years old. He was a few inches shorter than Magnus, and deceptively slim, with the sinewy figure of a runner. He was wearing a white muscle shirt that emphasized the deep golden brown of his skin, and charcoal jeans that hugged his hips perfectly and accentuated a slender and well-proportioned body that Khuno moved with the grace of a panther.
In addition to a fashionable goatee and mustache, the only other perceptible changes were in his hairstyle, which was now in thin black dreadlocks that stuck out of his head in all directions, and the rows of hoop silver earrings that decorated his ears lobes. Magnus thought Khuno looked like a young jazz musician, a look reinforced by the slow and leisured way in which he moved.
Even after all these years and everything that happened between them, Magnus still thought that Khuno's face was beautiful in a sinful and decadent kind of way. Black almond-shaped eyes framed by slightly arched eyebrows, a perfectly shaped and symmetrical nose, and a broad mouth that when it smiled revealed two rows of perfectly straight white teeth seemed to coexist in perfect harmony on a golden-brown face whose expression seemed to be an open invitation to mischief. Magnus once thought that Khuno had one of those long necks that one cannot help to explore with one's tongue. Magnus had, in fact, done precisely that many times, drinking in the scent of coffee and spices that was particularly intense at the spot where neck met shoulder. Once Magnus thought that he would never forget that scent; the taste of that neck; the feel of that body that had been his perdition.
"You told me to come, Khuno," said Magnus pushing the memories of Khuno's long neck and mischievous body out of his mind. "Why am I here?"
"Why? I thought you would be happy to come back to us" Khuno replied, the seductive smile taking permanent residence on his mouth. "Annaliese is thrilled. She has missed you and still cares about you despite how badly you behaved after all she did for you in Batavia. We thought you were dead. Imagine the surprise to find you happily strolling through the streets of Venice and with no other than a Shadowhunter. You do get around, don't you?"
"You know that I have eclectic tastes, and a body as beautiful and accomplished as mine should not be reserved for only one species."
"The last time we saw you was in Berlin," Khuno said.
"That's right," Magnus retorted, touching the side of his face with a finger, a feigned tone of realization in his voice. "You looked handsome in that SS uniform and in the Aryan face you were glamored in. You were with that Nazi general, weren't you? the one who was also a doctor, what was his name?"
Where have you been?" Khuno asked, ignoring Magnus' taunt, a pretended innocent inflection in his voice.
"You know, here and there. Doing my thing." Magnus doubted very much that Annaliese and Khuno had not kept tabs on him, and suspected that they had known where he was for a long while. Annaliese told him once that no one ever left her, and Magnus suspected that even if he went to the ends of the earth to escape her, she would still be able to find him. Perhaps only in death he would ever be free of her.
"Who is the boy you were with? He is pretty."
"No one important," replied Magnus, making a superhuman effort to dissimulate the sudden jump his heart gave at the mention of Alec. He also suspected, however, that Annaliese and Khuno already knew exactly who Alec was.
"That is what Gwydion said. But imagine the surprise when we went to your hotel room in search of the boy and found the room heavily warded. You would not use that much magic to protect just anyone," Khuno casually stated, his eyes searching for any reaction in Magnus.
"As you know, I have a varied clientele and, besides, Shadowhunters pay handsomely for my protection."
"No matter, your wards failed with the explosion along with all the rest of the magic wards protecting the city. You did feel the explosion, didn't you?" The tone of innocence barely concealing the malevolence in Khuno's voice.
"So, that's what that was," said Magnus, matching tit for tat the warlock's tone.
Despite not being completely surprised, Magnus' heart skipped another beat at the mention of failing wards. Before leaving the hotel, he had spent a long while watching Alec's sleeping figure, the rapid movement of his eyes behind closed eyelids and his slow even breathing the only movements on his serene innocent face. Magnus had tried to commit to memory every detail of that face and of Alec's relaxed body lying on his stomach, his face turned to one side, one arm extended towards Magnus' side of the bed, his shoulders and arms the only parts not covered by the white sheets. That and one of his feet, which Alec always stuck out from underneath the covers, not the whole leg, just one foot; a foot that no matter how many times Magnus covered, always managed to escape from under the covers. Last night, more than ever, Alec's sleeping figure had reminded Magnus of a statute made in the purest of marbles, the sheets unable to disguise the hard planes of his body. Alec was so beautiful when he slept, his face so innocent that Magnus had had to force himself to look away.
Before leaving though and suspecting that Alec would be in danger after Magnus was gone, he had reinforced the wards that –unbeknownst to Alec –he had been casting on each of the hotel rooms they had stayed during their trip. Just a precaution, Magnus had told himself at the beginning; that is, until Venice when the need to protect Alec had become a matter of urgency. He had tethered the wards to his own magic to give them more strength, but after the explosion and having to resist the mysterious force that had tried to drain his powers, he could no longer feel the connection to the wards and suspected they had failed. Khuno was now confirming that suspicion and a sinking feeling settled in Magnus' stomach. He resisted the need to bring his hand to his chest in search of reassurance; he must not show weakness.
"Don't you want to know what happened?" asked Khuno, his gaze becoming even more intense.
"I am sure you will tell me if you want me to know."
"It was a test," Khuno announced, a mixture of conceit and anticipation in his expression. "Annaliese found a way to contact Mother and channel her energy into this realm. The next step is to open the door for her to return. Our Mother is waiting to come back to us, Magnus, to take back what is rightfully hers. She wants to be reunited with her faithful children."
"My mother is dead," said Magnus. "She killed herself and you don't come back from that."
"Don't be impertinent, Magnus," said Khuno, his hand lightly slapping Magnus on the cheek, the touch both a caress and a threat. "Annaliese has found it in her heart to forgive you. She wants you to help us to get Mother back. Despite all your rebelliousness, she still loves you like a brother."
"Annaliese is not my sister; sisters do not do with their brothers what she did with me, and sisters do not make their brothers do what she made me do."
"You obviously didn't live through the time of the pharaohs," Khuno said, the mischievous smile back. "The three of us were good together and we can be good again. Annaliese and I love you, and I thought you found peace with us."
"I have been in your arms, Khuno, and in Annaliese's; there is not good, love or peace there," said Magnus, letting the playful tone fall off his voice for a moment. "So, when do I get to see our fearless leader?"
"I thought we could spend a little time together first, you know, for all times' sake." Khuno closed the distance between them, and placed one hand against Magnus' cheek and the other in the small of his back. Magnus kept his own arms to his side steeling himself for the contact. "I know you want me; your body could never lie to me."
Khuno kissed Magnus then, his lips an assault on Magnus' own lips, forcing them open so his tongue could claim Magnus' mouth. Magnus experienced a moment of confusion, as a new rush of memories assailed him, reawakening an internal conflict he thought he had resolved a long time ago. For an instant, he felt that he teetered at the edge of an abyss, Khuno and Annaliese beckoning him to jump, to come to their side; the old enchantment that once had kept him enthralled threatening to reassert its power once again. For a second, Magnus felt his own body surrendering but it was just a second; and, then something pulsated in the center of the burn atop his heart and the rush of memories was replaced by another chain of images: Alec's serene smiling face looking at Magnus; his pensive expression intent on a book; his black hair reflecting the sunlight in tones that were almost indigo; his sleeping figure, like a fallen angel that had become entangled in white sheets.
Magnus' body stiffen then and his lips turned to stone, realization dawning on him: Khuno's presence here was both an advance attack and a recognisance mission. Rather than coming herself, Annaliese had sent Khuno because Magnus had been with Alec and not with a woman. She wanted to test just how strong Magnus's feelings for Alec were, and whether Magnus would once again succumb to Khuno's charms. If he had realized that sooner, perhaps Magnus could have stopped his body from rejecting Khuno's advances; perhaps he could have pretended to correspond Khuno's kiss. In any case, it was too late now; Khuno had noticed his rejection, the stiffness of his body.
"Magnus, you haven't forgiven me," Khuno said as soon as he broke contact. "After all these years, you still hold a grudge."
"Oh honey," said Magnus in the slowest drawling voice he could manage. "It will take a lot more than a kiss for me to forgive you."
"No matter, we have all the time in the world," whispered Khuno in Magnus' ear. "You know how much I love a challenge. Anyway, we should get you ready to see Annaliese. After all these years, I assume, you don't want to meet her in this rather unstated attire," he said weaving a hand up and down Magnus' body. "We have to rush though; we may have overstated our welcome in Barcelona. We will have to leave soon for the next stop in our mission," Khuno concluded as he signaled for someone who had been waiting outside the door to come in.
Two warlocks walked in then, the quiet man that had been with Gwydion the day before and a slim woman with hair the color of a summer sky. They didn't make eye contact with Magnus or acknowledged him in anyway. They just went to work on a pair of shackles that one of them fasten around Magnus' wrists while the other said an incantation that immediately smothered all magic from Magnus' fingers.
"I am sorry, Magnus," said Khuno. "Although we are happy you have decided to come back into the bosom of your family, we need to take some precautions. I am sure you understand. Annaliese cannot wait to see you."
Magnus didn't say anything, he simply stared at Khuno. He had loved him once; even now after everything, he was sure of it, and he knew that in his own twisted way Khuno had loved him too. He had also loved Annaliese and, in a way, Magnus knew that he had loved them both because they came as a package, that he couldn't have loved one without also loving the other; for they were two parts of a whole. He had loved Annaliese with a desperate need to protect her, to run his fingers through that vulnerable face, but he had desired Khuno with uncontained lust, with a lust capable of reaching through the centuries. They were the perfect combination: she, the embodiment of vulnerability, virginity and virtue; he, the face of sin, temptation, excess, an open invitation to step off the edge and jump. Even now and despite all the horrors, the hate and the destruction, Magnus could still feel Annaliese and Khuno's allure, the reawakening of tenderness and desire. If it is true to one never forgets one's first lover, then it would be Annaliese and Khuno who Magnus would remember with the impossibility of separating them in his mind and in his heart. He just hoped that when the time came he would be able to look past his love and do what he knew he had to do.
Once the shackles were firmly in place, Khuno guided Magnus by his elbow out of the room and up the stairs. The two other warlocks following close behind.
"We will get you ready for your reunion with Annaliese," said Khuno, enthusiasm and anticipation in his voice. "You will be happy to know that many of our brothers and sisters have joined us. We are finally going to take back the place we deserve in the world."