Chapter Two

"There's my baby!" said Clary the moment Jocelyn opened the door, Lexie on her hip. Clary snatched her daughter out of Jocelyn's arms and snuggled her. "Oh, sweetheart, I missed you so much—how was she?" she demanded of her parents as Luke appeared in the hallway, looking bemused. "Did anything happen?"

"Everything was fine," Jocelyn assured her. "She cried a little at bedtime, but otherwise she was a perfect angel."

"Aw," Clary cooed, pressing her cheek against Lexie's. "Did you miss us, baby?"

"I'm sure she did," said Luke. He came over and kissed the top of Clary's head. "Do you need a ride back to the Institute?"

"That would be nice, thanks."

Jocelyn handed Luke the car seat and hoisted the diaper bag onto her shoulder. "I'll come with you," she said. "We can all catch up."

They made their way out of the apartment to the street. It was a chilly afternoon; the frost on the windshield of Luke's car caught the few rays of sunlight straggling through the clouds. Luke had traded in his truck for an SUV when Lexie was born, and it was squeezed into a space a few inches from a red curb marking an illegal parking area. "Cutting it a little close there, aren't you?" Clary asked Luke, glancing at him sideways.

He shrugged. "It's Brooklyn. I'll take what I can get."

Luke slid into the driver's seat as Jocelyn clipped the car seat in. Lexie fussed, squirming as they buckled her in. "I'll sit with her," said Clary, climbing in on the other side. "You can take the front, Mom."

Within a minute, they were driving down the street, heading toward Manhattan. "How was the party?" Jocelyn asked.

"It was fun," said Clary, playing with Lexie's feet to calm her down. Lexie smiled, reaching for her toes.

"Hmm." Clary looked up; Jocelyn was watching her in the rearview mirror with a very knowing look. "Did something happen?"

"No," said Clary. "Not really." Now Luke sent her a perusing glance through the mirror. Clary sighed. "You guys know me too well," she said with a slight smile.

"That's what parents are for," said Luke affectionately. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Clary fiddled with the strap of the diaper bag at her feet. "It's really nothing," she said. "It's just...Jace and I haven't really been in the public eye since Lexie was born, at least not outside New York. Someone asked about the birth and...it was just hard to talk about."

It was the most she could say; no one but Jace really knew what she had been going through since the birth. Simon probably knew some of it, if only because he knew she had been struggling before Lexie was born too. Still, only Jace knew that she still had recurring panic attacks and flashbacks and nightmares...

"You don't really talk about it," said Jocelyn quietly. "Not even to us."

"Oh, Mom, it's not that I don't trust you—"

"No, I know," Jocelyn said. "I know you trust us. So the fact that you don't talk about it must mean that it's still too painful."

"Yeah," Clary said softly. "It's...it was..." She took a deep breath. "How was your New Year's?"

Luke and Jocelyn exchanged a look. "It was nice," Luke said, in a tone that indicated he hadn't really dropped the subject. "We had a quiet night in. Watched the ball drop on TV. The usual."

"Sounds nice," said Clary distantly. Her parents exchanged another look.

"Ooh!" said Lexie. Clary turned her attention to her. Lexie pointed out the window. "Ooh!" It had begun to snow, soft white clouds flurrying past.

"That's snow," Clary said, pointing to a snowflake stuck to the window. "Can you say 'snow,' Lexie?"

"Oh?" Lexie touched the snowflake through the glass, her golden eyes lit up with wonder. Clary touched her daughter's cheek lightly.

"She's worth it," she said softly. "Everything that happened...it brought me her. I should be grateful."

"Well," Luke said, "not really." Clary looked at him, shocked. "I don't mean you shouldn't be grateful," he said hastily, "but I think you're wrong about the cause and effect. You would have had Lexie anyway. The circumstances you had her in—it wasn't supposed to happen that way. And I think you're allowed to be upset about that."

"I'm not upset..."

"Then what is it?"

"I..." Clary swallowed. "You know, it hasn't snowed much this winter. I think Lexie would like playing in it."

"You know avoiding it is part of the problem, right?" Jocelyn said. "If you just opened up a little—"

"Mom," Clary whispered. "Please."

Jocelyn went quiet. Luke turned onto the bridge, and Clary watched the East River zip by. Several silent minutes later, Luke pulled up in front of the Institute. "Thanks for the ride," Clary said, unbuckling herself and Lexie's car seat. She opened the door. "I'll call you. We can do Sunday lunch."

"Do you need—"

"I got it," Clary said, grabbing the diaper bag and the car seat. "Bye. Get home safe."

She was inside the Institute before they drove away. She set everything down in the hall and lifted Lexie out of the car seat. "Should we go say hi to Daddy?" Clary asked her.

"Ah!" Lexie agreed.

Clary found him in the library, straightening the desk. "Hi," said Clary. He smiled at her. "Did Simon and Izzy leave already?"

"You just missed them," Jace said. "Simon wanted me to tell you, and I quote, 'Against my deepest desires, I did not throw a rager.'"

Clary rolled her eyes. "Remind me to never leave him in charge of the Institute again."

"Da!" Lexie said, wriggling in Clary's arms.

Jace came over to kiss them both. "How did Lexie do?"

"Da!" said Lexie again. "Dada!"

Jace and Clary stared at each other. "Did she just—" Jace began.

"Dada!" said Lexie, reaching for him.

Jace gave a whoop of laughter and lifted Lexie into the air, spinning her around. "I knew it!" he crowed. "I knew I'd be your first word! Oh, Lexie, you little rascal—say it again!"

"Dada!" Lexie said, clearly extremely pleased with herself. Jace turned to Clary, smirking.

"Don't gloat," she said, jabbing a finger at him.

"Aw," Jace said, still grinning, "don't be disappointed. You have to admit she's a total Daddy's girl."

Clary smiled. "She really is." She kissed Lexie's cheek. "Her first word! We should try to get it on video."

"Yeah, here, hold her—" Jace handed Lexie to her and pulled out his phone. He looked down at it, frowning.

"What's up?" said Clary.

"It's Lily," he said. "She wants us to turn on the local news. It's about the murder victim we found yesterday."

He headed out of the library; Clary followed him into a room further down the hallway. It was a small sitting space with a squashy couch and a TV powered by witchlight. They'd set it up with cable when they first moved into the Institute; it was a good way to keep an eye on the city, as they could often spot demonic activity where mundanes saw only strange, inexplicable occurrences. Jace turned on the TV and clicked through the channels until he landed on the local news. The headline at the bottom of the screen read, MURDER SUSPECT KILLED. The newscaster was already partway through the story.

"Nyle Reynolds, twenty-six, had been a suspect in the murder of his girlfriend, Grace Ashton," she said. Two pictures appeared in the corner of the screen; one showed a pretty, blonde girl in her early twenties, the other a dark-haired man with sharp gray eyes and a careless grin. Clary sat on the couch beside Jace, settling Lexie on her lap as the reporter continued to talk about the girl's murder.

"A warrant was then put out for Reynolds's arrest," said the reporter, "but before he could be apprehended, he disappeared. He was believed to be on the run until his body was discovered on the morning of December Thirty-First. Police believe he was murdered the night before. What you are about to see are graphic images from the scene of the crime."

Footage began to roll over the newscaster's voice. "As you can see," she said, "Reynolds's ribs were broken in order to provide access to the heart, which was taken." The camera zoomed out, showing his full torso and arms. Clary's blood ran cold.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

"What?"

"Go back. Go back—" She lunged forward. Lexie made an indignant noise and crawled onto Jace's lap as Clary seized the remote from the table and mashed the rewind button.

"It's live," said Jace. "You can't rewind. What's going on?"

Clary pulled her phone out of her pocket and began to scroll feverishly through the pictures Jace had sent her. "There," she said, pointing with a shaking finger at a black mark on the man's arm. "That's a rune. It's a rune, Jace, it's the rune I put on Leviathan, I know it is—"

Jace took the phone out of her hands and peered at it. Clary stood and began to pace, knotting her fingers together. "He did this," she said. "He did it, and he put that rune there to tell me he did. It's a message—"

"No, it's not," said Jace.

"You don't know—"

"I mean it's not a rune," Jace said. "Come here." She leaned over his shoulder. He zoomed in on the picture. "It's just a tattoo. See?"

Clary stared at it. What she had thought were the swirling lines of a Mark were actually cursive letters spelling out the word Grace. Her heartbeat slowed. "Oh," she said. "Okay."

She sat back down on the couch. The reporter had moved on to a story about a new exhibition that had opened at the Met. Jace clicked the TV off. "You want to talk about what just happened?" he asked.

"No," she said in a small voice. Jace gave her a pointed look. "I overreacted, okay?" Clary said, averting her gaze. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry," said Jace. "But what was that about?"

"I don't know...it's stupid..."

"Try me," Jace said.

Clary chewed her lip. "Do you ever feel like it's not really over?" she said eventually. "Like he's just biding his time, waiting to come after us again?"

"Well...no," said Jace. "But I wasn't really affected the way you were. I mean—" He ran his fingers through his hair. "It was terrible for me too. But when we got back, I was just relieved that you and Lexie were safe, and that he was gone."

"But what if he's not?" Clary whispered.

"Why would he come back?" Jace asked reasonably. "Beelzebub's realm was destroyed. There's nothing he can get from us."

"Maybe he just wants revenge," said Clary quietly. "We cost him that realm. We banished him."

"Exactly," Jace said. "We banished him. He's gone, back to his own dimension. He can't hurt us anymore, Clary."

Lexie was squirming; Jace set her down on the ground, and she crawled across the room. Clary watched her as she examined various objects, her eyes bright and curious.

"Hey." Jace took Clary's hand. "What are you thinking?"

Clary played with a lock of her hair, twisting it around her finger and unravelling it repetitively. "I know it's not rational to be scared all the time," she mumbled. "I just...I can't help it. I am scared."

"I know," said Jace, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. "But if something happens—whatever happens—I'll protect you and Lexie. And if there's one thing I know about you, it's that you can endure anything." He kissed her forehead. "We're in this together, okay?"

"Okay," Clary said, letting her hand fall into her lap. Jace smiled and tucked the curl behind her ear.

"Dada!" said Lexie from across the room. She patted the cabinet where they kept their DVD collection. "Ah?"

"Good idea, Lexie," said Jace, going over to her and kneeling beside her. He opened the cabinet and pulled out a few movies, showing them to her. "What are we watching?"

"Ba!" Lexie grabbed Beauty and the Beast, waving it in the air.

"Princess Alexandra has spoken," said Jace, grinning as he pried the case out of Lexie's hands and cracked it open. "What do you say, Clary?"

Clary smiled. The pressure in her chest seemed to lighten as she looked at the two people she loved most in the world. "Yeah," she said. "That sounds good."

And the three of them snuggled on the couch and enjoyed a quiet afternoon.

"I hate peeing on sticks," Isabelle declared, tossing the pregnancy test onto the bathroom counter. "Hate it. Why haven't the Silent Brothers figured out a better way to test for pregnancy? What if we weren't allowed to use mundane tests? Would we have to just wait three months until we started showing to know for sure? What is this, the freaking medieval ages?"

"Uh, Izzy," said Simon through the door. "You good?"

She opened the door. Simon looked rather concerned. "Yeah," she said. "Sorry. You can come in, I'm all done. I mean, I'm kind of a pro at this by now," she added dryly.

Simon came in and took his usual spot on the edge of the bathtub. "Timer?" he asked.

"Already set," said Isabelle. "Like I said, I'm a pro."

Simon gave her a sympathetic smile. "Come on, Iz," he said, taking her hand. "If it's positive, do you really want to be in this mood when you find out?"

Isabelle sighed. "It's not going to be positive." She put the lid of the toilet down and sat on it.

"You don't know that," said Simon. "Maybe this is the month."

She shook her head. "It's not. I just have a feeling."

"Well, you've had a feeling every time—"

"And?" Isabelle snapped. A hurt expression flashed across Simon's face. "Crap," she muttered. "I'm sorry. I just hate this."

"Which part, specifically?"

"I don't know," said Isabelle moodily, resting her chin on her hand. "The peeing. The waiting. All of it."

There was a pause. Simon drew one knee up, looking away from her. "Do you not want this anymore?" he asked quietly.

"I..." Isabelle sighed again. "Of course I want it. I'm just not sure it's meant to be."

"Please," said Simon, cracking a smile. "When have we ever believed in 'meant to be'?"

Isabelle shrugged, and they lapsed into silence. This wasn't unusual; after nearly ten months of trying to conceive, the excitement of waiting for the test to be ready had worn off. The two of them had this routine of sitting and waiting down pat. It really was a routine, Isabelle thought. They did everything by rote: sex was as often as possible (and, quite frankly, boring), and once a month Isabelle would pee on a stick. And then if she didn't get her period within a few days, she'd pee again, just in case the first one was wrong. On and on it went.

Not for the first time, Isabelle wondered what was wrong with her. Surely it couldn't be this difficult to conceive a child; people did it by accident all the time! Clary and Jace were a prime example—they hadn't planned for Lexie at all. Isabelle had talked to Clary about it, but she'd had no idea how it had happened, since she and Jace were using condoms at the time. She'd suggested Isabelle talk to her mom, since fertility issues could be passed down, but Maryse had apparently had no trouble conceiving any of her children; Max had even been a surprise. Everyone kept telling Isabelle that it would happen eventually, but it was getting harder and harder for Isabelle to have faith—and especially to have faith in her own body, after...

The timer rang. Simon let out a breath. "Ready?"

She nodded and picked up the test. It was one of those expensive electronic ones; they'd both gotten tired of trying to determine if there was even the faintest second line on the cheaper tests. As expected, the screen read, in bold undeniable letters, NOT PREGNANT.

"Great," said Isabelle, tossing the test in the trash. "I'm going to grab a glass of wine. You want one?"

"It's two P.M."

"Fine. Suit yourself."

She stood up and made to leave, but Simon caught at her hand. "Izzy," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "Can we just...can we take a minute?"

She looked back at him; his eyes were shimmering. She softened and sat beside him, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know how disappointed you are."

"It's not your fault," he mumbled into her shoulder. "I know it's not."

"Okay," Isabelle said. She stroked his hair, feeling her sweater grow damp where Simon's face was buried in it.

After a long moment, Simon pulled away, sniffling and wiping at his face. "I might take you up on that glass of wine," he said thickly. Isabelle nodded and helped him to his feet. He touched her cheek. "Next month," he said determinedly. "It'll happen next month."

Isabelle forced herself to smile. "I'm sure you're right," she said. "Until then, let's drink."

Dinner at the Lightwood-Bane household that night was a lively affair. Max kept up a steady stream of chatter about their time at their grandma's house. At one point, despite Rafe repeatedly shushing him before he could get the both of them in trouble, Max accidentally let slip that Maryse had let them stay up past midnight. Alec only smiled and put more green beans on Max's plate.

"Sounds like you had a lot of fun," he said, "but maybe tell us more after dinner. You can't eat and talk at the same time."

"I hate green beans," Max whined. "Can I have more potatoes instead?"

"Green beans are nutritious," Alec told him.

Max wrinkled his nose. "What's nutritious?"

"It means it's good for you," Rafael said, popping the last of his own beans into his mouth and scraping his plate clean.

Max made a face at him. "Know-it-all."

"Brat," Rafe shot back.

"Hey, now," said Magnus mildly. "No name-calling at the table. Save that for after dinner." Alec gave him a scolding look, but Magnus only smiled mischievously. Alec smiled too, shaking his head.

Rafael stood up. "May I be excused?"

Alec looked over at him, his smile fading; Rafe was avoiding eye contact, his arms folded tightly across his chest. Alec nodded, and without another word, Rafael disappeared down the hallway to the bedrooms. Magnus and Alec exchanged a look; Max, oblivious, started talking about a new book Maryse had given him.

As they were clearing the table, Magnus glanced over at Alec and inclined his head slightly toward the bedrooms. Alec left him and Max to wash the dishes (Max liked helping out, even if he was too small to reach the sink and often spilled water on the floor) and followed Rafael down the hallway to the room the boys shared. Magnus and Alec had offered Rafael his own room when they had adopted him, but Rafe, who had been without a family for so long, had liked the idea of sharing with his little brother. Alec poked his head into the bedroom; the lights were off, but he could tell by the sound of Rafael's breathing that he was still awake.

"Did you brush your teeth?" Alec asked.

"Yeah."

Alec moved into the room. The light from the hallway leaked into the bedroom, casting a pale glow over Rafael's face. He looked withdrawn, his eyes large and hooded. "I'm sure Max didn't mean to upset you," Alec said.

"I know," Rafael said. "I'm not mad at him."

"Ah," said Alec knowingly, perching on his bed. "So who are you mad at?"

Rafael was silent for a long moment. Then he said, "What was Idris like?"

Alec looked at him quizzically. "It was nice," he said. "A little warmer than New York. And they lit up the Accords Hall for the party, but otherwise it was pretty normal."

Rafe sat up in bed; he was still avoiding his father's gaze, playing with the edge of his bedsheet. "Why couldn't we come with you?" he asked in a small voice.

"Oh, sweetheart..." Alec brushed his son's hair back. "I wish you could've. It was just a grown-up party. Aunt Clary and Uncle Jace didn't bring Lexie either." He gently pulled the bedsheet out of Rafe's hands and took them both in his own. "Someday," he said, "all four of us will go to Idris. I'll show you our manor there, and we can see the Hall of Accords and the Gard—"

"And the demon towers!" said a voice from the doorway. Alec looked up; Max hurtled into the room and leaped onto his father's lap. Alec wheezed as Max accidentally punched the air from his stomach. "I want to see the demon towers!" Max said, bouncing. "I bet I could name all the demons in them!"

"They're not made of demons," Rafe said, rolling his eyes. "They keep the demons out."

Max stuck out his tongue. "Know-it-all," he teased.

"Brat," Rafe returned affectionately. He ruffled his little brother's hair. Max squealed and darted across the room, only to be scooped up by Magnus, who had appeared in the doorway in the nick of time.

"All right, Blueberry," he said, kissing Max's cheek. "Teeth brushed and pajamas on. And I'm going to need that energy to come down about fifty percent."

"Can Rafe read me a story before bed?" Max asked.

"I bet if you ask him nicely, he will," Magnus said.

"Please, Rafe, will you?" Max said, blinking at him beseechingly.

Rafael smiled. "Sure I will." Magnus released Max, who scurried off to the bathroom.

Alec kissed Rafe's forehead. "Don't stay up too late."

"We won't," Rafael said. "Night, Dad. Night, Papa," he added to Magnus.

"Night, kiddo," Magnus said, blowing him a kiss.

The two of them went out of the room; down the hall, they could hear Max vigorously brushing his teeth. "Everything okay with Rafe?" Magnus asked as they emerged into the living room and sat down on the couch.

"Yeah," said Alec. "He was just upset he didn't get to come to Idris with us." He took Magnus's hand. "What do you say we take a family vacation there soon?"

Magnus pursed his lips. "I don't know," he said. Alec looked at him, confused. He sighed. "It's one thing here," he said, "where Shadowhunters are exposed to Downworlders more. They're sheltered in Idris. Our family is too different for them. And you and I are used to the attention, but I don't want to put the kids through that."

"I get what you mean," said Alec. "I think they must know, on some level, that we're not what people consider normal. I just..." He shook his head. "I just want them to stay kids for a little longer."

"We can't protect them forever," said Magnus quietly.

"I know," Alec sighed. "I know we'll have to talk to them soon." He cracked a smile. "Maybe once Max stops believing in Santa."

"Shh!" said Magnus, glancing over his shoulder; the door to the kids' bedroom opened and shut. "Okay, I think we're safe."

"You take Santa very seriously," Alec observed.

Magnus smiled. "Like you said. It's nice to just let them be kids."

Alec grinned and flopped back on the couch. "Remember our child-free days? We could have sex right here if we wanted to."

"Well," said Magnus suggestively, "the kids are in bed..."

"Magnus Bane," Alec said teasingly, "you are a reckless man."

"I like to live on the edge," said Magnus.

He leaned in to kiss Alec, but before their lips could meet, the buzzer sounded. Alec looked up. "Are we expecting company?"

"If we are, then I am scandalously underdressed," Magnus said, looking down at his robe, which hung half-open over his bare chest and boxers.

Alec got up and pressed the intercom button. "Who is it?" he called.

A bright voice crackled through the speaker. "Uh—hi, Mr. Lightwood! It's Eli? Eli Ravenscar? We met at the New Year's party? In Idris? Yesterday?"

"Yeah, I remember," Alec said.

"Right! Um—could I come up? It's kind of cold out here."

Alec glanced at Magnus; Magnus shrugged. "Sure," said Alec. "Come on up." He pressed the button to buzz Eli in and heard the clank of the door through the intercom. He looked back over at Magnus. "Maybe put on pants," he suggested.

"Good call," said Magnus, and he hurried into their bedroom. A moment later, there was a knock at the door. Alec opened it; Eli was standing there, pink-cheeked and wearing a strange assortment of clothes, including a bright green coat, banana-yellow pants, and a deerstalker hat, tied around his chin with a lopsided bow. Alec had never actually seen a real person wear a deerstalker hat, which was perhaps why he forgot his manners and simply stared at Eli for an uncomfortably long moment.

"Hi?" Eli ventured. "Is this a good time?"

"Um—"

"Oh no." Eli wrung his hands. "I should've called. I knew I should've called. Oh, geez, Mr. Lightwood, I'm really sorry, I can go—"

"No," Alec said hastily. "I'm sorry, I'm being rude. Come in, please."

Eli entered the apartment and sat primly on the couch. "Can I get you anything?" Alec asked him. "Tea? Wine?"

"Oh, no, I'm still underage," Eli said. "But tea would be great, thank you, sir."

"You don't have to...you could just call me Alec," said Alec awkwardly.

"Uh...okay, Alec," said Eli, just as awkwardly.

Thankfully, Magnus emerged from the bedroom at that moment, now wearing sweatpants beneath his tied robe. "Eli!" he said warmly, shaking his hand as Alec escaped to the kitchen and turned the electric kettle on. "What brings you to our humble abode?"

"Um..." Eli cast a glance over his shoulder at Alec.

"You can trust Alec," said Magnus reassuringly. "Anything you want to say to me, you can say it in front of him."

"It's nothing serious," Eli said quickly. "I just..." He pulled his hat off, exposing the small horns on his head, and twisted it in his hands. "Well, I didn't know I was a warlock until a few years ago, and I've been trying to learn some magic on my own, but I'm not very good, and then we met at the party and I thought—well, I was wondering—I wanted to ask you if you would be my mentor," he finished in a rush, blushing so deeply that his freckles seemed to disappear.

"Oh!" said Magnus. "Me? How come?"

"You're amazing!" said Eli, his eyes nearly popping out in his excitement. "You were the first warlock I ever heard about, and with everything you did in the Mortal War and the Dark War, and helping run the Alliance, I figured, who better to teach me more about Downworld and magic and everything?"

Magnus laughed good-naturedly. "I assure you, I'm no more talented than any other warlock you've met. The rumors of my prowess are greatly exaggerated. Mostly by me," he added, winking.

"Don't sell yourself short," said Alec, pouring steaming water into three mugs and adding teabags. "Eli's right. Without you, we couldn't have won the wars. Milk and sugar?" he added to Eli.

"Yes, please," said Eli. He looked back at Magnus. "Look, Mr. Bane—"

"Magnus, please."

"Magnus—look, sir, I know you're really, really busy, but I swear I won't take up much of your time, and I'll be a really good student, and—"

"Eli," Magnus interrupted before Eli could completely unravel. Eli clamped his mouth shut immediately. "If you want it that much, of course I'll be your mentor."

Eli's eyes widened, their electric-blue irises brightening. "R-really?" he stammered. Alec came over with the tray of mugs and handed them out before sitting down in the chair opposite them. "Thanks, Mr. Lightwood—I mean, Alec! I mean, Alec, thank you for the tea, and Magnus—thank you! Thank you so much! I won't let you down, I promise!"

"It's my pleasure," Magnus said, smiling at him. "I'll start you off with a couple books, and then what do you say we meet here once a week to practice?"

"Yes!" said Eli enthusiastically, his tea almost flying out of his mug. "Yes, that sounds perfect. I hope I won't be intruding."

"Not at all," Alec said, feeling the need to make up for his previous inhospitality. "As long as you keep the spellcasting in the office. I don't want to come out here and find you've turned the couch into a reindeer or something."

"I promise I won't turn the couch into a reindeer," Eli said solemnly. "I wouldn't know how to anyway—like I said, I've been trying to teach myself, but so far all I can do is—" He flicked a hand and the coffee table burst into flames. Alec jumped, nearly spilling his tea. "Oh no! That wasn't supposed to—ah, shoot, shoot, shoot, how do I turn it off?!" He flapped an arm wildly.

"I've got it," said Magnus, snapping his fingers. The flames disappeared, leaving the table blackened. Alec coughed, waving smoke out of his face. "Maybe we'll start with the basics," Magnus suggested.

"That would be good," Eli mumbled. "Thanks."

"What's all the noise?"

Max had appeared in the hallway, rubbing his eyes. Rafael peered past him, eyeing Eli cautiously.

"Oh, hello," said Eli, looking shy. "I'm sorry, I hope I didn't wake you up."

"Eli," Alec said, "these are our sons, Max and Rafael. Boys, say hi to Eli, our—friend." Eli beamed.

Rafael, ever the introvert, gave a small wave from where he was standing against the wall, but Max came straight over and climbed onto the couch beside Eli. "Hi!" he said. "I like your horns. Are you a warlock like me?"

"I guess I am," Eli said, looking slightly taken aback by Max's energy.

"Did you set our table on fire?" Rafael asked, squinting at it.

"Rafe, that's not very polite," Alec admonished.

Eli gave an embarrassed laugh. "It's okay. I did it on accident. Sorry about that."

"Ooh, I wanna try!" Max's hands began to glow orange. Magnus hastily snuffed them out by grabbing them.

"Well, hopefully it won't happen again," Eli said. "Your dad says he'll teach me how to control my magic."

"Papa's a good teacher," Max said, nodding seriously.

Alec picked him up and set him on his feet. "Okay, back to bed. I'll come tuck you in in a few minutes."

"See you, Eli!" said Max brightly. Rafe gave another little wave and the boys traipsed back to their room.

"They seem sweet," said Eli. "Are they both warlocks?"

"Only Max," Alec replied. "Rafe is a Shadowhunter."

"Oh. Wow. That's—that's really nice." Eli's eyes suddenly looked wet. He blinked rapidly and swallowed the rest of his tea in one gulp. "I really can't thank you enough," he said to Magnus, his voice turning chipper again. "It means a lot to have you as my mentor."

"I'm glad," said Magnus, smiling.

Eli smiled back and set his empty mug on the table; it made a loud cracking noise and collapsed, sending a puff of ash into the air. Eli winced. "Oops."

"I'll, ah, replace it later," Magnus said. "And we should definitely work in the office from now on."

"Please," said Alec desperately.

Eli nodded. "So what will I be learning first?" he asked Magnus eagerly.

Magnus thought for a moment, sipping his tea. "We'll probably want to start small, maybe with simple conjurations, but it would be useful to learn some healing and glamor spells as well..."

His eyes lit up as he talked. Alec loved seeing him like this, so full of energy and drive. Eli hung onto his every word; they would certainly be an entertaining pair, these two. Alec smiled and headed to the boys' bedroom, wondering what the future had in store—and hoping it wouldn't involve the destruction of more of their furniture.