Hello darlings! Basically, The Clave thinks there's something strange about all the murdering, so they're still investigating the Manhattan Clan.
Camille flung a gnawed-on finger into the corner of the room. It landed with a squelchy thud, gobbets of blood spattering across her new rug.
"Damn those Shadowhunters! Damn them!" she shrieked, fangs extended and glinting in the dim, vicious light. "How dare they interfere with my clan!"
The Seelie Queen's face was a mishmash of concern and boredom.
"Camille, this must cease. They will pay- that Jace child has surely broken by now, and soon Alexander will be yours. You will have what you wanted. As for the clan, the Clave, they have to investigate if they think these murders suspicious, but you can tell them it was you and they can't do anything. Downworld politics, nothing more."
Camille bit savagely into another finger, running her teeth along its length, stripping flesh from twiggy bone.
"I know that. But what makes them think they have the power to interfere? I killed April because I had to; they are responsible for that death, not I!" She swallowed the raw meat, licking at a trickle of blood on her lip which the faerie had been eyeing hungrily. "Uppity Shadowhunters… I shall take the Clan as soon as possible. My poor babies will be lost without their leader."
The vampire splintered the bone in her chalky white hands, sucking greedily on its marrow innards. The smell made her faerie companion slightly nauseous, and she cast the woman a chilly look. Her infatuation, that had sprung up so suddenly like a crackling flame, was beginning to die down the more she saw of the animalistic brutality under Camille's cool, composed shell. Cruelty, yes, she adored, but bone-crunching flesh-guzzling gracelessness, no. The comparison of the vampires to 'babies' sounded so crude and clichéd… she just wanted to return to the court and grace her fellow fey with her presence.
"Camille, I must go. But," the rare, mournful flash in the vampire's eyes reminded the Queen of the attachment they had, and she felt her heart soften a little, the unfamiliar waves of affection returning. She placed her hand in the vampire's scarlet-streaked hair, yanking her in for a kiss. "Do not fret. It is for nothing. You shall be happy again."
The faerie left with a strange feeling in her mouth, as though it was confused at the fond words that had dribbled from its lips.
Camille just stared after her retreating form, drinking in the fluid sway of the slim body, wreathed in ropes of hair that twirled like whispers of gossip in the dank air.
"I shall…" the vampire whispered into the gloom. "I shall be happy. I shall have the Clan, I shall have revenge on the Shadowhunters, I shall have a new subjugate, I shall have Magnus Bane- merely for his magic- and I shall have you, my Queen."
The faerie woman hadn't heard.
She wasn't meant to.
Magnus gradually became aware that he was dreaming, and thanked whatever had caused his awareness, for the dream wasn't a pleasant one.
It was horrible.
Tessa Gray was standing in a bare, dimly lit room, blank-faced as blood surged from her wrists and into two large vases.
Ugly ones.
Creamy white, and banded with twirl gold patterns that shone tackily. Who on earth would use those hideous things in a ritual? Magnus' inner voice sneered, confirming the dream as such. Certainly not Tessa, this simply can't be real! Although in that case, my mind has imagined some horrible vases. I must have a chat with it when I wake up.
However, the imagining took a darker turn, distracting the warlock from his thoughts. Tessa, her pretty face expressionless and vacant, like a fogged-up window, yanked her gnarled, spell-casting fingers into the lush hair of his boyfriend.
His boyfriend, who struggled as she yanked back his strong white throat, dunking his head back until it was submerged in the blood.
"No," Magnus moaned as Alec writhed in her grip, spluttering as thick, blackish-red liquid forced itself into his lungs. "Alec-!"
His eyes flew open, and he found himself in his room. In bed. Alone.
He missed Alec already.
And, to top it all off, some idiot was buzzing on the door. As if the High Warlock was fit to entertain at… Magnus glanced at the alarm clock on Alec's side of the bed- 11am!
"Mags! Mags, let me in, it's Alec!"
He scurried to the door, not worried that he was wearing only what he'd fallen asleep in- orange boxers and a lone, torn fishnet knee sock.
"Alexander, what in the name of Freddie Mercury are you doing out there so early?" Magnus yelled, flinging it open to reveal his cold, dishevelled but strangely chipper boyfriend. " Where's your key? Aren't they the clothes you wore yesterday?"
"I just sort of came here, I guess, I didn't bring anything with me." The Shadowhunter gave a rare, electric grin. "And yes, they are yesterday's clothes. Let me in so I can take them off."
Lightwoods. Always so direct.
Fancy a lemon? If you do, I'll get started now. xx