Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alec is 23 years old.  He doesn’t feel it.  He feels much older.  Something like 49.  Yeah… 49 sounds about right.   49 is ancient to a young shadowhunter who has barely breached two decades of life.  Ancient is what Alec feels, ancient and exhausted and ready for everything to just end.  

He is exhausted.  He has been exhausted for as long as he can remember and if he lives to see tomorrow, will most likely continue to be exhausted.  Living till tomorrow however, does not currently seem likely.  Alec’s ripped open from sternum to navel.  Blood and other things pour from him with every feeble pump of his heart. 

His mind is somehow not on his fast approaching death.  It is on how exhausted he is.  

He’s exhausted while he watches the bright and beautiful Isabelle cover her insecurities and doubts behind a painted mouth and a devil may care attitude.  

He’s exhausted while he chases after Jace, Spartacus reborn, who fights demons to bury the boy who wants love, to be loved and to give love more desperately than air. 

He’s exhausted while he listens to his baby brother Max whine about not being allowed to fight now, get runes now, bleed for the Clave now, put himself in the path of claws and teeth now.

He’s exhausted while he waits to be acknowledged by his mother for the soldier, leader, warrior, parent, son she has demanded that he become.  

He’s exhausted while he reads another fire message from his father explaining why he is absent from celebrations, from dinners, from bedsides, from his children’s lives.  

He’s exhausted while ignoring the looks and the whispers of the other shadowhunters of the New York Institute that say he is undeserving, too young, too green, too privileged, too weak.

Alec is 23 years old.  He is exhausted.  He is dying.  

His clothes, black for hunting are now wet, drenched with blood and no doubt shine under the safety lights of the warehouse he somehow managed to stumble out of.  It’s been slow going.  Even death is exhausting.  

He has oddly had plenty of time to think.  Plenty of time to feel Jace’s panic through the bond they share.  Plenty of time to wish for it to just be over.  Maybe when it is, he can finally rest. 

Dying isn’t what he expected it to be.  He thought there would be fear.  He thought there would be panic, or some survival instinct that would drive him to get up, to call for help, to draw iratzes, to do something that would keep him living.

Maybe he is too exhausted.   He would laugh, but his diaphragm isn’t working properly and every breath is taking more and more of him.

Alec knows the end is soon.  He feels a vague sense of fear, but it isn’t bright enough or sharp enough to inspire action. 

He doesn’t know what will come next.  Heaven. Hell. Oblivion.  He prays for oblivion.

Guilt.  Even while he is dying he manages the feeling.  Guilt that he is leaving others behind.

He prays Isabelle grows to be the person she has always dreamed of being, who knows herself, loves herself enough that the voices in her head, the ones that sound like their mother are silenced.  He realizes, too late, he and Isabelle have a lot more in common than he ever allowed himself to see. 

He prays that Jace realizes he is loved, not for being a warrior, because that is not all Jace is, and he is capable, and has always been capable of giving love, despite the upbringing his father gave him.

He prays Max’s curiosity of the world, his wonder for magic never dies and that he chooses a path in which he never becomes so used to the smell of blood and ichor under his nails that he doesn’t feel right without it.

He prays his mother doesn’t spend the rest of her life trying to hammer his younger siblings into the shape and form she has been beating him into since he was old enough to hold up a sword.

He prays his father finds whatever it is he’s out there looking for before he breaks their family any more than it already is.

His heartbeat is slow, too slow.

Jace is getting closer, but Alec knows he’s not close enough.  Jace won’t make it in time.

Alec prays Jace will someday forgive himself for not making it in time.

He’s doing a lot of praying.  His lips twitch upwards in the only show of humor he can manage during his final moments.  He doesn’t remember the last time he truly prayed for anything.

Wanted for something, sure.  Wished things were different, all the time.  Praying?  It’s been a while.

His thoughts are sluggish now.  His eyes are closing.  His breaths are weak and rattle wetly through his chest.  Take care of them, please.   It’s the last thought Alec puts out to the Universe. 

His last prayer.  

It is heard.

Selaphiel is falling.  Selaphiel has been falling for centuries, it no longer bothers the angel of prayer.  None of the others comment on it.  It is not spoken of.  Selaphiel doesn’t understand why, but that has always been one of Selaphiel’s faults.  

Another fault is Selphiel’s thoughts on the Great Fall.  The angel of prayer feels differently about the Great Fall than other angels or that is what Selaphiel believes to be true.  It is not spoken of.

Selaphiel hears Samael before the fall.  Samael prays to the creator, trying to understand.  Perhaps Selaphiel shares that fault with Samael.

Samael doesn’t pray anymore or perhaps Selaphiel no longer hears Samael.  It is not something Selaphiel speaks of.

Selaphiel is falling.  Another thing the angel of prayer shares with Samael, but Selaphiel’s descent is different.  Selaphiel is not choosing to fall, not in the same way Samael did.  Selaphiel is not rejecting the duty that was given by the creator.  

The angel of prayer is instead taking the duty bestowed too far.  For a millennia Selaphiel has been a conduit.  A passage of communication between other angels and the creator, then humans and the creator.  Selaphiel hears every wish, every dream, every cry, every plea directed to the creator.  They are all received.

But never has Selaphiel truly understood.  

And that is why Selaphiel is falling.  

Selaphiel wants to understand.  Selaphiel wants to burn with the emotions that echo through the prayers instead of experiencing the muted versions that pass through and fade into nothing.

Selaphiel understands loss, but not grief.  When Samael falls, when Belial, Asmodeus, Leviathan and Lillith follow, the loss is devastating.  Angels are individuals, with their own duties and powers gifted by the creator, but they are also part of the Heavenly realm and their very existence sustains it.  It is not a loss felt with emotion when an angel falls, whether it be to death or to Hell but a physical loss.  A piece of the very essence of the Heavenly realm of every angel is lost and the collective is left weaker for it.

Selaphiel remembers the prayers of the others that day.  Most prayed for strength, for Heaven to be made whole again, for their creator to know they would not waiver in their duty, they would not fall.  Selaphiel heard some however, pray for their creator to take away the pain that their siblings’ fall caused.  Selaphiel identified grief in their prayers.  

The angel of prayer still does not understand.  How can angels feel grief? How can other angels know grief? Should not the angel of prayer feel it, know it, understand it?

Selaphiel’s fall begins.  

Selaphiel feels fear, understands, finally the settling, sharp cold of what fear is.  But the knowledge only makes Selaphiel wish to understand greater.  As time passes, Selaphiel’s dissatisfaction with this lack of feeling, of understanding outgrows the fear of falling.

Raguel is the first to notice Selaphiel’s plight.  The only other angel to speak of it.  

Selaphiel’s interactions with Raguel have always been different than those with the other siblings.  There is no hierarchy in how Selaphiel treats the others, however the angel of prayer will always answer Raguel’s call over those of any others.  

As the angel of justice, Raguel is tempered in a way the others are not.  When other angels only see one possible path, Raguel sees a hundred.  

When the fear is new and fresh, Selaphiel goes to Raguel for help.

Raguel illuminates an avenue Selphiel has not considered.  It is unlikely that Selaphiel’s fall will cause the angel of prayer to transform into a demon.  Selaphiel agrees that upong falling the angel will most likely be reborn as a human, live and die a mortal life.  Heaven will lose another piece of itself and its angel of prayer.  

It is unacceptable.  Raguel’s idea gives Selaphiel another first feeling.  Hope. Hope to change the fate Selaphiel sees as inevitable.

But to follow the path that Raguel inspires requires an opportunity that has not yet come to pass. 

Until Selphiel hears the prayer of a dying nephilim.  

Death does not wait, not even for an angel.  Neither does Selaphiel. There is no time to explain, to say goodbye.  It is for the best.  What Selaphiel is about to do, it is not spoken of.

The angel of prayer crosses over to the earthly realm. The angelic body of light and sound changes into an earthly visage.  Selaphiel’s grace becomes wings.  Bare feet, virgin skin touches down on the pavement, sticky with cooling blood. 

The nephilim, Alexander Gideon Lightwood does not have much time left.  Another, nephilim tries to stem the flow of blood, tries to heal Alexander with the runes Raziel gifted their kind, tries to call for help. 

Perhaps help would have come in time.  Perhaps it would have been too late.  Selaphiel, who goes unseen and unheard does not wait to find out.  Alexander Gideon Lightwood is the opportunity the angel of prayer has been waiting for, praying for.  All there is now is for Alexander to say yes.  

Selaphiel reaches out through the dying nephilim’s chest, touches his soul and speaks.

Alec is dimly aware of Jace’s frantic pleas. But he is no longer bleeding out on cold concrete.  The sun shines down on his upturned face.   

He recognizes the hillside he is on.  It is a park in Idris.  One that he barely remembers the details of, but the feeling is still with him.  One of the few moments of childish joy of his life, running through the corpse of trees and rolling down this very hill with Izzy, the scent of grass and dirt clinging to his clothes.  Alec smiles at the memory. 

“We don’t have much time.”  The voice is bell-like in its clarity, jarring, too bright in his mind.  Alec turns.  There is a woman standing there on the uneven ground.  She is naked.  But this fact does not occupy him.  What occupies him are the wings.  They are the color of rich earth veined with coppery fire, shimmering under the late afternoon sun.  

The sight fills Alec with awe and fear.  Suddenly his death, it is too soon, too final and the regret he carries with him chokes the words building in his throat.  

“You are not dead yet.  You have a choice to make.”

Although the angel’s words are placid, Alec feels the urgency that hangs like humid summer heat, so thick he can taste it.  

The angel looks away from him, her left wing rises and shifts, drawing Alec’s hazel eyes to patches he didn’t notice before.  There are bald patches in her wings and Alec knows what they must mean. “I am falling,” the angel confirms.  There is resignation there that halts the rising revulsion in Alec.  

It is not a choice, not something this angel… Selaphiel, he knows her name but he doesn’t know how he knows.  Her falling is not a choice she is making, but something that is happening to her.  Again the knowledge comes to him. 

“I wish to know, to feel, to understand.” Her words are not an explanation to any question Alec has voiced but they somehow are the answer he is looking for.  “In exchange you will live.”

Alec’s mind shudders.  An angel making a deal as if she were a demon. 

It is blasphemy.  Goes against everything he was taught by the Clave.

Alec knows that if he refuses what this angel is asking for, refuses bearing himself, allowing the angel to feel what he feels, know what he thinks, experience a life on earth through him that the angel will allow him to die.  The angel will not take action unless he pays a price. 

“Is that so different from your kind?”  Alec blinks.  It is on the tip of his tongue to refute the angel’s words.  Shadowhunting is a duty, a calling, a service rendered that there is no payment for.  “But you do not hunt because it is your duty.”  Again Alec wants to deny, but the angel is not wrong.  He doesn’t hunt because of the so-called “sacred” duty that Raziel charged Johnathan Shadowhunter with, that the first shadowhunter asked for.  

He hunts because it is expected, it is what the Lightwood’s do, for status, for reputation, for honor, for respect, for power.  

But that is not all he hunts for.  He hunts because those he cares about, those he must protect also hunt.  Izzy, Jace.  Alec frowns, it’s suddenly hard to recall the sound of Izzy’s laugh, or the exact shades of Jace’s mismatched eyes.  

“You must choose soon.”

Alec feels the piece of Jace that completes his soul cry out, hears his parabatai’s voice shudder through him.  ‘Come on Alec, just a little bit longer, hang on just a bit longer, they’re coming.’

Alec speaks to the angel for the first time, “You will know me, all of me, feel what I feel.  Nothing will be private, nothing will be hidden,” Alec states, because it is not a question.  He knows and it terrifies him.  He wants to say no. He does not want to be stripped bare by this divine being.

He wants to rest.

‘Don’t Alec, please, parabatai, don’t go where I cannot follow.’  

“When I understand, I will leave you.” Selaphiel doesn’t say what will happen after.  Alec knows.  He will die.

Alec breathes through the burn behind his eyes.

‘Stay with me Alec, stay with me.’

There never was a choice.

Chapter Text

Alec swallowed, or tried to swallow. Alarms rang in his ears as he feebly grasped at the plastic tube coming from his mouth. His stomach stretched, the skin pulled, burned and Alec choked on the agony that pervaded his body. If his mind could process language at the moment every curse in every tongue he knew would have tumbled from his lips.

There were others in the room, fluttering around him, speaking in jargon that he would have asked Izzy to translate. His mind focused, brain finally working to control the muscles in his hand and he grasped the plastic and pulled.

“Alec no!” Alec locked onto his sister’s voice as he futilely tried to suppress the coughs that made it feel like the demon was ripping open his stomach again. “Of course you would extubate yourself.” The words were scolding but the tone was fond relief and finally Alec’s watering eyes cleared enough to see her.

Izzy was pale, with bare lips and her red rimmed eyes bright with grief and joy. “Welcome back, hermano,” was whispered into his hairline and Alec wanted to weep at the feel of her skin against his forehead. The smile he managed was pained. Izzy’s hand pushed the hair from his forehead in a familiar gesture that made him ache with something other than pain.

“His heart rate is dropping to normal limits. Let’s get a nasal cannula placed and keep his oxygen up.” Alec recognized the accented and authoritative voice of Petra Foerstner, the Institutes head physician. Her flaming red hair and stern blue eyes came into view. “Mr. Lightwood when I recommended you come in for an annual this is not what I had in mind.”

Alec tried to respond but all that came out was a wheeze. Izzy scrambled for a pitcher and cup off to his side.

“Slow, just let the water touch his lips. No straw. He won’t have enough coordination to swallow that quickly, plus the trauma he just did to his throat.

Alec wanted to sigh with relief as the sensation of cool liquid against his chapped mouth.

“Slow,” Foerstner advised again. The feeling was exquisite despite how painful swallowing was, but the pleasure Alec felt was not just his own. The memories of the hillside in Idris flooded back and a name echoed through his mind.

Selaphiel.

The angel didn’t respond in words but Alec felt the presence press against him from somewhere deep within. His breathing quickened.

“Heart rate is jumping,” a nurse reported.

“Alec, hey, you need to slow down your breathing,” Izzy said in her ‘I’m trying not to sound alarmed voice’. “Alec look at me.” Her words were lost, unparseable to Alec’s panicked mind. There was an angel inside of him.

“He’s tachy.”

“We need to sedate.”

‘You need to calm your body. You are hurting yourself.’ That bell like voice, that was a shade painful cut through the dim roar of his own heart beat and blood rushing through his veins.

Alec focused on the ache in his torso, grounding himself in the pain to wrench control over his reeling mind and body. He breathed slower, measuring the breaths, counting out the inhale and exhale like when he first learned to meditate.

He heard Izzy praising his efforts and searched out her deep brown eyes even as his own grew heavy. The few moments of consciousness depleted the energy from his torn body. Alec slipped back into darkness.

When he opened his eyes again, he was back on the hill in Idris. Selaphiel was beside him. Her wings were splayed out to either side, the left one almost wrapped around him.

“Your body is resting.” Her voice wasn’t as sharp to him as before. Now that he wasn’t distracted by the symbols of her angelic being, Alec really looked at the angel sitting next to him. Her dark hair was curly and coarse, falling in waves around her slim shoulders. She was no longer naked, a plain natural cotton dress, simple and unembellished covered her. Her skin was darker than his mother’s olive tone and her eyes shades lighter than Izzy’s. Her face was neither youthful nor aged. He couldn’t place her age with any accuracy and didn’t see the point of thinking on it. Afterall, she was ageless, older than any immortal downworlder he had met. This facade before him was not real.

“I thought you may need a moment to speak with me.” The angel turned to face him. Her mouth quirked downwards and brow furrowed. It was odd, he could almost see the effort the angel was making to exaggerate the expression as if feeling out the range her features were capable of contorting into.

“I…” Alec began, but aborted his speech to stand from his seated position, suddenly uncomfortable next to the holy being. His body found parade rest naturally and he looked down at the angel, slightly surprised when she chose to remain sitting. “I was distracted by my injuries. Then I remembered.”

Selaphiel’s face was inquisitive. “Yes, I felt that, you… panicked.” Shame bloomed on Alec’s cheeks. Dark hair cascaded as the angel tilted her head and her face sharpened.

Alec was given the impression the angel was confused. She didn’t question him, instead one of her hands rose to her stomach. “You...we were in so much pain.”

Alec blinked. “Yeah, I was injured.” His tone was definitely not respectful. “So badly I nearly died, would have died.” The ‘without you’ went unsaid.

“I would have fixed the damage if I had known that’s what it would feel like,” was Selaphiel’s response, not appearing to notice the nephilim’s irreverent tone.

“You’ve never been injured before?” As soon as the question left his mouth he knew the assumption behind it was wrong.

Selaphiel’s lips twisted. “No, it is different. Angels are beings of light, sound and energy given purpose. We don’t experience physical sensation as your kind does. The physical bodies we form when we cross to this plane do not provide the sensory input that yours does.” Her hand brushed across her breast bone and Alec felt the phantom of the demon ripping into him.

A grimace formed naturally across the angel’s face as if she felt it as well.

“Hurts like a bitch doesn’t it?” There was humor in his voice as he realized what the angel meant before. Selaphiel could have healed him completely, but the angel wanted to experience the pain. Alec knew he couldn’t comprehend fully the angel’s existence and didn’t really want to try. Her curiosity, however, wanting to feel, even if that feeling was pain, that Alec could understand.

Selaphiel looked up at him. The effect of the physical pain was still present around the corners of her eyes, but the edges of her mouth tilted upwards and for a moment understanding flowed between them.

“I believe I’ve had my fill of it for now, however I think, no I know,” the angel nods at him and Alec realizes she is referring to their shared knowledge, “I know it won’t be good for us if you were to suddenly recover.”

The nephilim nodded in agreement. The Clave… Alec knew what happened to those shadowhunters who showed exceptional abilities. Unless they came from powerful families they were usually taken from their parents at a young age and given to the Silent Brothers for training. If male they often became Silent Brothers themselves. Alec didn’t have the same aversion to the Silent Brothers as Izzy, but he shuddered to think what they would do given his current situation.

The train of thought led him to wonder what type of consequences the angel might face for this situation. He couldn’t imagine that Selaphiel was simply free to pop down to earth and do as she pleased. “Has this,” he gestured between Selaphiel and himself “has this happened before?”

Selaphiel gave him an aborted bob of her head before frowning, as if confused by her own use of the gesture. “We are not the first. I don’t believe it has happened in a while.” Alec got the sense that the angel’s ‘a while’ was vastly different to his own. “It is not spoken of.”

“And no angels are going to come down and drag you out of me?” he asked, trying to keep the fear from his voice.

“No, as long as I do not interfere with the broad course of humanity, there will be no repercussions from Heaven.”

Alec huffed internally. Of course, one mortal life was wholly insignificant. The thought wasn’t in the same vein as his usual self-deprecation but something about her dismissal of what this was doing to him stung. Not wanting to ruminate longer on that thread, Alec looked out at the park below. “Why here?”

Selaphiel’s expression twitched before becoming an approximation of soft probably for the first time. “I wanted you to feel happy. You were dying and from your prayers I knew there was a chance you would not agree to my bargain. This place holds joy in your memories. I wanted to remind you of that in the hope you would agree.”

Again, Alec was blindsided by not only the angel’s selfish manipulation of him and his thoughts and memories but also her unrepentant admittance to it. Anger suffused his blood and he had to step back, put distance between himself and Selaphiel.

“You are angry.”

Alec snorted.

“Why?”

“Can’t you just look inside my head? Know?” Alec snarled out.

Selaphiel appeared to contemplate her answer. “If I could do that… if I could just look and understand we would not be here.” She frowned and her confusion bubbled up, making her words feverish and hasty. “You are a tangled web of contradictions, not everything you feel, think, know is true, but you believe it to be so. Not every feeling holds the same weight. Every emotion unique in each moment, I-” Alec wanted to laugh or cry as the angel floundered for words. “I am the angel of prayer. I hear the prayers, I know why they are praying, I know their grief, pain, joy, anger but I do not understand it. I do not understand you.” The angel caught his eyes and the fervour behind them held his gaze “I do not understand why you wanted to die. I do not understand at just the sight of Isabelle’s face you were relieved you didn’t.” The sound of his sister’s name in the angel’s voice felt wrong and Alec wished to viciously tear the name from Selaphiel’s mind, so the angel could never say it again.

But he couldn’t. The anger banked to the muted embers that always seemed to burn in the background. Alec was exhausted. He wanted this conversation to be over.

“I will try not to impose on your interactions. I will simply observe.”

With clarity, Alec realized that Selaphiel truly did not understand the violation of being privy to his feelings, memory, soul, after the angel listened to the prayers of millions.

“Fine,” he exhaled “But can we not be here? If my body is resting I’d like for my mind or soul or whatever to rest as well.” Selaphiel gave no warning, or moment’s hesitation. Alec knew no more.

Alec woke slowly. The dull ache in his abdomen pulled his consciousness further and further to the surface. A hand was gripping his own. It was small in his hold, feminine but the lack of calluses on the palm told him it wasn’t Izzy’s. He breathed in slowly, trying to appear asleep.

He let his eyelids rise minutely and take in the sight of his mother’s hand in his own.

It hurt.

Alec knew as soon as he showed a sign of waking, or if anyone else were to come into the room his mother would pull away from him. So he continued to fein sleep.

He remembered the last time his mother took his hand. He was thirteen and came down with a fever so severe he lost touch with what was real and what wasn’t. After he recovered, he wasn’t sure if the tender care his mother showed him was just something that his burning brain conjured to comfort himself.

The Lightwoods were not a physically affectionate family, or at least his parents had never been with him. He and Izzy would hug, lean against each other. They would all ruffle Max’s hair or squeeze his shoulders. Izzy still embraced their younger brother, but Max preferred or at least declared he preferred a handshake from Alec or Jace with all the seriousness an eight year old could muster.

Watching Maryse train Max, before Max began attending the Academy in Idris was a painful reminder of his own upbringing. Scalding words for failure, a scoff for any show of pain, a demand for more even after near perfection was achieved. Alec did his best to interfere. Taking Max’s training on whenever he could.

The door to his room opened and Alec nearly flinched at the interruption to the quiet moment. He was surprised when Maryse didn’t pull her hand out of his.

“Where were you?” The frigid words were more an accusation than a question.

“Not now Maryse.” The voice belonged to his father and Alec felt ashamed for being surprised. Robert Lightwood was frequently away from the Institute. He oversaw relations between the New York Institute and their counterparts, recruitment from the Academy and represented the New York Institute when called upon by the Clave.

It seemed that his oldest son nearly dying actually merited an appearance.

“What happened?”

“Our son nearly died.”

Robert let out a huff of frustration. “Should I just go read the mission reports?”

Maryse was silent for a moment and Alec heard his father move to leave. “You know we’ve been short staffed since Clearheart went on maternity leave and the Hassam twins temporary placement here ended. Jace suggested to Alec they split up, cover more ground when multiple readings in their assigned quadrant came in.”

Alec internally winced knowing his parabatai was probably chewed out for it, especially if he admitted to Maryse why he made the suggestion.

“The boy is still too cocky,” Robert nearly growled. Alec wanted to protest his father’s words. Technically, Alec was Jace’s superior in the field. He should have kept them together.

“The readings weren’t strong. They both probably thought it was safe.” His mother’s voice was soft and Alec was struck dumb by her defense of their pooor choice, which went against protocol. Her words were accompanied by a squeeze to his hand. If he hadn’t been frozen by her prior words he probably would have blown his act and squeeze back.

“Has he woken?” his father asked. Silent steps must have brought him to Alec’s other side.

“For a moment, long enough to pull the tube from his throat before anyone could stop him.”

“Stubborn.” His jaw tensed at his father’s fond tone.

“Always has been,” his mother breathed out. His mother’s other hand joined in holding his, cradling it. “Forestner said he should have died. She thinks the only thing that kept him alive was his bond with Jace.”

Alec could almost feel his father recoil from his side. Parabatai were always a sensitive topic with Robert, understandably so. The man didn’t even attend his and Jace’s ceremony. He wondered if his mother brought the point up to purposely hurt her husband.
“She also said his recovery will be long. His abdominal wall was cut through and there was internal damage.” She choked on the last word and Alec couldn’t stop the flinch at the grief in her voice. “Alec?” she whispered. Her hands left him.

He knew he couldn’t keep up the facade of sleep any longer. He blinked his eyes open, hoping it appeared as if he just woke up. “Mom,” he croaked out, his throat’s rawness flaring with use. She quickly reached for the water cup at his bedside and helped him drink.

“I’ll get the doctor,” Robert decided abruptly, already escaping the room.

Maryse’s frown followed him out, but she quickly turned back to Alec. “You had us so worried baby.” Alec’s eyes burned and his breath shuddered at the endearment he hadn’t heard in ages. She reached out and gave his hand a final squeeze before setting it back down and stepping back, her patented cool mask settling back into place as the doctor and his father returned.

Alec wished he would have managed to return that squeeze, committed the feeling of his mother’s palm against his own. He didn’t want to have to almost die to have the chance to feel his mother’s hand in his again.

The next time Alec woke up, sunlight filtered through the windows of his infirmary room. Izzy sat in one of the chairs near the window, her tablet in her lap and her hands at work, chipping the nail polish off her nails. Alec couldn’t help the smile that turned the corners of his lips upwards at his sister’s nervous habit.

“Hey you,” he greeted her softly, voice still hoarse despite the fluids he consumed. Izzy’s head lifted so that her deep brown eyes met his hazel. Alec felt something heavy in him lift at seeing her bright, if tired smile. “Jace?” he asked. He was unsurprised that his parabatai was staying away, but he needed to know the younger man was okay.

Alec shakily brought a hand to settle on his left hip where their rune sat. It was an unconscious gesture that happened whenever he focused purposefully on their bond. The blonde was blocking him out, but Alec could sense his parabatai was nearby. The fact he was being blocked wasn’t concerning in itself. Alec having such a severe injury would have made it difficult for Jace to function if he wasn’t blocking the bond.

Izzy’s sigh told him everything he needed to know. “Brooding somewhere and blaming himself,” she verbally confirmed. Izzy futzed with the tablet in her hands. Alec could always read his sister.

“Izz, what is it?”

Izzy pursed her bare lips, before one came she came to his bedside, unlocking the tablet as she walked. “I was the one who ran your blood work, to see if we were dealing with any demon venom.” Alec nodded to show he was following. “Alec, I don’t...I don’t know how to say this but your blood, it's changed.”

‘Selaphiel.’

“I’ve never seen anything like it, it’s like, well no it just is.” Her eyes were wide with something that looked like awe. “You have two completely different red blood cell types, one nehphilim and the other…”

‘Selaphiel!’

“The markers in its genetic code are comparable to the remnants the Clave has archived of the last angel that walked the earth.”

‘SELAPHIEL!’

‘I was not expecting this.’

Izzy grabbed one of Alec’s hands. “Alec, I ran your blood after you got clipped by that Ravenor back in April. It wasn’t like this then.”

“Did you tell anyone? Are there any records?” Alec questioned urgently.

“Of course I didn’t tell anyone, I moved the report onto my personal tablet and I made it look like the report I got from the test today was the same as the one back in April. I did it as soon as I realized what I was looking at Alec!”

“Do you have your stele?” She nodded. “Seal and Silence,” he ordered with a shaky wave at the door. Izzy immediately moved to follow his command.

‘Are you sure?’

‘She’s my sister. I can’t keep this from her.’

‘Very well.’

He almost sighed in relief at the angel’s easy agreement. He needed someone to talk to about this. Izzy returned, taking a seat on the bed and looking at Alec expectantly.

“This is going to sound crazy.”

Izzy’s dark eyes rolled. “Alec, you somehow have the blood cells of an angel in you, and not a small amount, nearly half of the cells from the sample I pulled. You can’t get much crazier than that.”

Alec nodded absently and gave a soft laugh, wincing at the pain that flared in his abdomen at the action. “When I was lying on the ground, waiting to die,” he ignored Izzy’s shift at the reminder of just how close he had been to death, “I started praying and after I blacked out Selaphiel was there.”

“Selalphiel?” Izzy whispered with awe.

Alec nodded, licking his somehow still cracked lips. “She offered me a deal.”

“A deal?” Izzy scoffed, echoing the incredulousness Alec once shared.

‘I don’t understand.’ Alec thought purposefully about what the Clave preached about angels. ‘You were taught wrong.’ Yeah, he was getting that.

“Selaphiel is the angel of prayer. Long story short, her desire to understand humans, our emotions and experiences is causing her to fall.” Izzy’s intake of breath was audible. “She offered to save my life in exchange for, I don’t know, really the opportunity to experience the world through me.”

‘I have merged my grace with your soul, your physical body contains both of us now.’

‘But why did that change my blood, why do angels even have blood? You said you were just light and energy.’

‘On the Heavenly plane we are. On this plane our bodies must be physical in order to interact. Our energy is transformed into a temporary physical form. We can only sustain that form for a short amount of time or we become severely weakened. By merging myself with your soul I do not have to sustain myself to remain and interact with this plane. The blood I admit was an unanticipated side effect.’

Alec blinked at the influx of information. He relayed it to Izzy.

“By the Angel,” his sister whispered.

Alec snorted, “Literally.” Izzy let out an indelicate snort of her own.

He was prepared for her next question and hardened himself against any outward reaction. “How long is she...staying inside of you?” his sister’s nose crinkled at the awkward phrasing.

“Until she understands, whatever that means.” He saw with relief that his sister accepted this answer and didn’t question it further.

Izzy stood and quickly crossed to the window before whirling around her dark eyes brimming with curiosity. “I have so many questions!”

Alec groaned. “Izz, trust me, I get it, but based on everything I’ve learned from her there are some things us mere mortals shouldn’t know.”

‘I wouldn’t mind answering questions if it means clearing up some misconceptions you have about angels.’ The nephilim ignored Selaphiel’s offer.

“Aaaaleeeec,” she pouted.

“You are 19, those eyes don’t work on me anymore,” Alec denied.

Her pout intensified.

“Okay three questions.”

“Ten!”

“Five”

“Eight”

“Five, take it or leave it.”

“Deal!”

She smirked as she plopped back down on his bed, eyes practically sparkling with excitement. “You know I’m going to get way more than five out of you,” she gloated.

Alec sighed, knowing she was right, but it didn’t stop the smile that spread across his face at her child-like eagerness.

The questioning went on for nearly an hour before Alec begged on behalf of his poor throat to stop. Izzy ungraciously relented, leaving to get Alec his lunch of broth, refusing to take pity on him and get something solid. “You have abdominal trauma Alec. Clear liquids only,” she said as if it was obvious.

‘She is very…’

‘Nosy?’

‘Inquisitive.’

Alec couldn’t help the proud smile that formed from the description.

‘So why did you choose a female form?’

Izzy had asked for a description of the angel and after finding out that she appeared as a woman asked if angels had biological sex. It turned out that angels did not have biological sex as they did not procreate.

‘I sometimes see people’s physical forms when they pray to the creator. My form is an amalgamation of several. I chose to appear as a woman to you because I knew you would be less physically threatened and more likely to accept my deal.’

Alec tried not to think about how his mother or Izzy would feel about that. ‘So the distinction of male and female doesn’t matter to you?’

‘A biological mechanism by which a majority of species currently alive procreates.’

‘Right…’

He could tell Selaphiel was going to ask him something else when someone knocked.

“Come in!” Alec called, expecting it to be a nurse to check on him. The blonde head of his parabatai poked through the slight opening. “Jace.” His heart fluttered despite his best attempt to not have a reaction.

“Can I come in?” Jace asked.

Alec rolled his eyes, motioning with a slightly steadier hand, soaking up the sight of his brother in arms. Like Izzy, Jace appeared to have not slept since Alec was injured. It hurt to see his parabatai so broken. He wanted to smooth over the dark circles under Jace’s eyes with his thumbs.

‘Alec.’

He winced at the sharpness of Selaphiel’s voice. It wasn’t since the first time she spoke that the sound hurt. Dread sat heavy in Alec’s stomach as he anticipated the angel’s words.

‘This nephilim has been exposed to angel blood.’

Alec choked on his saliva. Well, that wasn’t what he was expecting.

Chapter Text

‘This man is killing you.’

Alec resisted the urge to roll his eyes, lest Batonvert think he was rolling his eyes at him.

‘I’m not dying Selaphiel.’

The nephilim got the impression that the angel grumbled something along the lines of ‘feels like it’. If his entire torso didn’t feel like an aching angry mass, Alec would have laughed. Through the early stages of the recovery process Selphiel made it known she did not enjoy feeling pain.  Many, many times.

‘I still don’t think he knows what he’s doing.’

The young shadowhunter couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. He looked up at the animated wall of muscle to see a dark eyebrow lift.

Serge Batonvert, his rehabilitation specialist, was an impressive figure. He was probably only an inch or two shorter than Alec himself and more thickly built than Jace. His dark runed skin also had its fair share of scars and the man’s nose had clearly been broken and poorly reset.

The older shadowhunter would oversee Alec’s recovery, determining when he was eligible to return to active duty. After their formal introduction the Algerian shadowhunter insisted on being called Serge. “Nice work, let’s stop there for today.” The other man handed Alec his bottle of water and motioned to a chair. Alec sank into it with relief that he attempted to not let show on his face. “A little bird tells me you’ve been working after hours.”

Alec met the rehab specialist’s dark brown eyes with his hazel and inwardly sighed knowing a lecture was coming. Serge held up his hand in a not so much placating gesture as it was a command to halt his thought, “I get it.”

The simple statement was the truth and Alec knew Batonvert understood. He was a well known fighter, probably the best to come out of his graduating class at the Academy. One of the few shadowhunters to ever use a double bladed battle axe as a signature weapon. Alec was only a year away from graduating the Academy when news of the Clave’s top warrior being irreparably injured in one of the deadliest skirmishes to happen in a decade.

An analyst misinterpreted data and Serge’s twelve man unit was sent into a nest of Vetis demons. The dragon-like demons typically didn’t coexist with their own kind peacefully, but at times were known to cooperate and when doing so were extremely dangerous. The twelve shadowhunters were expecting a fight, but not one of that magnitude. Only four besides Serge made it out alive and all claimed it was only due to the axe-wielding shadowhunter’s fierceness and skill.

“Your three-man patrol team is getting sent out soon, aren’t they?” Serge asked. Alec blinked, not quite surprised that Serge knew his motivation for pushing his limits, but taken aback he had come to the conclusion so quickly. The older shadowhunter nodded, taking Alec’s silence as confirmation. Serge’s dark eyes dropped to the stone floor and he chuckled, “I could share some emotional anecdotes here, but I doubt you want to hear it, so I’ll just say this. Your recovery is on a good path. You over do it, you push too hard too fast, best case scenario you suffer a setback. Worst case scenario you screw yourself up and you don’t make a full recovery.”

The reprimand in his words was clear. Alec knew the rehab specialist was right, not just because this was his profession, but Alec’s aching body felt like the man was right.

But the thought of Jace and Izzy going out with a third, who may not have their back made his throat tight.

Serge shifted drawing, Alec’s attention back to him. The older shadowhunter hesitated before speaking again. “You’ve been tapped for the Head position of this institute, oui?” Alec nodded, deciding not to dwell on how that was now not as certain as before. “That’s not a combat position.” The statement was a simple fact, but the hazel eyed shadowhunter frowned, beginning to see where Serge’s line of thought was going. “You would eventually have to send out shadowhunters, your sister, your parabatai,” he paused here and Alec wished the man wouldn’t continue, “They are going to go where you won’t be able to follow.”

The echo of the parabatai ceremonial words made Alec’s chest burn and it wasn’t from his injury.

‘Alec,’ Selaphiel’s voice cut through the roaring dim that was slowly creeping into Alec’s mind.

Alec brought his head up to meet concerned brown eyes as he forced his lungs to expand. “I take it that isn’t something you’ve thought about, at least, not so directly.” Alec shook his head. “Well,” Serge came to his feet, “My advice, for what it's worth, get a hobby for that excess energy and stop pushing it.”

The jarring exit after the man just disrupted his entire view of the future was a sharp cut to the gut and Alec glared at the man’s back as the other shadowhunter headed towards the training room’s door. “And the rest?” he asked.

Serge didn’t even bother turning around. “Above my pay grade.”

Alec snorted as he leaned back in his chair blowing out a heavy exhale as his heart rate finally slowed down to a normal pace. He sat in silence for a moment, trying to put Serge’s words and the uncertainty of his current position out of his mind.

‘Shower?’ the angel in his head asked hopefully. Alec nodded in response to the angel’s question instead of responding verbally.

Izzy was waiting for him when he got out. “Long shower hermano?” She raised an eyebrow suggestively and Alec gave her a flat glare before pulling some clothes from his dresser. “So how does that go with Selaphiel?”

“By the Angel, Izzy! Seriously?!” Alec’s eyes cut back to hers with a bit more fire.

“Curious minds want to know.”

“About your brother’s shower habits?”

“For science Alec!”

Alec went behind his bathroom door before dropping the towel around his waist and pulling on clothes. “If you must know, Selaphiel loves the feeling of showering. She’s never had skin before and she finds the different smells of soaps and shampoos enthralling.” He joined his sister again in his room and noted the teapot and mugs set out on his coffee table.

Izzy’s dark eyes lit up with academic intrigue. “So, the sensory experience?”

Alec shrugged, “Yeah, I guess. Is there a reason you barged into my room while I was showering Iz?” Alec usually enjoyed spending down time with his sister but the session with Batonvert and the other stressors he was currently dealing with were weighing on him. He wanted to be alone to process or alone as he could be while sharing his body with an angel.

“Yes actually,” she mumbled something that sounded like ‘grouchy’ under her breath. Izzy took a seat on the small couch across from the armchairs that made up the small sitting area in his room. She poured the tea from the pot, it’s floral notes were pleasing to his nose and Selaphiel’s desire to taste it was apparent to Alec, as he sat across from his sister. She handed Alec one of the heavy clay mugs. Their mother would have cringed at such a delicate tea being served in such, but the weight of the mug was comfortable in Alec’s grip and only a gentle heat made it through the fired clay walls to his fingers and palms.

He was about to take a sip when Izzy finally decided to speak. “Have you heard?” she asked, and there was a quiver of something in her voice that made him pause. He assumed she was talking about the Inquisitor’s investigation into the incident that caused his injury. Now that Alec was out of medical danger and appeared to be on track to make a full recovery, the Clave descended upon the New York Institute to complete their own inquiry into how a shadowhunter was nearly killed in action. Alec knew he wasn’t going to get out of it unscathed.

“I’ve seen her speaking with others,” Alec answered with a shrug, blowing on the tea.

“Damn it, Alec!” Izzy swore with now apparent frustration. “How can you be so calm about this? With the cup still MIA you know how harshly they punish recklessness when it causes injury or death.”

Alec felt an old fury rise up in him, “You are going to lecture me about being reckless?” His tone made the words burn like acid on his tongue and his sister flinched.

Izzy’s grip on her own mug of tea faltered and something in her dark brown eyes shuttered. She blew out a shaky breath, “I know, I have no right-”

“Damn right you don’t,” Alec bit out darkly, being unable to swallow the words. She looked like she was going to speak again but Alec stopped her. “If this investigation yields a recommendation that I be sanctioned and the tribunal of the American Enclave Council agrees, it’s very unlikely that I’ll be considered to take over the New York Institute. I know that. I’m surprised that you realize there are consequences.” His words stung Izzy as she looked away, not being able to meet his steady gaze.

As soon as his mother told him about the inquiry Alec knew it was a possibility. Maryse knew he understood as well, and although she tried to reassure him that it wouldn’t come to that, Alec could tell his mother was just as concerned. His father was currently building Alec’s defense, preparing for the worst.

“It’s not fair, everyone in the Institute knows Jace-”

Alec cut her off. “You know that doesn’t matter. I hold the higher rank. In the eyes of the law, I made the decision to break standard operating procedure.” The anger in him was dying and he was suddenly so tired he couldn’t keep holding his mug. He looked down at it as he set it back on the coffee table. Whatever he planned to say died in his throat when his gaze came back to Izzy. She was obviously trying very hard not to cry. “Little sister,” he said softly instead, crossing over to the loveseat she sat on and enveloping her in his long arms. He murmured words he hoped were comforting in Spanish, something he rarely did, comforting words or the Spanish.

Although they were both raised with the language thanks to their maternal grandmother, Izzy had more exposure to it than Alec. Once Alec left New York to attend the Academy in Idris, Izzy was sent to live with Margarita Trueblood for a year. Alec thought that a lot of Izzy’s spirited nature was owed to her year with the woman. “Whatever they decide, I’ll survive it,” he tried to reassure her and himself.

Izzy struggled to control her breathing. “I know you will, I’m just.” her whole body shuddered, “It was so much. You nearly dying, the angel thing, mom and dad talking about how they were going to deal with the inquisition, Jace, the whispers from the others… I,” her voice died and she turned away from his embrace.

“What is it Iz?”

She stared down at her hands, not meeting his eyes. “I had an epiphany of sorts, I guess. I realized how selfish I’ve been, how reckless like you said.” Alec tried to interrupt her, guilt at his previous words flaring. “No,” she told him firmly, looking up. “We have disobeyed you in the field, ignored your orders and flagrantly disrespected you.” Izzy choked at the last part, holding Alec’s hands tight. “I wish I had an excuse, some reason, but I look back and there is nothing, nothing.” The guilt and shame she felt at her past actions bled into her voice, and it made Alec heart hurt to hear his sister so distraught. “You’ve tried to reign Jace and I in. Angel, Alec you tried. When we refused to hear or heed you, you did your best to mitigate any damage we’ve done or consequences we’ve incurred. I’ve been so childish. I’ve never felt the same way as you about the Clave, about our ways and I stupidly,” she bit out the word, one Alec knew she absolutely hated being called or associated with as she wiped angrily at her wet cheeks. “I naively thought that I knew better, that you were just uptight and paranoid. You were too scared to break the rules. And, Angel, Alec! When they wheeled you in, you looked dead.” She let out a sob, “You were so pale.”

“I’m pale Izzy, you point it out enough,” Alec attempted to joke, his own eyes starting to burn. He’d always wanted Izzy and Jace to realize that they weren’t kids anymore. That they couldn’t do what they wanted consequences be damned. It had always fallen to Alec to keep them in line and when that failed to cover up their behavior. Yes, he resented their disregard for his authority in the field and he knew they only felt comfortable rebelling because Alec was placed as their superior. Alec had the opportunity on multiple occasions to switch his younger siblings out to another unit leader, another of his failings.

“Not funny,” she responded, punching him lightly. A quiet fell over the two as they mulled over their own thoughts and Izzy slowly picked up the pieces of her composure. “I spoke with Forestner,” Alec waited as she paused for a breath. “I’m off the combat duty roster.”

“Iz you don’t have to do that.”

Izzy shook her head. “This isn’t a punishment. I want to pursue field surgery. Forestner thinks with my previous education in pathology I could become certified in two years.”

Alec didn’t know what to make of the announcement. Izzy always showed an aptitude for medicine, choosing to pursue a certification in forensics and pathology after she completed her combat duty certification from the Academy. Izzy made the decision once she completed her studies to only work part time in the labs, saying she preferred combat. “Do you really want that or is this reactionary?” he questioned.

Izzy sighed, “Of course it’s reactionary, but that doesn’t mean it's not a good choice for me.” She wrapped both her hands around his and managed a tired smirk. “Field surgeons with my combat proficiency are basically unheard of.” Alec huffed at her bravado. Glad to see his sister’s personality shining through. “Selaphiel is the only reason you made it home,” she said, solemnity returning to her voice and face. “We can’t rely on an angel to answer our prayers.”

Alec nodded, her mention of Selaphiel reminded him about Jace. “Iz, about Jace-”

“You’ve been avoiding him.” Izzy interrupted. “I’m upset too, but he thinks you blame him for what happened and even though he, of course blames himself, thinking you also blame him is killing him.”

Alec managed to swallow a bitter retort about Izzy telling him how his parabatai feels. “Selaphiel told me Jace was exposed to angel blood.”

Izzy blinked, clearly extremely surprised. “What?”

“I don’t know, Selaphiel had difficulty explaining it to me. She said Jace was, at some point exposed, as in angel blood got in him somehow.”

Izzy was about to respond when a knock at the door interrupted. The Seal and Silence runes Izzy must have drawn to keep their conversation private burned brightly against the dark wood. His sister stood, drawing her stele from somewhere (as her brother he would always prefer not to know where she managed to stash the thing). Izzy waited for Alec to retake his seat in the armchair before deactivating the runes and opening the door.

“Aline!” Izzy cried with equal surprise and delight. Alec stood, ignoring his protesting muscles and skin, surprised as well to see their friend in his doorway.

“Aline, good to see you,” he greeted with an outstretched hand after Izzy let go of the older woman from her exuberant embrace. The other shadowhunter grinned, amusement shining in her eyes at the difference between the two siblings’ greetings.

Her calloused hand gripped Alec’s firmly and she stepped through the threshold of the room. “Good to see you as well,” the skin around her almond shaped eyes tightened, “glad you aren’t dead.”

Alec snorted, he’d always appreciated Aline’s straightforward and at times almost painfully blunt manner. “That makes two of us.”

“Three!” Izzy chimed in, grabbing at Aline’s arm and all but dragging her to the now vacant seating area. “What are you doing here? Would you like tea? Are you staying long?”

Alec settled back into his own seat, happy to see his sister excited over something after the somber discussion they were having before Aline’s arrival.

Aline’s laughter was rich and full. “By the Angel, Izzy, give me a moment to answer one of those. I am starving actually, and something a little more filling than tea would be great, and yes I am staying but the length depends on…” she trailed off with a significant look in her light brown eyes at Alec.

Her sudden appearance clicked in Alec’s mind. “You’ve been temporarily assigned to fill in my spot.” Something in Alec’s chest eased, the deep seated worry lifting, not completely but enough that it felt like he could draw in a proper breath. Aline was an excellent fighter and an even better tactician. She was level headed in battle and wouldn’t be easily cowed by Jace in the field. Although now, Izzy wouldn’t regularly go on patrols, she could still be called upon if there was need and he knew the girls worked well together. He managed a soft smile at the concern in Aline’s eyes. “That’s excellent Aline, I’m happy it’s you.”

The corners of Aline’s mouth ticked upwards at the warm approval she received. “Thanks, Alec. I would hate to think I’m stepping on your toes.”

Alec waived away the thought with a hand. “Not at all.”

Izzy made a noise of disappointment. “I’m sorry I won’t be regularly going out with you.”

Aline turned to the other woman, brows knitting together. “What do you mean? I understood your usual patrol unit was you, Alec and Jace?”

Izzy nodded, glancing at Alec. It suddenly occurred to Alec that Izzy might have come to him first with the news of her new path and that she might not be ready to discuss it with anyone else just yet.

“It was,” Izzy confirmed. An awkward silence settled as she didn’t continue.

“Iz, I know you want to catch up with Aline, but that thing with Jace-”

Izzy jumped at the change of topic. “Right! Let me go take care of that.” She stood, Aline also coming to her feet. “Let’s do dinner or something tonight! You can’t be going out on duty already?”

Aline grinned. “No and I was hoping you would take me out to see the city!” The older woman let the topic drop without challenge.

Izzy nodded and the two women made plans to meet up in the early evening before she left with a pointed look at Alec. He acknowledged the look with a raised brow before he returned his attention to Aline.

“Well, as much as I’d love to catch up, I kind of ditched my tour guide to come find you two, and I technically don’t even have quarters yet.”

Alec almost sighed in relief.

“Don’t look so relieved,” she teased with good humor.

Alec’s head dropped with a bit of embarrassment at being caught. “Sorry, I’m exhausted. I do want to get coffee or something, when I’m allowed outside again.”

Aline winced at the suggestion of his medical restrictions. A cloud passed over her face. “I am really glad you are okay Alec.” She looked toward the stained glass of his window before shaking herself out of the melancholy mood. “Another time. When I’m settled and you aren’t exhausted. I’m sure I’ll have some questions about the operations here as well. I’ll bring some good coffee,” she offered as she made her way to the door.

“Sounds wonderful, I’ve had nothing but decaf and I’d murder for a real cup.”

Aline’s grin was back, “It’s a plan.” She paused before the door and looked like she wanted to add something before with a shake of her head and a wave of her hand she left.

‘A friend?’ Selaphiel questioned.

Alec purposefully recalled memories of Aline at the Academy to satisfy the angel’s curiosity.

‘A good friend.’ Selphiel amended something pleasant ringing in her voice.

Alec could tell the angel wanted to say something else and his gaze fell on the teapot and mugs left on his coffee table. Amusement tipped his lips upwards when he realized what the angel wanted.

Picking up his abandoned mug he lifted it to his lips and took a healthy sip letting the now tepid liquid sit on tongue. Tasting things for the first time since Selaphiel was an entertaining experience. The angel had strong reactions generally to flavors. Even the lukewarm tea, not at its proper temperature caused the angel to sigh softly in his mind and Alec got the sense that her coppery feathers ruffled in pleasure.

As Alec sat in the quiet of his room with just the angel’s company present in his mind his thoughts turned to the unavoidable conversation he needed to have with Jace. He hadn’t seen his parabatai since after he initially woke up and was able to maintain a conscious state. Jace didn’t know yet about Selaphiel, about how close Alec actually came to dying.

Thinking of Jace in the quiet brought up feelings Alec would have rather stayed buried. He could feel Selaphiel’s attention shift from the tea to his parabatai. The shame of being bared to the angel, of this divine being witnessing his depraved feelings caused bile to rise his throat, burning and acidic.

His heart rate escalated and he didn’t notice as the mug fell from his weakened grasp, landing with a muted thug on the plush carpet.

‘I do not understand,’ Selaphiel’s bell bright tone struck down the rising panic. She continued without an acknowledgement of her statement from Alec. ‘Are you ashamed of your attraction to men, or your feelings for Jace?’

If Alec was still drinking the tea he would have choked. There was nothing behind Selaphiel’s inquiry other than curiosity. He could feel no judgement in the angel’s voice or in the general sense of her he was constantly aware of.

‘They are both wrong, are they not? Must I pick one?’ His mind didn’t ignore Selaphiel’s question as his response did. He supposed or rather knew that he wasn’t the first shadowhunter with inclinations towards the same sex. He had heard of others who were gossiped about, even an openly gay older couple in the LA institute who got along just fine. No one of higher rank though, and certainly not from a dynasty that rivaled his family’s own or someone with aspirations to run an Institute some day. That was his future so he couldn’t, wouldn’t act on his feelings.

The traitorous thought of maybe it wasn’t his future whispered through him but he locked it away. If things with the tribunal didn’t go in his favor then that was one thing. Actually choosing not to take up the role his parents had chosen for him was out of the question.

‘You know it isn’t actually wrong, your sexuality?’

Alec flinched at the angel’s question despite the gentleness of it. It was difficult for him to discuss it so bluntly, so plainly, even in his own mind.

‘It isn’t?’ The question sounded small. Alec rubbed at his eyes and the world around him shifted.

The sun was high, shining through the colorful cloth providing some shade. The landscape that stretched out from the porch he sat on was wooded, with mountains cresting in the distance. Alec recognized the view from his grandmother’s house in Idris. He spent every summer he could remember here before he attended the academy.

Selaphiel stood in the yard, her wings stretched out as if soaking up the sun. She spoke with a voice that carried easily on the gentle breeze. ‘I have listened to the prayers of every soul that has chosen to pray. I have heard their darkest desires, their innocent wants, their wishes to be changed.’ Her head tilted. “I heard so many pray to be something that they cannot, to change something that is not changeable, even for an angel. That was never what the creator intended.”

“Are you saying God made me gay?”

The angel’s lips twitched with amusement. “Of course not.” Alec frowned about to speak again before Selapiel shook her head. ‘And it was not a choice on your part,” she dismissed, addressing his thoughts. “To say that the creator has a hand in the formation of each and every person born is a gross overestimation of his involvement.” The angel tipped her head up towards the sun. “Yes the creator established the initial design, but that design allowed for far more variance than any one single human represents, which was intended.”

Alec grimaced at the notion that God intended for a whole group of people he allowed to be born different to suffer.

“That was not the creator’s intention, what people have chosen to believe, what they have chosen to view as wrong or right, who they have chosen to persecute, that is not a choice the creator made, merely a consequence of the gift given to humans.”

“Gift?”

Selaphiel stepped towards the porch, staring up at Alec’s vulnerable expression. “You didn’t choose who or what gender you are attracted to, but you do get to choose if you ever act on it. Just as it was a choice not to turn away from your sister earlier, to embrace her instead of allowing the hurt she has caused you to make you bitter. Your choice to accept me-”

“That wasn’t a-”

Selaphiel interrupted, and Alec was taken aback at the vehemence in her voice and body as she stepped up onto the stairs. “Yes it was! You made a choice when you allowed me into your soul. You made a choice to live. You deny it because you are ashamed of your own desires, to not follow your duty, to turn away from your family, to die, but your feelings do not negate that you chose your path!”

Alec’s body shuddered at the angel’s words. He was unable to look at the embodiment of divinity any longer and he turned away from her and her words. The discussion was suddenly so much bigger than his attraction to men.

All his life he never felt like he was fully in control. He had to follow the shadowhunter way. He had to take care of his siblings. He had to live up to his parents’ expectations. He had to bury his sexuality. It was never a choice, never within his control.

But here was an angel...telling him it was.

What would have happened? What would have happened if he told his parents he would rather study blacksmithing and advanced runes than administration and diplomacy? What would have happened if he accepted that date from the mundane who frequented the coffee shop Alec liked, who Alec not so subtly stared at? What would have happened if Alec told Jace he couldn’t become his parabatai because he was in love with him?

Alec’s hands shook as he lifted them to grip the railing of the deck for support. He felt as if everything he knew about himself was somehow ripped away. If he felt stripped bare in front of the angel before, now he felt flayed open.

He didn’t notice Selaphiel coming to stand next to him. ‘You are not the only one who believed they never were given choices.’ The angel lightly placed her hands on the railing next to his. Not touching but resting close enough, Alec could almost feel her. ‘Seeing your experiences, feeling your emotions, hearing your denial of the truth...I too am guilty of not realizing I have made choices when I believed, no it was more than belief when I thought with such surety there was only one way.’ Alec didn’t find it comforting but the angel didn’t seem to notice his feelings for once, too lost in her own contemplation.

The two stood together in silence and Alec’s thoughts turned back to how this discussion started, to Selaphiel’s question of what he was so ashamed of.

He thought of the man at the coffee shop. The attractive mundane who asked him on a date. He didn’t feel shame. He felt regret. Regret that he couldn’t say yes, or regret that he felt he couldn’t because now he saw it was a choice again. He had wanted to go on that date, not so much because of some fleeting attraction to the mundane that he knew would pass, but because he wanted to experience something!

He said no. He said no because he didn’t want to lie. He didn’t want to lie about who he was, what he did and that... he had feelings for someone else.

Feelings he was ashamed of. Because Jace was his parabatai, his brother and to have romantic feelings for someone who was either of these things much less both was depraved.

“Do you know why?”

Selaphiel’s question pulled him out of his internal struggle.

“Why what?” Alec responded, the words cutting his throat.

“Why the Clave has forbidden romantic relationships between parabatai.”

Alec frowned wondering where the angel’s questions were coming from. “It’s a perversion of the bond. Parabatai are meant to be soul bound brothers, sisters, siblings in battle, a pairing blessed by Raziel himself.”

Selaphiel shook her head. “The parabatai rune, the ceremony, it was created by shadowhunters.”

The nephilim felt the air leave his lungs. “What?” he gasped. He wondered how many times Selaphiel would shatter his world view.

The angel explained, her voice steady, “There are a few runes that are not angelic in origin. The parabatai rune is one of them. Because of this, the rune is flawed. It’s purpose is to bind two souls together, loosely but enough so that the angelic power nephilim carry might be shared.” Selaphiel looked up at Alec to see his face brow furrowed as he hung on her words. “This results in your shared awareness of each other which makes your ability to fight as one possible. However, when that bond is strengthened by mutual feelings of an intimate nature and physically acted upon…” she tilted her head and appeared to contemplate her words. “Imagine two pools divided by a rock wall. The rocks do not fit together perfectly and allow for some of the pools’ water to pass, like when one of you needs strength. Water passing through will eventually erode the rocks. The more frequent the water passes through, the quicker wall erodes. Intimacy, emotional and physical erodes the barrier. The pools mix and together they have the potential to escape their own boundaries and its no longer two pools but one.”

“And in this metaphor the water represents our angelic power so...so the bond, it becomes uncontrollable?”

Selaphiel nodded. “Raziel blessed nephilim with angelic grace a sliver of what an angel has but you can only access a small portion of it still. Your bodies are human for the most part after all and a human body cannot channel all the grace your soul actually holds. I actively keep my grace separate from your soul and control it so that it does not harm your body. Your nephilim blood also provides you a modicum of protection. I could not inhabit a mundane human like I am with you. Look what angelic power does to a human body without such protection.”

Forsaken, Alec realized with no small amount of horror. “So if Jace and I were to ever-”

“No. It has happened before and the process is much slower than what happens to a human burned with an angelic rune. The pools of water are not just angelic power but your souls. You would lose sense of yourself and Jace as being two separate people and become one. If Jace and you were to be physically intimate it would be like a catalyst. Eventually your angelic energy would mix and grow to a point your souls could not contain it and the pressure would need to be released.”

“We would be destroyed,” Alec concluded with a whisper.

“You and potentially whoever and whatever was within a five mile radius.”

Alec flinched. His stomach writhed with guilt and shame at what he once desired, wished for.

“Why feel guilt?” Selphiel questioned, not allowing Alec time to wallow. “Did you ever act on your feelings?”

“No!” Alec denied at once feeling almost betrayed that the angel even asked when she knew he hadn’t.

“Then again I ask why do you feel as if you had? You made a choice not to, a choice that you were lucky to make given you did not understand the possible consequences. I may not understand all your emotions or choices but I know you Alexander Lightwood. I know you would never knowingly do something that would endanger so many lives.”

“But I could have unknowingly,” he whispered more to himself than to Selaphiel.

Selaphiel didn’t speak again. Alec wasn’t sure how long the two stood together in silence, broken only by the chirping of birds and rustling of the wind through the trees.

After his talk with Selaphiel, Alec gave into exhaustion and took a nap before dinner. He checked his phone, responding to Izzy’s texts before grabbing some meals from the mess hall and making his way to where he knew Jace would be.

He wasn’t sure he was ready to face Jace so soon after the knowledge Selaphiel dropped on him, but he knew he couldn’t or Izzy wouldn’t allow him to put off this discussion any longer. The echoes of guilt and self hatred he was getting from Jace’s end of the bond was becoming almost unignorable and was no doubt fueling some of those feelings in Alec as well.

They needed to clear the air before either one of them did something stupid because of the emotional loop.

Selaphiel was quiet in his mind, retracting her presence as much as possible to give him the illusion of privacy. Alec appreciated her efforts and showed it by picking up a cup of hot cocoa with his meal that Selaphiel had shown an interest in trying before.

Jace was beating a punching bag senseless when he entered the last training room in the wing designated for it. Alec wasn’t surprised. Although a shadowhunter rarely fought demons with their fists, hand to hand being often overlooked as a fighting art necessary to shadowhunters, Jace would argue vehemently with anyone it was the most important fighting style to train.

Alec set down their food on a table set off in a corner of the room and sat down, knowing Jace would come when he was ready. Jace was excellent at ignoring any discussion having to do with feelings, as was Alec, but he couldn’t ignore his stomach.

The older shadowhunter sipped hot chocolate while he waited, Selaphiel’s reaction to the velvety drink causing him to smile around the lip of the mug.

Jace plopped down a few minutes later, pulling the tray Alec brought for him close.

Alec’s nose wrinkled at the smell coming off of his parabatai. “You stink.”

“Fuck off,” Jace responded around a mouthful of his sandwich.

The hazel eyed shadowhunter couldn’t help the grin at Jace’s normal response. Maybe this talk wouldn’t be quite so painful for either of them.

“Serge, the guy who is training me back to fighting shape, he says I’m doing well,” Alec said casually, taking a bite of the salad on his plate. Jace breathed out through his nose and Alec felt the guilt bleed from him. “I’m going to be okay Jace.”

Jace dropped the sandwich, it wasn’t a god sign. “I know Alec. I can feel you getting stronger. That doesn’t change-” his voice broke and he stared at the tray because he couldn’t lift his eyes any higher.

“No. It doesn’t change what happened. It doesn’t change the consequences the Clave might have for either of us.”

Jace stood abruptly, hands coming down onto the table with enough force that it sent his tray to the ground. “Consequences that should be for me and only me.” His bicolored eyes blazed and Alec could feel the anger and self recrimination behind them.

“We both know that isn’t true.”

“The hell it isn’t Alec! I knew. I knew if I asked and badgered you enough to split up, so we could get the mission done faster you would let me. I asked Alec and you know I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”

Alec nodded, continuing to eat his salad forcing down his own anger and bitterness at Jace’s cavalier behavior in the field. It wasn’t new. He should have put a stop to it long before this. “Maybe you shouldn’t have.” Something in Jace deflated, crushed by Alec’s words and it burned Alec to see it and feel it but it didn’t stop him. “Maybe I shouldn’t have let you get away with reckless shit for so long. Maybe it shouldn’t have taken me getting mortally wounded and almost dying for you to realize you were wrong,” his anger was steadily growing and he knew he may be breaking Jace by saying these things but the seal was broken and Alec needed to get the venom that had been festering in him out. “Maybe I should have transferred you to another unit leader when you showed me time and time again that you weren’t going to respect my command or respect me as your brother or parabatai.” Alec’s voice died as he finished.

Jace’s pale and shaking hand grabbed onto Alec’s shoulder. “Brother, no this, we-” They both shuddered as Jace’s words are caught off by his involuntary intake of breath. The bond between them strained with the negative emotions and they both felt it pulling apart. Jace, pulling away from the guilt and loathing he felt, exacerbated by the damnation Alec just handed him. Alec pushing Jace away with the bitterness long ignored that he let poison his heart unchecked.

Alec recognized now he had a choice. He could break them. He could deny how they got to this point, that it wasn’t only Jace’s actions, that Alec’s dishonesty also played a role.

Or he could reach out for Jace, the cocky boy who helped him find confidence when he needed it the most, the first real friend he ever made, the brother he chose. The brother who chose him. It wasn’t Alec who asked to become parabatai, it was Jace. It was Jace who chose to trust Alec to always have his back and to offer that trust in return.

It was that show of trust that propelled Alec forward to take his place in the circle and complete the binding ceremony. It was that trust that gave Alec the strength to reach out body and soul to his other half that was slipping away.

He grabbed Jace’s arm and rose from his seat as he flooded the bond with everything he felt for Jace, the loyalty, the disappointment, the trust, the betrayal, the love, the anger, the devotion and the desire. He pushed it all through, making sure Jace felt it, even if Alec could never say it out loud. Never before had either of them attempted to communicate this much through the bond.

Jace swayed with it, his face contorting in joy and pain as he processed what Alec was giving him. The shorter shadowhunter leaned on Alec’s arm and their eyes locked as they both were swept up in the maelstrom of the bond.

Jace’s eyes slipped closed as he pushed back and Alec felt Jace’s response. Love overwhelming in its ferocity, the loyalty and devotion Jace had not only for Alec but for Alec’s family because they were Jace’s as well. It was tinged with fear, a sharpness that didn’t take away from the love but also caused pain. With love always came fear for Jace and Alec knew Jace relied on his steadiness at times to overcome it, to allow himself to accept and give love.

What came next stole Alec’s breath. Acceptance, acceptance of the feelings Jace apparently always knew Alec had. Regret, at not being able to return those feelings. Fear, at being left by Alec because of it.

“Never,” Alec promised.

“Never,” Jace echoed reassuring Alec, that Jace would never turn away from him.

They slowly let go of each other. Neither wanted to break the physical connection, both feared that the bond, which felt stronger than it had in a while, would somehow vanish or weaken again if they let go.

In the back of his mind Alec wondered briefly if they were eroding the wall that kept their soul’s apart.

‘As I said before the parabatai rune is flawed. The barrier between your souls is constantly degrading but you are not in danger at this point or any time soon of losing yourselves to each other.’

The angel’s denial comforted Alec for the moment as he and his parabatai found their seats again.

They finished their meal in silence, both exhausted by the exchange and the toll their strained bond was taking on them since Alec was injured and possibly before it as well.

Alec knew not everything between them was fixed. Reaffirming their bond and their love for one another even if it was done with more honesty than ever before could not erase all of their problems. But it was a start, a change, an opportunity for them to move forward.

It was something they had been desperately needing.

“So…” Jace began, as Alec picked up his own sandwich to take a bite. “Are we going to talk about how you somehow have an angel inside you?”

Alec choked.

Chapter Text

Alec didn’t have many memories that he could recall with clarity before Izzy was born. There was only one really, a quiet morning at his grandmother’s house.

His parents were asleep upstairs. He and his grandmother were together on the porch. It was late summer in Idris and the rainy season had settled like a cool blanket in the warm valley. He remembered watching the rain while he drank hot tea with cream and sugar, swinging his legs to set the porch swing into motion.

He and his grandmother had been up for a while together. His parents were working long hours those days and he remembered wanting to make them breakfast. The smell of cinnamon and fried dough permeated the house mixing through the open windows with the scents of pine and petrichor.

He remembered his grandmother’s voice, low and clear, crinkling at the edges as she entertained him with tales of brave shadowhunters. The wood of the old, porch swing was rough against his fingers, the paint cracked and worn as he cuddled under the warmth of his grandmother’s favorite throw and listened to her stories.

Alec thought about that memory off and on throughout the years. He yearned for the peace his child self was blessed with in that moment.

Although he preferred coffee now, he still indulged in a healthy amount, or perhaps less than a healthy amount of cream in it.

‘That smells magnificent,’ Selaphiel commented and Alec breathed in reflexively reacting to Selaphiel’s desire for another taste of the coffee and pastry he was baking that hung in the air.

Alec smiled to himself.

It was rare he got moments like these, never having the time or the energy to rise early when it wasn’t for training purposes or work. He was in one of the small kitchens dotted throughout the barracks portion of the Institute that those shadowhunters who took up residence there used when they wished to cook for themselves rather than eat in the Institute cafeteria.

“I thought I owed you a coffee Lightwood?” A voice questioned from behind him, breaking Alec from his scent induced stupor.

The tall shadowhunter turned to see Aline leaning against the door frame. She had obviously woken recently, her hair still sleep mussed and down around her shoulders, clothed in loungewear rather than training or hunting gear.

Alec smiled around his cup. “Who says I’m sharing Penhallow?”

Aline moved into the small kitchen, sighing in pleasure at the smell of Alec’s morning efforts. “Unless you plan on giving yourself arrhythmia,” she waved her hand at the rather large carafe of coffee that was nearly full and sitting on top of a warming rune, “And what is that smell? Angel bless us! Did you bake something?”

Hazel eyes rolled at the incredulous tone. “I did, be nice or I won’t let you have any.” He stood from the small wooden table tucked into the corner of the room and passed by Aline as she helped herself to coffee, no cream but a few cubes of sugar. Alec shuddered at the blasphemy. He opened the oven and with a kitchen towel pulled out the fruit of his morning labor.

“Oh Angel,” Aline moaned as the smell wafted over them both. Alec laughed at her dramatics and motioned for her to sit. “If this is the kind of service you provide at the New York Institute, I’m never going home to Beijing.”

“Your mom would be less than thrilled with that,” Alec commented, catching Aline’s near flinch at the mention of her mother, but not saying anything, “I don’t bake often, can’t even remember the last time I had time like this to do so.”

Their conversation faded as Alec served them both a sticky bun, the pale orange icing dripping luxuriously down the sides as he topped them from the bowl he had ready and waiting on the counter.

Aline groaned at the first taste. “You are going to make some girl very lucky someday Lightwood.”

The bite he swallowed felt too big as his throat tightened. He cleared it with a gulp of coffee and tried for some humor, hoping Aline was too distracted to notice how her comment threw him. “I’m pretty hopeless in every way when it comes to relationships, don’t think I’ll find myself married for a long time.” Angel willing, the bargain he struck with Selaphiel would come due before he had to enter into a sham of a marriage.

He felt Selaphiel shift in his mind, perturbed by the place Alec’s thoughts were going.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Aline responded and the tension in her voice pulled Alec’s attention from his own thoughts.

Aline’s dark eyes were serious as she leaned forward and her voice dropped in volume. “You know our families have been close, politically.” Alec nodded, something like dread sinking his peaceful morning high. Aline’s mother Jia was recently elected to the Clave Council, the legislative body made up of elected officials from the different Enclaves around the world. Candidates needed to garner support, not just from their own regional Enclave but others as well. His parents had been Jia’s main supporters in the American region. “Your mother was the one who requested my transfer here. I didn’t get all the details from my father, but I got the picture that your mother and mine are hopeful that something more will happen between us during my time here.”

Alec had to swallow harshly to push the bile that rose in his throat at the news of his mother’s scheming. It was so like her that he almost wanted to laugh. Aline’s parents were well connected even beyond her mother’s political success. Her father’s name in particular was an old one. He had lost some standing when he caused a bit of a scandal, marrying Aline’s mother Jia for love, despite being in a formal arranged courtship with another woman at the time. Jia’s political brilliance however overcame whatever turbulence her marriage caused and was currently the youngest person and a woman of color to boot to win a seat on the Clave Council.

Their union would unite two of the old shadowhunter lines and solidify a direct connection to the political elite of the Clave for the Lightwood family, a connection he knew his parents desperately wanted. Alec wondered if his mother meant for Alec to run the Beijing Institute with Aline and leave the running of the New York Institute to Izzy or Max. It would no doubt fit with her ambitions to have two of the world’s largest Institutes run by the Lightwood name.

Not that it would ever happen. Never mind Alec’s own sexuality, he could never marry a woman who had something with his parabatai.

Alec never asked Jace or Aline what exactly was between them during their time at the Academy but he wasn’t blind to the flirting and the sneaking around. It was not a time Alec remembered fondly, one of his only friends outside of his siblings taking a romantic interest in Jace had fueled many a punishing solo training session in which he tried to kill his feelings of jealousy and self-disgust.

He was relieved when he graduated from the academy and put some distance between himself and Jace, afraid Jace was catching on to him despite doing his best to shut out those feelings from the bond.

Aline’s fork scraping loudly against her now empty plate jolted Alec back to the present. He took another sip of coffee, focusing on Selaphiel’s pleasure at the taste to try and ground himself.

Aline’s eyes were on her plate, a frown curving her brow. Alec wondered if his silence upset her. Aline never showed an interest in him and given her obvious interest in Jace, Alec felt it wasn’t something he would have missed. “I don’t think that is going to happen, despite their wishes,” Alec said quietly, voice firm. Despite whatever petty jealousy he felt towards her at one time, Aline was still his friend. She deserved someone who could fully appreciate her and that was certainly not Alec.

Aline looked up at him and Alec tried not to be insulted at the obvious relief in them. She inhaled shakily and managed a smile. “You were always one of my best friends Alec, I still remember how you looked out for me when we were younger. I, when Jace and I were being stupid, I remember how you reacted and I wasn’t sure…”

Alec’s hazel eyes widened in realization. Aline thought he had feelings for her. Of course that was much more likely than Alec having feelings for his soon to be parabatai and adopted sibling.

“No,” Alec managed to get out, his voice hoarse. “That was, there was stuff going on you didn’t know about, it wasn’t really about you.” Aline looked at him carefully, as if trying to see if Alec was telling the truth. Whatever she saw on his face must have satisfied her because she nodded her acceptance at his words and chuckled.

“Good, that's good.”

Alec not being able to help himself voiced the question he was too cowardly to ask back then. “So, you and Jace, were you or are you two…” or perhaps he wasn’t ready.

“Oh Angel no! We were just kids fooling around and-” she cut herself off sharply before she shook her head and continued, “Well, let's just say there was some stuff going on with me that you didn’t know about,” she said with a sardonic smile, mimicking his previous words. “There were never any feelings on my part and Jace’s too I don’t think.”

Alec didn’t let on that it didn’t particularly make him feel better to hear that.

Their conversation turned away from the uncomfortable topic, to something they were both far more willing to talk about, work. They chatted amicably, swapping stories and comparing battles at the Institute began to come back to life and the sun climbed higher in the sky.

They had moved onto Aline’s duties and the key people in the Institute she could rely on or personalities she needed to tread carefully around when a dirty blond head of curls poked around the corner of the kitchen door and caught Alec’s attention.

“Stormfield,” he greeted before the engineer could turn around.

The notoriously shy, systems engineer stepped into the room, reluctance clear in the set of her shoulders. Stormfield bobbed her head. “Lightwood, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting,” Alec told the skittish shadowhunter. Stormfield was straight out of the Academy, but a bit older than a normal recruit due to the extra studying her chosen field took. Alec had seen her file when he was looking over the new recruits a few months back with his father. Her field of study, systems engineering had greatly intrigued Alec. Her thesis was lauded by several of the top academic minds of Idris. Despite her academic success, she came from a well known family of close range fighting specialists and based on her personality Alec got the picture that her family didn’t approve of her non combat career path. He motioned to Aline. “This is Aline Penhallow, a combat unit leader from the Beijing Institute. Aline, this is Susannah Stormfield, systems engineer.”

Aline’s head dipped, “Well met.”

Surprise flitted across Stormfield’s face before she returned Aline’s tidings.

“There’s coffee and sticky buns if you’d like,” Alec offered, motioning to the goods still laid out on the counter.

The female shadowhunter’s jaw dropped for a beat before she snapped out of her surprise and flushed heavily. “Thank you,” she responded, sounding far more affected than Alec thought the offer of coffee and a pastry merited.

While the girl busied herself making the coffee, Alec plated another sticky bun. “Um, thanks again.” She smiled up at him when she took the plate, a blush still highlighting her pale skin. She backed out of the kitchen quickly, disappearing almost as quietly as she had come, leaving both Alec and Aline staring in bemusement.

The click of heels on the wooden floors of the hallway announced Izzy’s arrival. She blinked in surprise at the pair of them as Alec retook his seat at the table. “What’d you do to Stormfield? The girl nearly took me out in the hallway she was trying to get away from here so fast.”

“Alec spoke to her,” Aline answered, amusement with a touch of pity in the uptick of her lips.

Izzy made a noise of comprehension as she made her morning concoction. Aline made a noise of disgust as her eyes cut from Izzy to Alec. He shrugged his shoulders in response. He never understood Izzy’s taste in anything, be it men, food or drink.

“I’m surprised she didn’t pass out.”

“What?” Alec questioned, ignoring as Izzy poured store bought, shitty, chocolate sauce from the fridge over a sticky bun and began massacring it with a fork.

Aline’s face contorted in horror. She mumbled something that sounded like “How did I forget this about her,” under her breath.

Izzy ignored Aline’s comment and pointed her fork, dripping with brown goop at Alec. “She’s got a massive crush on you,” Izzy stated with an unspoken “duh” apparent in her voice.

“She does not,” Alec denied reflexively. Although it was rather obvious after their first few meetings that Stormfield was indeed infatuated with him. Alec felt bad though, not wanting to talk about the girl’s feelings openly.

Izzy let out a long suffering sigh. “You see what I put up with,” she directed at Aline. “Now, on the one hand I have Alec.” she gestured to her brother, ignoring his glare. “Unaware to the point it is painful that he is stunningly attractive and that his quiet, brooding in the shadows schtick doesn’t make him invisible.” Alec’s noise of protest went unacknowledged “And on the other hand I have-”

“Morning!” Jace greeted upon entering, bare chested with his pajama pants slung low on his hips, showing off the body he trained not only to be one of the Clave’s top fighters but also, as he put it with a nudge and a wink “get some”.

“That,” Izzy finished with a pained sigh as Jace shoved a chair in between the two girls.

“Aline.” Alec’s eyes narrowed. Did Jace really just wiggle his eyebrows? “Heard you and Iz went out last night. Maybe if you’re up for it tonight I could show you some of my favorite sights.” The eyebrow over his bicolored eye quirked in a way Alec assumed was meant to be suggestive.

The scene playing out in front of Alec was one he was used to and for the most part it was a show. Although Jace was far from chaste he wasn’t so brazen when he was actually interested in someone, even if that interest never seemed to extend past a single night. This was a game he played and a facade he put up around pretty much everyone except Izzy and Alec.

Despite their conversation that morning, Alec was expecting Aline to respond in kind but his friend leveled a steady albeit amused look at his parabatai. “The only sight we are going to see together is the training room today.”

Not having received the flirtatious energy he was expecting, Jace’s bravado melted away easily with a soft chuckle. The blonde shadowhunter stood to get his own coffee and noticed the last two sticky buns in the round pan. “Sweet! Alec baked.” Jace grabbed one and without a fork or a plate took a massive bite before heading back out the kitchen door.

Aline looked momentarily stunned at the lack of manners or courtesy

Izzy just sighed and grabbed up everyone’s dishes and cleared them.

“Thanks Iz.” Aline called. “You’re still joining us for training this morning correct?”

“Yep, I’ll be there, “ Izzy confirmed.

Aline nodded with an apologetic look towards Alec. “Thanks for breakfast Alec.” Alec acknowledged her words with his own nod, but couldn’t bring himself to speak at the moment. He was grateful that it would be Aline leading his team but knowing she would be training with his people in preparation to go on patrol stung in a way he wasn’t really prepared for.

Resentment towards his own uselessness gathered in his stomach. Until the inquiry was concluded he wasn’t even allowed to resume any administrative tasks.

Izzy came to his side and nudged him with her hip, laying a hand over his shoulder. He leaned into her side, taking comfort from her silent support. He allowed himself a moment before straightening.

“Well?” he asked as Izzy retook her seat.

She shook her dark head. “I had to wait to run the test till late last night. I should have the results this afternoon.” His sister’s deep brown eyes held questions of their own. “So, how was talking with Jace?”

Alec bit down some not so nice words, settling for a grunt instead. He knew Izzy meant well, but he didn’t like talking about his feelings at the best of times and now certainly wasn’t even close to the best of times.

His noncommittal grunt in answer was somehow translated by his sister to what actually happened.

Izzy’s eyes rolled so hard Alec was surprised she didn’t appear to be in any pain. “You didn’t talk, you just did that emotion meldy Parabatai bullshit right?”

Alec chose to take a long pull from his coffee cup, which was disappointingly cold and ignored the question.

“Does Jace even understand what this might cost you?”

Alec felt the tenuous control on his tongue snap. “Do you? Do you understand? Do you even know all I’ve done?” Alec’s voice shook as he was swept away on a tide of anger, hurt and frustration. “All I’ve sacrificed, buried so I could fit this role of heir presumptive?” Izzy’s eyes were wide and wet and the bitterness in Alec’s heart scoffed at the sight. Of course she didn’t know. Alec’s barely noticed over the years.

The extra studies when he was a child. The extra training when he was already bruised and sore. The cold judgment when he settled on his chosen weapon, finally reaching for something he wanted. The forced meetings between himself and potential marriage candidates that made it perfectly clear that he would never have someone he could love. Just another piece of himself to give up for the family name. “And now none of it might be worth a damn thing,” his chest was tight as he let out a nearly hysterical chuckle. “Funny, isn’t it? All of mom and dad’s plans, all the work, and breaking myself to be what I needed to be and it's gone because Jace wanted to get laid and I couldn’t say no to him.”

A sharp intake of breath pulled the two siblings out of their conversation. Jace’s face was the picture of self-loathing and something in Alec broke. He’d seen that expression on Jace’s face before and he never wanted to be the cause of it. “I thought we were okay?” Jace near whispered, eyes dropping to the floor.

Alec stood and crossed to his brother. He could feel the pain Jace was trying to mute. “We are,” Alec croaked and it wasn’t a lie. Jace’s disbelief swept through the bond. “We are,” he repeated more firmly and meaning it. “But that doesn’t change the consequences that are going to come and,” for a second he thought of all the times he’d hidden or buried how he felt to save confrontation with Izzy or Jace. He just didn’t want to do it any more. “And us being okay doesn’t mean, I’m not allowed to feel upset about what’s happened and what it might mean for my future.” He turned on Izzy. “I’m not the one who has a problem with Jace.”

Something like shame shadowed Izzy’s expression, but Alec didn’t let that touch him. He wanted them both to be alright, but whatever was broken between them wasn’t on him to fix. He left his two siblings to deal with each other. He wasn’t the only one in the family who had trouble communicating.

All the energy he had woken with that morning was gone and all he wanted was to crawl back into bed and bury himself in blankets. He didn’t give into the impulse and his feet took him to one of the back courtyards that held the forge. While Institutes were supplied new service blades by the Iron Sisters and specialty weapons made on commission, keeping the blades honed or the forging of adamas arrows was left to the resident armourer.

The forge was cold and dark, which meant Pete, their armourer, a combat retired shadowhunter with one good eye and a raunchy sense of humor wasn’t around. There was work here he could do though and the lack of company was appreciated.

He pulled a box of unruned arrows towards a bench, ignoring the damp chill in the morning air and set to work. He didn’t notice the sun crawl across the sky as arrow after arrow moved from the unruned box to his steadily growing pile of runed arrows.

‘You are devoted to your sister and parabatai,’ Selaphiel commented.

Alec didn’t respond intentionally or with any thought directed to the angel but the statement spawned a question.

‘Don’t you love your siblings? The other angels?’ The nephilim felt the angel’s confusion at the question.

‘You have done much to keep them from harm, may it be physical or emotional.’

The angel had obviously been looking at his memories and Alec pushed back the resentment he felt. Given Selaphiel’s intrusion he wanted to press his own question, but knew he probably wouldn’t get an answer anyway.

‘It’s always been my duty, I’m Izzy’s older brother and Jace is my parabatai, but…’ his thoughts drift to the angry, heartbroken kid Jace used to be.

‘Your devotion is… admirable. It’s one of the reasons I chose you. Not everyone who prays does so with such selfless intentions.’

Alec wanted to refute the angel’s words. His prayer that night was anything but selfless. He wanted to give up, wanted to pass his duties, his burdens on to someone else. He didn’t want the angel’s admiration.

‘You are confusing.’

The distinct feeling that Selaphiel was pouting sent a ripple of humour through the shadowhunter. Alec continued his work in mental silence until another question struck him.

‘Are you still receiving prayers even now?’

The sound of ruffled feathers echoed through his mind. Selaphiel was… insulted?

‘Of course. It is my duty. I will see it done until I fall or my existence ends.’

Alec understood that sentiment well, and offered up a wordless apology for unintentionally implying otherwise.

‘What’s that like?’

A cacophony of voices, whispered, spoken, screamed. A river of emotions, joy, bright and clean, fear, sharp and cold, despair, heavy and hollow, all going through him faster than he could name or process. He felt like he was drowning in it all and as suddenly as it came it stopped.

‘It would have been difficult to explain,’ Selaphiel offered as Alec sat still, dizzy with what he had just experienced and not quite sure he wouldn’t throw up with even the slightest movement.

‘How...how did you hear my prayer in all of that?’

Selaphiel was silent for a moment. ‘This is what I was made for. It is different for me but… you were quite loud.’

A bark of laughter escaped Alec’s mouth. Loud was not a descriptor attributed to him very often.

Footsteps announced the approach of another soul.

“Dad?” Alec greeted, surprised to see his father out of the office or in the Institute at all. He made to stand, wincing at the soreness in his abdomen.

“Alec,” Robert returned, coming over to the bench. He picked up a runed arrow and hummed approvingly at the runes that decorated it. “You always did have impeccable rune work.”

Not always, Alec thought darkly. Not when he was seven and copying from the Book of Gray until his fingers ached, his back was so stiff he could barely stand and the sound of his father saying ‘again’ haunting his mind. “I can’t do much else until the inquiry is completed.”

Robert nodded. “I have news. Your tribunal has been selected.”

Lead filled the younger shadowhunter’s stomach. “So, it is going to court then?” There was a chance the Inquisitor’s investigator wouldn’t decide to press the matter. He should have known he wasn’t going to be that lucky.

Robert grimmaced, his light blue eyes sharpening. “Yes, it’s both good news and bad I’m afraid. Your case will be judged by Johnathan Stormfield.”

“A relation of Susannah Stormfield?” Alec questioned.

“Her great uncle, I believe. Though, I don’t know how much good it will do us. Stormfield has a reputation. He’s a bit of a wildcard. He can be harsh in his judgements, but he also resents the centralized authority of the Clave.” Robert looked around the courtyard before taking his stele out of his pocket and drawing a Silence rune on the bench. “The Inquisitor has it out for the Lightwood name.”

Alec opened his mouth to question his father but stopped at his father’s raised hand.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, bad blood, despite the fact we are distantly related.” He also didn’t point out that pretty much all old shadowhunter families were distantly related, or not so distantly, and you didn’t get much older than Herondale. “Stormfield is the best we could have hoped for. He’ll resent the Inquisitor for using her position and power for personal reasons. He also is the only one on the American Conclave’s council with a parabatai.”

Something like hope bloomed in Alec’s throat. A judge who would not jump to deliver the Inquisitor’s recommendation and someone who understood the sway of the parabatai bond? It was almost too good to be true.

“That’s good,” Alec managed to get out.

His father nodded and looked as if he was going to speak again but decided not to.

“What is it?” Alec asked.

Robert shook his head. “How is your recovery coming?”

Alec wondered at the change in topic and what his father stopped himself from saying. “Batonvert remains positive that I’ll fully recover. He said I will possibly return to a conditioning regime in a week. Combat training in two to three if that goes well. Active duty once Hodge deems me fit.”

“Good.”

Silence settled over the pair and Alec fumbled for what to say. He couldn’t remember the last time he and his father spoke to each other beyond Institute business or Robert asking after Max or Isabelle. There was a definite shift in the elder Lightwood’s treatment of Jace after he became Alec’s parabatai.

“I’m sorry,” Alec began. “I’m sorry for what my actions have brought upon our family.” He sunk his teeth into his lip as he felt the sensation of feathers against his arms, as if wings were wrapped around his shoulders.

Robert looked at him with sharp blue eyes before he shook his head and turned away from Alec.

Alec locked his hands behind his back to force himself not to reach out for his father.

“You know, the older you get, the more you realize the things you thought you knew, the things you felt were important are just-” he waves a hand as he sets down the arrow, returning it to the pile. “You were always so serious as a child,” his father’s voice was soft. “I remember your grandmother saying once that a seelie must have switched you out with a changeling because you were a child going on forty.” He chuckled. “And while you weren’t necessarily talented when it came to combat,” Alec couldn’t help the flinch at the critical comment, “you more than made up for it in the work you put in to correct any deficiencies.”

It was almost praise, Alec thought bitterly.

“You know, I think the only time I heard you laugh after six years of age was when you were with Isabelle, and then Max and Jace.” There was something regretful in the older shadowhunter’s tone. “You always looked out for them to an almost zealous degree. Kept Isabelle and Jace out of almost all trouble they managed to get themselves into.”

Alec’s sharp intake of breath, a show of surprise caused Robert to smile sharply.

“Did you really think your mother and I didn’t realize? She wanted to stop you from doing it, but I told her no, that a leader must take responsibility for the actions of those he leads as if they were his own. I thought it would be a lesson for you.”

Bitterness swept through Alec and resentment burned in its wake as he remembered all the times he was punished for Izzy and Jace’s unruly behavior. “They weren’t soldiers under my command, they were my siblings.” His voice was cutting, soaked in repressed anger.

“Yes, but you were always going to lead them eventually. I thought you would eventually be able to instill some discipline in them.”

He couldn’t silence his tongue. “And you didn’t think that was your job?”

If Robert took offense at his tone, he didn’t show it. “How could I when you protected them at every turn?”

Alec let out a slightly hysterical laugh. “Oh it's my fault you decided you didn’t need to be a father.”

Those blue eyes narrowed, but his father didn’t rise to the insult. “I will admit that some of our current situation is my making. I should have checked Jace sooner. The boy has always been reckless and while your mother had hopes that the two of you bonding would temper that, I have always had my reservations.”

“You never had a problem with Jace until he became my parabatai. Why? Taking the oath is one of the highest honors. You were parabatai with his father-”

“Don’t speak of Michael!” Robert took a step forward, his face twisting in anger.

“Angel forbid anyone ever do. You won’t even tell Jace about his father, a terrible one he might have been.”

Robert grabbed at his son’s shirt and pulled him slightly forward. It didn’t catch Alec off guard. His father hadn’t been an active combat hunter in years and the move was clearly telegraphed. “Michael was-” he cut himself off, blowing out a forceful breath and releasing Alec. “I don’t know what became of Michael to raise his son in such a manner,” Alec snorted at the hypocrisy of his father passing judgment on how someone else raised their kid. “But he wasn’t like that before. When Jace came to us I hadn’t seen Michael in almost thirteen years.”

Robert scrubbed at his face as he turned away again, putting distance between himself and Alec.

Alec reeled from the idea. He and Jace were separated after the parabatai ceremony when Alec graduated and spent a little over a year touring on temporary assignments with other Institutes. It was a difficult time. The distance when the bond was fresh was a constant ache. He couldn’t imagine staying away from Jace for thirteen years.

“What happened? What happened between the two of you?”

Robert shook his head. “I don’t wish Jace to know this. He...he didn’t know his mother, but she was a sweet woman, some radical ideas, but a sweet woman.”

Alec frowned, wondering what Jace’s mother had to do with it.

“Michael came to me before his wedding. He and Eliza had been friends in the Academy but their marriage was a surprise. Eliza’s family wasn’t popular within the Clave due to their relationship and tolerance of Downworlders and the Wayland name has always been respected.”

“Maybe it was love,” Alec said tongue heavy with the word. His father’s suggestion that all marriage be made for political alliance and betterment of a name while not unexpected reminded him of the expectation hanging over his own head.

Robert swallowed audibly. “It wasn’t love. At least not the kind you would expect.” His father sighed, arms crossing. “Michael said he couldn’t go through with the marriage without telling me that he had...feelings for me.”

Alec’s hazel eyes widened and he tried to draw breath, but his throat was closing.

“I turned away from him, told him he was unnatural and disgusting,” the older shadowhunter bit out the words, too caught up in his memories to see the damage his words were doing to his son.

‘Breathe Alec,’ Selaphiel’s voice settled like a balm upon his panicked mind.

“It’s one of my greatest regrets, how I treated him. Our bond, it shattered that day. When he died, I didn’t feel it.”

There was nothing that Alec wanted more than to be away from his father at that moment, but he needed to know. His voice broke as he tried to speak, “Do- Do you still feel that way? About him?” About me.

Robert’s blue eyes met his hazel, and Alec could see the regret clear on his face. “No, no, I was young and there were...other things happening at the time that were clouding my judgement.” Robert looked contemplative. “He didn’t tell me because he wanted something from me. I realize that now. He told me because he wanted to be honest with me, with someone he loved.” His father sat heavily down on the workbench. “I didn’t understand that until... well, until I understood it.”

It wasn’t the answer Alec was looking for, but he didn’t think he could be more specific in his question.

“Our history teaches us that to become parabatai, to share your soul with someone is an honor and one of our greatest weapons. Some of the greatest warriors in history were parabatai.” Robert gestured for Alec to sit, which he did stiffly and as far away from his father as possible. “What no one speaks of is that very few parabatai bonds stay intact. Those who don’t lose their parabatai in battle often lose them to time. You barely know yourself at the age you take the oath. People grow, change, become distant. It wasn’t just Michael and I who ended the way we did. I didn’t want that for you.”

It was a relief. Alec had always wondered if Robert knew about his sexuality, or even his feelings for Jace and that was why he was dismissive of their bond.

“So what was he like?”

“What?” Robert asked, surprised by Alec’s sudden change in direction.

“The way Michael raised Jace, you said it wasn’t like him. So what was he like?”

Something soft came about Robert’s features. “He was kind. Not outgoing, quiet. He took his time in all things. He wanted to restore his family’s ancestral craft. Was good at it too. He was the truest friend I’ve ever had. Even if we grew apart, disagreed on things. I knew he would have been there for me if I needed him.” The grief in his voice reminded Alec of Jace. “I don’t know if it was Eliza’s death, or, Angel let it not be so, but our bond breaking that changed him.”

To love is to destroy.

Jace didn’t often talk about Michael, but Alec had heard that saying from Jace’s lips more than once. What would have happened to Jace if Alec had died that night?

His cell phone trilled in his pocket, Alec unlocked it seeing the message was from Izzy and noticing just how late in the day it had become. She must have gotten Jace’s blood work results.

Robert caught on to the message being something Alec had to attend to because he waived his hand. “Go, I’ll put these away for you.”

Alec hesitated as he stopped at the entrance to the Institute, looking back at his father’s figure which hadn’t moved. His father had never appeared so small before, shoulders hunched with the regret and grief that he did an admirable job burying. Alec turned away.

‘You plan on telling Jace, despite your father’s wishes,’ Selaphiel observed as the nephilim made his way back through the Institute’s halls towards where his siblings were waiting for him.

‘Michael was Jace’s father. He deserves to know and I won’t keep this from him.’

Selaphiel was silent after that but Alec could tell the angel was confused. Not that Alec was any different. The emotional whiplash his father’s revelations inspired left him feeling hollowed out. He hoped that whatever Izzy had found out it answered more questions than it left. He should have known that was just wishful thinking.

A wave of disgust, anger and fear swept through him, making his stomach swoop in like he was in free fall. Jace. Alec increased his pace until his abdomen protested. The door opened to Jace’s devastated face and they both reached for each other at the same time. Jace pulled him into the room as Alec pushed.

“What is it?” Alec questioned gently, not letting go of Jace. He glanced at Izzy, who looked worriedly at Jace. “What did you find Izzy?”

Izzy hesitated. “Tell him,” Jace demanded hoarsely.

“It’s...complex Alec,” Izzy warned. “I don’t quite understand the results, how they’re possible myself.”

Jace let out a near hysterical laugh. “Rip the bandage off Izzy. I’m not nephilim.”

Alec gripped Jace’s forearm where they were connected harder, as if keeping a hold of Jace kept him from falling apart, kept them both from falling apart. “I don’t understand.”

“Jace’s blood results didn’t make sense so I compared it to yours. Jace’s blood, the content of it, the cells themselves, their structure. It’s not like nephilim blood.”

Alec shook his head. “He takes runes, can use a stele. Izzy, what are you saying?” Jace was spiraling. Alec grabbed the back of his neck pulling his face up so he could look into Jace’s eyes. He poured himself into the bond. “This changes nothing,” he whispered to Jace. “Nothing.”

“This goes way beyond what I know or understand and it isn’t like there are books written on this, but from what I could see and my gut, I’d say Jace was exposed to angel blood at some point and it changed him, made him more similar to an angel, but Jace I told you. You are nephilim.”

Jace’s blonde head shook. “You said it yourself Iz, not nephilim blood.”

Izzy exhaled a noise of frustration. “Not like the nephilim of today.” Izzy stepped to them, putting a hand on both of her brothers. “Bear with me, this is a bit of a theory. The DNA studies we have of some of the first shadowhunters suggest over time nephilim have changed at the DNA level. The structure was never human nor angelic but something in between the two. But if you compare my DNA to that of Johnathan Shadowhunter there would be a resemblance but it wouldn’t match up.”

“So what about those most recently turned by the cup?”

Izzy nodded understanding Alec’s question and the thought it came from. “I went there too. Luckily the last shadowhunter line created by the cup before it was lost was Sibisi.”

“Tohren?” Alec breathed out. Tohren Sibisi another fresh recruit who had just finished his Institute sponsored training that Alec had taken out several times on his patrol team.

“Thankfully, unlike some people, he is responsible about getting lab work done after he’s injured in the field and I pulled a recent report.” Both Alec and Jace ignored the dig. “He’s second generation, closest to actually drinking from the cup we have access to.”

“And?” Jace asked with impatience snapping in his voice.

“Because he’s second generation I can’t say conclusively but based on all the evidence it suggests that for some reason the shadowhunters the cup creates have the same DNA structure as the ones being born today to already established lines.”

“Angel be damned Iz, what does that mean?” Jace near shouted and Alec glanced at the door to see the Silence rune burning in place.

His mind was also firing trying to figure out what Izzy’s findings were suggesting.

“I don’t know exactly, but Jace’s irregular DNA couldn’t have been the result of him being directly from a newer shadow hunter line or from being reborn by the cup itself.”

Jace snorted. “I think I would have remembered drinking from the Mortal Cup which, may I remind you, was lost when I was a year old.”

Izzy rolled her eyes. “It was a possibility that needed to be ruled out. Your DNA more closely resembles shadowhunters born during the era of Rebirth.”

Alec nodded in understanding. “So now that it has been ruled out what possibilities are we left with?”

“Putting aside that the shadowhunters born or even reborn today aren’t like those that Raziel originally created, I would say the only explanation is that Jace was at some point exposed to pure Angel blood.”

“Damnit, we already knew that!” Jace growled, tearing away from Alec and stalking to the window. “Why am I different though, why don’t I just have angel blood in me like Alec does?”

Izzy rolled her eyes at Jace’s theatrics. “First, the whole nephilim having angel blood and warlocks having demon blood is a complete misnomer. We don’t have two blood types in us, human and angel. We have one type of blood that reflects our heritage of angel and human. For some reason your blood which again is neither human nor angel is not like that of modern nephilim. Second, Selaphiel,” she gestured at Alec, “said you were exposed to angel blood but that doesn’t mean it’s why your DNA is like this.”

‘Could she be right?’

Selphiel made a noise of consideration Alec vaguely recognized as being similar to his own. ‘Perhaps, but it is more probable that the two are linked. I determined that Jace must have been given angel blood because it is the only way I know of angelic grace being bestowed, which I can sense in him, though it is limited. The angelic power nephilim normally bear is a dilution of this.’

Alec relayed this to his siblings.

Izzy looked as if she was about to explode with questions.

Jace spoke first. “And she doesn’t know who the angel was?” Alec could tell Jace did not want to acknowledge that he had in him at the time.

The dark haired nephilim shook his head already feeling the angel’s answer.

“Could they still be on earth?” Jace asked. “I don’t see an angel just walking around giving out their blood.”

‘An angel would have had to have permission from the creator to do such a thing as Raziel did when he was charged with creating your race.’

Alec took in a sharp breath. “So someone got a hold of angel blood, most likely by force and then gave it to Jace.” He didn’t need to look at either of his siblings to know they were alarmed by the idea.

‘It is possible that an angel was given the task by the creator but unlikely. Angels have fallen in battle before and been captured.’

Alec again spoke for Selaphiel.

“Who would do such a thing?” Izzy whispered.

Jace shook his head. “More like who could. I can’t imagine angels are easy to take down.”

‘It would not be as difficult as one of your kind would think. We are not all powerful. Depending when we were created and what for, we may have no experience or skill in combat.’

“Is there anything else that you can tell Iz?” Alec questioned.

Izzy sighed. “I think at this point based on how Alec, your DNA hasn’t changed from exposure to angel blood, I’d say Jace’s exposure had to have come either when he was younger, or been prolonged.”

Alec ran a hand through his hair as he attempted to process everything. “So either my, shit, my DNA is going to change because of Selaphiel’s blood or I’m too old for it to affect me?”

Izzy nodded. “But I’m forming conclusions from very little data.”

“You’re guessing,” Jace said bitterly. “Just say that.”

‘Selaphiel?’ Alec questioned. Wondering if the angel could clear this up. ‘Do you know anything that could help us make sense of this?’

‘Omniscience is not an ability angels possess.’

‘So you don’t know if any other angels have been to earth in the last twenty years?’

‘We all have our own duties. Some of those duties include coming to this realm. I haven’t heard of an angel dying or falling recently so whoever’s blood Jace was exposed to, that altered him, the angel is alive.’

While Alec’s attention was turned inward Izzy and Jace continued to snipe at one another.

“Enough!” They stopped at Alec’s sharp word. “We need to figure out when Jace was exposed. Iz?”

“There isn’t any way to tell.”

Jace crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Well, I think it isn’t likely that it happened after we became parabatai. I noticed Selaphiel’s presence through the bond after you were out of danger. Plus, it would have been when I was younger than sixteen right?”

Izzy sat on her bed and picked up a notebook she had tossed there, flipping it open as Alec passed her a pen from the desk he was closest to. “I think so but as you pointed out, this is all guesswork.” She drew a line on the page and some hash marks. “So from zero to about ten you were raised by your dad in Idris right?” Jace nodded. “From then on you spent your time between here and the Academy in Idris.”

“And at sixteen Alec and I became parabatai, but I think I would have remembered if I somehow got angel blood in me.”

Izzy made a noise of agreement. “Unless you didn’t,” she countered.

“A warlock?” Alec questioned, following Izzy’s train of thought. “Why-”

Izzy cut him off. “There’s no point in asking ‘why’ when we don’t even know if it happened.” She tapped the paper with her pen. “Either Jace was exposed too young to remember, potentially even his mother or father being the source of exposure, he was slipped it in some way unknowingly, or the memory of the exposure was taken from him. There were times that’s possible between our schedules here and at the Academy, never mind someone’s possible motivations in doing so.”

“There is another possibility,” Alec determined. “Selphiel said angels visit earth to complete duties. That no angel has died or fallen recently.” He glanced at Jace. “We need to consider that maybe this was something an angel did.”

“Why?” Jace whispered.

Alec shrugged not having an answer to that question. “Like Izzy said. We need to figure out how, when and potentially who first.”

Izzy looked troubled, her lips pressed together but she nodded her agreement with Alec’s assessment. “We know the blood changed you, but there doesn't seem to be any negative side effects. If we know when the exposure occurred, it may tell us if the changes caused are complete and what this might mean for Alec’s exposure.”

‘I do not believe my blood in you will cause harm, although now I’m not sure it won’t have some sort of effect.’

Alec didn’t directly tell the angel that her words weren’t comforting but he doubted she meant them to be.

Jace shook his head with a sigh. “I can barely keep up with you two, so what do we do next?”

Alec’s eyes met Izzy’s. “We find a warlock.”

Chapter Text

Alec was enjoying Selaphiel’s negative reactions to the lunch food in the mess hall when a tray was set down on his left side. The mess was mostly empty at this point, the lunch crowd already cleared out. He turned wondering who it might be because neither of his siblings was currently in the Institute and Aline was out in the city this afternoon.

The grizzled and bearded face of Oliver Swiftfoot sent a shiver of not fear, because Alec was not afraid of the man, but discomfort down his spine. “Commander,” he greeted his back automatically straightening and his face muting.

Swiftfoot nodded in response. As the older nephilim was superior in rank there wasn’t a need for him to actually greet Alce verbally. A pair of sponsors sitting at the far end of the table cleared off with a single look from Swiftfoot. “While I feel anything worth saying should be able to be said in front of anyone, I want us both to be comfortable enough to speak freely,” Swiftfoot explained.

Alec blinked, stomach suddenly turning into a ball of dread. The older nephilim didn’t explain further but instead took a bite of the vegetable medley that Selaphiel found rather tasteless and uninspiring. He watched the man out of the corner of his eye, wondering what exactly was happening. Swiftfoot, the Institute’s Commander of Field Operations never made a point to speak with Alec beyond what was required. In Head meetings that Alec attended to assist his parents or in his parent’s stead Swiftfoot made it quite clear that he didn’t approve of Alec’s presence.

“You were just a kid when I transferred in and took the position of Commander here. My predecessor warned me before retiring that the Lightwoods were looking to turn the NYI into a dynasty Institute and I thought ‘not while I was CoFO.’”

Alec winced. Dynasty Institutes were the Institutes whose leadership was controlled and passed through the generations of a family. While the appointment of Head of an Institute needed to gain formal majority approval of the regional Enclave Council and informal approval of the Consul of the Clave, in the case of dynasty institutes this approval was usually bought off or there simply wasn’t a strong enough alternative.

“When you finished your internship tour and ended up back here, I told myself I would treat you like anyone else. You wouldn’t get any special treatment because your parents were Head. Not from me.”

The sounds of the cafeteria faded as Alec tried to see where exactly the man was going and why.

“I admit, I may have at times been more distant, harsher when you needed correcting.” He took a bite of soup and made a contemplative sound. “You are an excellent field operative, but you are an even better unit leader.” The younger man’s stomach swooped at the praise. “From your reports, debriefs and personnel choices, I can tell you see the whole system but also are observant enough to catch the details that make a difference.”

Alec fought to keep any reaction off his face. It was everything he had always wanted to hear, but not from the people he most wanted to hear it from.

“You have a natural confidence in the field that puts your people at ease and unlike a lot of other young hunters from Idris royalty you know when to listen to those who follow you.” He set his fork down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I’ve had several of your unit members come forward and express their concern over whether or not you’ll be coming back.”

It was like a slap in the face. Losing the prospect of headship was one thing, but never returning to his unit, field work? Alec scrambled to keep the devastation inspired by the mere suggestion he wouldn’t be able to go back to his job. “Will I?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady even if the floor below him felt like it was shifting.

The man’s piercing grey eyes looked directly at him. “What would you decide if you were me?”

Alec pushed away his tray and thought quickly. “I broke procedure. It was a routine two man patrol in a low priority area. If I was CoFO I would formally reprimand both men if the decision was mutual. It would be a strike against both to forever be considered if they came up for promotion. If, like me one of them was a unit leader and it was the first strike, I would see if there were concerns from his or her team. If there were no concerns I would leave it at the reprimand.”

Swiftfoot’s face did not betray any reaction to his suggestion. “And would you have recommended this incident for the Inquisitor’s office?”

Alec twitched. “No, if this was an isolated incident, I believe it should be handled at the level of the Institute.”

The older nephilim leaned back into his seat. “Which is exactly what I planned, but someone went over my head and reported it.” Swiftfoot leaned toward him. “You know if your last name wasn’t Lightwood this wouldn’t be happening.”

Alec nodded. “I’d like to think I’m not a fool.”

He instantly regretted his quick tongue but the older man chuckled. “You’re no fool Lightwood, but you do have a glaring blind spot, or should I say two glaring blind spots.”

It was not a subtle reference to his siblings and Alec bit down the instinctual need to defend them. Jace, despite his prowess on the battlefield tended to rub people the wrong way. They were parabatai which meant that they were almost always together and Alec managed him well enough, but he knew others in his unit didn’t care to work with the blonde on two-man patrols. Izzy was the consummate professional when working with the unit, but she at times would use the Lightwood name to throw around weight that her rank didn’t support.

Swiftfoot continued, “I’ve served in seven Institutes since I was certified for combat duty. I’ve worked under Heads who couldn’t find their own asses with a map and Heads who were competent in their jobs.” He raised a finger to point at Alec. “You have the potential to be a more than competent Head.”

The confidence with which the statement was spoken punched the breath out of Alec’s lungs. Swiftfoot was a solid leader and Alec respected him greatly. For the man, who had never betrayed anything more than quiet approval of Alec’s work to say so such a thing. It was more than he could process at the moment.

Alec cleared his throat, trying to reign in his elation as he knew there was something else in Swiftfoot’s words. “I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming.”

The man gave him a teeth baring grin, which was a little terrifying considering Alec served under the man for almost three years and could count the number of times the man smiled on one hand. “You certainly are no fool. You could be more than competent but you need to get your head out of your ass and start thinking beyond your own family’s reputation.” He swept his hand around the room to the few straggling shadowhunters. “You want Head? Start showing you care more about this Institute and the shadowhunters who live and work here than you do the Lightwood name.”

The words cut. All his life, his parents demanded everything he could give and more for the Lightwood name. There were days where all he felt like he was to them was a vessel for an Angel be damned name.

“Your parents have had control of this place for nearly two decades. What have they changed? Made progress on? What have they done other than keep status quo and kiss the Clave’s ass?”

The younger man’s fingers twitched. These weren’t questions he hadn’t thought of before, spitballing ideas with Izzy and Jace, or even a few other shadowhunters who he trusted enough to openly discuss things. Only to be shot down when he proposed, even the most thought out of plans for improvement to his parents.

Even when his parents asked for his help on something they still seemed to fight him every step of the way. Susannah Stormfield was just one of many examples. His father asked him to help select recent Academy graduates to offer positions in the Institute too. She had immediately caught his eye. Systems engineering, a relatively new concept to the Shadow World but one Alec, once he read up on the field thought could bring about real change. Alec fought for her recruitment because he saw exactly what Swiftfoot was getting at. The NYI was not failing, but it was far from performing optimally.

After being onboarded, Alec recommended she evaluate each department for the purpose of identifying issues that then could be discussed and hopefully solutions found that would improve the Institute’s functioning. What had his mother assigned her to? A paper pusher for their Officer of Resource Management.

He’d spent a long sparring session with Jace working out his frustration on that one.

‘You do wish to be Head of the Institute.’ Selaphiel concluded. ‘Not just for the recognition it would bring you but because you would have the power to make change.’

Alec nodded absently. He did want to be Head. It may have started out as an expectation, but it wasn’t about that anymore. Which was what made the possibility of not having the opportunity all the more devastating. “You really think I have a shot at the position still? Even after all this?”

Something dark passed through Swiftfoot’s eyes. “I’ve learned never to bet against a Lightwood to make through shit and come out the other side smelling like a rose.”

Alec wasn’t sure about the context of the comment, but that didn’t stop him from the instinctual offense the acidic comment provoked. It must have shown on his face because the other shadowhunter pointed at him again.

“That right there. Kill it. You’re a Lightwood. One of the oldest shadowhunter lines to still exist. You’re well connected by virtue of blood ties and political alliances that stretch back decades if not centuries. You had a spot at the Academy since birth. Have you worked hard your entire life for the skills you have? Yes, but you’ve also had every single advantage afforded to you by right of a name. Don’t get pissed when people point it out.”

The chastisement burned and Alec cursed his pale skin because he knew twin spots were glowing red on his cheeks like hot metal pulled from a smith’s forge.

Swiftfoot wasn’t done. “You’re probably going to get this Institute even with this strike against you. Could you imagine a no name hunter, Academy trained or not would be able to do the same?”

Pain flared in his mouth as his teeth dug into the soft flesh of an inner cheek as he focused on keeping back his instinctual defensiveness when people dragged his name up. It was something that was thrown at him in the Academy from every direction. When he wasn’t good enough at something he was a disappointment for a Lightwood. When he excelled it was only on the virtue of his name.

Rationally he knew Swiftwood was right. Even of the non dynasty Institutes, there were only two he could think of that weren’t led by so called Idris royalty. Those two were headed by families who were married into royalty.

The younger shadowhunter wondered not for the first time during this interaction what the purpose was of Swiftwood coming and speaking to him. While the man might be known for his candor, he wasn’t known to speak idly. “What do you want from me?” Swiftoot wasn’t the only known for candor.

Approval showed in those grey eyes. Swiftfoot leaned back in his chair again, lanky frame relaxed. “See that’s why you’re going to make a good Head.” The older shadowhunter didn’t elaborate on the comment but set about answering Alec’s question. “I won’t bore you with theories of leadership, I know you got enough of that at the Academy. I’ll just leave you with this. The most competent Heads I served under had a few things in common, but the one I found to be most important was trust. They trusted those under them to do their jobs and in return those under them trusted their Head would do right by them.” Swiftfoot’s grey eyes bored into his hazel. “So when the time comes I want you to ask yourself this. Who do you trust? Who do you trust to send out your shadowhunters every night and make sure they come home. Who do you trust to heal them? Who do you trust to keep the books so they have what they need to do their jobs?”

Alec remembered Jace excitedly talking about taking over as Commander of Field Operations when his parabatai became Head. As if Alec could just instate him regardless of Jace’s rank or actual ability to do the job. At the time he had just smiled approvingly at the idea, but now…

“You keep yourself to yourself, your sister and your parabatai. Which is fine. I know you do right by your unit members. You don’t need to have personal relationships with every soul that passes through this place, but when you’re Head of the Institute, every active duty shadowhunter, all the support personnel that have never touched a seraph blade outside their basic training, will become yours. Headship isn’t a one man show. Figure out who you trust to help you.” The man unfolded his long frame that rivaled Alec’s from the chair. “Hurry up and heal. I like Penhallow, I hope we can convince her to stay on after this assignment, Angel knows we could use her, but your team is eager for your return.”

With that Swiftfoot cleared his tray and left.

‘That man was confusing,’ Selaphiel commented.

Alec didn’t respond. He was light headed. He felt the eyes of the few other nephilim in the mess on him. Focusing on his breathing, measuring the inhale and exhale, Alec picked up his own tray and cleared it and walked in forcefully, unhurried steps to sanctuary away from it all.

‘Alec?’ Selaphiel’s voice was soft, humming gently through the static of his thoughts. ‘What is it?’

He couldn’t respond though. His body moved on autopilot through the halls as quickly as possible without appearing like he was running from something. Every face he passed on the way just reinforcing what Swiftfoot told him.

After bursting through the door to the roof, he let himself collapse against the bricks. Instead of static, the sounds of the city filled his ears as he tried to find some footing as another wave of anxiety ripped through him, sending his measured breathing into chaos.

The humid air of summer felt almost wet against his skin and in his lungs. The bricks against his back were rough as they brushed roughly against him with every inhale. ‘All of them,” he thought. ‘I’d be responsible for all of them. Not just Jacy and Iz, the rest of my unit. All of them.’

Selaphiel’s feathers rustled. ‘You are afraid. This is fear.’

Alec let out a huff at the wonder in the angel’s voice. ‘Yes.’

Seconds passed as Alec looked out at the city around them. Wondering not for the first time what it would be like to be mundane.

Selaphiel made a noise in his mind he’d come to recognize as her way of expressing distaste. ‘I don't like it.’

The boy’s dark head tipped back, hitting the bricks with a thud. He barely felt the pain. ‘Me either.’

‘You want to lead but you also fear it.’

‘Wouldn't you? It’s always been this abstract idea, me being Head. I never really thought about how it would feel if it actually happened, what it would mean. The way Swiftfoot talked about it, so sure that I would eventually take the position.’ His thought broke off, becoming a jumbled mixture of emotion. He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter though does it? I keep forgetting no matter the outcome of this trial I don’t actually have a future.’

‘What do you mean?’

The confusion in her voice burned him. ‘Once you leave me I’m a dead man,’ he shot at her swallowing down the guilt he felt over the pain he knew he would cause Izzy and Jace. ‘That was the deal. I stay alive until you decide you’ve got this whole human thing figured out and stop falling.’

Selaphiel was silent in his mind.

‘Right?’

He could feel her twitch. ‘Are you nervous?’ he asked not even sure the angel could feel something so human, but easily recognizing it couldn’t be anything else.

‘I may have obfuscated on what will happen when I untangle myself from your soul.’

The betrayal was a cold burn deep in his chest, but he didn’t understand why it caught him by surprise. Selaphiel didn’t save his life just because she could. She saved him for a reason, because she wanted something from him. ‘You were going to let me die or leave me to my fate if I survived why let me believe I would die after I already said yes?’

Selaphiel appeared before him. He knew it was just a projection of her and that if he reached out to touch the coppery brown wing that shone almost bronze in the late afternoon sun his hand would pass right through it. Her brown eyes held his hazel. ‘Your people believe angels to be these all powerful beings, bound by our natures to do good based on a morality system that you have created. We are not.’ She crouched down, wings fanning open to avoid dragging across the ground. It would have filled them with awe if he wasn’t caught up in his thoughts and his anger.

‘That doesn’t answer my question.’

Selaphiel nodded. ‘I’m getting to that. This,’ she gestured between them, ‘was possible and continues to be possible because you allow it to be. A soul is a powerful thing, yours I would say even more so than others. If I told you the truth I was not sure if you would continue to allow me to share it.’

Alec let his head back drop again, closing his eyes. Angel, everything was so messed up. Here he was, sharing his soul with an angel. Jace was a mystery, something more than nephilim. His footing at the institute was shaky and somehow at the same time everything he wanted career wise seemed actually possible.

He just needed it to stop for a few moments so he could breathe.

The door of the roof banged open. Alec didn’t bother standing but the noise jolted him forward, Selaphiel’s visage vanishing.

He wasn’t surprised when Jace sank down next to him. The parabatai bond hummed and Alec felt grounded again. He must have been bleeding into the bond because his brother sat closer than normal, shoulder to shoulder. Alec relaxed into the brick behind him.

“Bellefluer mentioned seeing you and the commander talking in the mess. When you weren’t in your rooms, I knew you’d be up here.”

Alec nodded, pulling his knees up to his chest. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Good, neither do I,” Jace returned.

The taller shadowhunter snorted. “So how did it go?”

“Bane is a jackass.”

Alec smirked at the real annoyance in Jace’s voice. He wanted to go with his siblings to visit the High Warlock and see if Jace’s memory had been tampered with, but both of his siblings demanded he remain at the Institute, worried that if something were to happen Alec’s injuries compromised his safety.

“A powerful jackass, but a jackass all the same,” Jace amended with a look from Alec. “He said if someone messed with my mind, that they did so without leaving a detectable trace, which he said was highly unlikely.”

Alec bobbed his head. “You know what we have to do then.”

Jace blew out a breath. “Yeah, I know. I just… I never wanted to go back there ya know. I haven’t been back since.” There was a pause before he shook his head. “Fuck this maudlin shit.” Jace came to his feet. “If we’re going to do it, let’s do it.”

Alec frowned. “Now?”

The other shadowhunters mismatched eyes rolled and Alec didn’t resist the urge to kick his shin. Jace stepped out of Alec’s reach after the first hit. “Asshole. Yeah, I have tonight off and Iz is free too after she finishes her shift in the lab I think. We can go now and poke around, Izzy can join us later.”

“Beats sitting in the Institute feeling sorry for myself,” Alec agreed. “Grab some food from the mess for dinner, I’ll make the request to use the portal room.”

Jace nodded and left the roof without another word.

‘You want to stay with me and stop falling?’ Alec asked the angel in his mind. He felt Selaphiel’s affirmative response. ‘Help me, us figure this out. You do that, you can stay with me as long as you need to.’

He didn’t wait for an answer, knowing the angel would accept the deal.

____________________________________________________________________________

Only an hour later the parabatai found themselves outside of the overgrown front yard of the Wayland family’s ancestral manor. Alec could practically feel Jace vibrating next to him. He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You sure about this?”

Jace’s blonde head nodded. “Yeah, let's just get it over with.”

When they reached the front door Selaphiel called out. ‘There are active wards.’ Alec grabbed Jace, yanking him back from where he was about to open the door. “Selaphiel said the place is warded.”

“That can’t be possible. It’s been empty since the day my dad died. Robert brought me to pick up some stuff and I never came back.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m the last Wayland, the estate is mine and I’ve never done anything with it.”

‘It’s warded. The magic is weak, it has been some time and without souls within the warded area to pull energy from they are decaying.’

‘Can you get us through?’ Alec asked.

‘Put your hand on the door.’ Alec did as she commanded. The wood was warm against his palm, he frowned. It was almost evening and the sun hadn’t shone on this part of the house in some time. ‘That warmth is the wards. You are probably more sensitive to magic now. My power is your power. Break them.’

Alec blinked. ‘How? I don’t know what I’m doing.’

“Alec?” Jace questioned. “I know you’re talking to that angel in your head but you want to share with the class?”

“Selaphiel says I can break the wards. That I can use her power.”

Jace whistled. “Well that’s handy. Okay, so break it.”

“I was asking how when you interrupted,” Alec said with a glare that could turn something to stone. Jace mimed zipping his lips then held his hands up in surrender. Alec returned his attention to Selaphiel. ‘Can you give me a little direction here?’

‘What do you feel when you use a stele?’

His first thought was nothing, but that wasn’t true. Maybe not on his first or the second rune, but on the fifth or sixth rune activated pre-mission he definitely felt a draw from the center of his chest toward the hand that held the stele. It felt similarly to the strain in his muscles when he drew his bow back to tension.

‘Good, now imagine that feeling, from your center flowing to your palms.’

For a few seconds nothing happened, he could feel Jace’s impatience and doubt through the bond, then he jolted. Like a hot wire being pulled from a spool, energy coiled in his palm.

‘Now push it out, not too much the barrier will break easily.’

He felt the ward vibrate against his hand and then shatter, falling away to nothing. The wood cooled under his touch. Alec let his arm fall.

“That’s it?” Jace asked with not a little disappointment. “Have to say, it was a bit anticlimactic.”

Alec rolled his eyes at him and pulled the door open. It creaked ominously, hinges protesting the movement. “I’ll try to put on a better show next time.” Both boys let the door swing open without making a move to step inside. Alec waited for his brother in arms to step over the threshold first before doing so himself. It was his house after all and it didn’t sit right with Alec to go first.

Jace stared into the house, eyes blank and mouth curved downwards. “Home sweet home,” he murmured sarcastically. Alec nodded but didn’t comment. “Right, let's get this over with.” The shorter shadowhunter made no move to step forward despite his words.

It occurred to Alec then that perhaps Jace wanted him to go first. He took a tentative step forward and when Jace made no move to stop and remained quiet he took the step that brought him into Wayland manor.

Dust covered all surfaces. The regular assortment of antiques and memorabilia passed down through generations of shadowhunters, with perhaps a few more weapons considering the Wayland family history littered the surfaces and walls. It wasn’t unlike the Lightwood ancestral home.

Jace nodded towards the back of the house. “I’ve been thinking about where we should start ever since Bane said there was nothing wrong with my head.” The blonde finally took the lead and Alec followed. They went through the kitchen into a hallway that ended in a spiral staircase that led downwards. “He never let me down here. It was forbidden.”

“Sounds like a good place to start.”

The stairs ended up leading to a locked door. Jace pulled out his stele, but Alec grabbed his arm. “Wait.” Alec pulled on Jace until the other looked at him. “Whatever we find behind this door. It won’t change anything. You know that right?”

He expected Jace to push him away playfully. Tell him to stop with the touchy feely crap. He didn’t expect the almost bitter smile that graced the blonde’s mouth. “You know that isn’t true. Things will change Alec. We’ll change. But we’ll do it together. Right?”

“Right,” he agreed, letting go of Jace’s arm with one last squeeze.

Jace drew the unlock rune into the wood and then turned the knob. With Alec at his back he stepped into the basement room. Jace found the rune that activated the witch lights in the ceiling and Alec took in the room over Jace’s shoulder. It was almost cave like, stone floor and walls that curved upward into a supportive arch at the center. There were different tables, littered with laboratory equipment they would need Izzy to tell them the purpose of. A large chalkboard on wheels off to one side covered in dust, but wiped clean.

‘There’s something more heavily warded in here,’ Selaphiel announced.

Alec didn’t have to ask her where. He could feel the magic clearly now that he knew what it felt like. He moved over to a corner where an old painting leaned up against the stone wall. He shoved it aside. “There’s something here,” he told Jace. The magic was stronger here than the wards. He reached out to the where he could sense the focal point and instantly drew his hand back, gasping in pain.

“What is it?” Jace asked.

Alec glanced down at his hand, the skin of his fingertips blistering as if he were burned. Jace took a hold of his wrist and drew an Iratze with his stele.

‘It’s an illusion of some kind and a deterrent. For it to still be active and this powerful it must be using an energy source.’

‘The focal point?’ Alec asked.

‘Most likely...you need to remove the source,’ Selaphiel said, sounding almost apologetic.

Alec sighed. He pulled Selaphiel’s energy into his hand again and then took a breath before reaching out again for the source of the magic. Jace cried out as his hand sunk into the wall. It closed around something hot and jagged. Alec grit his teeth, unable to stop from crying out as what felt like spikes of burning hot metal drove through the veins of his arm. He yanked his hand back and threw the object away from himself and Jace.

“Shit, Alec!” Jace caught him as he staggered backward, stele already burning another Iratze into his arm and then turning Alec and lifting up his shirt to activate a rune that deadened the perception of physical pain.

Alec breathed through the fading pain as Jace went to look at the thing he pulled from the wall. “It’s some kind of stone.”

‘It feels demonic,’ Selaphiel chimed.

“Don’t touch it,” Alec warned, finally able to get a word out.

Jace snorted. “Trust me, after seeing what it did to your arm I wasn’t going to.

Alec didn’t give a snappy response, too caught up in the way the entire back wall of the basement wall seemed to shudder and then melt from view. The basement continued on after another supportive arch. It was dominated by a cell built into the corner, a large desk and shelves heavy with books taking up half the space opposite it.

Something littered the empty cell’s floor. He took one step past the stone arch and was nearly brought to his knees by the white hot rage that seared through him. “Selaphiel!” he gasped out loud. The angel’s anger burned in him, her grace reacting to hit coming alive in his body. The leftover wounds on his arm healed instantly.

“Fuck, Alec I can feel her. She needs to cut it out. We’re in Idris!” Jace hissed.

“Selaphiel please!” Alec begged, trying to push calm at her as if she were Jace.

It took several moments but finally the buzz of her energy faded back to nearly the gentle hum that Alec was so used to now he barely registered it. While Alec grappled with getting the angel to tell him what that was about Jace stepped forward and into the open cell.

“Well, I think we can safely assume this was the source of the angel blood,” he said, voice empty of emotion. The blonde reached down and picked up a feather, pure white at first glance but as Alec came forward to get a better look. The feather that Jace held was dove white, but speckled by fawn brown.

‘Ithuriel,’ Selaphiel’s voice came like a ripple, grief stretching out in circles.

‘You know by the feather?’ Alec questioned gently. He reached out to take the feather from Jace, but Jace pulled back. “Jace?”

“I don’t know, it just feels like it belongs with me,” Jace said, confusion and simmering anger at the revelation of what the feather meant.

‘All our feathers are unique in appearance, but it is the grace that clings even now to the feather that I identified. Jace cannot let it go because he too feels Ithuriel’s grace in it. You would feel similarly if you held one of my feathers.’ The angel shifted restlessly within him. ‘Ithuriel has not fallen or died. I would have felt it, all of Heaven would have felt it.’

‘Could, uh, Ithuriel,” Alec hesitated to use a particular pronoun with the unknown angel, ‘have returned to Heaven?’

‘Possible, but unlikely. Look at the runes burned into the floor.’ The nephilim took in the lines of faded runes, cracked and burnt out. He recognized a few, but had no idea on others or how the combination of the ones he knew interacted with each other. ‘The person who did this had knowledge that goes far beyond your average shadowhunter from what I have observed of you and others in the Institute. Whoever did this knew how to trap an angel and force the angel to sustain a physical form.’

Alec felt his own revulsion echoed by Selaphiel.

He looked back to Jace to tell him what Selaphiel said but the shattering grief and anger on his face stilled his tongue. Alec reached out, now noticing Jace had cut off the bond, blocking Alec from feeling anything but a shadow of his emotions.

“It was him,” Jace said, voice rough. “He did this to me, he- Raziel damn him,” Jace swore, “he had an angel down here and I never knew.”

Alec’s heart broke for him. From what Alec understood of Jace’s childhood, Michael Wayland had been obsessed with turning Jace into the perfect soldier. He demanded obedience in everything from his son. Put him through grueling training from a young age, not unlike other shadowhunter families, but with an emphasis on ruthlessness that was certainly not normal. Through it all Jace loved the man. Alec understood that, loving those that hurt you the most.

Alec looked around the basement, eyes landing on the shelves full of leather bound books, some of which looked like they may not be books at all but journals. “Let’s pack up these books and go.” He needed to get Jace out of this basement. Angel be kind, he needed to get out of this basement.

Jace looked conflicted for a moment but nodded in agreement. “The feathers too. I can’t leave them.”

Selaphiel made a noise of approval in his mind.

“Okay, we’ll pack up everything we can carry, there has to be something in the house we can use and the Lightwood manor is over half a day’s ride from here, but my grandmother’s house is only about an hour. We’ll let Izzy know, get some food in us and then see if we’re up for reading through some of this shit. There may be something about what he did to you in them.”

They did as Alec said in a daze. Before leaving the house Alec drew a large sealing rune over the door to the basement, pulling on Selaphiel’s grace to make sure no one but him was getting in and another one on the front entrance to the house while Jace did the same around the back.

By the time they reached the Trueblood home Jace felt more settled through the bond. Alec let Jace take care of the horses, knowing it would help Jace who always had a great affinity for the animals when they were at the Academy.

His grandmother’s house was clean, although slightly stuffy. He opened up windows to let in the warm summer night air after putting their haul down on the dining room table. Feeling Jace’s emotions stabilize even more through the bond as he cared for the horses, Alec decided to shower. It would be good to feel clean after being in that basement.

When he came back downstairs, dressed in some clothes he had packed, expecting to spend the night in Idris, Jace was already seated at the table and digging through the books they had discovered to be journals while they were packing.

“There are references to dates in some but not others. It’s going to take some time to establish any sort of timeline,” Jace spoke, voice void of any emotion.

They both took a journal at random and began reading. That was how Izzy found them not a half an hour later. She looked at the mess of reading material on the table and sighed. “Well, I’m glad I brought coffee.” She tossed the bag of grounds at Alec. “I also brought some things for us to mark important pages that we find and some pads to make notes on. Angel, I wish we could use electronic devices in Idris.”

Izzy took her coffee and small stack of journals to the sitting room to make use of a comfier couch while the boys stayed in the dining room.

“He was brilliant, completely mad but brilliant,” Izzy called out from the other room after fifteen minutes of reading. “I can’t understand some of these formulae he’s written at all.”

“Join the club,” Jace tossed back as he turned another page. While Jace was no slouch when it came to academic pursuits, it wasn’t a secret that he found no joy in them.

Alec made another note, feeling as though it was finally time to share what he had found. “He writes about a J. C. in this one, and refers to him as his son, but I don’t think it's Jace.”

Jace inhaled sharply. “Why not? Those are my initials!” Izzy was quiet in the other room waiting for Alec to continue.

“He described the effects of giving greater demon blood to a woman named Jocelyn while she was pregnant with J. C.”

Izzy came back into the dining room, leaning against the frame of the entryway with concern in her face.

Alec watched Jace carefully before the blonde just shook his head. “Fuck, can he get any more twisted.”

‘There is no demon blood in Jace, and I doubt he was ever exposed, the mixture of angel and demon blood in one body would have killed even a nephilim.’

“Selaphiel said that there isn’t any demon blood in you and you wouldn't have survived both types of blood. Plus the dates in the journal and her pregnancy would have you born almost a year earlier.”

Jace nodded his understanding and then shook his head again. “So I have an older half brother, maybe, who got demon blood instead of angel blood.” He let out a near hysterical sounding laugh. “This just keeps getting better.”

Izzy opened her mouth to say something but Jace had already pulled another journal to him and began reading. With a shared look of worry, his sister returned to her spot in the other room.

A few minutes later, Jace made a noise of triumph, standing up in his excitement. “Here, this one is about me. I’m older though. He calls me Johnathn and describes my training. I remember this.” He pointed at a particular paragraph on the page. Alec waited as Jace continued to skim. “He doesn’t mention my mother, but he wonders if his experiment failed since I don’t show any signs of being affected by the angel blood.”

Izzy came back into the room, face pale and holding a journal. “I think I found your mother.”

Jace rose and grabbed the book from her hands, eyes greedily taking up the words. “He took meticulous notes on this woman, Celine, through her pregnancy. She had several miscarriages and he gave her angel blood, not that she knew that's what it was, under the guise of medicine to help her carry a child to term. He doesn’t mention a father.”

“So it might not be me?” Jace asked, looking between Izzy and Alec.

Alec could see the cogs turning in Izzy’s mind and knew she was thinking the same as him. “Or it is you and Michael wasn’t your father,” Izzy said, voicing Alec’s thoughts.

Alec’s hand fell to the parabatai rune on his hip as he tried to comfort Jace through the bond. Jace shot him a grateful look. “Ya know, I think that would be preferred at the moment.”

‘I think you should tell them your suspicions,’ Selaphiel said. ‘Your theory is reasonable based on the information you have. You just need to find the evidence to confirm it.’

Alec cleared his throat. “I think we need to consider the possibility that this person,” he held up the journal he was reading, “is not Michael Wayland.” He paused for a moment to let that sink in. “Dad and I spoke the day your test results came back, Jace. I asked him about Michael.”

Izzy drew in an audible breath. “He actually talked to you about him?”

Alec nodded. “He said he didn’t know how the Michael that he knew could have been the man who raised you and…,” Alec hesitated, trying to force down his own insecurity, “Given that this person had a child other than you with another woman other than Eliza Wayland, your presumed mother when he told dad he was in love with him.”

“Woah,” Izzy whispered.

Jace held Alec’s gaze with his own. “I’ve always wondered why Robert didn’t know when dad died. They say losing your parabatai is agony. It’s driven shadowhunters insane. Robert didn’t even know he was dead.”

“He said the bond broke the day Michael confessed his feelings. Dad didn’t react well,” Alec tried to keep his voice level, but it wobbled when he spoke of his father’s reaction to Michael.

Izzy made a noise of concern, coming to Alec’s side, but it was Jace’s angry words that cut through the self-loathing Alec was trying his best to reject. “What a dick.” Jace reached across the table to grab Alec’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Alec, I know you love him, you too Iz, but Robert is a grade A asshole and sometimes I really want to hit him for you.”

Izzy, Robert’s princess rolled her eyes at the boy she considered her brother and leaned against Alec’s side. “That he is.”

Alec shook his head, trying to soak up their support. He had never really said he was gay to either of them, but this was just confirmation that they had always known and never had they been anything but quietly supportive. “I’m fine, but do you guys see what I mean. This man, whoever he is, this level of understanding of magic and science wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. Dad talked about how Michael was interested in blacksmithing, the Wayland family legacy.”

Jace returned to his seat. “You’re right. There’s a forge at Wayland manor, my-,” he cut himself off from saying father, “well whoever he was he never set foot in it to my knowledge.”

“You’re not wrong. This took years of study,” Izzy said, chewing on her nail as she stared down at the table. She pulled a coverless paper manuscript bound with aged twine from underneath some of the heavier books. “Oh shit.”

Alec turned to look up at his sister as she held the manuscript in front of her.

“What is it?” Jace asked.
Izzy turned it around to show them the handwritten title, The Use of Angelic Runes in Summoning Rituals in script they were all familiar with at this point. “Look at who it was written by.”

Their eyes both fell to the bottom of the page where a grandiose signature was.

Valentine Morgenstern.

Alec’s eyes flew to Jace as the blonde took it in. His face was carefully blank before the mask crumbled. “Right,” he said hoarsely, getting to his feet, turning away from both Alec and Izzy. “Let’s go see if grandma Trueblood kept any good booze in the house.”

They ended up finding a bottle of pisco and a few small bottles of faerie liquor. Blankets and pillows were dragged out from bedrooms as they made a nest in the den of the house, away from the writings of a mad man.

After they had exhausted the discussion, or just become too intoxicated to theorize anymore on Valentine’s survival and current whereabouts they settled into a not peaceful but content silence. Alec lay on his back, staring up at the wooden beams that held up the house. His head was pillowed in Izzy’s lap where she rested against a couch. Jace’s own head lay on his stomach as he starfished out on the floor in a sea of blankets.

“Swiftfoot thinks I’m going to be Head of the Institute,” he announced without preamble.

Izzy made a noise of surprise. “Is that what you want?” she asked, her hand coming to Alec’s head and beginning to comb through his hair.

Alec sighed at the sensation. “Isn’t it?”

Jace snorted. “She’s asking you, ya lightweight.”

“But what about you guys?” Alec questioned, his altered mind feeling as if it had adequately answered Izzy’s question and moving on.

“What about us?” Jace asked back.

“It’s always about me being Head. What about you, what do you want to do?”

Izzy laughed. “Finally he acknowledges it’s always about him!” Alec swatted at her in retaliation. He missed. “I like what I’m studying right now. It’s challenging in a way I’d forgotten I enjoyed. I think I’m going to like field surgery.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe Forestner will consider training me to take her position. Maybe I’ll just keep serving as field surgeon until I retire and take a teaching position at the Academy or stay with the Institute.”

“And you’d be happy with that?” Alec asked.

Izzy’s unpainted lips smiled down at him and her hands fluttered over his face for a moment. “Yes, hermano. I think I would.”

“What no husband?” Jace asked.

Izzy’s eyes narrowed as she moved her gaze to Jace. “You saying I need a man to be happy?”

Jace obviously still had enough of his faculties to realize he was treading in dangerous waters. “Of course not, but we are talking about wants right? Right Alec?”

Alec grinned. “I’m not getting into the hole with you.”

“Parabatai!” Jace whined.

Izzy’s laugh was full. “And you Jace?” she asked after laughter ceased.

“Easy. I want to travel. I didn’t do a tour like you and Alec. I want to see other places, explore.”
He rolled his head up to look at Alec. “You never really answered your own question.”

Alec exhaled. “I think I want to be Head. But I wouldn’t need it to be happy.” It felt like the truth.

“So what would you need to be happy?” Izzy asked.

Alec contemplated the question. The fantasies that sprung to mind weren’t ones that he ever would admit to without alcohol loosening his tongue. “I want to love someone like in the stories. I want to make a home with them away from the Institute. Angel, I’d love not to live in the Institute.”

“Really?” Jace asked. “I wouldn’t have guessed that, I mean not the love part. You are an utter sap, when it comes to that shit. The living outside the Institute. I didn’t know you wanted that.” He sat up, turning to Alec. “Hey, we could get a total bachelor pad in the city!”

Alec’s nose crinkled. “I’m not sharing a place with you.” Izzy chuckled and Jace's face contorted in mock hurt. “And I’d want kids someday.”

“Yes! You have the kids so I can just spoil my nieces and nephews,” Izzy said, excitement bubbling in her voice.

Jace smiled. “I can totally see you as a dad. The best dad.”

He returned the smile, but his thoughts turned dark. “Any kid that’s mine will always know that they are loved and wanted. It won’t matter if they never want to touch a weapon.” He felt Izzy’s hands begin to card through his hair again. Jace’s eyes were on him and Alec could see the shadows, the day had created in them.

A gentle peace fell before Jace broke it. “So, Valentine is probably alive. He raised me, but I’m not his kid most likely. I also may or may not be a Wayland.”

Izzy exhaled noisily. “You both are depressing drunks. I need new friends.”

“Valentine is a danger to the whole Shadow World and the Mortal Cup is still missing. He may still have Ithuriel. This goes far beyond just our Institute. We need to take this to the Clave,” Alec said before sitting up. Feeling like he was coming back down to earth. Faerie liquor was a quick at getting you drunk, but passed through the system faster than mundane alcohol.

“I have that investigator’s number, Branwell,” Izzy offered.

Both Alec and Jace turned to look at her with betrayal.

She returned their gaze with wide innocent eyes. “What? Like I said I need new friends.”

Chapter Text

Sweat stung Alec’s eyes as he brought his knees into his chest.  

“You’re not coordinating your breathing.  Come on Lightwood.  We talked about this.  The breath is your friend,” Batonvert chastised.  

Alec resisted the urge to cuss at the man.  He was supposed to have more composure than that, but today he didn’t have it in him.  Things moved quickly after they contacted Branwell and met her at the Wayland manor the morning after their discovery.  Alec and Jace took down their sealing runes and after handing over the materials they took from the basement, minus the angel feathers they kept to themselves as Jace refused to part with them, they were ordered back to the NYI. 

That evening Jace received a fire message that he would be interviewed by the Inquisitor herself the following morning.  Alec wanted to be there with him, but Jace refused.  His stubborn parabatai closed down the bond as well, leaving Alec feeling like a piece of himself was missing and no clue as to what was going on.  

“You’re a million miles away aren’t you.”  Batonvert shook his head.  “I saw the Inquisitor’s personal guard here.  I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but either be here or call it and stop wasting both our time.”  

Alec grit his teeth.  “I’m here.”

Serge nodded.  “Then let’s do it right.”

Pushing aside his worry Alec focused on the task at hand.  

Batonvert watched as he smoothly moved through the routines.  “Nice, let’s look at your flexibility now your muscles are warm.”

Alec grimaced knowing he wasn’t where he wanted to be.  Looking for a distraction as his abdomen protested the first stretch he spoke, “So why a rehabilitation specialist?”  

He couldn’t see the other shadowhunter’s face from his position but there was a pause before the man answered.  “Before I pursued the field there was little done for those of us that were injured in the field who couldn’t be healed completely through runes or magic if a warlock was brought in, or like those who after healing still showed physical deficits or loss of strength or mobility that impeded return to active duty.  Good now the other side.”  Alec shifted, bending in the opposite direction.  “I dated this mundane for a bit.  Worked at a mundane physical therapy center.  Talked a lot.  After my injury, I realized maybe something like that could help me, but there was only a handful of Institutes who had medical personnel trained in the basics of physical therapy or rehabilitation.  So I went to the mundane world to get treatment.  Alright let’s do some functional movement.  Bring your bow over.”  After Alec returned he drew the bow back dry.  His stomach muscles pulled but they weren’t screaming in agony.  It made him smile grimly.  “After I plateaued and still couldn’t return to active duty I went to the head of the Paris Institute and made my proposal.  They pay for me to get the schooling I needed to rehabilitate injured shadowhunters and I not only treat those in our Institute but loan me out to other Institutes and collect a fee.”

Alec grunted as he pulled his bow back again.  “How’s that been working out for you?”

Serge grinned. “Good, been at this a year or so now.  I’ve got a near constant stream of clientele.  Shadowhunter’s don’t like being sidelined.”  Alec snorted at that.  “Most of the Institutes know of me or at least their CMOs do.  And they respect what I do.  The academics at the Academy and the Silent Brothers are a bit skeptical but the evidence is there.  What I do works.”  

Alec slowly released the bow.  “Forestner’s been impressed with my progress.  She didn’t think I’d be able to return to combat.”

Serge nodded.  “Without me I doubt you would have.  She’s a smart woman.”

There was something in his voice at the comment and Alec glanced at the other man catching an almost wistful smile that looked out of place on the fierce warrior.  He tried to contain himself but after all Batonvert put him through he couldn’t.  “Sounds like you admire her.”  

The leading comment got a chuckle out of elder shadowhunter.  “She is an admirable woman.  That’s all you’re getting out of me.”  

“My sister works for her,” Alec offered, “She loves this Vietnamese bakery a couple blocks from here.”  

“Giving me tips on how to woo her isn’t going to make me go easier on you.” 

Alec rolled his eyes.  “Never thought it would.”  The younger shadowhunter didn’t mention that Forestner had asked some pretty telling questions about Serge to Izzy, who then decided Alec needed to know the gossip.  If something struck up between them, Forestner, the higher ranking of the two probably wouldn’t leave her position for him.  It would be more likely that Serge would relocate to New York and a cut of his commissions would go into the NYI’s coffers.  Alec was a pragmatist after all.

“I’ll keep it in mind though,” Serge said with a nod of thanks.  “I think you’re about ready to restart a light training regime.”  Alec couldn’t help the grin that formed and that man’s blessing.  “Don’t get too excited.  I know we briefly talked about it before and it’s out of the realm of my expertise, but I can’t stress enough that the physical side of this injury is only half of it.”  Whatever excitement he felt a moment ago died an abrupt death.  “I get it better than most,” he continued, holding up his left arm.  “As someone who has been where you are, just know that the mental side, the anxiety, possible flashbacks, you freezing up when you’re put in a combat situation again, all of it, is normal.”  Alec gripped the bow in his hands tighter, needing to feel the wood warm under his hands.  “You had to see me to get your body right.  Don’t do yourself the disservice of thinking your mind doesn’t need some help too.”  

Logically it made sense, but it didn’t stop the instantaneous urge to reject that he needed anything of the sort.  To say needing that kind of help amongst shadowhunters was stigmatized was a bit of an understatement.  

“I’m not asking.  Think about it, you can’t be who you need to be, you can’t lead, you can’t fight, you can’t protect anyone if you aren’t 100%.”

“Alec?”  He turned at Aline’s voice.  She was in the doorway to the training room.  “Jace is asking for you,” she added without preamble. 

Alec’s heart jumped and he turned back to Serge.  “Go, we were about finished anyway.  I’ll email Forestner your progress.  I’ll see you in a week for a final assessment.”

Alec couldn’t even feel joy over that as he hurried out of the room with Aline on his heels.  

“They’re in the Head’s office.  Alec listen, something is happening.  Your mother and father have been ordered to Idris.”

“What?  Where is Izzy? Who’s been put in place as acting Head?”  It felt like the world just tilted on its axis.  His parents being ordered to Idris couldn’t be a coincidence.  What had they missed in the journals that caused this?  Why did they turn them over without reading them all through?  This had been his idea, if something happened...

“She’s in the city at one of her classes.  Your mother appointed you as acting Head until their return.”

Alec sucked in breath.  He wasn’t ready.  Swiftfoot was a better option, or Forestner.  She could hold the place together with Alec’s help.  On his own though? He was too young, too inexperienced.  No one would follow him.  

They reached the Head’s office.  His mother’s assistant, Mendoza stood several feet away from the Inquisitor’s guards, glowering at them.  “Penelope,” he greeted.  The woman was over ten years his senior, but hated being addressed by her last name if there was any way around it.  

“Alec, I mean Director,” she returned.  “I have your appointment papers.”  She held them out with a folio underneath and a pen.  

Alec made sure his hand didn’t shake as he reached out.  The Inquisitor’s guards were watching them and he didn’t want to give away any hesitance he felt about being appointed even acting Head.  He signed where Mendoza indicated.  “Congratulations,” she offered quietly.  

“I know Heads like to pick their own assistants but I don’t think I’ll be holding this position for long and I could use someone who can keep things as smoothly running as possible.”  

Mendoza looked relieved that she still had a job.  “Of course.  Whatever you need, sir.”  

“I’m to join my parabatai and the Inquisitor, in the event that I wasn’t able to take the appointment did my parents have a second choice?”  

Mendoza’s dark head shook.  “No, there was barely enough time for your mother to draft the papers to appoint you.”

Alec refrained from cursing.  “Has anyone notified Commander Swiftfoot?”  

“He’s the one who sent me to you Alec,” Aline answered. 

“Good, so he’s in the loop.” Alec thought as quickly as possible.  “As acting Head I can’t appointment someone to take my place but I can determine a Vice Head who until the American Enclave council can be called to officially determine the appointment if for some reason I can’t carry out the duty.  Let Doctor Forestner know she has the honor and draw up the paperwork I need,” he requested to Mendoza with a nod. “I don’t care if you have to drag Izzy out of her lecture, find her and get her back here,” he ordered Aline.  He needed his family.  He thought of his little brother, at the Academy and vulnerable to whatever social consequences would come from the fall out of his parents being all but arrested.  Perhaps he could get in contact with some of his old professors and request they keep an eye out.

Not waiting for either woman to respond he made his way towards the office, his office for the foreseeable future.  The guards didn’t stop him.  He didn’t knock.  He made sure to close the door behind him, taking note of the activated Silence rune burning in place on a piece of adamas set into the wall beside it.

Jace stood immediately upon seeing him enter.  His parabatai looked as if he was physically restraining himself from crossing the short distance to him.  They were in the seating area of the office.  Branwell was standing off to the side, behind the Inquisitor in parade rest.  Although Alec didn’t know her well, she looked distinctly uncomfortable.  It gave him a small sense of satisfaction that no one was sitting in the Head’s rightful seat behind the desk.    

“Alec,” Jace croaked, his voice raw and bleeding with emotion.  It made the taller shadowhunter reach for the space that Jace occupied in him only to feel it empty and hollow, the bond still shut down.  

“Jace, Madam Inquisitor, Investigator Branwell,” Alec greeted formally.  

“Acting Director Lightwood, thank you for joining us.” He blinked at the downright civil address from the Inquisitor and the use of his new title.  With little fanfare she had just formally acknowledged his appointment, temporary as it might be. “My grandson was just sharing with us how you both came to make your extraordinary discovery at the Wayland manor.”

He couldn’t stop his sharp intake of breath as his eyes left the Herondale matriarch to meet his parabatai’s mismatched eyes.  “Jace,” he whispered.

Jace’s lips fluttered as if his mouth didn’t know what it wanted to express. “Celine Herondale.  That’s who Izzy thought may be my mother.”

“Although I should wait for a blood test, but,” the Inquisitor’s eyes were wet and Alec felt Edom may be experiencing some cold weather, “looking at you I don’t have any doubts.  You have so much of Stephen, in you.”  Alec assumed Stephen must be Jace’s father.

There was a knock on the door.  

Alec didn’t wait for the Inquisitor’s leave.   She may be the highest ranking member of the Clave in the room, but he was acting Head of the NYI and this was his office.  He opened it to Forestner’s flaming red hair and furious blue eyes.  She obviously knew he named her Vice Head.  He stepped to the side.

“Director,” she greeted him formally and wasn’t that a trip?  As chief medical officer of the Institute her position was nearly equal with Swiftfoot.  She also was someone he had always seen as an authority figure.

“Doctor.”

“Your expertise is required,” Inquisitor Herondale interrupted.  Alec grimaced knowing the woman was going to order his staff around like she had a right to.

Forestner was a consummate professional if nothing else and simply raised an eyebrow at Alec before turning to the Inquisitor.  She bowed her head the slightest amount necessary to show deference before meeting the Inquisitor’s eyes.  “How may I be of service?”

“I need a paternal DNA comparison done on Jace Wayland and Stephen Herondale.  My son’s is on file stored on my private server, Branwell will provide you access.”  Forestner turned to Jace, no doubt about to ask him permission to access his as well.  

“Do what ya gotta do doc,” he said with only a sliver of his usual levity.  

Alec could see the woman’s mouth pinch as she resisted the urge to scold him for his informality.  

“Doctor Forestner,” Inquisitor Herondale called, claiming the room’s attention once again.  “I expect discreteness and for you to keep any and all discoveries you might find to yourself.”

Alec’s breath caught at the implication.  When they turned the journals over to Branwell it was with not a small amount of trepidation, knowing that the truth of Jace’s blood and what was done to him would come to light.  They had hoped his position as Alec’s parabatai and his relation to Lightwoods would keep the worst from happening.  Alec was beginning to second guess their decision but Jace claimed it was his truth and his choice to make.  His parabatai wanted to see Valentine burn more than he wanted to keep what was done to him a secret.  

But Jace being a lost son of the main branch of the Herondale line?  That would be better protection than anything the Lightwood name could offer.  If it was true.  It might be why his parents had been commanded to return to Idris, no doubt on the Inquisitor’s order.  She must have quietly opened a special investigation.  She no doubt wanted to find if they had any inkling about Jace’s true identity.  

“Sit down Lightwood,” Inquisitor Herondale commanded as the other two women left the room, door closing behind them.  “There is more we must discuss before I return to Idris,” her voice could have broken stone.  

Jace started forward where he sat.  “He doesn’t know, Ma’am please.”

Alec frowned at the way Jace’s face lost all its color but he seated himself, biting the inside of his cheek at the feeling of vulnerability the new position provoked.  He felt Selaphiel’s wings ruffle, their phantom presence brushing his shoulders.  Ever since using Selaphiel’s power he became more aware of it.  He reached for it now.  Feeling the steady thrum of angelic energy.  He could handle this woman and whatever she might bring to his doorstep.

“I believe you believe that Jace, but I must be sure,” the woman acknowledged, softening a tad to her long lost grandson.  She turned the full weight of her grey stare onto Alec.  “Normally I would like your hand to be on the Soul Sword, but Jace assures me that won’t be necessary and that you cannot lie to him.”

Alec’s hazel eyes flew to Jace’s mismatched blue and brown.  He bit back the urge to point out that the Soul Sword could only be used on a shadowhunter when a serious crime was suspected and with the blessing of the regional Enclave council of the shadowhunter to be questioned.  For once he was grateful for how little of the parabatai bond was explained to those who did not undergo the ritual themselves.  Saying that he and Jace could not lie to the other was vastly oversimplifying the much more complex truth.  However, if that was the line Jace sold her, he must have done it for a reason. 

Inquisitor Herondale seemed to gather their shared hesitance.  “Jace I know you want to protect your brother in all but blood, but if we are to root out the man who has caused us all this pain and suffering we must not allow ourselves to be ruled by our emotions.”  

Alec didn’t like to think he was prone to violence despite his profession but at the moment he wanted to take the dagger from his thigh and drive it through the woman’s chest.  To ask them to open the bond, to violate the trust they had in each other enraged him to his very core.  Jace reached across the arms of their chairs and gripped his forearm as the bond opened with a flood of their combined anger and disgust.

Before Alec thought maybe Jace was happy about the revelation of who he was and that he had family, a relation that was alive, or perhaps at least relieved to know he shared no blood with Valentine himself.  With the bond open now Alec knew Jace was mostly furious.  The bond rattled with it.  The older shadowhunter was taken aback by it, which was enough to snap them both out of the cycle of feeding off each other’s emotions.  Jace’s anger was still licking at him like fire on a freshly placed log but now he could feel the tumultuous agony it was hiding.  Jace was so mixed up between his grief, confusion and anger that he didn’t know which way was up and reconnecting with Alec was all that was holding him together.

He really underestimated Jace’s acting skills.  The fact that Jace had kept it together this long without revealing exactly how he really felt was something close to a miracle.

“Are you ready?”  Oh, Alec could tell Jace was ready for something.  His parabatai’s blond head nodded, the anguish on his face being misread by the Inquisitor.  Alec needed to do his part, but he was having a hard time tearing his eyes away from Jace, but the thrum of Jace’s soul against his own made keeping his eyes on the younger shadowhunter a bit superfluous.  He turned to face the woman who not two days ago was dead set on ruining his career.  “Why did you go to Wayland Manor yesterday?” 

Alec breathed.  Jace would have already given her the story they agreed upon.  He cycled through the details as he licked his lips.  “We were looking for answers.”  The short response clearly didn’t please the Inquisitor but Alec refused to play this game.  

“Really Lightwood?”

“You’re questioning me without representation and you’ve demanded my parabatai betray the confidence between us, violate the bond we swore to honor and that is protected by the law you swore to uphold.”  She didn’t flinch at his damning words, her steely gaze not wavering, but something tightened around the corners of her mouth.  She knew she was acting outside the scope of her power.  Alec understood doing anything for family, what he didn’t understand how she thought Jace would ever betray Alec.  What happened in this room before he got there?

“Very well, I want an answer to three questions.”  

‘She has prayed often.  I recognize her soul,’ Selaphiel commented.  ‘She grieves deeply for the family she has lost.’

Alec didn’t need to know that.

“Before this week, did you know that Michael Wayland was not Jace’s father?”

“No.”

“Before this week, did you know Valentine Morganstern was alive?”

“Of course not.”

“Did you know that Maryse and Robert Lightwood were members of Valentine’s Circle?”

His mouth was already forming the denial when her words processed what she actually said.  Jace’s anger burned in his gut.  “No, that’s, no!”  Alec stood, moving away, but with no real direction as to where was going. 

“I told you he didn’t know.  Maryse and Robert didn’t tell us, and you and the Clave basically made it a crime to so much as talk about the Circle so no one else told us.”  

If the Herondale matriarch responded Alec didn’t process it.  He was still caught up in his denial “Jace, no, that can’t be true.”

Jace crossed the distance Alec had put between them and gripped both Alec’s arms.  “I’m sorry Alec, but it’s true.  Maryse confirmed it before she left.  She wanted to speak with you, but…,” he trailed off, eyes flicking to the women in the room.  It was obvious that the Inquisitor had not given his mother the chance.  His parabatai turned, putting himself between Alec and the Inquisitor as if to shield Alec.  “He told you the truth.  What else do you want?” 

If the woman was insulted or hurt by the absolute venom in Jace’s voice she didn’t show it.  “I understand this is difficult for you Jace, but we must be vigilant.  Valentine is a poison and he has been allowed to fester all these years in secret.”  Alec hated that he agreed with her.  She reached out for Jace, but when he didn’t move any closer she let her hand drop.  For a moment, her face, aged but still regal showed the grief she must have carried for decades.  “I’m dropping the investigation and the recommendation of a formal review of your actions.  In regard to what you discovered in Wayland Manor, know that a confidential investigation is underway, speak of Valentine’s continued existence to no one.  I’ll have you sit with Branwell for a full formal interview and I want all the details this time.  You may have representation if you want but clear them with my office first.  We are keeping the fact that Valentine is alive secret for now.  And I will see anyone who makes it known that man wasn’t in that fire in chains.”  The weight of her gaze pressed against him and Alec wondered how long it had been since anyone questioned her authority.  The elder shadowhunter stood.  “Until I am satisfied that your parents had absolutely no idea that Valentine was alive and Jace’s true parentage they won’t be returning.”  

“How will that be taken by the American Enclave’s Council?”  While the Inquisitor’s powers could be extended greatly depending on the situation, even she couldn’t remove the Heads of an Institute without just cause.

“Some members have been informed of the situation and have agreed with my recommendation that your parents be removed from their position. As far as the rest are concerned your parents have been recalled to Idris to join the committee working on the next set of Accords.”

Alec felt his teeth grind together against.  That could keep his parents away from the NYI for the foreseeable future.  “And your investigation into Valentine?”

“Branwell is your point of contact, but I want to be clear.  You did your duty to the Clave bringing this to us, but your involvement ends here.  You have an Institute to run.  I suggest you focus on that.”  She turned her grey eyes to Jace.  “When you are ready to learn about your parents, I’m here.”  It was obvious that she was reluctant to leave, but Jace stayed by Alec’s side.

“Wait,” Alec said, mind working furiously to ignore the way his reality had just been ripped apart.  “No one is going to buy that my parents are on leave to work on the Accords, especially when word gets out from Idris that you are interrogating them.”  

“Are you suggesting that you cannot control your people?” She suddenly looked like a dog salivating over a bone at the mere suggestion Alec may be an incompetent leader.

Alec scoffed.  “I want to establish that I’m a leader my people can trust.  Feeding them bullshit-” Angel, did he just swear at one of the most senior officials of the Clave “the first day on the job isn’t going to inspire that.  Also it will make people want to dig to find out what is really going on.”  He gripped Jace on the shoulder.  “Once we have confirmation of your parentage, it’s going to get out sooner or later.  If we put it out, get ahead of the narrative it will provide more cover for the investigation into Valentine.  After all that’s part of why you brought my parents in.  Not just Valentine.  You want to know if they knew who Jace was?  If they were playing some sort of long political game, right?”  

He looked at the Inquisitor who appeared as if she just swallowed something particularly vile.  “The thought had crossed my mind.  Your father has made it quite clear over the years that he is not satisfied with being regulated to leading this Institute.  I dare say he’s always had eyes on my office.”

Alec could feel and read Jace’s surprise on his face, however it wasn’t news to him.  

“It’s your choice Jace.  This is about you.  If you want to keep it quiet, we keep it quiet,” Alec offered, ignoring the guilt that ate at him.  While Alec was vulnerable to ceding to his parabatai’s wishes he knew Jace was just as vulnerable.  

“No, you’re right.  It’s going to come out anyway.”  

They both looked at the Inquisitor knowing she had the final say in the matter.  “I see the intelligence in such a plan.”  It was the most approval she no doubt was going to give.  She stopped in front of Jace before she left.  “I hope to speak with you again soon.”  

Jace’s jaw clenched, but he managed to nod in response.

She left the office without saying another word.  

Jace breathed out. 

There was a knock on the door. 

Alec knew neither himself or his parabatai had the luxury to stop and process what just happened.  Inquisitor Herondale was right.  He had an Institute to run.  “I need you to get Iz, tell her what’s happened if Aline hasn’t already filled her in.”  

“All of it?”

Alec knew Jace didn’t mean to keep this from her, but he wanted to be sure Alec didn’t want to tell Izzy himself.  “All of it. Come in,” he called.  

Mendoza stepped in.  “Director?”

“Gather leadership and their assistants, I’ll brief them in five.”  

The assistant left without question.  

“Damn,” Jace whispered.  “This is really happening.  You’re in charge.”  

It was like a nightmare and a day dream.  Alec was leaning more towards the former.  “Are you on mission-duty tonight?”

Jace nodded.  “Izzy picked up a shift as well.  We aren’t going to leave it alone are we?”  

Alec looked at his parabatai.  If Jace knew everything that was swirling around in Alec’s mind he wouldn’t have had to ask, Alec may not be able to lie to Jace’s face about something straightforward but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hide things.  “We have enough to contend with at the moment.  Let it be for now.  Do you want to be there when I tell leadership about you?”

Jace shook his head.  “No, you’ll just tell them I’m a Herondale right, not necessarily who my parents are?”

“If that is what you’re comfortable with.  Forestner will know, but she’ll keep it to herself.  It will get out eventually that you aren’t just any Herondale.  That mom and dad-,” he pressed a hand over his eyes and breathed.  His parents were traitors.  They followed Valentine, were part of a coup against the Clave.  For a moment Alec couldn’t feel the ground beneath his feet, light headed from the sheer amount of resentment the knowledge brought.  He swallowed it down and pressed his hip into the sharp corner of the desk until he could feel it against his bone.  He didn’t have time to fall apart yet. “That they were sitting on the Herondale heir and didn’t realize it?”  The social ramifications of such a thing were only then beginning to sink in.  Mismatched eyes dropped to the floor and anxiety bloomed across the bond.  “I’m right here Jace.  You said before we opened that door that things would change.  Looks like you were right.”  Jace choked on a laugh.  “But I’m still here.”  

Jace nodded.  “It’s gonna come out sooner or later.  Might as well just rip the bandage off.”  He scrubbed a hand down his face, looking far older than Alec thought he should be capable of.  “She was talking about all these things, plans she had for the future.  Angel I could barely focus on it.  She doesn’t know me.”  

“No she doesn’t.  Maybe someday she will.”  

“She thought you might have known about everything.  Robert and Maryse being part of the Circle, me being her grandson, shit even us being parabatai was a conspiracy to control me.”

Alec grimaced.  That went far beyond what he assumed the Inquisitor could have dreamed up.  It was ridiculous but no doubt the reason she thought there might be chance Jace would be willing to rat out Alec.

The younger shadowhunter blew out a breath and swallowed harshly.  “Whatever you think needs to be done Alec.  Playing politics,” he waved a hand at their surroundings, “that was always your thing.  Call me when something or someone needs to be stabbed.”  

Alec snorted as another knock was rapped against the door.

“Right, I’ll be back in thirty with Iz.”  Jace stopped before he reached the door and turned to completely face Alec with a smirk curving his lips.  “Am I excused, Director?” 

Hazel eyes rolled hard.  “Get the fuck out of here.”  A real laugh escaped his parabatai’s lips as he disappeared through the door, closing it behind him.  Alec warmed at the gesture.  Jace was giving him a moment to gather himself.  He took the opportunity to make use of the en-suite bathroom pausing as he looked in the mirror.  He was still in workout clothes, looking nothing like his mother’s polished perfection.  

Selaphiel appeared behind him in the view of the mirror.  ‘I wish I could aid you.’  

Alec managed a small smile for the angel.  “Unless you can make the world stop turning and give me time to breathe.” 

The world around him blurred.  

Snow crunched beneath his feet as he found himself overlooking Lake Lyn.  The air was cold but the sun was bright and warmed his skin.  “Manipulating time is outside the realm of my abilities, but I can affect your perception of time within your own mind.”

That was mildly terrifying.

“Dad used to take us hiking here,” Alec commented bitterly.  His current feelings didn’t change the fact that the view that Selaphiel pulled from his memory was breathtaking.  Earth brown wings glinting with flecks of copper arched and spread out before shaking slightly.  It hurt something in him to see the bald patches were growing. He could sense what she wanted to ask.  He supposed it showed she’d made progress in reading a situation that she didn’t just ask out right.

Alec breathed in.  “My entire life, I’ve known what was expected of me.  Obey my parents, obey the Clave, uphold the Lightwood name.”  He could almost hear his parents voices, echoing off the cold rock around him.  “They always put it on me.  That I wasn’t a natural fighter, like Izzy or Jace.  So I was expected to work twice as hard.  That I didn’t do enough to make connections with other influential families.  So I would have to marry-” he choked on the word “who they decided to make up for it.”  Not even his partner, the person he would spend the rest of his life with would be someone of his choosing.  “It was always me who was failing and me who had to fix it somehow.  And I was willing.  Angel, I was willing until…” Until he ended up on cold concrete with his life blood spilling out of him.  Until he realized that he was dying from the inside out for years, his will to keep going, to keep living decaying and no one, not even his parabatai, the person who he shared a soul with, noticed.  

Had he just become that good at hiding?  

He didn’t want to contemplate the alternative.

And now to learn that his parents betrayed the Clave.  That they brought more shame and dishonor to their family than Alec could ever, would ever manage to?  

One of Selphiel’s wings brushed his arm.  

“I used to think my falling was my fault.  That I was doing something to cause it, but after being with you, looking back, I don’t think this was anything I did.”  Alec looked sideways at her. “Angels were not created like humans.  We were created with a purpose, to serve a role.  We were not made to have free will, but if that were the case how did Samael fall?  How did the others choose to follow him?  Why do I fall when I have never questioned what I am, never desired to be anything else?”  

Betrayal.  That was what she was feeling, just as he was. 

“I know I’ve been harsh to you, for what you did, but I’m glad you are with me now.”  It felt good to be honest with someone.

“Because you are not alone?”  The angel’s head tipped in an expression of curiosity that Alec was sure she would not have made a week ago.

“Yes.”  

The angel returned his small smile with one of her own.  “Then, neither am I.”  There was a sense of wonder in her voice and something like contentment settled between them.  

The nephilim squared his shoulders.  “We’ve got work to do.”

Alec managed to squeeze in a shower after he briefed the NYI leadership team.  Overall his first meeting as official acting Head went well.  The revelation of Jace’s parentage didn’t take as many of them by surprise as he thought it would.  

“He looks like a Herondale,” Swiftfoot stated as if he was commenting on the color of the Institute's front lawn.  

The meeting continued with minutia of the transition of power and a short update from each department.   Izzy and Jace stopped by.  His sister was silent and angry, the hurt she was nursing at the revelation of their parents’ past was obvious, but like Alec, she knew how to bury it, they both could teach a master class in emotional repression.  His siblings left after Alec told them both to keep their heads down for a bit and just do their jobs.  Another time he would have prayed that they listened.  Seemed unnecessary since the angel of prayer was inside him.

Alec was deep into paperwork approving Resources’ purchasing and allocation of funds when his door was once again knocked on.

“Come in,” he called.  He sent Mendoza home an hour ago, despite her protests, so it was probably Jace or Izzy at his door.  He didn’t glance up until he finished reading the line he was at.  Aline stood before him, posture rigid in a way that he could only recall her being in front of her mother.  “Hey, what can I do for you?”  

His friend shifted, eyes dropping before she seemed to find her resolve.  “I wanted to give this to you in person.”  She held out one of the folders she was carrying, which Alec accepted.  

He opened it and was surprised to see a formal and permanent request to transfer.  “You want to stay?”

“Yes, well it’s kind of contingent on this.” She held up the other folder she was carrying.  “I met someone during my tour after the Academy, we wanted to try and get assigned here together.”  The words escaped in a rush that had Alec raising an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic amount of nerves Aline was displaying.  

When she didn’t elaborate Alec felt compelled to fill the awkward silence.  “That’s great Aline.  I’ll consider whoever he is fairly.  You have my word.”  He held out his hand for the other folder that Aline now seemed reluctant to give him.  “If you’re having second thoughts about New York… I mean Beijing is your home.”  

Aline met his eyes squarely.  “When you meet the right person, the only place that feels like home is with them.”  

Perhaps if he wasn’t scrubbed raw by the day her words would have had him teasing her for her corniness.  Instead he felt zero desire to do that, recognizing that his friend was in deep, and as they said nephilim love once and fiercely.  He envied her. His hand reached out again, mind already made up to accept whoever was in it.

When he flipped it open he found himself staring at a woman’s name and photograph.

Alec looked up quickly to see Aline watching him, probably waiting to see what his reaction would be.  He scanned the file.  Helen Blackthorn, daughter of Andrew Blackthorn, head of the LA Institute and one of the few half seelie, half nephilim to ever be born.   He couldn’t imagine how Jia Penhallow would react when she found out.  He cleared his throat.  “She feels the same about you?”  

Aline’s exhale was shakey with a small laugh at the end.  “Yeah, she does.”

Alec stood and walked around his desk, he didn’t hug his friend, neither one of them were particularly tactile people, but he reached out and squeezed her shoulder.  “I’m happy for you.”  

The female shadowhunter’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “Sorry, that I didn’t tell you sooner, I still have a hard time saying it out loud, but Helen says it’s important so,” she took a breath.  “I’m gay.” 

Alec ached, wishing he had an ounce of her bravery.  He opened his mouth to say, something, anything that let Aline know she wasn’t alone.  All he could see were his parents disappointed faces or worse their faces twisted in disgust, words of rejection on their lips and didn’t that sting?  Even after what he learned his first thought was how they would react.

“Alec?” His friend’s nervous face came back into view. 

“Yeah, sorry.” He winced seeing her confusion.  “No, I mean, it is hard to say.  I, I know.” 

Aline’s brow furrowed, “You know?”  

Alec licked his lips.  He had come this far.  “First hand.”  He saw the moment it dawned on her.  

“Wow, I mean really?,” She shook her head. “Sorry this is just a really big surprise, you don’t...Angel, Helen would smack me for this but you just really don’t seem the type.”  

Alec snorted.  “We can’t all live up to the stereotypes unlike some.” He gave her a pointed look.  “I saw that you’re both putting in for a housing stipend.  What’s that mundane term U-”

“Excuse you Lightwood, we’ve been seeing each other for a year long distance. And also that was my coming out moment you just hijacked.”  Her face twisted in confusion.  “How would you know that term anyway?”

“Izzy, reality television.  I do paperwork, she paints her nails.  We both pretend not to thoroughly enjoy the ridiculous mundane antics.”  Alec grinned as Aline snorted, high off the feeling of being so open with one of his long time friends.  “I’ll do what I can to make sure you both get those transfers as an apology for ruining your moment.”  

Aline’s smile was radiant.  “Then I guess I can’t complain.”  They both basked in the silence and the glow of their exchange for a few more seconds before Aline shook her head.  “Well, I’ve got to go to a pre-mission briefing, we’re following up on those reports of mundanes being drained of blood by demons tonight.”  

Alec nodded, he had been briefed by Swiftfoot about the odd string of murders during their earlier meeting and had green lit the operation, “I’ll be out of the Institute for the night but I’ll have a com on me.  Request mission control to alert me if you need anything.”  

Aline’s brow raised.  “Out of the Institute you say? On your first night as Head?  You got yourself a hot date tonight Lightwood?”  

He sighed at his friend’s teasing tone.  “Hardly.  Per the Accords, Downworlders who hold recognized leadership roles must be notified within 72 hours of a change in leadership within an Institute’s territory.”  

“And you can’t send a fire message because?”

Alec pulled his tablet from under a stack of papers and held it out to her.  “High Warlock Magnus Bane has made it perfectly clear from previous communication with this office that he greatly dislikes hearing from anyone with the last name Lightwood.”  Izzy told him earlier that she conveniently left out her last name and secured the appointment to have Jace’s mind checked through Meliorn, her favorite fae contact.  “I’m hoping my coming in person and to his territory alone puts me in his good graces.”  

“Oh but he is pretty, wouldn’t blame you if it was a hot date.”  Alec shot her a confused look.  “I may be gay but I can appreciate beauty when I see it, and he knows how to dress.  Where are you meeting him?”  

“He owns a nightclub, and it’s Friday.  Hoping, I’ll get lucky.”  Aline’s grin turned down right lascivious and Alec repressed his groan when he realized what he said.  “Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”  

She hummed but her expression turned serious.  “I don’t like the idea of you going into a Downworlder’s territory alone when you aren’t cleared for combat.”  

“It’s a pretty popular spot and I wouldn’t be shocked if I wasn’t the only shadowhunter there.” 

“Do Izzy or Jace know you’re doing this?”  

Alec narrowed his hazel eyes at her.  “Not exactly.” He told them he would be meeting with Bane again at some point but not tonight.  He had time to put the meeting off, but he didn’t want to.  While he didn’t lie when he told Aline it was official business, updating Bane on his appointment was only half the reason he wanted to meet with the Warlock.  

Aline folded her arms across her chest and shot him a disapproving glare.  “You keep that com on you and ready to be turned on the whole time.  I thought your siblings were the only ones with stupid ideas.”  

“What can I say, it runs in the family.  I’ll notify the new Head of Security too.  Happy?” 

“Ecstatic.”

Alec rolled his eyes and shooed her out of the office.  He would admit to himself that she was perhaps right.   He would be taking a risk tonight, but after looking at Magnus Bane’s Clave file the pieces of the plan he had been brewing since they found those journals were coming together.  

‘I am with you.  If you have need, you can borrow my strength,’ Selaphiel said, her voice soothing tones in his mind.  

Alec directed gratitude towards her.  “Will you be okay tonight? Among Downworlders?”  He could feel her confusion at his concern before she caught the direction of his thoughts.

‘There will be no spontaneous smiting,’ she answered with not a little bit of contempt in response to Alec’s thoughts which suggested such a thing might happen.  ‘Nephilim were created to battle the forces of the realms of Hell, not the part human offspring, infected or the Fair Folk, as they all belong to the realm of Earth that the creator bade us to protect and have a soul.  They are seen as equal to a mundane human in the eyes of Heaven.  Every soul is capable of being benevolent as easily as it is capable of being malevolent.  As someone who has felt and heard a great many souls, I can tell you that no species is more one than the other by nature.’  

From the mouth of a literal angel.  Alec wondered what his parents, who apparently fell for Valentine’s anti Downworlder rhetoric would say to that.  Putting Valentine aside the nephilim race had been discriminating against and treating the Downworld with either suspicion or blatant hostility for centuries.  Even he himself had held or really still held if he were being honest some of the more terribly prejudiced beliefs about Downworlders.

‘You have the ability to choose to believe differently.’ 

Alec nodded.  “I may… need some time.”  The topic was one that Izzy often fought him on.  He remembered many a time she accused him of being their parent’s puppet and spewing their backwards and prejudiced thinking that she claimed had no basis in reality.  “Look at the numbers Alec, look at more than one description of any so called Downworlder caused conflict and don’t just look at one incident report.  Nothing happens in a vacuum.” she would say when he told her she was being emotional because of her connection to a certain seelie.  “Numbers don’t lie, data doesn’t lie, read and use your brain to think for yourself for once!”  

He sighed.  He owed his sister an apology.  He locked up his office and made his way back to his quarters.  The greeting of “Director” jarring him each time he saw someone in the hall.  When he got to his room he stared mournfully at his bed that he wished he could collapse into.  Was it still the same day?  

‘Food?’ Selaphiel asked or reminded. 

Yes, that was why he was so light headed.  He couldn’t remember when or if he had eaten.  

‘Food,’ he agreed silently.

Alec didn’t know if he was capable of being more uncomfortable.  A pair of seelie women were staring at him as if he were a full course meal and they hadn’t eaten in weeks.  The crappy techno music was almost impossible to block out and the pulsating lights were dizzying.   He also felt naked in a club full of Downworlders without his usual armaments.  All he had on him was a thin stiletto knife made of adamas tucked under his pant leg in his boot.  It was the only thing he thought he could get away with and after the suspicion and the pat down he’d received when he entered the club he’d made the correct choice.  

The nephilim could barely hear what the seelie couple were saying to him but it was rather obviously an offer of a sexual nature.  He was thankfully saved from coming up with a way of extricating himself without being too insulting by what looked like a bouncer of the werewolf persuasion, if the claw marks across his uncovered arms was any indication, coming up to the trio.  “Your presence is requested upstairs shadowhunter.”

Thank the Angel.  Alec underestimated how difficult it would be to find out if Bane was even in the club tonight much less where he might be.  He hoped that whoever summoned him either could tell him if Bane was here or even better was the man himself. While Bane might not be officially recognized by the Clave, he had served as High Warlock of New York, despite his preferred title for nearly two decades. Alec tried to focus on his reasons for coming as he steeled himself. He needed to make a better impression on Bane and set the tone of a hopefully if not cooperative at least neutral relationship with the warlock. He left his drink, some bottom shelf monstrosity that he ordered just to look like he belonged at the bar and followed the werewolf up a roped off set of stairs to a balcony area.  

Well, he thought as he reached the landing and his eyes fell on the clear ruler of the kingdom, mission accomplished.  

Magnus Bane looked exactly and nothing like his photos in the Clave’s file.  He was draped a top an armchair that seemed more like a throne with the toned golden skin of his chest and abdomen on display from the deep v-neck of his nearly sheer shirt, hair that defied gravity while at the same time looked inviting to run one’s hand through and smoked out eyes with lids that shimmered under the multi-colored lights of the club. 

He was every fantasy that Alec didn’t have the imagination to actually dream up.  

The shadowhunter barely registered the pixie on the warlock’s lap.  He couldn’t hear the noise of the club as Bane’s head turned towards him, whatever amusement curved his darkly colored lips vanished as his lined eyes widened.  Alec’s pulse, which had ticked up as he climbed the stairs, getting further and further away from an exit and safety, hammered loud enough for any were or vampire in the club to hear it. 

“Now, who are you?”

Chapter Text

Magnus Bane was enjoying his evening when he felt the fiery burn of angelic power shudder through the wards of Pandemonium.  It wasn’t a rarity, shadowhunters in his club.  Quite a few of the nephilim enjoyed a glamourless night out where anyone could be completely themselves and Pandemonium was one of the few places in the city that could truly provide.  It was a point of pride for him.

Still, shadowhunters were usually far from courteous and given the recent upheaval in their society it was almost as if the social progress that spilled over from the mundane world had reverted back 60 years.  The Accords, which had been necessary to cease hostilities left the Shadowworld in a state of tension and all that was needed was a spark to make everything explode.  

Like a shadowhunter doing something stupid in a club full of downworlders.

Even though it wasn’t enough to completely spoil his night, the warlock couldn’t help the fact his lips curled in a sneer as he hid his face in the neck of his companion. 

“Sir,” came the voice of Philip to his left.  One of the few humans on his staff, Philip his front of house manager had no doubt been notified of their angelic guest by whoever was on the door tonight.  

“I’m aware,” he drawled, dragging his nose through Selena’s sweet smelling tresses.  “Keep an eye out and let me know if our special guest causes any trouble.  The usual drill.”  Philip was a good sort, being a Sighted human he didn’t have the same perspective as a downworlder and that came in handy in volatile situations.

“Problem?” Selena asked from her perch on his lap.  Her wings fluttered behind her and for a moment Magnus was mesmerized by the iridescent scaling of them in the club’s lights.  

He chuckled.  “Why do I feel like you would welcome whatever trouble just walked in?”  

His question got a laugh in response.  “Because you know I would, can’t blame me, it’s in my nature.”

“Just a stray shadowhunter.  They wander in every once in a while.”

Selena turned towards the railing, looking out below to the sea of people enjoying their Saturday night.  “Oh, a little angel looking for a patch of darkness to get their rocks off?”

“No doubt,” he murmured, eyes brown with his usual glamor glanced towards the floor below.

The children of Raziel liked to pretend to be above the Downworld, their angelic blood free of any demonic taint.  They crawled into his club, kept to the shadows and when an adventurous downworlder, looking to see just how many runes their clothes covered snapped them up they were gone.  It was curiosity on both sides.  Still, the scars of the Uprising were raw for many a downworlder.  A solo shadowhunter suggested this was a recreational visit, but a downworlder with a grudge may see it as an opportunity.  There was a reason the nephilim hunted in packs.  

From his position on the higher floor he couldn’t quite make out where the shadowhunter was, he motioned to Philip who after working for him for so many years was adept at scanning the crowded club.  With Philip on that, he turned his attention back to his lap full of pixie.  But Selena was leaning more towards the railing, distracted by their current game of spot the nephilim.  

“He’s by the west bar boss, just ordered a drink,” Philip informed him, lifting an arm to guide Magnus’ gaze.  It wasn’t hard to spot the man.  He was nearly a head taller than everyone else at the bar and when he twisted his neck, Magnus could see the dark rune painted on the side of it.  Lucky the neck rune was pitch black.  If it was the inflamed crimson of the Circle rune he would have already been on his way downstairs.  He was tempted to sharpen his eye sight with magic to take in more of the nephilim’s features in the dim lighting of the club but decided not to.  A shadowhunter looking for a quick lay wasn’t really on his agenda for the night.  

“Well isn’t he a pretty one,” Selena murmured from his lap.  

“You think so,” Magnus mused as he trailed his fingers along the skin between the joint of the woman’s wings.  A sensitive spot that usually earned him a shiver.  

Selena hummed an amused sound against his ear, the skin of her lips brushing his ear.  “You can’t see as well as I can.  Trust me, he’ll be eaten up in no time, if that is what he is here for.”  

No sooner had the pixie made the prophecy than it came true as two Seelie approached the shadowhunter.  

Selena leaned out resting her arms against the railing and Magnus wanted to protest.  It had been a while since he had a satisfying night and the last time he was lucky enough to keep the pixie’s admittedly short attention span on him it was electric. “Perhaps not. He’s uncomfortable, I doubt he’s here for a good time.”  

Magnus frowned.  If the shadowhunter wasn’t here to get laid that meant he was here for something else and the warlock doubted it was good.  “Philip,” the man glanced over at him from his spot at the railing, “Invite our curious guest up here.  Let’s see what he wants.”  There were a number of things the shadowhunter could be looking for and no doubt time would tell, but Magnus always preferred getting to the bottom of things himself when it came to their kind.  Plus the rude man was well on his way to ruining his night, knowingly or not, the least Magnus could do was return the favor.

Philip was the efficient sort and he quickly radioed to have the shadowhunter brought up to Magnus’ balcony.  Magnus snapped a freshly made dirty martini into his hand and took a sip before offering it to Selena, who sniffed it before turning up her nose.  

“I don’t do vodka, only mundanes could make something so vile tasting.”  

The murmurs of the others in the VIP section made it known the angelic interloper had made his way.

Magnus made sure not to look in the shadowhunter’s direction until Philip coughed pointedly, choosing to appear preoccupied with Selena and her jewel bright hair.  He should really have snuck a peak at the very least.  

When he turned to take in the nephilim now standing a mere six feet away Magnus realized Selena’s previous words were an understatement.  The man wasn’t pretty.  He was breathtaking.  Magnus’ eyes widened, unconsciously wanting to drink in every feature until he could practically taste the stranger.  The warlock’s hand reflexively tightened on the pixie’s waist and he could see her smug smile out of the corner of his eye.  She was very right and she knew it.

“Now, who are you?” The man blinked and Magnus cursed the lighting of the club because he couldn’t tell exactly what color the shadowhunter’s eyes were.  He did notice that those eyes wandered over Magnus himself, the bits that weren’t covered by Selena any way.  

The pixie huffed, noticing that she wasn’t the object of the shadowhunter’s focus and stood, wings fluttering.  “I see I’m no longer the chosen distraction of the evening,” she shot a glare that held mostly amusement at the two men in turn, “I’ll be around if you’re both so inclined.”  She left, but not before giving the new arrival an opportunity to see what he could have.

Magnus smiled in satisfaction because the shadowhunter’s eyes never left him.  How the world turned.  One minute he was disappointed at the way his night was going and the next the very thing that caused the disappointment turned out to be more enticing than his previous plans.  

His hand gracefully righted any disturbed clothing from Selena’s departure before he stood, taking a long sip from his drink and getting an eyeful of his newest distraction.  Up close, he was just as tall as expected, having a few inches on Magnus himself.  The warlock didn’t overlook the fact that the shadowhunter wasn’t wearing black.  Many would have missed it but Magnus understood the subtle clue for what it was.  The shadowhunter wasn’t out for blood tonight.  

The man wore a dark maroon button down, with the sleeves rolled up showing admirably muscled forearms and fitted dark grey slacks.  It was not club wear but suited the shadowhunter. Despite his height, his build was slim and Magnus would bet just his aesthetics could elevate any article of clothing he wore.  He was clean shaven and had a jawline that was just as sharp as his cheekbones.  It was a face a renaissance sculptor could have made a masterpiece with. 

Deciding to test the waters, Magnus stepped forward, throwing up a sound bubble so they could talk normally.  There were much more pleasurable activities one could become hoarse from than shouting over the din of the club.  He was pleased when the man didn’t flinch at the show of magic.

The warlock came up to stop just before he would have to look up at the shadowhunter. “Cat got your tongue pretty thing?” A flush bloomed high on those magnificent cheekbones and heat simmered low in Magnus’ belly.  Someone liked to be called pretty.  

“Uh, you, um, you asked something?” 

Magnus’ smile showed teeth.  It appeared this nephilim was equally distracted. “You probably have a good idea of who I am.”  The man had to know. Magnus was well known in New York and there was a very good chance that this particular hunter was from the NYI.   He tried to recall the last time he had any official business with the local Institute.  It had been a few years.  He would get the few personal favors, like the visit that one of his Seelie contacts set up just last week, but the Lightwoods only called him for official business when they were out of options.  Not that he minded.  There was no love lost on either side of that relationship.

Although, the lovely Isabelle from a few days ago, looked quite like one of the shadowhunters he rather not think of at the moment.  She and her friend had conveniently not identified their family names, no doubt aware of Magnus’ rather colorful history with many of the previous generation of shadowhunters. If Isabelle was a Lightwood perhaps it was an indication the younger generation of Lightwoods wouldn't be as fanatic as the last.  Not that Magnus was holding his breath.

Words of warning that sounded awfully like a certain vampire sounded in the back of his head as he watched the shadowhunter’s blush spread down his neck.  There was a chance that this man was a honeypot.  The Clave tried it before, at the height of his partying years.  Although, they’d never tried a man.  Maybe they were progressing?  However, he couldn’t think of anything he’d done recently to warrant such an action. 

That blush , at just being called pretty.  Magnus truly wished that was an honest reaction.  “But I don’t know who you are.” Lashes fluttered and the man’s eyes were revealed to be the most stunning shade of hazel Magnus had ever seen before.

“Alec, well Alexander, but everyone calls me Alec.”  

Magnus reached out, uncessaily straightening the other man’s shirt collar and letting his hand trail down the man’s chest, internally swooning at the firm, warm muscle he found underneath.  He might be built slim, but he was solid.  The warlock leaned into the other man a bit, sharing the same breath with the now named shadowhunter.  “I’m not everyone, Alexander.”  The man, boy really, this close Magnus could see the vestiges of youth still clinging to him, shivered.  

Arousal shot down his spine as he watched white teeth sink into the full width of the boy’s pink bottom lip. The nephilim was temptation made flesh.  

It would be so easy to be swept up in the lust this beautiful creature inspired but he had not survived this long by letting himself get carried away by a pretty face.  “Let’s talk somewhere more comfortable, shall we?” 

Magnus planned to lead him to one of the private booths that he could easily ward to keep their interaction as private as possible in the night club when his wards burned again, alerting him of two more shadowhunters.  He spun on his heel, coming to face Alec suddenly, almost just as close as before.  The warlock resisted the urge to step back, even if it meant having to look up slightly.  “Expecting any of your brothers or sisters tonight?”  

Dark brows furrowed.  “Sorry?”  

“Two more shadowhunters just walked in.  Now I don’t have a policy against you lot in my club but three is beginning to be a worrisome amount.”  Nothing he couldn’t handle but he would hate for any innocent downworlder to be caught in the crossfire.  

Alec’s facial features smoothed into a blank mask.  He took something out of his pocket and pressed it in his ear before futzing with the black band around his wrist that Magnus assumed was decoration.  “Mission control this is Echo256.”  

Magnus opened his mouth, about to give the shadowhunter a piece of his mind.  As the owner of Pandemonium he should have been notified if the Institute was going to run any kind of operation on his property.  

“Chadhury, ping my location and tell me if there are any mission teams, or patrol pairs in my area.”  

He closed his mouth, eyes narrowing.  It sounded as if the pretty nephilim wasn’t expecting company and while it may all be a ruse, it was probably best to see just what kind of game the other man was playing.  

“Connect me to Penhallow.”  Old name, but Magnus was sure the Penhallow’s were based out of China at the moment, or at least they were about ten years ago.  “Aline, your team isn’t in Pandemonium correct?”  The warlock’s fingers itched to cast a spell that would allow him to hear the other end of the conversation.  “You think the demon is headed here though?”  Alec nodded his head towards the balcony and turned away from Magnus, stepping up to a pillar and leaning casually against it.  Magnus followed.  Together they looked out at the sea of club goers.  “There is a hunting team on mission about a minute or two out.   They are following a demon who has mundane blood from a recent murder.”

“What would a demon want with mundane blood?” Magnus questioned.  There were no special properties to mundane blood like there was to nephilim or downworlder blood.  While there were certain magics and spells that could use mundane blood none of them would hold any interest to demons.

“We don’t know.  Which is why this team is following the demon.” Alec’s hazel eyes moved across the crowd seeking.  “There are no on-duty shadowhunters nearby except that team.”

“We never got to why you’re here.” Magnus leaned into the shadowhunter again.  The boy’s turn from bumbling for words to cool professional, who obviously held some form of authority to get answers as quickly as he did was arousing.  Magnus watched the dark rune on the shadowhunter’s neck flutter as he swallowed, obviously distracted by the press of Magnus’ body against his own.  

“Partly official business, partly personal business.”  

Sweet Lilith, did he want to sink his teeth into that damn rune.  What was that? Deflect?  It sure as hell wasn’t doing its job.  The warlock hummed instead to distract himself.  “I hope we can get to the personal soon.”

All of a sudden the shadowhunter’s body went rigid against him.  He turned his gaze out over the club again, wondering what had caused the change.  “I think we may have to postpone either for another night.  Those shadowhunters that crossed your wards.  They aren’t with the NYI and they aren’t welcome in my city.”

Magnus frowned at the possessive edge to Alec’s cold tone, about to ask him what made the city his, when he saw just what set off the other man.  The two shadowhunters were standing almost beneath the balcony.  Both of the men’s gazes were directed towards the entrance of the club, giving Magnus and Alec a near perfect view of the thickly scarred, bright scarlet circle burned into their necks.  

Magnus’ head filled with noise and for a moment he remembered the smell of blood, warlocks’ blood covering his hands and splashed across his face.  Alec moved, brushing against him, snapping him back to the present.  He spun on his heel, to make his way down the stairs, but was stopped by hand on his arm.  Crimson magic burned at his fingertips, ready to lash out at the person stopping him.  

“Please, the team tracking the demon will probably be here any second.  If Circle members are collecting the mundane blood I need to know.  If they aren’t here for the blood I would still like to take them into custody.  Even if they have already paid for their part in the Uprising-” 

“Paid to whom?” Magnus snarled with spite, ripping his arm out of the shadowhunter’s hold.  “To the Clave?  Was it the Clave’s people the Circle slaughtered like animals?”  He knew the Accords well enough to know he didn’t actually have a leg to stand on legally in the eyes of the Clave.  At the moment, he didn’t care.  No shadowhunter, no matter how pretty was going to come into his place and tell him what to do.

Alec leaned towards him, eyes wide and imploring.  “Please, let us take them in.  The Clave will prosecute you if they catch wind that you assaulted two shadowhunters, Circle members or not.”

“They could try,” Magnus replied snappily, but the words cooled his rage.  He knew the shadowhunter made good points.  The organization with demons suggested that more was happening than two stray Circle members reliving their glory days.  He owed it to those who were gone and those still under his protection to find out what.

For the third time that night the wards burned, alerting him to three more shadowhunters.  He saw Philip out of the corner of his eye try and get his attention subtly.  He nodded at the shadowhunter in front of him.  “Alright nephilim. We’ll play this your way.  But I’ll be lodging a formal complaint with your Head.  I should have received a fire message before any mission activities made it within a mile radius of my club.  It’s registered as a sanctuary space under the Accords.”

The boy winced before he raised his wrist to his mouth again but held Magnus’ eyes as he spoke.  “Blue Team, there are two Circle members by the bar under the balcony.  They’re probably the recipient.  Let the demon make the handoff.  Jace and Izzy, I want you to follow the demon at a distance.  Make sure they aren’t going to meet any of their friends.  Do not engage unless you are clear of civies and be cautious.  Aline, meet me at the bar.  We’re taking in the Circle members.”  He lowered his wrist.  “Would you care to join me?”  

“Thought you’d never ask.”

He allowed Alec to lead.  His eyes connected with Philip and he subtly motioned for him to follow.  As soon as they hit the landing he shot out a silent call that would notify his floor security to be on high alert.  They were slightly behind and to the left of the two Circle members.  Magnus frowned as another shadowhunter, young and Asian came up to them with a smile that was trying a bit too hard to be friendly on her face.  

Magnus couldn’t hear what she was saying to them over the music, and apparently neither could the Circle members.  One of them leaned down and into her space.  The warlock didn’t see what the girl did but it dropped the man twice her body weight like rock.  

The unfortunate man’s partner went to grab her but Magnus was faster than him and Alec who was reaching out.  A leash of pure energy, crimson in color was wrapped around that runed neck.  The female shadowhunter’s eyes flickered to him before she squatted pulling adamas cuffs from somewhere underneath her jacket.  “Here,” she tossed a second pair to Alec.  “You keep surprising me today Boss.  Never a dull moment around you.”  If the girl didn’t have to almost yell to be heard Magnus would swear she was teasing Alec, who was busy cuffing the not unconscious Circle member.  

“What the hell, we haven’t done anything!” Exclaimed the member of a violent terrorist group.

Magnus’ teeth ground together so hard his jaw throbbed.  He was about to respond when one of his security team came up to him.  “You in need of hand?” It was Anatoly, one of his wolves. 

“Be a dear and carry the unconscious one to the back office.  No need to be gentle.”  The man’s grin was just the appropriate amount of vicious before he did as asked.  

Magnus looked the other Circle member dead in the eye.  “You can either walk there under your own power or I can make you.” He tightened the collar of magic around the guy’s throat for emphasis.  The club goers gave them a wide berth, while Philip covered their exit into the back hallway, redirecting attention to free drinks at the bar.  The group made it to the office space without incident. 

Anatoly was already stepping out.  “He’s out like light.”  

Magnus nodded at him and patted him on the shoulder.  “Stay at the entrance to the hallway.  There are two more Clave shadowhunters looking into some demon activity.  If they come looking, let them back here.”  The werewolf nodded, subtly bringing his hand to his ear in a purposeful gesture, before doing as asked.

“You have no cause for this arrest,” the conscious Circle member started and Magnus hoped he would get the opportunity to bleed the arrogance out of his voice.  Alec didn’t respond, instead grabbing the glasses off the protesting man and snapping a picture with his phone, he did the same with the unconscious Circle member.  “It’s not a crime to be in a Downworld club is it?” 

If the magic collar had still been around the guy’s throat, Magnus would have decapitated him.  

“No, but buying mundane blood from a demon sure is.”  The female shadowhunter held up a bottle of dark red liquid, that from the looks of it, as she tipped it back and forth had the proper viscosity to be blood.  

“There is also the matter that as a former Circle member, you are to check in at the Institute when you enter the territory.  Neither you nor your friend-,” he paused glancing down at his phone before smiling grimly.  “In fact, according to my Head of Security both of you are fugitives and still have active warrants for your arrest.  So we do in fact have cause.”  He turned to the female shadowhunter.  “Silence both of them and put them under.  Underhill is sending transport to pick them up and I have to make a call.”  Those one of a kind hazel eyes met his own and it looked as though Alec was about to continue when there was a single knock on the office door, before it was swinging open.

“Isabelle!” Magnus greeted with enthusiasm that wasn’t false.  Although her friend had been downright unpleasant, she on the other hand had been a treat.  That she was just Magnus’ type aesthetically was gratis.  Isabelle’s eyes lit up at seeing him, but quickly slid over to Alec and something soured her expression.  

“You-”

“Not now,” Alec interrupted her.  Magnus wondered if it was because of his presence or the Circle members.  “Where is Jace?”

Isabelle looked like she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes.  “He took off after some red headed mundane with the Sight.  She was following the demon, which led to about three more of their friends.  We had to interfere to save her.”  

Alec nodded, but minute tightening of the corners of his mouth gave Magnus the impression he was less than pleased.  “I’ll call him back here.  I need to make a phone call.”  

He moved to leave the room and Magnus snapped his fingers, calling upon his magic.  He conjured a sound bubble for the hallway and put up some additional charms.  “The hallway will be quiet for your call,” he offered with flair.  

“Thank you,” Alec said with not exactly a smile, but probably as pleasant an expression as he usually had while working.  The warlock had lived long enough to recognize the type and Alec fit it to a T.  “And thank you for helping us.  We’ll have transport here as soon as possible and be out of your club.”

Magnus nodded at the gratitude but didn’t mention the other charm he put up that would allow him to hear both ends of the conversation.  He didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty for spying on a shadowhunter and pointedly ignored the beginning stirrings of said feeling in his stomach for spying on Alexander.  Ridiculous.  He only met the man that night and still didn’t know why the nephilim was in his club in the first place.  

So what if Magnus was physically attracted, very much intrigued and found he most definitely had some form of a competence kink.  So what if he was one of the most polite shadowhunters to probably grace the NYI.  That didn’t mean that Alec wouldn’t turn around the next second and do something that proved Magnus just needed to avoid the entire race for another few decades.  

As soon as Alec was out of the room Magnus activated the spell that would allow him to keep an ear out as he twirled to the two women left and found the Asian shadowhunter finished her task and was back to assessing him.  He smiled as innocently as possible.  “I don’t believe we’ve met.” 

“Oh allow me.  This is Aline Penhallow, Aline this is High Warlock Magnus Bane,” Isabelle jumped in.

He heard the call Alec was making connect, and assumed it would be either to Maryse or Robert, but instead a young woman answered the phone.  “You better have good reason to call me at 7:00 in the morning on a Saturday Lightwood.”  Magnus’ expression must have been comical.  Alexander Lightwood.

He glanced at Isabelle.  Noted the similarity in their appearance and put it together with the nickname Alec had addressed her by previously.   “Thank you for the introduction darling.  Funny since you weren’t so forthcoming with your own name last time we met.  Ms. Lightwood.”  

By the widening of her eyes and the slightly chagrined expression he had assumed correctly.  Although his acquaintance with both the younger Lightwoods was markedly short he could already tell that there was a good chance they both fell quite far from the tree.  The world was no doubt a better place for it.

“I just arrested two Circle members.  How quickly can you be at the NYI?” 

There was a pause.  In front of him the other girl, Aline, made some form of greeting before pulling Isabelle aside to disarm the Circle members and Magnus was given the opportunity to focus on Alec’s conversation while keeping an eye on the Circle members.  They were both out cold from whatever rune Aline used on them, but the magic in him itched, alert and ready if needed.

“I can be there in about four hours.  I have a meeting with the Inquisitor this morning.  She won’t be pleased, I know she instructed you to stay away from this.”  

Magnus snapped himself another drink, needing an outlet for his magic.  He conjured up a gratuitous amount of olives to give him something to futz with as the conversation’s intrigue ratcheted up another notch.  

“I didn’t go looking for them.  They came up in another investigation and it was a coincidence I was in the same place.”  

Now he wished he was a bit more dialed in to the local Institute.  Circle members plus some quiet Clave investigation led by the Inquisitor herself?  All was not well in New York.  

“I’ll try to make that clear to her.  Get me a written report I can hand her. I meet with her in two hours.”  

“Thanks Branwell.”  

“Do us both a favor Lightwood and keep your head down.”  

Magnus could tell the call ended with that and swung his attention back to Isabelle who was giving Aline details on the fight.  The office door opened again and Alec was there with Philip.  

“Sir, there’s been some damage to the new stage area.”  The Sighted mundane didn’t exactly glare at the shadowhunters but his blue eyes weren’t conveying friendship.  The new stage area was Philip’s project and he was a bit territorial about it.

“The Institute will cover any damages, and we will make reparations for not having made the proper notifications before coming into your club.”  Alec’s transition from his phone call back to the task at hand was seamless.  It made the warlock’s stomach warm with something a bit more than appreciation.

Magnus waved a hand trying to not be distracted or softened by his little crush.  “I can fix anything not too corroded by demon ichor.  I’m still going to report the infraction of the Accords.” He didn’t think anything would come of it other than a fire message with a biting apology signed by either Maryse or Robert but he knew how much the children of Raziel liked their paper trails.  “I trust I can send it with you and it will make its way to one of the Heads?”  With a nod Magnus dismissed Philip, who left and made his way over to the office desk.

He sat down to begin writing, not looking up to see how they reacted to his mild accusation that they would purposefully lose a complaint.  Not that Robert and Maryse weren’t going to just outright ignore it anyway.

“Yes, I’ll take it,” Alec responded with an almost stiff blankness in his voice.  The shadowhunters stepped into the hallway with the door open so they could keep an eye on their prisoners.

Magnus busied himself as Alec relayed to the women what would happen next.  He was ripped out of his writing the most ridiculous and exaggerated complaint possible when Isabelle, who probably thought she was being quiet hissed at her brother.  Magnus probably wouldn’t be able to hear anything but soft murmurs if his listening spell wasn’t still in place.

“You aren’t cleared for combat and I know you haven’t touched a blade in weeks, what were you thinking going after Circle members?” 

That was curious.  Why was Alexander, obviously a combat shadowhunter not cleared for duty?  Punishment?  Injury? If so it must have been serious to keep him down for weeks.

“Not now Iz.” There was a huff of protest before the girl quieted.  “When you get back I need reports from the pair of you for what happened tonight and a summary of the investigation into the blood.  The Gard will come to collect the Circle members at around five AM.”  Magnus almost winced by the weariness he could hear in Alec’s voice.  

“Alec, when was the last time you slept?” Aline asked softly.  

It was a good sign and quite a few points in Alec’s favor that both women clearly cared about the man.  For Alec to have people loyal to him was a good indication that he wasn't a terrible person or leader.  Although, shadowhunters’ good opinions didn’t necessarily convince him fully. 

“Transport will be here soon.  No one wakes the Circle members.  The only people handling them should be the two of you or Underhill.”  Footsteps came down the hallway.  “Go keep the prisoners company,” Alec added, in a tone that demanded to be obeyed.  

The women entered the office again without complaint, closing the door behind them, which still didn’t stop Magnus from being able to hear what was happening.

“Where were you? ” Alec demanded of who, Magnus could guess was the final and errant shadowhunter.  He spoke in a near whisper and even with the spell Magnus had to focus to hear.

“There was a mundane, did Izzy tell you?” 

“Yes, but that doesn’t explain why you took off on your own.  I thought we learned this lesson.”  Magnus almost shivered at how bitingly cold Alec’s voice was.  

“I know, but Alec, just listen-”

“You realize that if I couldn’t feel you and know you were fine I would have had to send a team out looking for you.”  

That was curious.  Magnus knew the wedded rune sometimes bonded especially close couples to the extent that they formed an awareness of each other.  The only other option was the other shadowhunter was Alexander’s parabatai.  Parabatai were extremely rare though.

“But this girl-”

“Never mind your own safety. You left my sister, our sister! What if there were more demons in the club?”

“Alec, I-”

“We were separated for less than five minutes when I was attacked and you still could barely make it back in time to watch me bleed out on the concrete.”  

Magnus felt slightly uneasy as he continued to listen.  That answered why Alec wasn’t currently cleared for combat.  

“Fuck, I screwed up I know but listen for one second, because I can’t go back and change what I did.”  There was a pause, and Magnus assumed that Alec gestured for him to continue.  “This girl, I don’t think she was mundane.  She acted like she’d never seen the Shadowworld before but she was at least sixteen and isn’t that kind of the ceiling for mundanes gaining the sight?”

“Okay it’s odd but-”

“And she was spray painting some kid’s van outside before we came into the club.  It was still parked out there and I checked it out.  Alec, she was painting Enkeli.”

Magnus’ breath hitched as his brain put together the pieces he’d heard earlier with this new information.  A red head, who had the Sight and was drawing Enkeli, the rune of angelic power, it all added up to sound suspiciously like Clarissa.  His wards were set to identify runed shadowhunters.  Clarissa could have been here tonight and he wouldn’t have known.

“Did you get anything else?”

“No, other than the kid she came with called her Fray as she ran out of here.”

Clarissa in the same place as two Circle members.  Jocelyn never made it clear if Valentine knew about Clary or not, but Magnus didn’t want to take the chance.   He surreptitiously pulled out his phone pretending to check a message first before he shot off a text to Dorthea.  He knew they were in business together and Jocelyn and Dot were close.

“Alright, I’ll put someone from Investigations on it.”  That was the opposite of what Magnus needed.  If it got out that he helped Jocelyn, who was still wanted by the Clave, he’d have no small amount of trouble to deal with.  “ But I’m not interfering if Aline chooses to write you up.  At the very least you should have communicated with her.”  

The door to the office opened and Magnus grimaced at just who Alec was talking to.  What was his name?  Chase or something.  He was the one that Isabelle came with.  The two were concerned someone had messed with the blond’s memory, but Magnus couldn’t find any evidence of such.  Both shadowhunters seemed to accept the answer, but to say that Magnus hadn’t cared for the blond’s attitude would have been an understatement.

By the look the blond shot him the feeling was mutual.  

“Transport is here, High Warlock Bane, would it be alright if they pulled around to the back and we took our prisoners out that way?”

Magnus nodded and watched as the four shadowhunters muscled out their guests.  When the task was complete Alec said a few words to his team before they too got in the NYI vehicle sans Alec.  “Not going with?”

“I’m hoping to impose on your generosity and patience a little longer.  Plus, you haven’t given me your complaint yet.”

Magnus held up the folded paper, tapping it against his lips.  He was torn between wanting to get in touch with Dorthea and check to see if it was indeed Clarissa in his club tonight and speak more with Alec, hopefully getting a few answers to some of the questions forming in his mind.  

The latter won his internal debate.  He motioned with a crooked finger for Alec to follow him.  The two made their way up to the VIP area again.  Magnus’ dark eyes took in the much emptier club floor.  No doubt shadowhunters fighting demons in his club had chased off some of his more skittish clientele.  A few of his regulars that were still around nodded at him, but one look at his company and they steered clear.  Not that Magnus minded. 

Magnus made eye contact with the bartender and snapped his fingers, magicing a small napkin with his drink order into existence on the bar top.  He led Alec to a cosy nook with arm chairs.  He waived for the taller man to take a seat, and he muffled the sounds of the club before taking his own.  

“So, I think it’s finally time you tell me what exactly you came into my club tonight for.”

“You.”  It was blurted out, and with such honesty that Magnus’ head jerked from where he was tracking the bartender’s progress.  Alec’s hazel eyes widened as he realized how it sounded, a pretty pink flush rising on those magnificent cheeks.  “I mean, my business was with you, to um, speak with you.”

Magnus’ painted lips turned up at the re-emergence of the young man he met earlier in the night.  “And what was to be the topic of our conversation.”  He held those unique eyes with his own as he leaned in closer.  

Alexander’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.  “I was to inform you that I have been called upon to act as Head of the New York Institute until Maryse and Robert Lightwood resume their post, or the American Enclave Council selects a new Head.”  The bartender placed another dirty martini down onto the small table between them and a coffee with a small glass of creamer and a few sugar packets in front of Alec who blinked in surprise.  Magnus observed him as he thanked the bartender and made his coffee to taste, heavy on the cream and no sugar.  He raised it at Magnus once it was complete.  “Thank you for this.”

“So you are acting Head?”  Alec’s dark head nodded and Magnus leaned back in his seat.  He tried to drown the stirrings of hope in his chest.  The New York Shadowworld never fully recovered from the events of the uprising.  While Valentine’s little club stretched to every continent and the root of it was deep into Alicante itself, New York had been ground zero outside of the Glass City.  The chaos and destruction to both the shadowhunters that took up residence and the downworlders who inhabited the city was only now beginning to heal.  While Magnus had been honored by his people with the title of High Warlock due to his actions during the Uprising he hadn’t been thrilled by the responsibility being shoved on him for the entire city.  It was one of the reasons he chose his title of High Warlock of Brooklyn, hoping that others would be chosen or come forward to claim the other Burroughs.  

Unfortunately that didn’t happen.  Magnus had done his best through the years, but it was an exhausting task and after the first few years he felt drained.  In the early days it seemed like every other day he was being called upon to mediate between the NYI and the Downworld whether they be warlocks or not.  The appointment of Maryse and Robert, especially when rumor had it that they were somehow involved in the deaths of the previous Heads caused an uproar that nearly shattered the newly established Accords at the time.  It was like the Clave wanted the powder keg of a city to explode.  Eventually tempers cooled on both sides.  Magnus actually felt comfortable in the last five years to take a vacation or two.

Magnus hadn’t missed the way Alec emphasized he was acting Head.  His knowledge of shadowhunter law was a little dated, but for being a society in which the lifespan of the average person was quite short, very little change occurred.  If Magnus understood correctly, it was treated as a temporary position but he recalled acting Heads going their entire careers before whatever supercilious council was supposed to remove them or fully appoint them ever got around to doing so.  Bar his parents returning or Alec committing treason he had a good chance of remaining Head until he himself gave up the title.   

There was also very little difference in power between an acting Head and an appointed one as far as the running of the Institute was concerned.  If he remembered correctly the main difference was that all appointed Institute Heads held a seat on the regional Council while acting Heads did not.  This gave acting Heads little ability to actually change the laws they were charged with enforcing.

He tapped his finger against his glass.  “Congratulations are in order.  I would offer you something a bit more celebratory than coffee, but you look like you needed the caffeine.” 

The nephilim’s smile was genuine if not a bit more than tired.  “No, this is perfect.  Exactly what I needed.”  

Magnus bit down the flirtatious urge to say he could provide whatever Alexander needed given half the chance.  “So, I am curious, why come to me in person?  I’ll have you know I do read fire messages.”  It came out a bit more accusing than four centuries old warlock meant.  

The smile fell off the shadowhunter’s face, but Magnus was pleased to see Alec’s face didn’t close off completely.  “I saw that some of your past communication with my parents was-”

“Hostile?” Magnus offered with dark humor twisting his lips.

Alec’s own lips twitched with the effort to keep his mouth neutral but Magnus felt it wasn’t due to humor of any sort.  “I know as their son and heir how I will be viewed by most of the Downworld.”  There was a hint something wounded and raw in his voice that made Magnus straighten.  The boy leaned forward, painfully beautiful eyes earnest and wide and so terribly young.  “I wanted to give you the news in person, here in your territory to hopefully set a new tone of respect and cooperation between us, I couldn’t do that through a fire message.”  

Magnus took a sip of his drink, the saltiness of the olive juice sticking to his tongue.  The words weren’t extraordinarily eloquent but the delivery was artful.  Magnus wondered if the shadowhunter knew he was even playing the game.  It wasn’t the first time a young shadowhunter had come before Magnus with such sweet words falling from their lips.  Very few followed through with any of it.

Something about Alexander however made him want to believe he was acting in good faith.  However, the whole saying of ‘fool me once’ expired for Magnus a long time ago.  “Pretty words from prettier lips.”  There was that blush he so loved provoking.  “If that was your intent, respect, why was there a team of active shadowhunters in my territory tonight without notice?”  While he appreciated the service the hunters were performing, demons didn’t only attack mundanes after all, so many other aspects of the Accords were routinely ignored when it was shadowhunters breaking them.

The nephilim’s eyes dropped for a moment before he looked up again.  “That was an error.  I take responsibility for it.  Allow me a day to offer reparations.”  

Magnus wondered what he would come up with.  He twirled a ring around his finger before nodding in agreement.  Shadowhunters were wealthy in magical items they confiscated and precious stones needed for enchanting purposes.  The warlock hoped Alexander had good taste.  “There is also the matter of the two Circle members.”  Now the other man’s face took on its stoic mask again.  “If the remnants of Valentine’s forces are collaborating and organizing again, in the spirit of cooperation I would appreciate being read into the situation fully.”

“The Circle members had open warrants of arrest as they were never captured or turned themselves in after the Uprising.”  

Magnus wanted to snap that he had gathered that much and that didn’t complete the picture of what happened tonight when Alexander’s eyes caught his own.  He paused, thinking on the words just spoken.  The Head of the NYI only reiterated why the Circle members were arrested and while Alec didn’t realize Magnus very well knew there was an investigation thanks to his eavesdropping, Alec also did not directly deflect or deny Magnus’ assumption that something more was happening.  He wasn’t done either.

“While, I hope to keep communication between us open and I will update you on the status of those Circle members and what they were doing in your club, a recognized sanctuary space by the Accords, the Clave does set limitations on what information I am allowed to share.”  

Oh the boy was very much aware of the game he was playing.  Magnus' smile was shark-like and utterly charmed.  It didn’t completely settle his misgivings but he saw Alec was trying.  “I look forward to hearing how this matter is settled in the future then,” he said, letting Alec know he understood.  Something was stirring in New York and it was being kept hush, hush by the Inquisitor herself.  Alec made that call to someone in the Inquisitors employ and did not once mention a formal investigation to the other shadowhunters tonight.  “So, you also said you had personal business with me?”  Magnus took a long draw of his martini and looked up through his painted lashes at the shadowhunter whose eyes had dipped.  Magnus smiled, teeth sitting on glass.  

Alec coughed.  “Uh, yes, I did, but it is getting rather late.”

Magnus allowed a moment to pass, giving himself the few seconds to actually think about what he was going to do.  There were so many reasons this was a bad idea, or perhaps not bad but irresponsible.  Magnus had lived long enough though to know he can weather whatever storm this one may bring.  “We can discuss it tomorrow night, or tonight really, over dinner.”  

“What?”  The gobsmacked expression on Alexander’s face was entertaining but also caused a thread of insecurity unfurl in Magnus’ mind.  

“I always find sharing a meal with someone to be a revealing exercise.  If you want cooperation from me in the future it would be a good place to start.  Plus you can bring whatever payment you wish to offer me in restitution.  Three birds, one meal.” 

Alec’s face twitched.  “So it will be business?”  He looked like he regretted the question as soon as it left his mouth, eyes dropping away from Magnus’ face and arms crossing.  

“Four birds.”  The boy’s head turned towards him, eyes now guarded with more than just polite blankness.  His full brow was furrowed in a severe crease that no doubt would eventually show a wrinkle with time.  Magnus wished he could smooth it over with a thumb.  There were so many currents of tension between them now.  The mutual attraction that began their night simmered, and while Magnus wasn’t exactly sure where it would lead he didn’t want to let it go, even if that was perhaps the smarter thing to do.  “I would very much like to have dinner with you, in a non-professional capacity.”  He let that admission settle before asking directly, not wanting their words to be muddled with double speak.  That was fine for whatever political lines Alec needed to side step when it came to the Clave, but Magnus was too old for such games in his personal life.  “Alexander, do you want to have dinner with me?”

Those hazel eyes, framed by dark lashes which were unfairly thick for being mascara free, blinked.  Magnus could see the indecision on the shadowhunter’s face.  It wasn’t surprising.  He knew the Clave didn’t outright persecute homosexual relations as they once did, it still wasn’t condoned.  The fact he was also a warlock, while not out of the question for a quiet dalliance with a no-name shadowhunter was not a small issue for the Lightwood heir or acting Head of an institute. “Yes.”  The answer came out steady and Magnus shivered at the near worshipful tone that single word managed to convey.  He wondered what his name would sound like falling from Alec’s full lips in that way.

Painted lips stretched in a genuine smile.  “Excellent,” he said softly in response, not wanting to cheapen their interaction with false cheer.  “I assume someone who just took over as large an operation as the Institute has their plate fairly full.” He snapped his ringed fingers, blue sparking before leaving a dark charcoal business card with his name in magenta flowing script.  He held it out with two fingers to Alec.  “My personal number is on the back.  Call when you know what time you can make it.”

Alec took the card, running his thumb over the raised lettering before stashing it in his shirt’s breast pocket.  Magnus smiled at the thought of his name over the boy’s heart. 

“Now, I know you won’t be going off to bed, what with all that shadowhunter business you have waiting for you.”  He thought of the view from the sidewalk across the street from the Institute and called upon his magic using both hands to open a portal.  

“You didn’t have to-”

“No I didn’t, but I wanted to.”

Alexander’s tired eyes were full of gratitude and they made something in Magnus ache.  Alec stood.  “Thank you High-”

Magnus held up a sparkling hand.  “I’d very much like it if you would call me Magnus.”  

Those hazel eyes warmed and the corners of pink lips quirked upwards.  “Thank you Magnus.” 

“You are most welcome Alexander.”

Magnus just finished putting the final touches on his decorating for the night to come when a werewolf stepped off the elevator in his hallway.  He turned his head to the door, unlocking it with a flick of his wrist.  After the wolf knocked, Magnus opened it with magic as he entered his foyer.  “Lucian!” he greeted ignoring the way the ex-shadowhunter’s eyes narrowed at his past name.

“It’s Luke,” the now werewolf corrected.  

Magnus was very much aware of Luke’s general distaste at being called Lucian, but was feeling a tad petty at the moment.  Jocelyn had called much too early in the day all but demanding him to re-cast the spell on Clarissa.   The conversation didn’t go in her favor.  

He did generally like Luke, but between Jocelyn’s demands and the re-emergence of Circle members at his club last night, the past was a little too close to the surface for him to entirely ignore that Luke was a former Circle member and Valentine’s parabatai.  Forgiveness came in stages for immortals and they never truly forgot.

“Of course,” he gave the man one of his fake smiles.  “Apologies, drink?” He offered.  

The werewolf frowned.  “It’s two in the afternoon.”

Magnus blinked. “And?”  

Luke sighed and shook his head.  “I’m glad I caught you here.”  The two often worked closely together to help downworlders and it necessitated that Magnus keep Luke informed of his home address.  “Your number wasn’t working.”

Magnus hummed in response.  He had turned off his work cell after Jocelyn’s third call.  His warlocks would get in touch with him via fire message if necessary and he had given Alec a different number altogether.  The shadowhunter still had not contacted him and Magnus’ nerves were beginning to show, especially when he re-decorated the rooftop for the fifth time.  

Seeing that the warlock wasn’t going to give him more of an explanation, Luke got down to business.  “Right, well I just wanted to talk about Clary.”

Magnus was fluffing pillows, not facing the werewolf which meant he was free to roll his eyes.  “I suppose Jocelyn has told you.”  He turned back around, eyeing Luke, wondering if Jocelyn relayed everything.  “How is Clarissa?” he asked with real concern.  It wasn’t often that Magnus formed any sort of attachment to a child and he’d found the experience of watching Clarissa grow through the years a joy.  

A grimace darkened Luke’s handsome face.  “Jocelyn convinced her that someone must have slipped something in her drink last night at your club.  Also you’re lucky I’m not calling in a tip that your people can’t card properly.”  

Magnus ignored the barb at his employees.  Fake IDs were a dime a dozen and inevitably some were good enough to get past a bouncer who had a line of people to get through.  “Well, I guess that means that telling Clarissa the truth is off the table.”  

“Jocelyn said she’d already contacted you about renewing the spell, and that you said you were thinking about it.”  

Magnus scoffed.  His words may have come across as such, but even someone who didn’t know him well could have ascertained he had absolutely no intention of going through with Jocelyn’s request.  “And, I suppose you are here to put your two cents in about why I should cast the spell?”  He narrowed his eyes at the way Luke crossed his arms.  “You want me to deny her.” 

“Clary’s eighteen, she’s an adult.  I never agreed with Jocelyn’s choice to begin with but Clary-” he cut himself off, his broad shoulders shifting.  “She isn’t my daughter and it wasn’t my call.  But Clary isn’t a child anymore.  The choice shouldn’t be Jocelyn’s to make.  Not anymore.”  

Magnus turned away to look out through the doors to the lower level balcony.  It had never sat well with him.  The spell he put on Clary was a work of art and he was proud of it, but altering the mind of a child made him feel sick to his stomach on more than one occasion.  “So you came to me hoping I'll do what?  Tell Jocelyn to take a hike when she finally gets fed up enough to come knocking at my door?”  It was how he wanted to respond when Jocelyn came to him the first time.  Oh, how he had wanted to slam his door in her face, an on the run Circle member, who never paid for their crimes, Valentine’s wife of all people.  He was going to do more than slam his door.  Then a sniffle and from behind her mother’s legs a coppery head peaked out, blue-green eyes bright with tears.

Magnus had always been a bit of a pushover when it came to children, so he’d let them in.  He offered what protection he could but balked when the shadowhunter asked him to steal the girl’s Sight.  For one thing it couldn’t be done.  The girl was nephilim.  The power that came with that heritage flowed through her veins, immutable, a part of her soul.  For another it was reprehensible to take something so intrinsic to a person, a child no less.  The desperate mother had begged and when that didn’t work she suggested if Magnus wouldn’t do what she deemed necessary she would find a warlock who would.  Clarissa’s quiet presence, coloring at his coffee table was the only thing that stopped him from doing something rash and violent.  

While Clarissa may have stopped him from acting against the ex-Circle member physically, a simple silencing spell allowed him to lash out verbally.  He reduced the woman to tears by telling her exactly what many a warlock would do given the opportunity to take vengeance on not only Valentine’s wife but his child as well.  Jocelyn didn’t tell him that Clarissa was Valentine’s child, but it didn’t take a genius to figure it out.  

So he had done what he did best.  He found a work around.  He wouldn’t take or block Clarissa’s Sight, but filter out any memory of seeing what her angelic heritage allowed her to.  It was a delicate multifaceted and absolutely brilliant bit of spell crafting.  It killed him a bit that he was never able to tell anyone of it.  He knew the repercussions if the Clave or other former Circle members ever found out how he aided Valentine’s wife would be unpleasant.  He didn’t want anyone he held dear to be caught up in it.  Or at least that’s what he told himself at the time.  

Now though, he knew it was because his friends would be less than pleased with him for doing such potentially dangerous spell work on a child, never mind that he had the child’s mother’s permission.

Luke nodded.  “I’ve told Jocelyn, if she doesn’t tell Clary the truth, I will.”

“Informing her directly of the Shadowworld will destroy whatever is left of the spell. Poof,” he added with a snap of his fingers that sparked with magic.  

“So you’ll refuse?  If she comes to you?” 

Magnus’ eyes narrowed.  He never appreciated being used.  “If you feel so strongly about the issue, why are you even here?  Tell Clary the truth and be done with it.”  The warlock knew Luke’s hesitance was down to the man not destroying whatever undefined relationship he had with Jocelyn.

The werewolf’s face creased with shame.  “I would, but if you-”

The older man cut the younger off with a scoff.  “And here I thought you’d grown a backbone since becoming a wolf, but again you’re just following the lead of a Morganstern like a puppy.”

The words were cruel but Magnus didn’t care at the moment.  He never claimed not to be a petty bitch and Luke overstepped asking Magnus to do this just to spare himself.  

Luke snarled eyes glowing green but the warlock remained unmoved.  “You’re a big boy Lucien.  Stop acting like a child.”  The werewolf’s body was rigid with anger, but he made the smart choice and turned to walk away.  “Two Circle members were arrested in my club last night.  Clarissa was there.  I recommend you educate her quickly on her own history.  Things are happening in this city.”  Luke didn’t bother turning around instead, slamming Magnus’ door behind him.  Magnus huffed a breath and rolled his eyes at the display.  “Fucking shadowhunters.”  No matter that Luke had been a werewolf for almost as long as he’d been a shadowhunter.  Magnus would always see him as one.  

There were many times he deeply regretted his involvement with Jocelyn née Fairchild.  It seemed today was going to be one of them.  He sighed no amount of decorating was going to cure him of the foul mood Luke’s visit had put him in.  

The ringing of his personal cell interrupted his dark thoughts and he summoned it to his hand, an unknown number with a Manhattan area code.  He didn’t need magical intuition to guess who it was.  “Alexander,” he greeted with pleasure.  

There was a quiet hitch of breath on the other end of the call that made his smile wider.  “Magnus.”  

Oh, he loved hearing his name and wished he could see the way Alec’s mouth formed it.  “Please tell me you are calling to confirm dinner tonight.”  It was too late not to get his hopes up.  

It felt like an eternity before Alec’s answer came.  “Yes, but I hope eight o’clock won’t be too late.”  

Magnus refused to sigh in relief.  “No at all darling, practically early.”  

“Where should I meet you?” Alec asked.  

“I assume you want this business to be private?  How about my place, the executive chef at Atera is a friend and I can have the full tasting menu catered for us.”  Magnus tried not to let on that he already arranged this.

“I should be the one taking you out, you are doing me the favor” Alec began to argue.

Alec’s protests made Magnus' smile hurt it was so wide.  “Ah, but I’m the one who asked you to dinner.”

“Then next time, I’ll take you out.”

Magnus’ surprise didn’t stop his quick and teasing response, “Already planning a second date, how presumptuous Mr. Lightwood.” 

“Oh no, I didn’t mean, of course, only if you want to-” 

The frantic babble made Magnus want to reach out for the boy and instantly made him regret his teasing.  “I would love a second date with you Alexander.  I can already tell one isn’t going to be enough.”  The honest admission may cost him later on, but if it set Alec at ease now it was well worth it.

There was a pause before Alec’s response came.  “I’ll have to start thinking now.”  It wasn’t apprehension but anticipation in the nephilim’s voice.  

Magnus wondered if it was normal to smile this much over a phone conversation.  “I’ll text you my address.  I’m very much looking forward to seeing you.”

He barely heard Alexander’s parting words before hanging up the phone.  He pressed fingers to his own lips and wondered how he was four centuries old and one conversation could make him feel so giddy he was light headed with it.

“Magnus what are you doing, you romantic fool,” he chided himself in his empty loft.  The self-scolding did absolutely nothing to dampen the state of elation the phone call left him in.  

His phone vibrated, notifying him of text.  He greedily swiped to unlock the device, hoping to see something else from Alexander.  It wasn’t from the shadowhunter but Dorthea. 

If I bother calling will you pick up?  

Magnus rolled his eyes at the drama.  He pushed the call button.  “For you darling, always.”  

On the other end Dot scoffed.  “We both know that isn’t true.”

“Well, I’m not the one making questionable choices in business partners.”  He never quite understood what was between Dorthea and Jocelyn, but he supposed it wasn’t his place to understand.  If Dorthea wished to give up her place in the warlock community and go play house with a fugitive shadowhunter for fifteen years that was her business.  After all they were warlocks, they had nothing but time.  

“Luke called.”  

Magnus made a noise of frustration as he made his way to his bathroom, pulling off his top and slipping into a silk robe after placing the phone on speaker.  “Did I hurt the puppy’s feelings?” He asked while taking out his makeup kit.  Most of the time he put on makeup with magic, but his hands itched for something to do to settle himself.  

Dot snorted.  “He didn’t have the nicest things to say about you, but after he told me what he asked of you, I told him he deserved your tongue lashing.”  

“Mmm, maybe if he didn’t piss me off so much next time, I’d give him a far more pleasant tongue lashing.”  It was talk really, Magnus had no intention of doing anything of the sort, but the man was gorgeous and it wasn’t like he’d never imagined it.

The younger warlock cackled.  “You are too pretty for your own good Bane, but not even you can turn that boy’s head from Jocelyn.”

“I’ve met the woman several times and simply don’t understand how she has ensnared the pair of you.”

He tapped the mute button and finished cleansing his face in the sink, before settling back down to apply moisturizer.  Warlocks might stop aging at a certain point but good skin care was still needed to make the most of the youth they were given.  

“Magnus, she convinced you to do an experimental spell on a four year old child.”  

He winced at the slight tone of accusation which was warranted.  “I tested that spell to the best of my abilities before casting it.  I knew it was as safe as possible.”  It was a deflection.  Magic was much like pharmaceuticals, everyone’s biology reacted somewhat differently and there were very few guarantees.  

“We both know how you feel about kids.”  

The male warlock didn’t bother responding as he buffed in some concealer.  He didn’t want a face full of foundation tonight.  “Clarissa is what? Eighteen now? The man seems to have assimilated well to the mundane world.  Kept going on and on about how she was an adult.  Pretty sure sixteen is still the age of majority in the Shadowworld and it's not like they don’t send them out to fight even earlier than that.  Clarissa should have been told the truth earlier than this.”

Dorthea made a noise of agreement on the other end.  Magnus began working on his mascara and eyeliner.  “Luke is worried about long term effects of the spell.”  

Magnus paused in his effort to perfect a cat-eye.  He frowned before rubbing his fingers together, sparking magic to make his eyes symmetrical.  “Now if he told me that I would have been a touch less mean.”

“Only a touch of course.”

Brown eyes rolled hard.  “He does have a point.  The brain is complex and changes greatly during development.  Long term effects are possible, which I made sure to tell Jocelyn.”  Magnus picked up his favorite palette and began a soft smokey eye.   “And you are simply explaining Luke’s motivations.  Do you actually have an opinion of your own?”  The question is cutting but Magnus was done with this conversation before it began.  His good mood from speaking with Alexander had all but evaporated and he didn’t want to go into tonight feeling sour.

“Wow, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“My bed is currently round dear, it doesn’t have sides.”  He finished off blending one eye out perfectly and started on the other.  

“Is this about Rey?”

That threw Magnus for a minute and he had to pause and think.

“Lorenzo,” Dorthea added with a bit of exasperation.  “The man who has been bad mouthing you to the Spiral Coucil and after your job for the last three years.”

Magnus tapped out excess powder.  “The man is clearly confused about what species he belongs to.  The title of High Warlock is awarded by the local population or seized through combat.”  Not that such things actually happened any more.  “I named myself High Warlock of Brooklyn specifically to try and avoid these petty disputes.  New York is more than large enough for two or three High Warlocks.  He is welcome to any of the other Burroughs.”

“And if he wants the whole city?”

Magnus paused while blending out his second eye.  A tremor of possessive anger sparked at his fingertips.  “You know this wouldn’t have been a problem if you had taken the title of High Warlock as I recommended and our people wished.”  

Dorthea sighed.  “And I told you, I didn’t and still don't want the shackle of responsibility that the title comes with.  Plus you wanted me to take Manhattan so I’d be left dealing with the Institute more often than not.

“I would have helped.”  Dot snorted again in humor.  “Fine, I would have been available to help sometimes and no Rey is barely more than a gnat.”

“He tried to convince the Spiral Council you were responsible for that cult activity in Madrid two years back.”

“And the Council’s investigation cleared me in a matter of hours.  I say again. Gnat.”  

Finished with his eyes, me touched up more spots with concealer before applying a balm to his lips.  He didn’t want anything too heavy tonight. 

“Any reason why this guy is going after you like a hellhound after an errant soul whose deal has come due?”

“Some slight I’m sure, imagined or not that I can no longer recall.”  Dorthea laughed.  “But you never did answer my question.”  Magnus moved into his closet, trying to decide what he was going to wear.

“Didn’t feel like a question.”

Magnus’ moistened lips curled.  He always did enjoy Dorthea’s cheek.  “And?”  

“I worry what the truth will do to Clary, but I agree with Luke.  She’s been under that spell for almost her entire life.  Being infused with your magic for that long could have created a dependency.”  

Guilt swept through him.  That was a very real possibility.

Magnus turned towards the front door of his loft as he felt several mundanes approach his door.  He made his way there, not knowing what to say to Dot.  He greeted the chef and her assistant from Atera that would be preparing the meal for tonight.  

“Good afternoon.  The kitchen is through there.  Let me know if you need anything and I’ll leave the door open so you can bring everything up.”  

He made his way back to his bedroom before Dot spoke again.  “Throwing one of your parties?” 

“Party for two,” Magnus answered, latching on to the topic change, not wanting to dwell on the possible repercussions for the magic he used on Clarissa.  “Met them last night, helped with a certain situation at my club.”

“The Circle members?” Dorthea’s voice was serious again.  

The older warlock hummed.  “You haven't heard anything through your business.”  Dot was quiet on the other end.  “Dorthea.  This isn’t a friend asking right now.”  

“I didn’t think much of it, but I’ve heard some chatter from some of the other antiquity dealers in the city of someone putting feelers out for items dated around the eleventh century.”

Magnus' breath caught in his throat.  “Someone is looking for the Mortal Cup.”  The search for the cup went cold in the first few years after the failed Uprising.  No one knew what happened to it.  At first many believed that remnants of the Circle had it, but if they did they weren’t using it and the theory quickly died.  A popular belief amongst downworlders was the Clave never lost it, but chose to conceal that fact and use it as a reason to re-enact certain laws.  

Magnus was in favor of this theory, because it sounded exactly like what the Clave would do.  “Any reason we should be concerned? People have been looking for the damned thing for the last two decades and it hasn’t turned up yet.”  

“I don’t know, but the Circle members in your club last night, you said they were dealing with mundane blood correct?”  

“Yes, no idea why.”  

“What does the Mortal Cup do Magnus?”  

It was like being hit with a sledgehammer.  “Fuck.”  The answer was so obvious.  “But you said they are still looking.”  

“I checked in with Elliot after you texted me the whole story.  He said that whoever was looking for it hasn’t made any inquiries in the last month with any of the people he knows.”

That wasn’t good.  Magnus wondered if this was on the Clave’s radar.  If that was what the Inquisitor’s investigation was about.  If so, it was imperative that he get Alec to be more forthcoming with details tonight.  “Are Luke and Jocelyn aware?”

“I told them about the Circle members, not about the Cup.  Like I said it's just been chatter, but now…” she trailed off.  

Now it definitely was more than chatter.  Magnus leaned against the wall of his closet, eyes closing.  He wanted this night to not be about his duties as High Warlock and Alexander’s position as Head.  Fantasies and daydreams of a night of beautiful hazel eyes lit by candlelight, intimate conversation followed by acquainting himself with shy lips and lean limbs slipped through his mind like water through cupped fingers.

“Keep me informed.  I’ll run down some other possibilities for information.”  

“You don’t think we’re headed towards another Uprising do you?”  Dot’s voice was small in his ear and he pressed the phone into the side of his face harder.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.  “There are no good options.  If the Cup remains hidden or not, it won’t stop the Shadowworld and the Downworld from tearing each other apart just at the scent of it.”  Many within the Clave blamed Downworlders for its disappearance despite the fact that its last known location was within the walls of Alicante which meant no demon blooded being could have stolen it. 

No matter where the Cup turned up or with whom blood would be spilled over it.  

Part of the reason so many concessions were made to the Downworld in the last Accords was because the Clave had lost their main tool in creating new shadowhunters.  Their main way of staying in power was lost.  If the cup resurfaced in their hands they would no doubt push to have some of the older ways restored.  

The Downworld wouldn’t stand for it.  Just as the Clave wouldn’t stand for the Cup not to return to its place in Alicante if a downworlder ended up with it.  

“Keep an ear out Dorthea, and be safe.”  

“You too Magnus.”

Feeling every one his four centuries he hung up the phone.  He futilely wished he could go back in time to just before he hung up the phone with Alexander.  

He swallowed down the well of disappointment.  No matter what he desired for tonight it didn’t come before his duty to his people and the safety of New York’s Downworld.  

Despite that, it didn’t stop the little bit of hope that bloomed in his chest when he remembered the way Alec said yes to dinner the night before or how he shyly tripped over his own tongue after suggesting another date before the first even occurred.  

Perhaps his shadowhunter would surprise him.  For the first time in longer than he cared to contemplate he truly had hope that someone could.

Chapter Text

The energy rune below Alec’s ribs ached as he reactivated it for the...well he lost track some time yesterday.  Between the evening in the basement, time difference with Idris, being appointed acting Head and the excitement of the previous night, Alec couldn’t remember how many times he activated it or how many cups of coffee he consumed.  He was running on fumes and anxiety at this point.

Selaphiel was preoccupied with prayers, having made her displeasure at the state of Alec’s body and mind known.  The angel had not taken kindly to the bodily fatigue and mental exhaustion.  

Alec was finishing off the narrative of the prisoner transfer for records and to be sent to Alicante for the Inquisitor.  Things had gone smoothly.  He made it back in time to the Institute from Pandemonium to write up his own incident report which he added to the stack of the girls’ and surprisingly Jace’s, who was notorious for being late on his reports. He had skimmed Jace’s and wasn’t surprised to see his brother downplay the involvement of the possibly Sighted mundane.  

Soon after, Branwell, “Just call me Lydia I think we will be seeing even more of each other in the future,” arrived and the Circle members were out of his Institute.  The investigator brought a letter from his mother that was burning a hole in a locked desk drawer Alec stashed it in, not having the time or the energy to deal with whatever it contained.

Dawn patrol made it back by that time and Alec attended a post patrol briefing with Mendoza, Swiftfoot’s second in command, and husband to his assistant Penelope who he caught up to speed on the Circle member incident.  The man didn’t say much but his look of utter contempt at the mention of the terrorist group leaked through his professional mask.  

Following that, he grabbed maybe an hour or two of sleep before he took a meeting with Underhill, a recent transfer into Head of Security and instructed him to look over the security protocols, tech and wards.  If they had an infestation of Circle members in New York their usual security measures weren’t going to cut it.  

Alec added updated warding to his mental list of official things he needed to discuss with Magnus. 

After another meeting with his Chief of Resources, who he was pretty sure was at worst embezzling somehow from the Institute or at best incompetent, he had a phone call with the head of the New York werewolf pack.  Which was short, considering he barely got out regarding the transfer of leadership before the man hung up the phone. He’d be sending a fire message to the Dumort vampire hotel and seat of the vampire leader as soon as the sun went down.  While there were no regional Seelie leaders, Izzy took his tidings to the Seelie realm with a gift for their queen, a bracelet of Rowan wood inlaid with electrum.  The Unseelie never signed the Accords and therefore he could skip notifying the elusive faction.  

It was some time after noon when Alec allowed himself another coffee break and his unoccupied mind turned towards the man who had been haunting the edge of his thoughts.  

Magnus Bane.

Before he went into the club last night he thought he was prepared.  When he and his siblings settled on Bane as their best shot at finding out if Jace’s memory had been tampered with, it wasn’t on a whim.  They had done extensive research, finding every bit of information the Clave’s extensive file on the man had to offer.  He put in requests for older physical records as well from the Silent Brothers and while those hadn’t come in before Izzy and Jace went to see the warlock, Alec was able to look through them afterwards.  

While the Clave’s files weren’t monstrously biased, now that Alec was looking for it, there was obviously an effort to present the man in a negative light in almost all of the recent digitized reports, quite a few of them written or signed off on by his parents.  The only blatantly positive portrayals were far older and written by a Henry Branwell, who apparently worked with Bane on inventing the temporary portal spell.  

Alec tried to contemplate what it would be like to be responsible for one of the most functional spells ever created that revolutionized the supernatural worlds. 

The few entries from notable downworlders who allied with the Clave painted a much more positive picture.

Based on the information available to him Alec formed the opinion that Bane was powerful, potentially more so than the Clave realized or wanted to admit, brilliant, the portal was only his most notable invention, mercurial, there were several accounts of him cursing those who he was once friendly with, and Diyonisiac, he reveled in the physical pleasures of life unashamedly and there was writings including poetry, paintings and photographs to prove it.

Believed to be around four to five centuries old, Bane interfered with shadowhunter business on several occasions and was taken in for questioning and once even imprisoned by the Clave but he always had support, sometimes even from shadowhunters that saw him through whatever trouble he found himself in.  Until the Uprising, there was nothing much on him in the last century.  

During the Uprising, Bane was one of the most notable defenders of the Downworld against Valentine.  He was rewarded for his efforts by the warlocks of New York with the title of High Warlock although unlike his predecessor who vacated the position a few decades prior he didn’t take the title of High Warlock of New York, instead naming himself the High Warlock of Brooklyn.

Alec found it strange that he hadn’t claimed the whole city and wondered at the motivation for such a choice.  Perhaps he would get the opportunity to ask him.

Nothing he had read or seen in the files and documents could have completely prepared him for the man in person.

Alec swallowed hard at the memory of those dark eyes catching his for the first time.  Magnus was stunning in appearance, more than any picture painted or photographed could capture.  The air around him was almost electrified with magic, or maybe that was just the immortal man’s presence.  The warlock’s sexual proclivities were well documented and Alec was ready for perhaps purposeful but empty provocative behavior, he wasn’t ready to be the sole focus of the man’s sensual attention.

Never had such attention been directed his way with such little effort (none really) in obscuring interest.  Magnus Bane's eyes were not subtle and Alec was not distracted enough to miss the way they fixated on his lips, his neck (the warlock seemed to have a thing for the deflect rune) and when he turned around he caught the dip down to his backside.

The warlock’s obvious appreciation was flattering (headspinningly so) and extremely distracting.  Alec was almost glad when he had an excuse to focus on something other than Magnus’ collar bones peaking out from the deep V of his nearly transparent shirt and how they might feel under his lips.  Then the much older man had gone and used magic to subdue the Circle member faster than Alec.  The shadowhunter didn’t think he was capable of swooning, but apparently he was wrong.

Alec respected that Magnus was irritated by the sudden influx of shadowhunters in his place of business, potentially scaring off his clientele.  He was grateful the other man had been patient and allowed him to be in charge of the situation.  It was almost a miracle that everything was resolved with no blood spilled and the two Circle members in custody.  

Alec flushed thinking about what happened after the others returned to the Institute.

Despite not having the opportunity or true desire to have sex with someone, he wasn’t naive or oblivious.  He expected someone with Magnus’ reputation to at least make overtures for a one-night stand after all the tension between them.  He wasn’t expecting to be invited to dinner.  It was… sweet and made his heart pick up speed just thinking about it.  There was a desperate need in him to see Magnus again but that didn’t stop him from second guessing the decision to do so.

So much was happening at the Institute and he would need a warlock he could depend on.  Whatever was between them, or could be between them wasn’t worth jeopardizing a potentially powerful ally, especially with the knowledge that Valentine was not only alive but his followers were active and collaborating with demons of all things.

He was about to pick up his phone and get the painful conversation over with when there were two sharp knocks on the door, announcing Penelope’s arrival.

“Come in,” he called.

Penelope entered carrying a bag of take out.  “Your sister called and insisted that you eat something.”  Alec’s stomach growled as the smell of warm bread and cured meat filtered through the plastic bag and he felt Selaphiel’s attention turn outwards for the first time in hours.  

“Thank you, you know it’s not your job to feed me right?”

“You aren’t a child and I’m not feeding you,” she responded almost thoughtlessly before flushing.  “I apologize, that was uncalled for sir.”

Alec grinned.  “You used to put bandaids on me when I skinned my knees running in the hallway Penelope.  I think you calling me sir is awkward for us both.”

“You were adorable and I wasn’t even out of my sponsorship back then.”

“Am I no longer adorable?”

The fine lines around his assistant’s eyes, barely starting to appear as she approached her fourth decade of life, crinkled.  “Stop fishing for compliments and eat your food.  I have news and I would prefer to speak to you when you have something in your stomach.  I don’t know if you’ll hear me over the growling.”

It was Alec’s turn to flush this time, and he set to work unwrapping the sandwich as she sat and pulled out some paperwork to look through as he tucked in.  “Good or bad?”  

“That’s all a matter of perspective.”

Alec rolled his eyes.  He knew Penelope wouldn’t be so bold if he were his mother but he appreciated her wit and teasing.  He knew if she had been given the opportunity to attend the Academy she would have risen much higher than an administrative assistant.    

“Then give me what you think I’ll like least to hear first.”

“I need to cut back on my hours and I’m hoping you won’t replace me for it.”

Alec’s head jerked up, mouth full of sandwich as he just took a bite.  He chewed carefully and swallowed as he took in Penelope’s calm face.  Her dark blue eyes didn’t give away anything.  “I’m guessing you have a good reason for wanting this.”

His assistant’s dark curly head nodded.  “I would go into detail but, it’s personal.”  She left it off there.

“I won’t demand it, but I’m only Head temporarily.”  There were no guarantees that his parents or even someone else would keep her on.

“Well that’s my other piece of news.”  She pulled a paper out of the stack she was shuffling through and held it out.  Alec made sure to wipe his hand before taking it.  His heart leapt into his throat as he recognized a formal summons to appear before the American Enclave Council.  “I’ve been in touch with some of the other administrative assistants of Institutes.  I think there is a very good chance the purpose of the meeting is to nominate you for full Headship.”  

Alec blinked, pushing away the food in front of him.  His first thought was to deny it but he knew Penelope wouldn’t have bothered mentioning it if it was only idle gossip.  Administrative support staff always knew what was going on.  His second thought was to minimize it.  “A nomination isn’t an appointment.”  Penelope’s raised brow communicated her thoughts clearly.  She didn’t think it was going to end with just a nomination.  

Alec didn’t know if he was elated or nauseated.  

Part of him wanted to cry out in triumph at how close he was to something he thought only a few days ago might be forever out of his reach and part of him wanted to tug at the invisible rope tightening around his neck.  It was too soon.  He’d only held temporary headship for a little over 24 hours.  Why was the nomination being pushed through when he had yet to truly prove himself?

Alec glanced down at his phone and thought of the person he was about to call before Penelope walked in.  

He remembered the man’s soft smile when they parted.  He wanted to see it again.  Grief welled at the thought of not being able to.

“It doesn’t please you?”

Alec’s mouth formed the denial but he didn’t hear it come out.  Although he trusted Penelope in her role as his assistant he didn’t want to let her know that he doubted the nomination.  “It just feels like it’s closing a door to something I didn’t even know I wanted.  And it’s happening too soon to trust there isn’t a reason behind it.”  If he was nominated but shot down for appointment it would probably hurt his chances of being nominated in the future.

Penelope hummed.  Something on her face was pained but Alec didn’t have time to question it because her next words caught him. “Doors only close if we let them.  If you really want it, make it happen.”  A whisper of a prayer bled into his consciousness, coalescing into recognizable words before Alec could silence it. Selaphiel stirred and he could feel her apology ripple across his mind.  

It was happening more and more often, the prayers slipping through to Alec’s mental ears.  He wished he could unlearn the knowledge this particular incident brought him but that was impossible.  

Alec pushed it away and they continued their discussion of other Institute business but before the older shadowhunter left Alec stopped her.  “Whatever you need Penelope, we’ll make it work.  If you want to decrease your hours or take a sabbatical.  As long as I am Head you will have your position.” 

Penelope smiled softly at him.  “Thank you Director,” she said before continuing her exit.

He glanced down at his phone again and heard the whispered desperate pleas along with the pained advice,  if you really want it, make it happen.  

There was nothing to be done about the news of the possible nomination but ride it out.  There was something he could do about Magnus now.

Alec picked up the phone.

Another knock on his office door interrupted Alec pouring over expenditure reports, trying to make sense of the numbers.  If he wanted to fire Lacewing, his Head of Resources, he wanted to have something to justify it.  Not that he actually needed it.  An Institute Head, even a temporary one, had complete discretion over their employees, even their highest officers.  A disgruntled ex-officer could plead their case before the Council and if he was going to be nominated he didn’t want it to be jeopardized or questioned due to a staffing decision.

Alec called for the person at the door to enter even as his eyes continued to track columns.  He didn’t look up until the person was in front of his desk greeting him.  “You wanted to see me, Director.”

The temporary Head looked up to see Susannah Stormfield, nervous and trying to shrink in on herself under his gaze.  It was almost if Alec could see the specter of expectations he knew intimately weighing across her shoulders.  He hoped he could lift a little of that from her.

“I’m removing you from Resources.”  She looked stricken.  Alec internally winced realizing a little too late he could have started on a more positive note.  “I want you on a special project.  You’ll report directly to me.  I want you to perform an analysis of the Institute’s sponsor program.”  The younger shadowhunter’s eyebrows were furrowed in confusion but at least she no longer looked terrified.  Alec continued to explain “Sponsors ideally make 60% of an Institute’s fighting force. Ours is below 45%.  Not only is our recruitment for the program low, we have less than 55% retention of our own sponsors after their mandatory two years of service.  I want to know why and I want you to have recommendations and what can be done to fix it.”

She shifted her arms behind her and he knew she was clasping her hands together no doubt digging a nail or two in a palm to hold her silence.   

“This is not a punishment and I am not trying to set you up for failure.  This is information that I need, that I believe you are best suited to collect, analyze and provide me.”

Stormfield’s blue-grey eyes dropped to the floor and a soft blush became apparent.  Alec swallowed down his discomfort at where her mind must be, wondering what he could possibly say to make it clear to her that he had zero interest in her beyond what she could do professionally.  

“This isn’t exactly where my expertise lies.”  

The words surprised him, as did the steadiness of her voice.  He made a noise of agreement.  “No, but your expertise certainly isn’t being utilized in Resources. The Institute is a business at its core, although not an independent one.  One of our ‘products’ is our sponsored graduates and something is wrong in the system.”  

She was nodding as he spoke and he could see a spark of intrigue on her face.  “What’s my timeline?”

Alec wanted to breathe a sigh of relief.  “I want preliminary findings in a week and a half, after that check in with myself or Penelope if you need anything, final report in a month’s time.”

Her eyes widened in shock.  “That’s quite a bit of time.”

“I want you to be thorough.  I want interviews of educators, new recruits, soon to be graduates, and recent graduates.  I want you to look at other Institutes.  What are they doing?  How do our graduates’ service records compare to theirs’ after they complete the program?  How do our training programs compare? What does their recruitment look like?  The works.”

She pulled her tablet from her shoulder bag and began making notes.  

“I will send you a file with the scope of everything and my own thoughts before the end of day shift.  Stop by Mendoza’s desk. She’ll have your new assignment orders, you’ll be attached to our office on paper and she has your new rank and salary schedule.”

He was happy that his dismissal was clearly received when she put away her tablet and made for the door.  His attention was almost recaptured by the numbers in front of him before she spoke up.  “Thank you sir.”  Alec looked up to see her looking him in the eye.  “For the assignment.”  Her eyes dropped again before she appeared to find the resolve to keep speaking and looked up before continuing.  “I appreciate the faith you have shown in giving it to me.”  Something much deeper than mere infatuation was in her eyes, but Alec could tell it wasn’t romantic in nature and Selaphiel’s whisper across his mind confirmed that it wasn’t.

Recognition.  Acknowledgement. Validation.  

She was starved for it.  Alec knew that hunger well.  “I look forward to reading your report.”  Her curly blonde head bowed to show appropriate deference to her superior.  Alec sighed as the door closed behind her, rubbing an ink stained hand down his face.  Mustering his focus and resolve he returned to the work in front of him.

‘You’ve been staring at these papers for nearly two hours and have yet to find anything substantial.  Are you sure what you are looking for exists?’

Alec grimaced.  He was about to respond when the door to his office opened.  There were only two people in the Institute that would enter his office without knocking and having his soul tied to one of them answered the question of just who it was.  

Jace’s pale head peaked around the door.  “Dude, it’s nearly seven.”

Alec grunted at his parabatai.  “And where have you been all day?”

Mismatched eyes rolled.  “Most of it? In bed.”

The elder snorted.  “And when you left and didn’t return for nearly four hours?”

Jace sighed, throwing himself into one of the arm chairs.  “Sometimes I really hate our bond.  I feel like one of those microchipped pets carried around by those idiotic looking mundanes.  What’s the point of them being microchipped if they aren’t even going to let them run around?”  

Alec’s grin was sharp.  “If you didn’t run around like an idiotic mundane then I wouldn’t feel the need to tug on the bond like a leash.”

The younger’s answering expression fluttered from surprise to an irreverent smile.  “My dear parabatai, are you flirting with me?”  Alec’s hazel eyes widened at the suggestion.  Before shame could flush through him, Alec felt Jace flood the bond with affection and teasing.  “Sorry, too soon?”  

The knot in Alec’s stomach that he couldn’t remember forming, perhaps because it had been there for so long, loosened.  “You’re a massive asshole.”  

“That I am! But seriously, are you going to stop working tonight?”

Alec glanced at the clock on the desk.  He should stop now.  He promised Magnus eight o’clock and he didn’t want to disappoint.  “I am.  Now in fact.”  He put away the files he was working on, clearing his desk, not wanting it to be out of sorts when he returned to it in the morning.  He already felt weary at the thought.  As much as he wanted to spend the whole evening with Magnus if Magnus would have him, he was getting to the point of bone tiredness and desperately needed a good night’s sleep.  

‘Finally you are seeing sense.’ 

Alec rolled his eyes at the angel’s comment.  

Ignoring Jace’s questioning look, Alec entered the washroom off his office where he had taken the time earlier that day to stash fresh clothing.  It wasn’t for the purpose of a date but in the case that he would be called before the Council or to Idris.  It came in handy now.  His nerves were already beginning to make his stomach turn.  He didn’t want to spend what precious little time he had second guessing his clothing.

The shirt was linen and a light shade of green that Izzy insisted set off his eyes.  He paired it with dark grey nearly black slacks.  If he were on duty he would throw his hunting jacket over it, while a bit casual it wasn’t out of the question for a Head still of combat age. Given he was meeting a downworlder and didn’t want to wear anything that reminded him of his profession Alec left his hunting jacket on the hook and reached for one of the many jackets Izzy would bring home for him after a shopping spree.  The jacket was a soft buttery brown in a fabric Alec didn’t know the name of.  He didn’t skip his usual hunting boots, they were oddly comforting to put on after wearing dress shoes all day.

Jace whistled when he came out of the bathroom.  “Where are you going?”

“Meeting,” Alec answered, but he didn’t shut down the bond quickly enough. Jace prodded it and no doubt caught the swirls of anxiety that leaked through.  

Jace’s jaw dropped.  “Are you going on a date?”  Alec’s glare was his answer.  “Angel save us all.  The end is near.”

“Fucking asshole,” Alec shot at him as he fixed the sleeves of the jacket up a bit more.

Jace’s face was suddenly horrified.  “Please tell me it's not that warlock.”  

The other parabatai half blew out a long, suffering sigh.  “It is that warlock and I really don’t want to hear it from you.  With your history, you really can’t talk.”

“I told him my name like three times and the man intentionally kept messing it up,” the younger shadowhunter whined, not sounding at all like the elite demon killer that he was.

“Poor baby,” Alec simpered, avoiding Jace’s kick as he walked past, opening one of the cabinets his parents kept filled with assorted gifts for visits with Clave or other Institute officials.  He pulled out a bottle of red wine from the rack hanging inside.  Alec wasn’t much of a connoisseur but if it was in the cabinet he knew it wasn’t cheap and the label was in French, so he figured it was good enough.

“Wow, stealing Maryse’s booze.  You must really want in this guy’s pants.”

Alec didn’t respond because he didn’t think it would be the truth if he were to deny it and he certainly wasn’t going to confirm it.  It was also just odd, discussing dating or even sex with Jace.  Although he knew his parabatai had his own fair share of experiences, Jace was never loose lipped about his escapades.  The thought that maybe that was out of consideration for Alec’s feelings never occurred to him, but now he wondered.  

“I know you have tonight off.  Don’t do anything stupid,” Alec ordered as they both exited the office.  

“Use protection, supposedly your friend has been around.”

“You would know,” Alec shot back as he locked up.  

Jace gave him a salute before he peeled off, heading towards the residential wing.  Alec tried to keep his head down, knowing that everyone would try to catch him as he left for the night.  He was about through the security entrance when he heard it.

“Director!”  

Only a few steps away from freedom.  He sighed and turned to see Underhill, his Head of Security.  He tried to swallow his annoyance.  Underhill was a competent recent hire and Alec knew the man had other offers.  He couldn’t really afford to alienate him.  

“Underhill.”

“Sir, I realize you are leaving for the night.”

Alec wanted to retort with a question of why the man had stopped him if he knew that. Instead he merely nodded and replied, “You should be as well.  You’ve been working for about sixteen hours.”  

Underhill was about his height and met his gaze squarely, but something curled the corner of his lips up.  “Are you keeping track of me sir?”

Alec blinked trying not to let his surprise and the shot of fear that went down his spine show.  If he didn’t know any better he would say Underhill was flirting with him.  Alec was fine with being open with Izzy, Jace and Aline.  He was okay showing interest in Magnus, a downworlder, in his territory with no other shadowhunters around.  He was not okay with the potential of his sexuality being out in the open in the Institute.  

“I make sure all my people are taken care of Underhill.  If you overwork yourself, I can’t rely on you to make sure those under your care are doing their jobs or are safe.”  The words held a bit of bite to them and whatever smile was beginning on the fair haired shadowhunter’s face quickly was smothered.  

“Of course Director.” He looked properly contrite.

“You needed something?”  He knew he was being short, but his heart was racing and he was going to crawl out of skin in a second.  It felt like every person on the Ops floor was staring at them.  Everyone knew what he was, who he liked, where he was going, what for and that the cover of a professional meeting with the High Warlock was just a flimsy excuse, as transparent as cellophane.  He would be stripped of his rank, locked away or sent to Wrangle island to take suicide mission after suicide mission until he didn’t come back.  

Underhill was talking but Alec just heard sounds.  His eyes connected over Underhill’s shoulder to Jace who had just stepped out onto the floor, eyes finding his parabatai immediately.  Alec realized he must be broadcasting loudly through the bond.  The older attempted to ward off the younger with a look, but Jace’s face was stubbornly set and even with his shorter stride he crossed the floor in a few seconds.  

“Underhill,” the blond shadowhunter greeted, it wasn’t friendly.  “The Director has to get to a meeting with a Downworld leader.  Perhaps I can handle it?”  

Jace wasn’t his second in command, but as his parabatai there were certain duties it was generally accepted that he could step in for.  

“Oh, no I just wanted to inform the Director that my assessment of our warding needs and technological measures was complete and if he would prefer me to send it to him prior to our meeting tomorrow for review.”

Alec forced himself to breathe quietly through his nose.  “Send it to my email, now if you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to keep the High Warlock waiting.  We’ll need him feeling generous if we are going to update our wards and not break the bank.”   Alec wasn’t sure how he was managing to speak actual coherent sentences as his heart rate fell to a more human range.  

“Of course, Director.” 

Alec was already turning for the exit, feeling his parabatai’s concerned gaze on his back.  The night air that hit him in the face was not refreshing.  The night was humid, the air weighing heavy on his chest.  He crossed the grounds and hailed a taxi.

‘I know you requested privacy for this night, but I am here if you need me.’   

The angel’s steady presence grounded his panicked body and as he got in the cab he allowed himself to slump after giving the driver an address.  He didn’t put his gratitude for her support into words, but knew she received the message.  His cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he knew it was Jace checking on him.  Not wanting him to worry longer he looked at the messages.

I’ll kill him

Izzy will help me get rid of the body

Nobody will know

Please don’t.

He’s actually good at his job.

What the hell did he say to you

Fuck Alec

It felt like before

The fear

Alec grimaced at his phone.  He didn’t remember being afraid when he was dying, but he remembered Jace’s fear.  He typed out what happened and then deleted it feeling foolish.  Underhill probably meant nothing by the comment.  Alec took it the wrong way.  

Nothing.

I overreacted. 

Don’t do anything.

Don’t say anything.

Leave it alone.

Please.

The three dots showing that Jace was texting back bobbed up and down for a while before a message finally showed up.

Whatever you say Director

Alec huffed at his parabatai’s cheek.  It wasn’t dropped.  Alec knew Jace better than that.  Jace didn’t forget and forgiveness wasn’t usually in the cards either.   It was one of the traits he shared with Izzy.

Remember what I said.

Stay out of trouble tonight.

A meme of someone saluting came through and Alec rolled his eyes before he switched over to Magnus’ number.

On my way.

He forced himself to lock the phone.  He didn’t want to pathetically stare at the screen waiting for those damn dots, just to anxiously watch them and analyze their disappearance and reappearance and how much time was in between.

His phone buzzed.

Punctual of you darling.

I love that.

I eagerly await your arrival.  I’m 8D, ring and I’ll buzz you in.

Alec breathed out, suddenly exhilarated and terrified.  What was he doing?  He was jeopardizing everything he had worked for.  How was this supposed to ever work?  He couldn’t date a man much less a downworlder.  His stomach turned with guilt.  His phone buzzed again.

Jace texted you are panicking.  

Jace was right.  The bond could be a nuisance at times.

Also I’m very annoyed Jace knew you were going on a date and you said nothing to me.  

We’ll be having words later.

But as for the panicking stop it.

I have your back. Jace has your back.  Aline has your back.

You’ve only been Head for 24 hours and you have already dealt with more than mom or dad do in a year.

Forestner and Swiftfoot both respect you.

That could change.

Alec, stop.  You already have given so much to the Clave.

If you give this up.  I will seriously go crazy and start murdering fools. 

I don’t even know what this is.

It’s a chance to be you and do something for yourself. I’m so happy and proud you are doing this, you have no idea.

Iz it’s one date with a guy I barely know. It’s not like I’m getting married in front of the Clave or waiving one of those mundane Pride flags.

You gotta start at the beginning hermano.

And if it only stays at one date, it’s still an experience that’s yours.

Alec breathed out.  His little sister could be so wise sometimes.  

Wait, why is Jace texting you?  Aren’t you both at the Institute?

I’m working in the infirmary tonight.

She wasn’t fooling him.

Isabelle where is Jace?

Aline went with him.

Where is he?

Just enjoy your date.  Don’t worry.  Aline is responsible and his direct commanding officer.  She can handle him.

Seriously Alec.  Take the night and just live.

Also congrats on snagging the eye of Magnus FUCKING Bane.

The man is fine as hell.  Words when you get home.

Alec blew out an exasperated sigh.  He silenced and locked his phone, shutting his eyes and passing the rest of the ride in stillness.  The cab pulled up to the curb and Alec looked up at the old factory building that had been repurposed into living spaces.  He handed over quite a bit of money to the driver with a word of thanks and made his way up to the building.

By the time he reached the apartment door he was resolved to see this night through and drink enough alcohol to relax a bit, because even he felt like his face must be frozen in some unpleasant expression.  He lifted his hand to rap his knuckles on the door when it opened.  Alec looked up to see no one there.  

Right.

Warlock.

He stepped inside and mentally suppressed the part of him that wanted to gawk.  He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but the apartment was beyond whatever ideas he had imagined.   Rich colored fabrics gave the large space an intimate lived in feel and was set off by the industrial metal and exposed brick that harkened back to the building’s roots.  Artifacts to artwork to sculptures to what appeared to be ancient scrolls littered the walls and surfaces, no doubt collected through Magnus’ life.  

He stepped through the foyer into a living space and couldn’t help being instantly drawn to the bookshelves that lined one wall from floor to ceiling even with a moveable ladder to reach the upper level of shelves.

“Be right down! Make yourself comfortable,” was called from above and he looked up the spiral staircase to what was no doubt a rooftop patio.  

He took this as permission to run fingertips down worn spines and counted at least seven different languages represented on one shelf alone.  Alec recognized some titles of famous mundane literature mixed in with what must be treatises and manuscripts on magic. He pulled out a small book that appeared to be bound by hand. He frowned at the title “Angelic Magic.”

“Are you fellow bibliophile?”

Alec didn’t turn immediately, replacing the intriguing book on the shelf, not wanting to be dazed by Magnus’ appearance and come across the same tongue tied fool he did last night.  

“Only when there isn’t a digital version.  Not much space for a personal library in a barracks room.”  Alec didn’t mention the small box of trashy paperback romance novels he kept under his bed.

“Heathen,” came the lilting tease and Alec couldn’t resist turning to meet those gorgeous brown eyes.  Alec never would have thought he would be appreciative of makeup, but he couldn’t deny that Magnus looked stunning with his eyes lined and shimmering.  The other man was wearing a flowing shirt in crimson with matching pants and details in gold thread.  It was a drastic change from the dark club attire he was in last night and Alec found himself no less dazzled for it.

However, it seemed Magnus was not as impressed with his appearance, “Oh darling, it looks like you haven’t slept.”  The warlock lifted his arm, hand coming up as if to touch the dark circles Alec knew were beneath his eyes before changing it’s trajectory with a flourish.

Instead of taking insult, Alec felt disarmed.  Something in him relaxed and he could feel the way his shoulders loosened, his posture becoming a tad slouched.  His smile was wry and his tongue luckily unglued itself.  “Is it that obvious?”  

Magnus shook his head with that same soft smile, the one Alec so desperately wanted to see.  “You know we could have done this another night.”

“I didn’t want to wait, or give you the impression that I didn’t want to see you.”  The forthright answer left his mouth before his brain processed what that might sound like. 

Surprise flickered on Magnus’ face before he glanced down, eyes hidden by softly shimmering lids.  They must have landed on the forgotten bottle of wine Alec held.  “You most certainly didn’t have to bring wine but it is appreciated.”  There was something to his voice that Alec wasn’t sure how to interpret.  The shadowhunter held out the bottle.

“I don’t actually know much about wine other than I enjoy it.  I took it from the stash used to greet Clave officials.”  

The warlock’s grin was a touch vicious as his eyes glimmered in the intimately lit apartment.  “Which, I will enjoy it all the more for.”  Alec huffed a laugh.  “Everything for dinner is set up upstairs.  Shall we?”

Alec nodded, following Magnus up the staircase and when he stepped out onto the roof he had to grip the staircase tightly to stay upright.  He imagined that before, on a night like tonight, it was a nice spot to sit out and enjoy an evening.  Now, it was transformed.  

Magnus had done something to the view of the night sky, dimming the city’s light pollution and clearing any smog, revealing a field of stars above them.  Candles dripped from every surface and the same textiles that made the downstairs feel cozy were repeated here.  A fire crackled gently in a raised pit next to an intimate table and chairs laden with covered dishes.  

Alec’s throat was tight at the obvious show of effort and care.  It was more than anyone probably had ever done for him and purely for his pleasure and enjoyment.  

“Magnus” he breathed out.  It felt like his chest was expanding and collapsing at the same time. “this is…”

“Too much?” The question came too quick, a nervous edge to the warlock’s voice that Alec wanted to soothe away but was also comforted to hear.  It was a relief to know that this dinner and maybe Alec himself made Magnus anxious because Magnus terrified Alec.

“No, no, this is incredible,” he hesitated.  It was on the tip of his tongue to deny that he was worth Magnus’ obvious efforts but he held it back. “I just hope whatever I come up with won’t be disappointing in comparison.”

He heard the other man move around him and Magnus pulled out one of the chairs, before gesturing for Alec to sit.  “I don’t know you well yet Alexander, but I find it difficult to believe you could ever be disappointing.”  The words were said carefully and Alec would usually resent being spoken to as if he were fragile, but in the moment he felt like something inside him was shattering and appreciated the sentiment.  He ducked his head to hide his suddenly burning eyes and cleared his throat before murmuring his thanks.  Magnus snapped his fingers, filling the more narrow wine of glasses on the table with a chartreuse white wine and handing it with his usual grace.  “While I took some recommendations from the chef on wine pairings for this evening, the bottles were my selections.  Be honest if you don’t care for something.”  

Alec couldn’t help smiling sheepishly.  “I think you are overestimating my ability to stay awake after I have a drink and dinner.”

Full lips pursed in thought for a moment.  “I think I may have a solution for you if you are willing.”  

Alec assumed the solution would be some form of magic.  ‘Would this be a problem?’

‘It depends on the extent and intent behind the magic.  With my grace you will be more resistant to anything.’  

It seemed that his internal questioning gave the wrong impression to the High Warlock whose expression closed off in the face of Alec’s lack of response.  “I wouldn’t want to be a bother, but I also don’t want to fall asleep before we get to dessert.  

The smile he got in return wasn’t the same as previous, not quite crinkling Magnus’ eyes.  “We cannot have that darling.  I assure you the dessert will be to die for.” The warlock’s voice was dripping with innuendo, but Alec couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t genuine.  “I’ll be a moment.”  Magnus moved past him back to the rooftop door.  Alec blew out a breath wondering just how badly he screwed up.

‘What am I doing?’

‘You would be surprised how often I hear that.’

Alec rolled his eyes as he stepped up to the railing of the roof.   ‘In all the times that you heard the prayers, didn’t you ever want to say something back?’

Selaphiel was silent for a moment.  ‘Yes, but I didn’t know before.’

‘Know what?’

“This will sort you out Alec.”  

Magnus came up the steps with a small potion vial in his hand.  Alec couldn’t help but frown at his shortened name.  The shadowhunter took the vial from the warlock’s outstretched hand, pulled the stopper out and drank it down in one swallow.  The sudden burst of peppermint across his palate almost made him cough.  

“Thank you, it is appreciated.”  

The other man nodded, something watchful and contemplative in his eyes.  He waved a hand towards the table, “Dinner?”  

“Dinner,” Alec agreed.  

Magnus described the first dish in detail and Alec tried to keep up with the names of ingredients as he swallowed down a mouthful of the green wine that he barely tasted, trying to come up with something that would smooth over whatever glitch had occurred earlier. 

“Alexander,” Magnus interrupted, “open,” he commanded.  

Alec followed the order, opening his mouth and allowing the immortal man to pop a bite of whatever he just spent the past several minutes describing onto his tongue.  Too stunned by the action to do anything other than follow instinct, he closed his mouth and let the sweet tartness of pomegranate and something savory and slightly salty burst across his palate.  He flushed at the feeling of the warlock’s fingertips brushing against his lips.

Magnus’ wore a self satisfied smile.  “Pardon the presumption but you looked like you were thinking a bit too much.”

“Habit.

The other man hummed.  “You are certainly the type.  Let’s alleviate some of that now shall we?”  He took his own bite of food before continuing.  “Now, as much as I want to continue enjoying this evening, we do have some business to attend to.”  

Alec nodded.  “Should we start with reparations?”

Magnus waved a bejeweled hand as he took another bite.  

The nephilim reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out the envelope he stashed there before leaving the office.  “I hope this will be satisfactory.”  He set the envelope down just off to the side of the small plate in front of Magnus and waited with a small amount of nerves.  

Magnus opened the envelope and took out the folded papers.  Alec watched, looking for tells of any reaction to what they contained.  The warlock didn’t bother hiding the widening of his eyes or rise of his eyebrows.  He quickly met the shadowhunter’s gaze.  “This is formal recognition of my title by the NYI.”

It wasn’t surprising to Alec when he realized his parents had not bestowed recognition on Magnus.  While the title of High Warlock was one given by warlocks the position meant nothing formally in the eyes of the Clave until a Head of an Institute or a seated member of the Clave’s central government recognized it.  It didn’t escape Alec’s notice when he went through Magnus’ file that his parents had not done so.

Recognizing a High Warlock came with protections and rights for the warlock.  Magnus would be given leave to enter the Institute without formal permission.  It wasn't a free license to walk around unchecked, but he would be able to tie himself to the wards so he could enter without setting off any alarms.  He would be informed of any formal interactions shadowhunters had with warlocks in the NYI’s territory and could request that be extended to other Downworld races.  

It was a show of trust between an Institute and a warlock, usually awarded after a few years of service.  It wasn’t odd that Magnus wasn’t formally recognized before, but it also wouldn’t be seen as anything out of the ordinary given Magnus had served in his position for almost twenty years and no conflicts had occurred in that time with the NYI.

Alec cleared his throat.  “There is more.  The Institute will require updates and reworking of it’s warding scheme.  I have a preliminary contract there, I anticipate the Institute will be generous in its compensation.”

Magnus shifted through the papers and his eyebrows climbed higher.  “I see the range of what is possible that I could ask for to be rather loose.  Alexander, are you sure I won’t take advantage?”  The flirtation was clear in his voice.

The nephilim took a slow sip of wine. A simmering heat that had nothing to do with the alcohol settled low in his stomach.  “I expect you to attempt to take every advantage.”

Magnus’ lips curled up.  “I believe this business is concluded for now.  Let’s move on to the second course.”  With a wave of his hands and no small display of magic the previous course’s settings disappeared, replaced by a salad of some sort.  The wine was changed as well to a red of some sort.  “How fare our friends from last night?”

Alec breathed out and attempted to refocus his attention. The warlock was devastatingly distracting. “They were taken to Idris this morning, I haven’t heard a word since.”

Magnus picked up his knife and fork and began to eat, Alec mirroring him.  “And the investigation into the blood?”  

“We believe that the body of the victim was found earlier that day by mundane police.  The demons weren’t being inconspicuous.”

“Well they aren’t known for that.”

“No, but it does beg the question: why farm out a job like that to demons?”

“And why would Circle members be drawing such attention to themselves by using demons? Those two went almost twenty years without being caught.  Why act so openly now?”

Alec considered Magnus’ words. Between everything that happened and his duties he hadn’t really pondered the blood situation at length.“You think it was the plan to get caught?”  

“I think it was the plan to be noticed, to what end… who could say?  But it does lead one to wonder just how much of Valentine’s order was left unscathed and remained in the shadows.”

This comment was pointed and Alec could feel the not so gentle request for elaboration.  He needed to tread carefully.  Recognizing Magnus as High Warlock was not just part of the reparations owed to the man, but also a calculated move to buy his goodwill.  Given his knowledge of just who could be behind the machinations of the Circle members in New York, Alec knew he needed the Downworld, instrumental in quelling the first Uprising on his side.  He also couldn’t tip his hand too far.  If he was ever questioned with the Soul Sword he could be executed for treason if he were too direct.

“Yes, it does appear that not all of the Circle were dealt with as thoroughly as initially thought.  I have the investigatory capacity of the Institute working on the blood issue.”

“But not that two Circle members were collecting it?  So the Inquisitor will be handling that part herself?”

Alec looked up from his plate with sharp eyes.  Magnus’ steady gaze gave nothing away.  He wondered just how the man had found out that the Inquisitor was involved at all.  

Selaphiel’s voice whispered through his mind, ‘He was listening to you last night.’  

The shadowhunter dropped his eyes back to his plate and blew out steadily.  He supposed he would have done the same if their situations were reversed.  The records he used to cultivate his impression of Magnus whether positive or negative made it clear.  The man was not a fool.

In a way, it was almost advantageous really.  Magnus was more read into the situation that Alec could have expressly told him.  While part of him reasoned it could be dangerous and he should be cautious trusting his potential ally too soon, another part of him believed fully that as long as he never gave Magnus cause to see him as an enemy the warlock would not actively work against him.

“The Inquisitor does have her reasons to actively pursue Circle members.”  It wasn’t a direct confirmation but the shadowhunter knew it would be taken as such.  

Brown eyes glimmered through thick lashes and Magnus’ expression was fully engaged.  The warlock was enjoying himself it appeared.  “Yes, I recall something about her son.  I was saddened to hear this line of the Herondale family would not be continuing for another generation.”

Alec’s heart beat quicker as he thought of Jace.  “Did you know her son?  Stephen Herondale.”

Magnus shook his head.  “Perhaps, I believe I met him in passing a few times, but no I didn’t know him.  I was close with an ancestor of his and I do like to keep track of family lines.  You however bear more resemblance to that ancestor than Stephen did, but you are distantly related.”  

Alec’s mind flew through the knowledge he had of the family tree.  “That’s quite a few generations back.  If I remember correctly Cecily Lightwood?”

“Née Herondale, yes,” Magnus confirmed, pleased at Alec’s knowledge of his own family.  “She was sister to Will Herondale, who was Stephen’s great great, well you get the picture grandfather.  Charming woman and Will was a good friend.”

Alec swallowed another mouthful of wine.  It wasn’t something he initially realized after the revelation of Jace’s birth.  He and Jace were related although quite distantly, but then most old shadowhunting lines were.  “Is it difficult?  Seeing generation after generation of families come and go?”  

Magnus swirled the garnet liquid in his glass.  “It’s something I have to continuously come to terms with.  Some generations it's harder than others. But that is the life of an immortal.  Could end tomorrow, or not for another hundred years.”  Magnus leaned forward.  “Are you finished with the salad?”  

Alec nodded, not really realizing that he had cleared his plate of food.  ‘It was marvelous, you should really pay more attention,’   the angel scolded and Alec wanted to roll his eyes. She was quite aware that other things are occupying his mind.

Magnus cleared the table with another wave of magic and it was once again replaced by another course.  His wine glass in his hand refilled. The display of magic reminded Alec of his previous curiosity.  “What does that feel like?”

“What?” Magnus asked.

“When you use magic, is it like exerting a muscle?  A sensation?”  

The warlock’s head tipped to one side as he looked at the nephilim with a curious gaze.  He appeared to contemplate his answer for a few more moments.  “Unless I’m really stretching myself it doesn’t feel like much of anything anymore.”

“Nothing?”  

Magnus head shook and a frown appeared on his face.  He lifted one of his own hands and blue sparked at his finger tips.   “I guess I’ve grown so used to it.  Do you feel it anymore when you draw a rune?”  

Alec frowned.  It was one the tip of his tongue to deny runes being magic.  Selaphiel snorted in his mind.  ‘If not magic then what?’  

‘Shadowhunters are forbidden from doing magic.’

The sound of ruffling feathers echoed in his mind.  ‘It is all energy, life, magic, my grace, the power that fuels your runes, bestowed in one way or another by the Creator.  Your people use different terms to separate yourself from those you see as lesser, as corrupted and wrong.’

Alec swallowed tightly, not being able to deny the angel’s gentle accusation.  “It burns.  Drawing runes burns, not just the surface flesh but within.  If you’re paying attention you can feel every active rune on your body.”

Magnus nodded.  “Magic felt much the same at the beginning.  More like electricity though, a constant current, sometimes painful when trying to draw too much.  Any discomfort paled in comparison to the feeling of shaping the world around me as I saw fit.  The power I held, at one time frightened me but later, once I mastered it made me feel-”

“Free,” Alec interrupted without intending to.  He thought of the first time he drew a strength rune and the way it felt to shatter the wards under his hands with Selaphiel’s grace.  

The warlock smiled.  “Most nephilim would be insulted to have such parallels drawn between magic and runes.”  

“The thought crossed my mind.” 

Brown eyes assessed him.  “You surprise me.  Your willingness to work with a downworlder, the respect you have shown me.”  

Hazel eyes dropped to his yet untouched plate.  “It’s been recently brought to my attention that many things I was raised to believe were… limited and lacked a fuller perspective.  I can’t say I was always so inclined.”  

“I’ve had centuries to grow and change and the world has changed around me.  I’ve seen the pendulum of social progress swing back and forth, in the mundane world and ours.  I can’t say we will always see eye to eye, but I will try and always consider your perspective and position if you can do the same for me.”  Alec met Magnus’ eyes.  It felt like a promise for the future.  That whatever was beginning here, whether it progressed beyond a professional relationship or not, would be lasting.  He remembered Swiftfoot asking him who he could trust before his world view shattered with his parent’s betrayal.  

He wanted to trust this man.  His gut told him he could trust this man.  Trust was a two way street.

Alec blew out a breath.  “My parents were summoned to Idris in part due to information that came to light regarding Jace, the one who came to you with my sister.”  

Magnus frowned, obviously confused at where this was heading.  “He believed his memory may have been tampered with.”

Alec nodded.  “We discovered that Jace’s parentage was not as we thought it to be and he is the son of Stephen and Celine Herondale.”  

Deep brown eyes widened in surprise.  “He gave me the last name Wayland when he introduced himself.”  

Amusement at confirmation that Magnus did indeed remember Jace’s name flickered for a moment.  “Yes.  That is who he knew his father to be.”  

“I don’t know much about the Wayland’s beyond they are an old family.”  

“It is extinct now unless there is some hidden branch, Jace was thought to be the last of them.”

“So the person who raised him?”  

“Michael Wayland was my father’s parabatai, although their bond shattered around the time of the Uprising.”  Alec couldn’t help the shudder that ran through him at the mere thought of his bond with Jace breaking in such a way.  “About ten years ago the person raising Jace was attacked in front of him by Circle members and seemingly killed.”  

Magnus’ eyes were sharp on his face.  He tapped his wine glass with his fingers, his multitude of rings making a gentle clinking sound.  “I think I can appreciate that you are choosing your words very carefully.”  

Alec nodded in confirmation.  They sat in contemplative silence for a moment.  Alec wondering how well Magnus would be able to read between the lines.

“I myself have always wondered about the disappearance of the Mortal Cup.  If the Clave was being honest about losing it.”

The thought had crossed Alec’s own mind but Izzy was adamant after making it through almost all of Valentine’s journals before turning them over that neither the Clave nor Valentine had the cup.  Which left only one of Valentine’s Circle members who chose to go rogue.  Unfortunately there were quite a few that disappeared in the aftermath of the uprising without a trace.  One of the most notable being his wife.

“I don’t think the Clave has the cup,” Alec said.

Magnus made a scoffing noise.  “The Clave also claimed that all of Valentine’s followers were hunted down and captured after the Uprising.  Who knows even if the man himself is actually dead.  It’s hard to believe someone of his power and knowledge perished in an accidental fire.”

Alec felt is jaw clench hard and if Magnus hadn’t been directly looking at him, perhaps the immortal man might have missed it.  The warlock drew in a breath through his teeth.  “Valentine is dead.”  The statement wasn’t as firm as it should have been.

The shadowhunter swallowed knowing if he could not directly say it without committing treason but if he covered the truth now Magnus would never trust him.  “It is the official ruling of the Clave that Valentine died in that fire.”  

Magnus’ brown eyes burned and for a moment Alec swore they flashed, revealing the warlock mark he had read about.  He looked away from the shadowhunter and Alec resisted the urge to fidget in anxiety.  “I always knew that the Clave as an institution truly did not care about the Downworld.  I sometimes don’t have hope that will ever change.”  He blew out a sigh and shook his head.  

Alec wanted to refute the notion, or at least the assumption that the Clave obscured the fact that Valentine was alive from the Downworld.  Then again the Inquisitor herself was keeping the fact of Valentine’s survival a secret from the Clave for the strategic advantage it offered so how far off was Magnus’ assumption really?  

“Let’s speak no more of this or work for the rest of the night and I think I want to skip to dessert.  There are many things you can do with magic but this surprise requires some prep in the kitchen.”  

Alec couldn’t read Magnus’ tone and was mildly surprised by the man’s willingness to move on from the shocking revelation but as he wanted to enjoy the other man’s company without the shadow of the Clave or Valentine hanging over them he also dropped the subject and followed Magnus’ lead.

The warlock snapped his fingers clearing the course they had been working on.  He stood, Alec quickly following.  Bejeweled fingers snagged the unfinished bottle of wine and Alec took up the glasses and followed.  Once they were back to the main floor Magnus topped off his own glass and offered more to Alec who shook his head.  “Be a dear and make yourself at home while I get dessert ready.”

Alec bypassed the bookshelves, feeling the need for continued open air and came out to the lower level balcony, which offered a similar spectacular view as the rooftop while feeling cozier with an outdoor fireplace that had to be added with magic.

Magnus announced his return from the kitchen “Since we promised not to speak of anything work related, what does Alexander Lightwood do in his down time?”

“The usual I suppose.  Practice my archery and other weapons, read through manuscripts on rare rune combinations and their effects and if I have the time, review battle reports from my active duty shadowhunters, make sure they’re all filing their paperwork out appropriately.”  Alec had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his face relaxed and free of the grin that was fighting to break through as Magnus’ face went from incredulous to contemplating that he might have just been given the truth.  He cracked when the other man took a large gulp from his glass of wine, clearly unable to swallow down Alec’s lies without some alcohol to lubricate the way.  He gasped out as he allowed his laughter free.  

Magnus glared at him over the top of his glass, but was chuckling soon as well.  “You have to know that’s what we actually think your people do.”  

Alec was too busy laughing to respond immediately, feeling tension he hadn’t known he’d been carrying fall from his shoulders.  “Trust me, I’m sure that’s what most of the people under me think I do in my free time as well.” 

Magnus came to his side not quite touching him anywhere but Alec was hyper aware of just how close they were. “So what is the truth?”

“It’s much more mundane I assure you.”

“What’s more mundane than reviewing paperwork?”

Alec grinned.  “Mundane in the literal sense.  I’ve been known to watch a fair bit of reality television.”

Magnus’ eyes rolled.  “Now I know you’re pulling my leg.”

The nephilim shook his head.  “I swear on the Angel.  My sister and I watch together.”

Magnus’ nose crinkled rather adorably.  “I just can’t picture it.  Does the Institute even get cable or do you just stream it?  YouTube clips?”

Alec huffed a laugh at the idea that shadowhunters went without TV.  “We have cable.”  Of course those that lived in Idris didn’t but that was partly why so many chose not to live there, especially after living with mundane conveniences and culture while they were working in Institutes.

“And then which shows? Are you a relationship drama person? 90 Day Fiancé? Or perhaps you’re more the shock and horror type ala Hoarders or My Strange Addiction.  Now that I can see.”  Magnus eyes were sparkling and he appeared almost giddy.  “Any strange addictions of your own?  Or do you hoard something?”

“Okay, okay, you’ve had your fun.”  Alec thinks about his collection of trashy novels he’s squirreled away from anyone’s sight, but Magnus didn’t need to know that about him right now.

“Ah avoiding the question.  Must be really embarrassing.  I’ll let you off the hook, but you have to tell me something else that’s true.”

“You are terribly beautiful.”  It was out of his mouth before his brain caught up.

Magnus’ head tilted, considering Alec’s words. “Terribly? Not sure that’s a compliment.” 

Alec reached out and took Magnus’ glass from him, taking the last drink from it before setting it on a nearby table and returning to Magnus’ side.  He needed the liquid courage.  “Terrible in the sense that when I saw you I realized that everything I thought to be beautiful before pales in comparison to you.  And the more I get to know you, the more beautiful you become even though it really shouldn’t be possible.”  Alec wasn’t sure if he was even speaking words that made sense but he wanted to somehow articulate to Magnus that he wasn’t alone in the inexplicable attraction between them.  

Magnus’ brown eyes were wide and his lips were parted, he appeared too stunned to speak.  His gaze dropped to his hands clenched on the balcony railing as if trying to hold himself in place.  “You barely could get words out last night and now look at you.”  

Alec recognized the deflection for what it was, a request for time, a moment to catch a breath perhaps, but he didn’t want to give Magnus that time.  “I could barely breathe when you were looking at me last night.  Made it rather difficult to form words.”  

A wounded noise escaped Magnus’ lips before he was crowding into Alec’s space.  “Shut up.”  Alec had to follow the command when warm lips firmly pressed against his own.  Alec inhaled sharply through his nose.  He couldn’t stop the moan that rose in his throat from escaping when one of Magnus’ hands came up to cradle the back of his head, the fingers weaving into his hair and providing traction that sent pleasure shooting down his spine. Magnus took advantage when his mouth slightly parted to take in a breath after the moan to pull his bottom lip between his own and gently bit.  

Angel, was this what he’d been missing all this time?  He never wanted to stop.  Magnus mouth was warm and the caressing slide of tongue and sharp pressure of his teeth made Alec’s mind go blissfully quiet. All concern and anxiety over kissing someone, kissing Magnus fell away.

Magnus’ other hand came up to cup his cheek and guide his head to the exact right angle that their noses fit together, making it easy for Alec to fist his hands into Magnus’ shirt, probably wrinkling the fabric, and pulling the other man closer. 

Their mouths parted and came back together again and again, one of them always chasing the other in a never ending cycle until finally Magnus pulled away and used surprising strength to keep Alec’s lips from finding his again.  

“Sweet Lilith, we should slow down, but I don’t want to.”  Alec could agree with the last part of that statement.  He was flushed with arousal and had been not so subtly working his hand up Magnus’ rib cage underneath his shirt when the warlock broke away.  He opened his mouth.  “If something painfully romantic is about to come out of your mouth again, which I have to say was completely unexpected and I’m blaming that for how caught off guard I was, keep it to yourself for another minute while I try to regain my self control and recover my dignity.”  

Alec’s lips quirked upwards at the rapid tumble of words.  “Wouldn’t have been so unexpected if you knew about the stash of romance novels hidden under my bed.  Was going to mention it before but you gave me so much shit for the reality television I thought I’d keep it to myself.”

Magnus let out a laugh.  “Fuck, that shouldn’t make me want to kiss you again.”  

“Can you please?” It came out as a near whine and Alec couldn’t stop the blush that rose in his cheeks in embarrassment.

Magnus fake glowered at him until an infectious smile ruined it and he pressed up into Alec and captured his lips again in a gentle kiss, focused on Alec’s top lip.  Just as Alec lifted a hand to press against the dip in Magnus’ spine the man stepped out of reach, causing another embarrassing sound of protest to leave the nephilim’s lips which pulled the older man back in. “You are awful,” was pressed against Alec’s mouth.

“I am,” he agreed, not letting Magnus escape this time and trapping him with an arm secured around his waist before catching Magnus’ lips again.  He allowed enough space for their lips to part and rested his forehead against the warlock’s as the heat between them settled into something content and languid.  Alec opened his mouth again to speak when his left hip began to burn and the spot in his soul that Jace occupied pulled, feeling as if his heart was yanked and scraped against his ribs.  He stumbled back and away from Magnus, scrambling for his cell phone.

“Alexander?”

His fingers shook as he unlocked his phone.  Missed calls from Jace, Aline and Izzy greeted him.  He quickly hit Jace’s name.  His parabatai picked up immediately.  “Alec, I’m sorry, but just listen.  Aline and I were following that red haired girl.  I know don’t start.  We followed her and her mother to a doctor’s office in Manhattan.  It’s definitely a warlock’s place, it’s warded.  We snapped a pic and sent it to Iz.  The girl’s mom, it’s Jocelyn Fairchild.”  Alec sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.  “The blood Alec, I can feel it.  She has it.”  

Ithuriel.  The name echoed through his mind and he felt Selaphiel’s grief and hollowed anger crash through him.

“What’s going on?”  Magnus’ hand closed around his free arm that wasn’t holding his phone to his ear.  

Alec’s mind thought quickly. Putting aside Jace’s feelings that Alec could feel through the bond he couldn’t allow someone with angel blood, the same angel blood in his parabatai to just run around the city. “Do you think the girl is in danger?”

“She didn’t want to be there, but I don’t know,” Jace answered.

The shadowhunter looked up at Magnus.  They couldn’t get involved without just cause but Magnus was High Warlock of the region.  “We think there may be a mundane in trouble.  The girl from last night, the redhead.  We believe her mother has taken her to a warlock.”  

Magnus’ eyes widened before he had his cell phone in his own hand with a flash of blue sparks.  Whoever he was calling answered and Magnus spoke with them rapidly as Alec returned his attention to his own phone.  “Send me your address.  Don’t move in till I get there.  We don’t need an incident with a warlock right now.”  

Magnus had finished his own call, apparently getting whatever answer he sought quickly.  His face was grim with a side of rage, very much how he looked last night when he faced down the Circle members.  “I think she is in danger.  Tell me you have a location.”

Alec nodded.  With a snap of his fingers the warlock had changed his outfit into something more akin to what he was wearing the previous night.  The shadowhunter held out his phone, showing the address Jace just sent through.  Magnus’ arms guided his magic to rip open space and time creating a portal.  He turned to Alec.  “For the record, I was eventually going to tell you about Clarissa.”  The warlock’s strong hand clasped high up on Alec’s arm and he pulled him through the portal.

Alec’s last thoughts before he fell into the abyss was how much he wanted to taste Magnus’ lips again and the rising irritation with this red head, Clarissa for interrupting his date.

Chapter Text

Magnus heaved a sigh as he leaned against the door frame to his guest bedroom. He gazed at the infant, finally sleeping soundly in her cradle, his mind recalling the sight of her tiny form in Alec’s arms. Alexander remained gentle and soft with the little warlock even when they exchanged poisonous words said in anger and frustration rather than real malous.

He wondered at the day. Hours ago he’d been readying for a night that may or may not end in a gratifying tumble in his bed with a gorgeous shadowhunter. It wasn’t that the warlock didn’t see the nephilim as a viable option for long term companionship, he just wasn’t naive enough any longer to believe that they could have been anything more than that. That he felt any amount of disappointment over that fact made him feel like he was barely out of his first century of life. He thought he’d long outgrown such foolish notions.

A foot soldier might have a dalliance, a fling and the occasional relationship with a downworlder but Heads of Institutes didn’t openly take demon blooded lovers. Even if he and Alec could have been a rare exception they would have never had the out in the open relationship that Magnus didn’t want to acknowledge he yearned for.

If the past two days had convinced him of anything it was that Alexander Lightwood had the potential to be far more than just an Institute Head. The political savvy he demonstrated with Magnus alone, dancing the line of loyalties as he needed to, giving Magnus information that could potentially save downworlder lives and keeping his vows to the Clave at least to the letter if not the spirit left little doubt that the young shadowhunter could handle his own people just as well.

With his bloodline behind him he was bound for the Clave’s upper leadership and Magnus, despite his own selfish carnal desires for the boy wanted to see him reach that potential. No matter what damage had been done to their relationship in the last few hours, Alexander’s prior openness to working with a Downworld leader and his showings of respect for Magnus’ position cemented him as a potential ally, an ally the Downworld needed more than Magnus needed a body in his bed, spectacular though it no doubt was.

So why was Magnus left feeling as if something incredible just slipped through his fingers?

Magnus’ eyes slid sideways to Alec as they stepped onto a dimly lit street together. The nephilim didn’t even stumble out of the portal, nearly matching Magnus’ steps without stutter. The warlock had to pull his eyes away from the obvious plump redness of the boy’s abused bottom lip. He wondered if the shadowhunter could still feel his teeth sinking into it. His eyes glanced lower to the rune which taunted him and he mourned not getting his mouth on that as well.

Not even the very recent memory of Alexander’s mouth against his own, the hot brand of the taller man’s bare hand against his waist could ease the growing tension in him.

He had not exactly put aside the knowledge that Alec’s careful words revealed earlier. Valentine, one of the most conniving, hateful and poisonous nephilim to live in the last few centuries was alive. It was just something he was unwilling to process or contemplate while the loveliest Lightwood he’d ever laid eyes on sat across from him with those luminescent and unique eyes of his. Now however, with the knowledge that instead of doing right by her daughter Jocelyn was choosing to go to another warlock to keep her ignorant and doing it in a dangerously stupid way had Magnus’ thoughts cycling rapidly through everything.

He had absolutely no doubt that Jocelyn very much knew Valentine was still alive all this time. The woman hadn’t run scared of the Clave all those years ago. She knew you couldn’t kill the devil with fire. She had kept the man’s survival to herself. A stupid and selfish choice that they were going to have words over.

His thoughts lept to the last time he saw Clary, as she insisted on being called. Barely into her teenage years and a younger and smaller version of her mother. They had used the cover that Magnus was a psychologist and Clary shared how she always wanted to know more about her father but her mother refused to speak of him. Magnus had to bite his cheek to keep from saying anything about the vile man. He had wondered what Valentine would have thought about having a child.

Valentine didn’t seem like the type to care about fatherly obligations much like his own, the man probably viewed his blood as property and wouldn’t take kindly to Jocelyn keeping the girl away from him. Which made it even more important that Clary know the truth and know just how dangerous a man her father was.

Beside him Alexander’s face became a stoic mass as they headed down the dark streets. The topic had not yet been broached but the warlock doubted very much that the young man was out given the society he grew up in or if he was willing to openly have a… well, Magnus wasn’t quite sure what to call them. Whether it be a relationship or just relations there was little doubt in the warlock’s mind that the nephilim would balk at such being out in the open, not with his position and status. Given how welcoming Alexander had appeared for Magnus’ physical attention the warlock was quite sure how the nephilim had expected the night to go.

Alexander’s eyes scanned the crossroads they had come up on and nodded to the left. “They’re over that way, close.” Magnus’ eyes narrowed as he took in the quiet street. The neighborhood wasn’t completely devoid of life, but there was no nightlife on offer in the area and the streets reflected that. Alec took out a stele as they continued their journey, and Magnus’ nose twitched as he took in the scent of burning flesh, the shadowhunter no doubt preparing for a potential conflict.

Two figures stood fifty some yards down the street that they turned down, unmoving. The two didn’t turn their heads as the pair of men approached. Magnus recognized the blond, now revealed to be a Herondale and Penhallow from the previous night. They were watching the obviously warded, stately, brick home across the street. “What do we know?” Alec asked.

“The girl and Jocelyn Morganstern née Fairchild entered at 20:34. A red haired woman answered the door and appeared to be expecting them. We were going to try and get close enough to keep visual or auditory contact but I noticed the way the light bent around the roof. It’s definitely warded,” Penhallow reported, voice flat.

The blonde was fidgeting, telegraphing his desire to go knocking down the door. Typical shadowhunter. “Wait here,” the warlock commanded, not pausing to hear Alec’s reply.

Alexander might have purview over Jocelyn but she was in a warlock’s home who simply had the misfortune of taking a job. Magnus couldn’t allow a warlock who was just doing business to fall into a Clave prison for doing what a majority of his kind, himself included, did to get by. He stepped out into the street, preparing his magic to announce himself against the wards when they suddenly vanished.

“Alec?” he heard the blonde ask. His nephilim stepped out into the street next to him.

“The wards fell,” Alec said.

Magnus’ head twisted around quickly, wondering how the man knew that. Although some shadowhunters were attuned to magic and like Penhallow could spot wards if looking in the right way, it was obvious from the way the girl was frowning in confusion at Alec’s back that she had not seen them come down.

Turning his attention back to the house Magnus felt his throat tighten with fear. “They didn’t come down. They were brought down by the person who set them.”

“Why would-” the question was cut off as Magnus broke into a run for the door.

He heard the shadowhunters behind him, but all he could focus on was the thought of Clarissa, so tiny and so happy with his simple gift of crayons sitting in front of his fireplace, humming nursery rhymes and coloring. As he feared he felt the bend of time and space that accompanied the opening of a portal from within the house.

He heard the draw of adamas behind him and the chatter of the three establishing roles as he slammed the door open with telekinetic will.

“Portal is in the basement,” he called out, just as a familiar but unexpected redhead walked out of an adjacent room.

“You have no business here Magnus Bane!”

A scream echoed up the staircase that led to the lower level. Magnus flinched, thinking the voice was too young to be Jocelyn. The blonde surged forward, flanked by the two darker haired hunters and Iris Rouse flung a fiery arc of magic at them which Magnus caught with a shield. Alec glanced back at him.

“Go,” he ordered, hands already ablaze again with blue magic, tinged red with his pent up anger. “Normally I would agree Iris, but Clarissa is my business.”

The French warlock’s smile turned acidic. “So that was your work on her then.” She tutted at him. “Here I thought you’d grown docile and dull in the last century.

The glamor on his brown eyes dropped for a moment and he caught the flash of fear the sight of his Mark inspired on her face. “Oh, I’m anything but docile.” It was over too quickly to satiate his visceral need for a fight. While Iris might have been a phenomenal and ingenious spell crafter, she was no match for him when it came to brute force and magical strength.

He slammed her up against the foyer wall, making the house around them rattle and easily bound her hands with magic.

Magnus could hear the sounds of metal on metal below and started to the stairs when Rouse spoke. “I didn’t have a choice, Magnus. Morganstern found out about the children and I didn’t have a choice.”

Magic crackled at his fingertips as Magnus came to a stand in front of Rouse. The hunters were trained for this and could handle themselves for a little while longer. Plus given who Rouse just named there was a good chance they were fighting Circle members down below. He looked down at her as she leaned heavily into the wall, trying to catch her breath. “What children?”

A quiet gasp behind him had Magnus spinning, hands ready to throw more magic. He wasn’t prepared to be greeted with the sight of a child, perhaps four years old with dark brown skin, hair in colorful butterfly clips and what appeared to be gills on either side of her neck. The child darted around him toward Rouse. “Nana!” she cried.

“Madzie, sweetie,” Iris shushed the little girl who tried to dig her way into the older warlock’s side, hiding her face. “We’ve had our differences throughout the years Bane but please, you know what could happen to a warlock child in the hands of shadowhunters.”

A wailing cry of “MOOOOOOOOM!” echoed through the house. Magnus glanced down at the teary eyed child doing her utmost to shrink from his view. He swallowed, making a split second decision that he would later come to regret. Stepping away from the pair on the floor he flew down the steps coming into a hallway before entering a cavernous room off to one side. The room was a gory sight, blood and three Circle members in various states of health littered the floor.

A portal, the one he no doubt felt opening, winked out of existence. The blonde Herondale was being helped by the female shadowhunter with a bloody cut on his arm. Clarissa was sobbing and fighting Alexander’s hold on her. “No no, let go, LET GO! They took HER! Mom!” The last word was a despondent cry as she all but collapsed in the tall shadowhunter’s arms.

A moan drifted up from one of the bodies and the well of rage seated inside him roared with hunger. He shot out a bolt of magic that silenced the man but didn’t kill him. No, he’d leave the poor sod to the tender mercies of the Inquisitor. He turned back to Clary and Alexander. Jocelyn’s daughter pushed herself away from Alec who released her and ran to the space the portal occupied.

The teenager rounded on Alec with her wet green eyes narrowed in anger. “Why did you stop me from following them? They took my mom!” Magnus opened his mouth to defend Alexander, but didn’t get a word out before Clarissa hurled more words at the shadowhunter. Alec didn’t acknowledge her as he moved beside his two subordinates, checking on them. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

Alec glanced up and his expression was frigid. It was not one Magnus had seen before. Alec had addressed the Circle members last night with cold indifference, Magnus with polite and gentle respect, and his fellow shadowhunters with warm professionalism. “No, you are shouting at me.”

“He saved your life. You go into a portal without thinking of its intended location and you get stuck in limbo,” Penhallow explained with a bit of disdain.

“What?”

The nephilim stood at his full height and looked over the girl’s head to Magnus. “We came down to Fairchild trying to defend herself and her daughter from Circle members. I don’t know what happened but Fairchild collapsed and two of the Circle got her through the portal. Can you track the remnants to a location?”

“Possibly, but it’s doubtful that anyone will be at the other end by the time I do.”

“Director,” Penhallow called, pulling Alec’s attention away from Magnus. “I was closest to Fairchild, they said Valentine wanted the Cup. She said he’d never get it, asked me to keep her safe,” her dark head nodded to Clary, “and took something, a potion I think, she collapsed immediately after,” Penhallow reported as she burned an iratze into the other shadowhunter without even looking.

Magnus’ eyes widened. Jocelyn and the Mortal Cup. It made so much sense that he wanted to hit himself for not seeing it sooner. His lips thinned as he pressed them together to hold in his colorful words at the revelation. What a fool he had been.

Alec’s head jerked up to the ceiling and Magnus felt Rouse take the opening he had left her, portaling away. He wondered exactly how the other man was doing that but knew his attention needed to be focused on the situation at hand. Hazel eyes slid to him once again and he read confusion and accusation there. Magnus did not feel even the slightest twinge of guilt. Rouse may not be the most morally inclined warlock Magnus has ever met but if she found herself under Valentine’s thumb because she was protecting young warlocks Magnus was duty bound as a fellow warlock and High Warlock of the area to aid her. Even if that meant potentially jeopardizing his standing with the Institute.

Something in Alec’s face shifted. “Aline call this in, Commander Swiftfoot is on duty tonight, we’ll need transport and medical for the injured Circle members and make sure cells are ready for them. Jace, you’re on the girl.”

“Wait a second!” Clary interjected, having come out of her stupor. “I need to find my mother, I don’t- Who are you people?”

Magnus wanted to step forward and be a comfort to the struggling teenager, but he wasn’t ready for the questions that would stir in the minds of the shadowhunters. Alec knew they were connected but he hoped what foundation of cooperation they’d built in the past two evenings would convince the young Head to keep that to himself.

“We’re your best shot at ever seeing your mother again,” Justin said and over Clary’s head he glanced at Alec. Something passed between them as Alec nodded and subtly motioned for Aline to follow him. Magnus hesitated for a few moments before following. Clarissa didn’t know him, his own work ensured that. As much as he wanted to protect her, she was nephilim and perhaps her own people were her best option at the moment.

“I’ll get who we need from the Institute,” Penhallow confirmed, pulling out her phone from a pocket of her black hunting vest.

“I’m going to check out the rest of the house,” Alec said, stepping towards the stairs. The woman made a move to follow. “I’ll be fine Aline.” It was said with certainty and halted the movement of the other shadowhunter.

Alec continued climbing the stairs, not acknowledging Magnus at all. The warlock knew he was glowering at the other man’s back as he moved to follow him. They hit the second floor landing and Alec paused. He slid the seraph blade into his jacket, making it disappear from view. He glanced back at Magnus.

“Did that other warlock really escape you?”

The question was insulting on several levels. First, it implied that a warlock like Rouse could possibly overpower him. Second, it was clear from the wording and the tone of the question that Alec already had his answer. Magnus simply ignored it and strode towards a closed door, pausing when he realized there was definitely someone beyond it. He glanced back at Alec wondering why he had put the blade away.

The nephilim didn’t provide any answers, just met Magnus in front of the door and slowly pushed it open to reveal a simply furnished bedroom with the covers on the bed rumpled suggesting someone had been there. The room was quiet but the warlock’s magical sense told him there were others inside. And two of them held the flickering candle flames of young magic. His heart plummeted when he recalled Rouse had said children. How could she have left some behind in a house about to be overrun by shadowhunters?

Alec nodded his head towards the closet before speaking out loud. “We aren’t going to hurt you. Please come out of there.” His voice was gentle in a way Magnus wasn’t expecting given his earlier demeanor. In reaction to his words, there was a rustle behind the door and then the cry of what was undoubtedly an infant. Magnus’ magic sparked at his fingertips in reaction to his ratcheting anxiety.

The door to the closet slowly opened with a squeak and behind it, pressed into some hanging clothing was a woman, dressed in night clothes and holding a baby. She stepped out into the room, hesitant with a wary face and in the dim light coming in from a window Magnus saw she wasn’t just holding a baby but was well into a pregnancy of her own. For a moment Magnus’ thoughts stuttered as he came up with possible reasons for a pregnant woman and an infant to be in Rouse’s house.

Warlock’s were the rarest of all the Downworld races. The circumstances of their birth ensured it. To find two one warlocks and one unborn one in the same house? Apprehension bloomed in his stomach as the possibilities to how this came about began to fill his thoughts.

Alec spoke up, probably because Magnus was otherwise occupied. “My name is Alec Lightwood. Do you know what happened here tonight?”

The woman shook her head and spoke, “No, I heard the screaming and the house shook and I grabbed her and hid. Is someone hurt? Are the police coming?”

Out of his periphery he saw Alec glance in his direction and he took it as a cue. “Yes, the police will be here shortly. My name is Magnus Bane, I’m a colleague of Iris’ and Alec is a friend of mine. She called me and told me she might be in some trouble and to hurry over. Was she helping you?” The lies fell from his tongue easily.

“Yes, she’s my doctor. I was having false contractions and she wanted to keep me monitored. Where is she? Is she alright?” The baby in her arms fussed and began to cry. “I think she’s hungry. Is it safe to go downstairs?”

Alec stepped forward, “I work adjacent to the police on investigations. I think it would be best if you remain here until the police arrive, they’ll want to ask you some questions. I can take her downstairs. Do you know if she is on a particular formula?”

Magnus blinked at the question wondering when Alec had time to learn child rearing while he was training to be a Clave soldier. The woman, who had tightened her arms at the nephilim’s movement, seemed to relax at his words. “Her stuff is all downstairs in the kitchen. Iris said she was a Safe Haven baby who was dropped off before I came to stay. Where is she?” The woman’s voice cracked at the end of the question and she looked to be nearing the end of her rope.

The warlock cleared his throat and thought quickly. They didn’t need a woman so close to delivery by the looks of it to be panicking. “She and her granddaughter moved somewhere else for safety. They are all right. I’m sorry she didn’t have time to speak with you before she left.”

Alec held out his arms for the infant and the woman with a look between the two gently placed the baby into his hold. Magnus watched, somewhat astounded as the shadowhunter easily cradled the baby against his chest. The older man wondered just how he was managing that and the seraph blade that was tucked away somewhere. “I’ll get her something to eat.”

The woman stepped forward as if to follow the nephilim out of the room and Magnus shifted in front of her. As much as he wanted to follow Alexander who was carrying a warlock baby, he knew he needed to keep this woman calm. “Iris, she reached out to me about some threats she received recently which is why I came here tonight. Did she happen to mention those to you?” He guided the woman to two arm chairs in the room and subtly cast a few spells that would ensure her honesty and compel her to speak freely. Rouse had most certainly been up to something in this house and he was going to find out what, preferably before the NYI’s forces descended upon it.

Ten minutes later he was practically vibrating as he came down the stairs. He ignored Penhallow who watched him with narrowed eyes from her post at the front door. He heard Clary and the Herondale in the sitting room but didn’t glance toward it. He pushed open the door he could feel Alexander and the tiny warlock through and froze.

Alexander had the baby cradled in one arm, and a bottle in the opposite hand tilted to allow the baby to hungrily suck at the nipple. The infant’s pale skin pulsed chartreuse in the dimly lit kitchen. It was a unique Mark and he was somewhat surprised to see it had manifested so young. There was a soft expression on Alexander’s sharp features and his eyes were a translucent green in the light the baby warlock was creating.

The sight squeezed his heart and he couldn’t help his soft gasp, which had Alec looking up. Their eyes caught and Magnus had to swallow to stop the torrent of emotion he felt from showing. He was so preoccupied with the scene that he didn’t notice Clary and her new companion come in. “Al-Director”. Magnus would really like to thank or curse the boy for ripping him out of that moment.

Alexander’s gentle expression faded from his face. “You have anything for me?”

“No, Clary was completely in the dark about the Shadow World and who her mother was.”

Something in Magnus breathed a sigh of relief. There was a small chance that they wouldn’t immediately connect Clary to Valentine. She must have been conceived close to the end of the Uprising and from the way Luke spoke about it before to him when they were both heavily intoxicated there was a good chance Jocelyn disappeared before anyone knew she was pregnant.

“You can help me get my mom back right?”

Magnus’ eyes darted between Alec and Clary. There was no way Alec could keep Clary’s existence from the Inquisitor who would no doubt be digging into this situation. If that crone got a hold of her…

“Jace, take the girl back to the Institute and put her up in the sponsor wing for the time being.”

“Excuse me-”

“Alec are you sure-”

“Stop.” Alec’s voice rang clear with the expectation he would be listened to. “Now is not the time to fight me Jace,” he said before his eyes flickered to Clary. “I know you have very little understanding of who we are, but know this, there are people with far more power than myself who you do not want the attention of. Do what I say and I will do my best to not only keep you off their radar but to also see that your mother is recovered.” He didn’t give the teenager any time to speak again before he was addressing his subordinate. “Take her back, get her set up, if anyone asks tell them she’s a mundane who just awakened the Sight and we’ll be testing her for nephilim heritage. It doesn’t happen often, but it isn’t unheard of. I’ll handle Swiftfoot and whoever catches this from Investigations.”

“The Inquisitor?”

Alexander shook his head. “It’s not even dawn in Idris. I’ll get a call in to Branwell at the Zurich Institute and we’ll go from there.”

“Alec, I can’t-”

“I know Jace. Trust that I’m going to do what I can.”

Again something unspoken passed between the two as they stared at each other. Clary shifted, uncomfortable with not knowing what was going on no doubt. A feeling that was an awful lot like jealousy flared in Magnus’ gut. Which was ridiculous. He was a four-hundred year old High Warlock. He wasn’t jealous of some shadowhunter barely out of puberty.

The two left the kitchen with Clary furiously peppering the blonde with questions. When he had the chance Magnus knew he needed to get in touch with Luke and Dorthea to let them know what had happened and that Clary was safe for the moment.

“So, Clarissa?”

Magnus stiffened. “She was a child when her mother brought her to me.”

“So you knew where Jocelyn Fairchild was all these years.”

There was something in his voice that made Magnus want to bare his teeth. “Like I said, a mother came to me desperate to protect her child.”

“And you thought the wife of Valentine Morganstern needed protection?” If he wasn’t already on the defensive and angry he would have noticed that the words weren’t an accusation.

He didn’t owe the other man an explanation but he found his tongue forming one without his permission. “Not at first, no. I actually slammed the door in her face.” Perhaps he should have locked it afterwards and saved himself the headache.

The baby in Alec’s arms began to fuss and Magnus was distracted from their conversation by Alec who was strangely competent at burping the girl. His insides twisted at the obvious care the shadowhunter was showing one of his own, a helpless infant.

“Did you know Valentine was alive all this time?”

The question caught him off guard. “What?” The effect that seeing Alec with the tiny warlock had on his mind was stripped away and replaced with a haze of disbelief and quickly heating rage.

“You barely reacted when I implied it tonight at dinner. I thought it was strange. Was it because you knew?”

“No.” His voice was empty and perhaps someone who knew him better would hear the clear warning in the single syllable reply.

Alec looked away from the child to meet Magnus’ eyes and the warlock knew the shadowhunter didn’t fully believe him. It was a sharp stab at his gut but Magnus refused to say it again or prostrate himself verbally. It wasn’t his problem if Alec didn’t believe him.

“And the warlock getting away?”

Magnus stayed silent. He was High Warlock of Brooklyn, if Alec thought recognition of that title twenty years after he had earned it mind you, from the Clave and their locking lips meant he was some pet who would come when called and speak when told he had another thing coming.

“I don’t answer to you.”

Alec blinked and something behind his eyes shuttered. Brown eyes watched the muscles in that sharp jawline clench. “Of course not, but, I would like to think that you don’t want someone like Iris Rouse, who has quite the checkered past, at large in your city given what we both know happened here.”

For a second, the warlock was taken aback by how informed Alec was and it only drove his anger higher because once again he’d been caught left footed, unbalanced and it grated on him that a boy of a shadowhunter who couldn’t be more than twenty-five had him completely scrambling to keep up. Alec must not have just been feeding the infant while Magnus was upstairs finding out exactly what Rouse had been up to in his city.

“She is a warlock and she will answer for any crimes before the Spiral Council.”

Alec scoffed as he set the bottle down and rubbed the flagging infant warlock’s back as she began to glow again, her tiny head resting against the shadowhunter’s shoulder. If Magnus wasn’t so preoccupied with his anger he may have actually cooed at the sight. “So they can seal her magic and lock her in the Spiral Labyrinth for a few dozen years? How is that punishment to someone who lives forever?”

Magnus had to clench his hands into fists to hide the physical manifestation of his rage at the questions. Alec had no idea what it felt like to not be able draw on magic, to reach inside yourself to the very thing that made you who you are and come up empty handed. He had no idea what it was like to have the years pass by and watch friends and lovers and the family you made for yourself fade away.

It was so like a shadowhunter to believe time meant nothing to an immortal.

Time meant everything.

“The Spiral Council-”

“Did you ask the woman?” Alec questioned.

“What?”

“Did you ask her how she came to be pregnant? Does she remember? Did Rouse spare her that?”

Magnus flinched, recalling the confused terror of the woman upstairs once he slowly sifted through what was real memory and what was fabricated and she realized she had no idea how she came to be pregnant. He was forced to put her to sleep before she could hurt herself.

“How many times has she done this? How many women are out there?”

“You think I haven’t thought of that?” Magnus' eyes were burning and he had to fight to keep his glamor in place. “You think I would have let Rouse go if I’d known what she did?” How dare this nephilim judge him, like Magnus didn’t know what horror had to occur for a warlock to be born, when he witnessed first hand the aftermath of his mother’s own experiences. “My feelings on her crime don’t change the fact that she is a warlock and will answer to the Spiral Council who will decide whether or not to turn her over to the Clave.” It was a hard fought victory that the Spiral Council had won the right to judge their own before the Clave in the signing of the Accords, a victory that would probably be reversed if the Clave ever got the Mortal Cup back into their possession.

“She could have been in custody already.”

Magnus threw up his hands. “Yes, I was wrong. I made a mistake. Thank you for pointing it out so graciously, Director.” He spat out the address with venom and was pleased to see Alec recoil from him. “Now, I’ll leave you to deal with your murderous cult and their leader that, oh yes your precious Clave has been lying to the world about.” He held out his arms for the child. “I’ll also be taking the woman upstairs with me. If you want to interview her you can fire message me to set up a time.”

“Mag-”

“Give me the child Lightwood, I’m not leaving her with shadowhunters.”

Despite the anger on his stupidly pretty face Alec gently handed over the dozing baby who snuffled and blinked open grey eyes. She made her discontent known at seeing a new person holding her but Magnus ignored it while he marched up the stairs and away from the man he didn’t know had the power to hurt him.

With the baby finally asleep, the woman, whose name was Erica finally settled in a shelter of one of Catarina’s contacts and Dot caught up for the most part on what had happened that night via text, Magnus sat in front of his fireplace, watching the magical flames which did not give off any heat dance with a glass of whiskey in hand and wondering how everything had gone so wrong.

He had been furious with himself when the dark assumptions in his mind were confirmed by his conversation with Erica. Furious that he let Rouse go, furious at what the crimes she committed within his city, furious that his negligence and incompetence was on display to shadowhunters of all people.

Warlock breeding. He swallowed the bile trying to escape his throat.

Having Alec question his obvious error in judgement just as he’d realized how grevious it had been was like rubbing salt into a fresh wound, or perhaps more aptly put, dousing kerosene onto a fire.

It only made him angrier knowing that Alexander had good reason to question him. There was so much he had missed, Jocelyn and the Cup, Rouse and her fertility clinic. What else had escaped his notice? Magnus wasn’t sure which was worse. His gross incompetence or Alec believing that his incompetence was actually ambivalence.

It was all the more frustrating that he even cared what the ridiculously attractive shadowhunter thought still. The warlock finally admitted to himself that he had felt something more than just sexual attraction to the nephilim. He was charmed by him, the tongue tied bashfulness when they met, the competent leader who easily took control of the scene at the club, the romantic partner who for once flattered Magnus with words instead of the other way round. No matter how much he tried to convince himself not to want for anything more than perhaps a few gratifying physical encounters, Magnus hoped for more. Their dinner had led him to believe it might have been possible.

But how easily it had fallen apart.

He chuckled bitterly into his glass to himself. Hadn’t even lasted a night.

Magnus let his head fall back onto the edge of his arm chair and let the burning drink slide down his throat. A fire message burst into existence and he reached up lazily to catch the note. Catarina, warning him of her immediate arrival. He blew out a breath and adjusted the wards to allow her entry. She portaled into his foyer, always considerate.

He was still staring at the flames when she seated herself in the armchair across from him after helping herself to his beverage cart.

“What a fucking day.”

Magnus huffed a laugh.

“Any leads on Rouse?”

The older warlock shook his head, any trace of humor vanishing. “No, but I’ve called a town hall meeting tomorrow evening. I’ll notify everyone in attendance that she is persona-non-grata. I have already informed the Spiral Council and will no doubt be summoned for an in-person meeting tomorrow.”

Catarina nodded. “I can take the baby if it's in the morning. I won’t go into the hospital until noon.”

Magnus sighed with relief. He was wondering what he could possibly do with the little one while he was admitting to letting a heinous crime happen in his jurisdiction. He winced when he realized this was only going to give Rey more ammunition against him. The man wasn’t a true threat to his position but he was becoming increasingly frustrating. The Spiral Council had no jurisdiction in appointing High Warlock’s but they could censure them or force the local population to hold another vote.

“Thank you, I’ll have to put out some feelers for her regarding adoption.” He grimaced at the memory of the little girl in Alec’s arms and just how beautiful and frightening a picture the two were together. Never would he have imagined a shadowhunter holding a tiny warlock with such care.

“That shadowhunter going to make trouble about the baby or Erica’s child?” Catarina questioned.

“No,” he answered shortly. Catarina made a questioning noise. “Leave it alone Cat.”

“Do I need to find the boy and curse him?”

Magnus’ grin was all teeth. “He’s hardly broken my heart Cat, I’ve known him all of two days.”

“The heart isn’t a rational organ.”

Dark brown eyes peered at his friend in the flickering light. “So says the nurse.”

His fellow warlock took a solid swallow of his good whiskey. “The way you’ve been damn near celibate,” he looked at her incredulously “emotionally celibate, I’ve been kind of hoping for something like this to happen and bring you back to life. Not that I’m thrilled with it being a shadowhunter.”

Now he was lost. “What are you talking about?”

Catarina sat forward, her eyes serious and heavy with concern. “You’ve been fading for a while, Magnus. When you texted me last night you damn near sent me forty messages before I replied.” He was not blushing. “This boy, bless him or curse him but he’s got you more engaged in the present than I’ve seen in a long while.”

Magnus flinched, feeling the sting of guilt. “I know I’ve slipped, Rouse-”

“This isn’t about Iris fucking Rouse!” Catarina slammed her drink down on a side table and Magnus was glad he spelled the baby’s room to only let sound out not in. “You do your duty as High Warlock, you show off at that club of yours and sometimes take someone to bed but do you even remember the last time you spoke to me about something that had you excited? Something that wasn’t reminiscing about the past?”

“Well I won’t be sending you any more novels.”

“Fucking shame, those dirty limericks about his mouth were entertaining.”

“Catarina!” he spluttered out the drink he’d just taken.

His friend grinned unrepentantly. “You’re the one who wrote them. Honestly, was it that bad whatever he did?” Magnus shrugged. Not wanting to admit that perhaps it hadn’t been. Perhaps he had overreacted. “Well then, I expect more dirty poetry.”

Magnus couldn’t help but laugh at that and felt something in his chest shake loose. The somber strain the night had put on him finally cracking. He blew out a sigh as the sun began to rise and couldn’t help but wonder if Alexander had gotten any sleep at all since they parted.

“So when are you going to see him again?”

Magnus remembered Alexander’s breathless laughter against his lips. The memory was so much sweeter than a few heated words in a stressful situation. That didn’t mean he was going to rush off and find the frustrating shadowhunter that very moment. After all, Alexander had said something about their wards needing to be reconstructed.

“Soon.”

Magnus wasn’t sure why he kept expecting the Spiral Council to change their approach. Given they were made up of immortal beings it wasn’t like turnover happened often and the Spiral Council was not the Clave. To even call the group of warlocks, who volunteered to preside over a very loose set of covenants, a governing body was generous.

Warlock’s in general weren’t for structure or limits. He loved it because he couldn’t imagine an immortal life lead under the stifling stranglehold of something like the Clave. He hated it because of times like these.

What were they going to do about Rouse? Rely on shadowhunters to track her down and ask them nicely to turn her over as they were obligated in line with the Accords. What were they going to do about Valentine being alive? Rely on shadowhunters to track him down and ask them nicely to execute that monster once for his crimes against the Downworld.

Any plans on how to keep warlocks safe in the meantime? None what-so-ever.

When he pointed out the lack of any planning or action on their part he merely received a lecture on the duties of the Spiral Council and a reminder that as a High Warlock it was up to him to protect those within his jurisdiction.

Magnus had barely returned to his loft from the Spiral Labyrinth when a fire message came through and his eyes immediately picked out the name signed at the bottom of it. He was momentarily surprised that the message came from Alec himself and not someone under him but then Alec was certainly not the type to shirk any duty.

He sent his reply with a flourish of magic and fire and his phone buzzed with the notification of a text. It was Dorthea telling him she and Luke would be at his loft shortly and Magnus sighed. The night without sleep was taking its toll and he wasn’t looking forward to the strain his patience was no doubt about to be put under.

When they arrived he waved them past his front door without words and continued his preparations for the return of the baby. They would have to figure out a name for her soon. It didn’t sit right with him that she didn’t have one.

Luke spoke first. “Where is Clary now?”

Magnus’ eyes flicked to Dorthea who gave him a nearly indiscernible shrug with one shoulder. “As I texted Dot last night. Clary has been taken into care by the Head of the New York Institute.”

The werewolf’s dark brow furrowed. “You let her go to Maryse and Robert Lightwood?”

The male warlock’s lips pressed into a line at the clear accusation in the other man’s voice. Perhaps Luke had not checked in with his Alpha lately and hadn’t heard about the change in power. “No, their son Alec Lightwood is acting Head.”

“Is she safe with him?” Dot cut in quickly seeing that Magnus didn’t have a lot of patience.

Magnus looked at her worried face and felt not a small amount of sympathy. Dot loved Clary like she was her own. “I believe he will do what he can to protect her. He is aware of who she is but…” He let his sentence trail off. It was one of the points that nagged his mind. Something had passed between Alexander and the Herondale. Something that Magnus was not privy to. “I don’t think we can be sure that the Clave won’t eventually piece together who her father is and what the consequences of that might be.” Luke let himself collapse onto one of Magnus’ couches and buried his head in his hands. “Did Jocelyn ever share with either of you any suspicions that Valentine was alive?”

Dot looked horrified. “Magnus no, you know if she ever said anything I would have told you.” Luke didn’t speak. His fellow warlock turned on the werewolf. “Luke?”  His silence answered Magnus’ question and Dot’s disbelief turned to anger. “How could you both not say anything?”

“We didn’t know, not for sure,” Luke answered, his voice trembling.

Dorthea looked like she was about to unleash some choice words on him but Magnus caught her eye and shook his head. He was recently familiar with how much it stung to be called out on your errors. Not that he didn’t believe Luke deserved it, but because it wouldn’t get them anywhere.

“They may come for you, the Circle.”

Luke lifted his head with a growl, electric green eyes of the wolf on display. “Let them come.”

Magnus shook his head. “You need to be smart about this. The Circle members who took Jocelyn were looking for the Cup.”

His friend breathed in sharply, but Luke didn’t look surprised and Magnus wanted to strangle him. “I don’t know where it is. She didn’t tell me, for precisely this reason.”

The older man nodded. Jocelyn had outrun the Clave and Valentine with one of the most important magical objects in the world. The woman wasn’t stupid. “Jocelyn took a potion when she was taken. It was most likely some sort of measure to keep Valentine from getting the location from her.”

Luke scrubbed a hand across his jaw in thought. “I don’t know what it was, but she told me she had a contingency plan if she was ever taken by him or the Circle.

“Every Circle member who comes for you is a potential opportunity for finding Jocelyn,” Dorthea said. Magnus glanced at her. Her face was marked by anger but she was clearly ignoring it and thinking. She would have made a fine High Warlock. “We need to go back to the apartment. Take anything that may lead us to the Cup and get it behind stronger wards.” Her dark brown eyes met his own. “Can we use that warehouse you own in New Mexico?”

Magnus nodded. “Take everything of Clary's as well. The Circle members who took Jocelyn will tell Valentine of her. If he didn’t know about her before he does now. Leave nothing behind that a warlock could use to track her.”

Luke grimaced. “You don’t really think a warlock would help Valentine.”

“He doesn’t ask.” The dark words send them all back in time to the terror and blood shed of the Uprising.

The werewolf again broke the silence. “I need to get to Clary. I need to explain before she finds out who I am.” There was a rawness to his voice that Magnus didn’t understand completely. He had never been a parent and whatever he thought of Luke he couldn’t deny that was exactly what Luke was to Clary.

“The police have found mundanes drained of blood and not by vampires correct?” Luke nodded. “The shadowhunters have been investigating it. You can use it as a pretense to get yourself into the Institute. You’ll probably have to bait them with information of more importance if you want to get Lightwood’s attention.”

The werewolf was eyeing him contemplatively. “You think the son of Maryse and Robert would listen to me?”

Magnus considered his words carefully, not wanting to give away anything. “From what I’ve seen of him, he is a politically astute young man. He’ll negotiate with you.”

They wrapped up their discussion within a few more minutes. Dorthea was anxious to get Jocelyn’s apartment cleared out and Luke wanted to get it done so he could get to Clary. Magnus had only a half hour to himself before Catarina returned with the baby. He spent the rest of the day preparing for the town hall meeting and watching over his charge.

The warlocks of New York were appropriately nervous and while Magnus did his best to answer their questions and assuage their fears he knew quite a few of them would be vacating New York. There were those who would stay of course and Magnus would do his best to protect them from what was coming.

No one had information or knowledge of Iris Rouse’ whereabouts and almost all his people expressed their concern for the children left behind.

By the time his head finally hit his pillow Magnus was exhausted and even his trepidation of going to the New York Institute and most likely seeing Alexander again could not keep him awake. Luckily Catarina had the day off and took the baby for the night so Magnus actually managed to get uninterrupted sleep.

Magnus shoved down his disappointment when he saw Isabelle cross the center of the operations floor to where he was waiting. He had arrived to the alarm blaring, letting everyone know that a downworlder was present. He was going to take great pleasure in tying himself to the wards so they would not go off any longer as soon as he stepped onto the Institute’s lawn.

“Magnus!” She greeted him with a smile on her perfectly painted lips. Magnus could admire her skills. A well applied lip with clean lines without the aid of magic was not easy.

“Isabelle, looking as beautiful as ever my dear.” His own smile was wide, softly shimmering and partially fake. The softer lip balanced out the dramatic and thick cat eye smoked out with golds and coppers. Magnus didn’t fear coming to the Institute, especially given he was invited by the person in charge of the whole thing, but he did feel it was necessary to put on his war paint a bit more thickly than his usual day time look.

The looks he was getting from the floor humming with screens and on duty shadowhunters made his magic itch to be free. Given where he was he kept it tightly held within himself, not allowing any to escape and hang almost imperceptibly in a cloud around him as he usually would. Eventually he would saturate these walls in his magic so thoroughly that he wouldn’t feel like crawling out of his skin next time he entered it.

That thought and focus on the job he was there to perform carried him down the hallways he hadn’t walked in years. Maryse and Robert tried to keep any meetings with him or other Downworld leaders, which were a rare occurrence, outside the hallowed walls of their kingdom.

Magnus dutifully followed Isabelle, but was a bit surprised that she remained quiet. When they met he had been thrilled with her curiosity and questions. She kept up with his explanation of the magical theory behind what he was doing to her companion while the boy sat there staring as if they were speaking in tongues. They traversed the central hub of the Institute and down a hallway that went from sleek and modern to traditional wood paneling. They came to a stop outside a pair of ornately carved doors.

“Alec is in a meeting with the leadership team. They’ll be done shortly. I apologize for the wait.”

The warlock shook his head. “Don’t be, I’m charging for my time after all.”

Isabelle nodded in response but didn’t say anything further. Magnus let the quiet settle. They were far enough away from the operations floor that there was only a quiet murmur of its activity in the air. The occasional shadowhunter, some obviously armed and some not, all dressed in black passed them by. Some nodded their heads at Isabelle, and either eyed him with suspicion or ignored his presence. He wasn’t sure which he preferred.

They waited only a few minutes before the doors opened and several shadowhunters filed out. They all carried an air of authority and Magnus knew this was the Institute’s upper leadership. He watched, waiting for Alec to come out. A woman with auburn curls stopped in front of Isabelle and spoke with her but Magnus wasn’t focused enough to listen, eyes still on the door.

“Magnus,” his escort called, grabbing his attention. “Go ahead, Alec is inside.” There was something in her eyes that gave him pause. There was a warning there. The other woman eyed him but didn’t add anything. He nodded at Isabelle and swiftly crossed the hall, slipping into the door quietly. He usually preferred to make a grand entrance, fitting of his station and his public persona, but given what he knew needed to be done such a gesture would have rang hollow.

He was taken by the beauty of the room. Large stained glass windows going to a near fourteen foot ceiling lined one wall. The dying light of the day cast the room of wood and stone in reds, purples and blues. Alec sat at the end of a long table, with his face turned down, one hand holding up his head. Magnus couldn’t exactly tell but he thought the Head of the Institute’s eyes were closed. The warlock was infinitely happy with his choice to slip in the room quietly now.

He walked the not inconsiderable length of the table and got almost within five feet before Alec looked up with glazed eyes. Magnus wasn’t sure what he was expecting Alec’s reaction to be. For a moment the nephilim just stared at him, his mouth soft and open and his eyes wide with something like longing before the fog cleared.

“Magn- High Warlock Bane,” Alec corrected, getting up hastily and slamming a knee into the solid wooden table in the process. The younger man’s face contorted and Magnus could see him clearly bite the inside of his lip to keep from crying out. He winced in sympathy. “Thank you for coming, I apologize for not being able to greet you.”

Magnus watched as Alec’s hand reflexively drifted to his leg as if he wanted to rub the abused spot but then changed direction, his body falling into parade rest, hands disappearing behind his back. Every inch of him was once again the proud Clave warrior. Magnus resisted the urge to run his eyes down the length of Alec’s body. He was in black, because of course he was but he was also in a suit and tie and Magnus’ earlier assumption that he would look good in everything was still true. Forcing himself to keep his gaze on Alec’s face he met those stunning hazel eyes that no longer betrayed any emotion and his mouth was set firmly. “That’s quite all right Alexander.”

If he had been standing further from him Magnus might not have heard the sharp inhale Alec took in through his nose at the sound of his full name. The warlock was almost light headed with hope suddenly. It was odd. He had spent so much time convincing himself that he didn’t want anything more with this man, but it all was torn away in a few moments by a look, a sound and his name half-spoken.

The heart was not a rational organ indeed.

Magnus licked his lips and didn’t let them tick upwards when he noticed Alexander’s eyes tracking the movement. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

“No!”

The abrupt and vehement response cut off the warlock’s next words. “No?”

“No, you- No I’m the one who should apologize.” Alec stepped closer and now they were within arms reach of each other, which didn’t help any of the distracting thoughts flying through Magnus’ head.

“Alexander, when someone wishes to apologize, you should let them. Apologies are not only for the receiver.” He saw it took Alec a moment to pick that he was teasing. That half smile, the one that slipped out when the shadowhunter was trying his best to keep a straight face, flashed momentarily.

Those hazel eyes warmed with amusement. The soldier was gently thawing before him. “Of course, how inconsiderate of me. Continue.”

“Oh well, now that you know I’m apologetic.”

“That doesn’t really sound like an apology.” The boy was nearly smiling again and it was doing things to Magnus’ stomach that were just not fair.

His tongue felt thick in his mouth. No matter how light-hearted the moment had turned out to be, getting the words out was still difficult. “Fine, I am sorry for last night. I let my emotions get the best of me.”

“I am sorry as well.” The nephilim’s teasing tone was gone, and that steady solemnity that Magnus couldn’t help but admire returned. “I shouldn’t have questioned your decision, it wasn’t my place.”

Magnus didn’t voice that he didn’t quite agree with that statement. It had been the wrong decision after all but he appreciated Alec recognizing and moreover admitting to his misstep. “Now that is over. Tell me about the wards.” Although he wanted to address the elephant in the room he had a feeling that Alec would not feel comfortable discussing such a topic within the walls of the Institute. It would just have to wait.

After Alec showed him the original warding scheme documents the previous High Warlock of New York had left the Institute with and described his current concerns, mainly being that the wards would do nothing to protect against Circle members, Alec then left Magnus in the hands of his Head of Security. Andrew Underhill looked every inch a stereotypical nephilim down to the cherub-like blond curls atop his head.

Underhill showed Magnus around and he was able to draft a rough outline of how he would go about restructuring the warding scheme to bring it up to date and address the concerns over the Circle. It was well past six o’clock by the time he had finished. While Underhill began to lead him to the exit, Magnus insisted on giving Alec an in-person report on his progress. Was it strictly necessary? No. Did Magnus care? No.

The blonde nephilim led him out to a courtyard where Alec stood over a workbench, stele in one hand and an arrow in another. He was out of his previous business formal and in a black Henley and loose fitting pants. The dark haired man didn’t look up, clearly focused on the task at hand. It wasn’t often that Magnus got to see up close and personal a shadowhunter working on such things and he couldn’t help but want to continue watching. Underhill however, cleared his throat announcing their arrival and breaking Alec’s concentration.

“Director,” the light haired shadowhunter greeted.

Alec nodded at him. “You’re dismissed Underhill. I can see High Warlock Bane out when our business is concluded.” He could see the other man hesitate out of the corner of his eye, but Alec had already moved on. “How did it go?”

Once Magnus was sure Underhill had returned inside he threw up a spell to keep them unheard. “I would just like to point out that you do indeed do rune work in your free time.”

For a moment Alec just blinked at him, then the memory of their previous exchange must have come up and his lips twitched. “I find it comforting. But really, how are the wards?”

The warlock shrugged. “Salvageable. I have some ideas that will greatly improve them,” he made a grand flourish, “but it will cost you.” Alec hummed but didn’t look overly concerned about the price, his eyes were instead tracking Magnus’ hands and he was wearing that half smile that did things to Magnus’ stomach he wasn’t really comfortable with. “It was kind what you did for Luke and Clary.”

That got Alec’s eyes back on his face and somehow a frown as well. “It wasn’t out of kindness that I did it.”

The older man made his way to the work table Alec was now leaning against and looked over the arrows in a pile as he contemplated what the shadowhunter said. He picked up one that felt freshly runed and couldn’t resist tasting the air. Alexander’s angelic energy was like the first true day of winter, when the absence of scents made the air smell crisp and clean with a hint of something herbal mixed in.

“How is Lightning Bug?”

The question ripped Magnus out of his musings and he looked at Alec with some confusion. “Lighting Bug?”

“The baby,” he clarified. Magnus couldn’t help the grin that curled up his lips. “You know because she-” Aleck opened and closed a raised fist to imitate pulsing.

“I get it. But shouldn’t she be called Firefly?”

Alec shrugged. “I liked Lightning Bug better.”

Magnus laughed at the serious shadowhunter having such a strong opinion on a baby warlock’s nickname. Alec didn’t seem offended though, instead appearing fully relaxed in his presence. “She’s fine. She’s with another warlock at the moment. I’m picking her up for the night after I leave here.”

The nephilim nodded and his expression lost some of its humor. “The woman?”

Magnus felt his own mood plummet. “Safe and being cared for.” He left it at that, not wanting to go into detail about the extensive amount of work he would have to do on Erica’s mind to make sure she didn’t retain any memories that revealed the existence of the Shadow World and provide a reason for her condition that didn’t leave her emotionally scarred for the rest of her life.

Alec’s mouth flattened into an unhappy line. “Ma-” the boy cut himself off, unsure again.

“Please, call me by my name.”

“Magnus.” There it was, that damn near worshipful tone that sent a frisson of heat down his spine. “I don’t really know where we go from here.”

Those unique eyes looked at him like he had all the answers and Magnus was going to disappoint unfortunately. “I’m not quite sure myself. You make me want things I’m not sure I can have.” Alec looked surprised by the admission and Magnus would be lying if he said he wasn’t as well.

“You can have me.” Magnus had to clamp down the edge of the work table with a hand to keep himself from reaching out and pulling Alec to him at those words. That beautiful blush was back but Alec’s mouth remained firm and he didn’t look like he regretted what he said.

Magnus shook his head trying to clear the haze of pure want that was making it hard to think. “You can’t say things like that out loud Alexander.”

Alec tilted his head as if considering Magnus’ words, cheeks still pink. “I probably shouldn’t but I most certainly can.” Now Magnus was glaring at him and Alec gave him an unrepentant look. “I’ve spent my whole life not reaching for the things I want. I’m done. I want this. One more date or a thousand. I want another chance to see what we could be.”

Magnus wanted that too with such fierceness he ached. “With Valentine and the Cup-”

Alec shook his head and cut the warlock off. “I know, but isn’t that all the more reason to take every opportunity? I could die tomorrow and if I do I don’t want you to be one of my regrets.”

It made a morbid kind of sense and Magnus couldn’t help the step forward he took bringing him closer to Alexander like a moth to a flame. “We’ll probably have situations like the one last night crop up again.”

The shadowhunter shrugged. “Probably. We’ll have to work through them, communicate, try our best to understand each other’s perspectives like you said.”

Magnus snorted. “Look how well that turned out.”

“We just need practice.” Alec was inching forward and Magnus had to look up slightly due to their height difference. “Relationships take effort.”

The warlock could feel the air from those words hit his lips and his palm found Alec’s delightfully firm stomach, just resting against it. Desire pooled in his gut as the muscles twitched under his touch. “I’m all for effort.” Alec swayed forward, eyes focused completely on their target of Magnus’ mouth.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Magnus whirled around to see that Lilith be damned blonde Jake or something standing there with a look not near apologetic enough on his face. “The Inquisitor is here.”

From behind him Alec’s reaction summed up his own feelings. “Fuck.”

Chapter Text

“Okay, okay, if I wanted a full blown monologue of what happened last night I would have read your report,” Izzy complained, pushing aside her half demolished pancakes covered in a sickening amount of marmalade of different flavors.  “Give me the goods brother.”

The Lightwood siblings were sitting in their favorite 24 hour breakfast joint that served mediocre bottomless coffee, sausage to be avoided, decent bacon and the best stack of pancakes one could buy for $6 in the city.  After getting a fair amount of sleep considering the night he had, Alec was dragged out of bed by Izzy for a training session, she wanted to see for herself that Alec was ready to return to a regular training regime and then a late breakfast.

“You first, I feel like I haven’t seen you in a week, Iz.  How are your studies?  When do I get to start calling you Doctor Lightwood?”

Izzy rolled her eyes at the obvious deflection but allowed it.  “Everything is fine.  Even making friends at the hospital where I’m a pseudo medical student.”

“Making friends with mundanes?” Alec questioned, making a face.

Izzy laughed at her brother’s response.  Alec would be the first to jump in front of a mundane given that there were no other options and he simply couldn’t shoot his way out of a situation but it was too much to ask him to break bread with one.  It wasn’t even prejudice really.  He just didn’t see the point in having a conversation with one.  Mundanes literally lived in a different world and he’d been raised a soldier to fight the forces of Hell.  He couldn’t imagine they would have much to talk about.

“Yes, most of them are quite interesting.”  

“That’s difficult to imagine.  And it's all just friendly?”

“Well, there is this resident in orthopedics.”

Alec frowned with worry.  “Izzy…”

“Not all relationships worth having lead to something serious brother of mine.  Sometimes it’s just fun, someone to pass the time with.”

Alec eyed her face, trying to find the truth.  Izzy had always been good at covering true emotion with flippancy and deflection.  Having relationships with downworlders might be looked down upon by the Clave as a whole but having serious relationships with mundanes was dangerous.  They weren’t equipped to protect themselves in the Shadow world and mundanes who got involved with shadowhunters usually didn’t live long.  “I’m not trying to be an asshole here Iz.  I’m just asking, because-”

“I know brother.  I promise I’m being careful and it truly is just a few cups of coffee here and there.”  That did little to alleviate Alec’s concern.  Alec didn’t care to speak in depth about his sister’s love life, but what he understood was Izzy’s relationships were usually physically driven and short lived entanglements.   His sister wasn’t the most open person despite her friendly nature which wasn’t surprising given their upbringing.  Alec always wondered if it was part of Izzy’s way of protecting herself from what she believed was inevitable heartbreak.  

Izzy’s dark eyes easily read Alec’s continued concern.  “Maybe mom and dad will marry me off and you won’t have to worry about who I’m having coffee with.”  She winced soon after the words left her mouth as if realizing too late that her teasing was uncomfortably possible.

Anger lit quickly inside him.  “They even bring up the possibility, you are to say no Izzy.”  

“What, so you can bear that burden too?” she asked tartly.

“I’m the-” Alec began but his sister quickly cut him off.

“If you freaking say you’re the oldest Alec I will smash this plate over your head.  Yes you took care of all of us when mom and dad should have but I’m an adult and in the eyes of the Clave I have been for years now and this infantalizing bullshit needs to stop.”

Alec pulled back, stung by not only the zeal in her voice but her sharp words.  

Upon seeing his reaction Izzy softened.  “I know you would do anything to make it so we never get hurt, but Alec I need my big brother to not break himself saving me more than I need to be saved.  I don’t need to be saved at all.  I’m just as much a Lightwood as you.”

The older Lightwood sighed shoving back down the lingering sting.  “I don’t mean to treat you like a child.”

“I know and sometimes I deserve it but I’m not one any more.”

“You’ll always be my little sister.”

Izzy’s smile was wide.  “And I still expect you to save me the last piece of dessert, paint my nails when I’m sick or injured and be the sweet big brother that would make everyone in the Institute think Edom froze over if they got a glimpse.”

Alec rolled his eyes and his shoulders relaxed a bit.  “For the record I’d never agree to an arranged marriage.”

Izzy’s eyebrows shot up.  “Really, even if mom and dad demanded and spouted some nonsense about it saving the family honor?”  

Alec snorted, choosing not to acknowledge the very real scenario that Izzy just suggested. She was wrong about his possible motivation for agreeing.  Even Jace still believed to a certain extent that Alec cared about the family honor or Lightwood name.  Neither of them had Alec’s experience being paraded about like a prize show pony.  Sure Jace might have been the pride and joy of the family on the battlefield, the poor orphan the Lightwood’s raised up to be one of the Clave’s brightest new stars, but it was always Alec who was introduced to the politically influential.  

His younger siblings didn’t see the wheeling and dealing that went on behind closed, usually ornately carved doors, where old blood and names wielded power and mattered far more than how well one could swing a sword.  “I don’t care about the family honor unless it means you and Max stay safe and we stay together as much as possible, but now I don’t foresee that being an issue.  There’s rumors of me being awarded Headship.  Even without that, I wasn’t completely useless at building ties and favors when I was on tour.”

“If anything we should probably distance ourselves from them,” Izzy remarked darkly, face dimming.  “Have you heard from mom or dad?”

Alec was about to shake his head before he remembered the envelope sitting in a desk drawer.  “Branwell got a letter to me.  I haven’t read it.  I don’t think I’m ready yet to hear an explanation if that is even what is in there.”

“Probably more like instructions or orders she wants you to carry out.”

Alec nodded agreeing, it was probably more likely than an explanation.  

“Okay enough distraction, you owe me.  How’d it go with Magnus Freaking Bane?”

The older Lightwood’s face contorted.  “Is that really necessary?”  

Izzy’s glossy lips pulled upwards.  “Oh yes it is.  You have no idea how sought after he is among downworlders.  Now spill.”

Alec shrugged trying to hide just how upset he was at the way they had parted the previous night.  “I don’t think I’ll be getting a second date.”

Izzy’s dark eyes widened.  “So it was a date?”

“Kind of,” Alec hedged.  “We were discussing mostly business but…” Izzy leaned forward and he couldn’t stop himself from gushing a bit.  “It was at his loft, which was amazing and he had all this fancy food catered,” Alec swallowed tightly, remembering just how much effort the other man must have gone through for him, making him feel worse about how the night turned out.  

“So what happened?” 

Alec sighed.  “Reality set in.  I’m acting Head of the Institute and he’s a High Warlock.  When I found out that he let Iris Rouse go, before he knew what she had done, I didn’t react well.”

Izzy nodded, she’d been called in to look at the medical files Rouse left behind and unfortunately the woman was very detailed about the horrific operation she was running.  “And you don’t think it’s salvageable?  Jace said you were having a good time.”  

“I wish it was,” Alec admitted quietly.  “I did have a good time, Magnus is…magnificent.”  

Izzy’s mouth was hanging open slightly.  “I’m a little surprised.  I mean, you’ve never shown interest in anyone before so I never really had a type in mind but if I had to guess Magnus wouldn’t have been it.”

Alec’s thick brows furrowed, a little bewildered that Izzy spent any time contemplating the topic and also realizing he never really considered it himself.  Sure he found others attractive in passing often enough to know he was definitely attracted to men but he’d never stopped to find commonality or a theme.  “What would you have guessed?”

“Not to bring up a bad memory but someone more like Underhill.  Jace said he freaked you out.”  

Alec winced, after everything that happened he’d forgotten his momentary freak out over Underhill’s attempted joke.  “I overreacted, it just seemed like he was flirting with me and I was on the Ops floor and I just panicked.”

“Oh, he was probably flirting with you.”  She said it like it wasn’t a surprise at all and Alec gaped. 

“What?”  

Izzy shrugged. “He’s pretty subtle about it but I’ve seen him check you out before.”  

“Do people know?” Selaphiel who’d grown quieter in the last day or so, ruffled her wings in his mind at the anxiety the thought provoked.

Izzy reached across the table and grabbed one of his hands and squeezed.  “I don’t think so, but he might have just been trying to feel out if you were or not.”

“I can’t be open, not at the Institute.”  It wasn’t an option.  He was too close to achieving what was once his parents expectation and now his very real, very achievable goal.

“Alec-”

“Maybe one day Iz, but not now,” cutting her off before she could get started.  The thought of never allowing himself to be in a relationship or even try was terribly depressing in a way he was previously able to reconcile.  Now though, after getting even a taste of Magnus he didn’t want to write off that part of himself.  He didn’t want to accept that he could never be with someone.

“And what if things between you and Magnus are salvageable?”

Alec froze.  His heart beat faster.  “It could cost me my career, being out,” he tried to convince himself, tried to stop the flurry of domestic fantasies, the small seed of hope he couldn’t seem to squash completely. 

Izzy looked solemn.  She understood better than most and he knew that.  He’d been in the room when Maryse raged about her lost prospects after Izzy’s nights out with downworlders had been discovered and reported.  He’d done his best to cover her but shadowhunters liked to talk.  Maryse had all but called Izzy a whore to her face.  Alec hadn’t spoken more than two words to his mother for months afterward and he never forgot it even after he thawed to her.  “I know, but maybe not.  Once you’re Head-”

“I’ll still be under a microscope.” 

His sister shook her dark head, “But once you’re officially Head it will be much more difficult to remove you from the position.  The Clave would need the popular approval of the American Enclave Council who would only put it to vote if your leadership team supported your removal.” 

Izzy wasn’t wrong, it would be much more difficult to remove him and there were more hoops to jump through, but that hadn’t stopped their parents from being whisked away on short notice.  “Mom and dad-”

“Were Circle members,” she interrupted with disdain and something between disappointment and fury, “They already had a strike against them and it's not like they made friends of their own staff the way they ran the Institute.  You don’t know this but Forestner has been quietly campaigning for you to take over for a while.  I wouldn’t be surprised if Swiftfoot has been as well.”

His mouth went dry as he remembered how sure Swiftfoot was that he would become Head.  He was almost dizzy with sudden hope.

“And you don’t think they’ll care?”  As soon as the question was out of his mouth, he knew it was stupid.

Izzy shrugged.  “I think there are assholes everywhere and someone will probably say something or make snide remarks.  But Forestner and Swiftfoot?  No.  They’re both too no nonsense and too professional.  Even if they had some outdated moral qualms about it they wouldn’t let it interfere with the job.”  

“And if my partner was a downworlder?”  

Izzy’s grin was satisfied.  “You really like him don’t you?”

Alec looked away, flushing.  “It won’t happen.”  Part of him, the part that was so well trained by his parents couldn’t help the automatic thought it shouldn’t happen.  Izzy might have been able to easily overlook the fact that Magnus was a downworlder, write it off like it didn’t matter, but it did.  The political ramifications of an Institute Head being in a relationship with a downworlder weren’t something that could just be waived away.  To top it all Magnus wasn’t just any downworlder.  Magnus Bane’s history with the Clave was colorful to say the least.  While there wasn’t much in the last hundred years comparatively outside of his bloody defense of the Downworld during the Uprising, nephilim records were long and thorough.

His sister continued.  “I don’t know Alec, he didn’t do all that just to get you into bed.  It sounds like he was just as hopeful as you that this might be more.”  The undeniable logic in that observation stole the air from his lungs. Magnus could have looked at him and crooked a bejeweled finger and Alec would have been in his bed or probably any other place the warlock wanted.  He flushed not wanting to dissect that particular vein of thought in a public place.  “You wouldn’t be the first Head to be involved with a downworlder.  Don’t you have a meeting with Andrew Blackthorn today?”  

Alec nodded.  He did indeed. 

“He had half-Seelie children and still managed to attain Headship of the LA institute.  Aren’t they our cousins actually?”  

The male Lightwood snorted.  “Who aren’t we cousin’s with?”  

“But seriously Alec.  If he can spend, Angel knows how long in the Fey realms, bring back two children and still be considered suitable in the eyes of the Clave to run an Institute they shouldn’t even so much as give you side-eye.”  Alec desperately wanted it to be so.  “And even if they do take issue with it and somehow get you removed from Headship, Swiftfoot wouldn’t allow you to be transferred.  I’m basically in the equivalent of an apprenticeship with Forestner and now Jace has the weight of not only being the grandson of the Inquisitor behind him but also the heir to the main Herondale line.  You two are parabatai.  It is against our oldest and most sacred laws for you to be separated against your will.  No matter how dire mom and dad make things sound, we’re not powerless Alec and it's not all on you.”

Something warm unraveled in Alec’s chest at Izzy’s words.  

“So the question is what do you want and what are you going to do to make it happen?”  

What did he want?  For once that question was startlingly easy to answer.  He wanted another chance with Magnus.  His life since the night he met Selaphiel had been a tornado of highs and lows and the only time he felt like he had a chance to catch his breath were the quiet moments with Izzy and Jace. 

The time he spent with Magnus was something else entirely. He felt grounded because Magnus, despite their differences, understood him in a way he’d never experienced before.   That night in the club and at the loft, Magnus maneuvered through a tricky political conversation and read Alec’s intentions for what they were.  For the first time Alec felt seen. 

Yet somehow at the same time Magnus made him also feel unmoored.  The warlock’s presence inspired him to finally allow himself to directly acknowledge his desire, for a man, for a partner.  It was terrifying and liberating to be so honest with himself.   

Then there was the physical attraction.  The night of their date, looking out across the city on the balcony Alec felt desired.  It wasn’t for the first time.  He’d felt the appreciative eyes of others before, both men and women, but a lustful glance from a stranger was vastly different than knowing Magnus Bane wanted him and tasting desire from the warlock’s soft mouth.  To want and be wanted in return was intoxicating.

Which made the turn of the prior evening all the upsetting.  Alec felt like he lost something precious just as he’d found it.  

Across from him Izzy sighed.  “You’re thinking too much.”

Alec glared at her.  

“You are entirely too stubborn.  Be the grown up you’re always telling me and Jace to be and apologize if you think you did something wrong and use that stubborn energy to win him over.”

The male shadowhunter knew he was giving her his incredulous face.  “You want me to try and woo Magnus Bane?”

Izzy grinned.  “I know for fact you’re capable of being charming when you want to be.  It’s part of the reason you aren’t completely hopeless at the whole political and diplomacy thing.”

“This isn’t the same, I can barely think around Magnus.”

Dark eyes lit with glee.  “Adorable.  And maybe that’s a good thing.”

Alec sighed.  “You’re going to be awful about this aren’t you?”

Izzy’s smile was blinding.  “Of course.”

For better or worse the rest of the day didn’t give him much time to dwell on his wants or desires.  He put aside his feelings while penning a fire message to Magnus regarding the Institute’s wards and was relieved when the warlock returned it with a curt, but perfectly polite reply agreeing to the job and supplying the time he would arrive.  His meeting with Andrew Blackthorn was informal and Alec gathered that the man mostly wanted to speak with Alec and get some measure of him and Alec couldn’t fault him.  If he was sending his half shadowhunter, half Seelie daughter off to an Institute run by the son of known Circle members he would have reservations as well.  

Alec worked into the early evening before Jace dropped into his office with food and a six pack of his cheap tasteless beer.

Jace rolled his eyes at the face he made.  “Hey, we can’t all sneak hundred dollar bottles from our parents’ liquor cabinets.”  They both winced at the words for different and similar reasons.  

Alec held out his hand for a can.  He and Jace could technically be called to combat duty, but one beer wouldn’t do anything to either of them once they activated any of their runes.  Selaphiel perked up in his mind.  The constant buzz of power that filled him whenever the angel was attending to prayers directly died down.

‘It smells…spicy?’ 

Alec smiled.  It was a simple game they started.  Selaphiel tried to identify what food would taste like before Alec ate it and not cheat by using Alec’s knowledge or experience.  

‘Yeah, Jace likes to think he can handle spice but he always ends up running for milk.’

The tinkling of Selaphiel’s humor made his shoulders relax.   His worry for the angel’s well being was increasing daily.  He was sure Selaphiel was aware of his concern but the angel’s explanation that little could be done regarding her continued fall wasn’t a comfort.  

He took a large bite of the curry, wanting to do something for the angel.  The pair of nephilim ate in silence for a spell, both enjoying the quiet of the office before Alec broke it.  “How’s the girl?”  Alec asked, knowing his brother had spent a majority of his day with the Fairchild girl.

Jace rolled his eyes.  “You know very well how she is.  You’ve got, what, three baby shadowhunters with her at all times.”

“Yeah and they let me know she tried to sneak out half a dozen times and tried to convince you to help her.”  The girl was turning into another headache Alec didn’t have the capacity to deal with.  

“Which I didn’t do,” Jace pointed out, as if it would earn him some reward.

Alec gave him a dead look.  “Thank you for the restraint.  I know you thought about it.”  

The blonde shadowhunter rolled his eyes.  “Yes, but I didn’t and that should count for something.”  He took a bite of his curry with the roti he practically snatched out of Alec’s hand.  “You can’t keep her locked up forever Alec, it isn’t fair.”  

The older shadowhunter blew out a weary breath.  “What would you have me do Jace?  She’s Morganstern’s daughter.  Her mother hid the Mortal Cup from not only him but the Clave as well.  The fact that she isn’t behind the walls of Alicante at this point is shocking and probably because the Clave hopes she’ll draw her father out of hiding.”

“You think they’re using her as bait?” Jace said his face showing his revulsion at the idea.  

Alec didn’t think it would be a good idea to mention that he thought it was a sound strategy other than the fact that it made his Institute a target and put his staff at risk.  “The Consul’s missive on the matter pretty much confirmed it.”  And hadn’t that been a treat to read.  The Consul of the Clave sending him a direct fire message a few sentences long containing orders and to expect more to come. 

“Well that’s shit.  She’s basically a sitting duck.  She has no combat training.”  

“So give her combat training.”  It was a spur of the moment idea and Alec only let himself feel momentarily guilty that he was suggesting it to not only keep the girl busy but keep his trouble seeking parabatai occupied while he dealt with everything on his plate.  It was also important to keep Jace as occupied as possible with the dark thoughts he knew were taking root in his parabatai’s mind.  He’d do or suggest anything at this point to keep Jace in the Institute as much as possible and away from hunting Valentine and Circle members.  

Jace didn’t seem keen on the suggestion.  “No one else is going to want to go near her considering who her father is.”  The younger shadowhunter flinched, probably thinking of his own childhood that by some miracle had yet to become known by the general populace.  “And you’re right, she’s defenseless and that needs to be corrected.  Hodge will help you.”  Jace looked unsure.  “Jace please.  I’m up to my neck right now and barely hanging on.”  His voice strained a bit revealing to his brother in arms just how on edge he was.  The current situation would stress a seasoned leader much less Alec who may have supported his parents and done the paper side of the job, but was not the person people turned to when a decision needed to be made.  “New York may become ground zero of a second Uprising.  The Clave could at any moment come in here and declare our Institute a wartime holding effectively taking over the running of the Institute and its forces.  I need to not have to worry about an ignorant teenager who is basically a mundane sticking her nose into things.”  The girl had already given him an earful about how she needed to be out there looking for her mother.  Alec had little doubt that she would run down the street screaming for Valentine and the Circle to appear before her and give her mother back.

Jace nodded, looking disturbed at the thought of the Clave’s leadership directly taking control of the NYI.  “You know I’ve never had the patience for the political stuff but I know being the Herondale heir and the grandson of the Inquisitor means something.  If I can help in any way let me know.  Even if it means putting on a suit and shaking the hands of some Council members.”

His parabatai was serious and Alec felt their bond warm with his own appreciation for the offer.  “Don’t hate me when I take you up on that.”

The blonde grinned but the elder shadowhunter could tell it was for show.  “Heard you were training this morning with Iz, why didn’t you drag me out of bed?”  

“Cause you’re always an asshole when I get you up before noon when you don’t have duty or mandated training hours to fulfill.”

The younger shadowhunter’s lips twitched.  “Accurate.”  Alec rolled his eyes.  “But it went okay?” 

The obvious concern in his voice made Alec give him a soft smile.  “Yeah, felt good.  I’ve lost endurance and some strength but technique’s fine and Iz was satisfied.  Hodge watched as well and said he’d sign off on combat duty for me.”  

Jace frowned.  “After one training session?”  

Alec shrugged.  “He said I was physically capable, not that I should go back on duty tomorrow.  Technically I’ve already seen combat anyway.” 

“Yeah with some shadowhunters, not up against demons.  I don’t like it.  You aren’t going back out there until we train together and I say you’re ready.”  

The Lightwood heir raised an eyebrow at his parabatai.  “Is that so?”  

“Yep,” Jace answered, popping the “p”.  

Alec snorted at the cockiness disguising the concern.  “Fine.”  He wasn’t going to argue with him.  It wasn’t like he had the time to go out on patrol duty with his current workload.   He didn’t want to be the type of Head who never saw active combat once they took over, but he also understood it wasn’t really ideal for a Head to take that kind of risk.  

Jace nodded.  “Good, not like anyone else puts up a decent fight in this place.” 

“You really can’t help yourself from sounding like a braggart can you?”  Alec responded with a roll of hazel eyes.

“Braggart?” the blonde nephilim scoffed.  “You’ve read too many of those trash romance novels you keep under your bed.”  

Alec spluttered the beer he’d just been about to swallow.  “Stay the fuck out of my room asshole!”  

“I was looking for your whetstone set,” Jace explained, completely unrepentant.  

“Which I’ve told you not to touch.”

“Come on Alec, yours are the best, nothing else puts that nice of an edge on my throwing knives.”  The younger shadowhunter gesticulated wildly nearly knocking over his empty beer can.

“You always put oil on the water stone!  It’s literally called a water stone Jace! I’ve labeled it!  Just buy your own set.”

Jace made a face as he did whenever the idea was brought up.  “Then I wouldn’t have a reason to snoop in your room every few weeks.”  

Alec didn’t respond with words and tossed his used, balled up, paper napkin at the blonde shadowhunter’s face.  “Thanks for dinner, now get out.  I need to prepare for tomorrow’s leadership meeting.”

With a grin that meant he clearly one this argument, Jace cleared their nearly empty carry out containers and gave him a half hearted salute before leaving.  

‘Alec?’ Selaphiel questioned.  

Knowing without being told what she wanted Alec fell into the space in his mind Selaphiel occupied.  He discovered that he could do this on his own when Selaphiel was distraught after Jace and Alec failed to locate Ithuriel when they attempted to track the angel down using one of the feathers.  

Alec stepped up to a flickering fire Selaphiel was seated in front of in his grandmother’s living room.  “I know you are busy,” the angel said in lieu of a greeting.  

“It’s not like time passes here.”  The shadowhunter folded his long limbs onto the soft rug.  

Selaphiel’s wings were splayed out and Alec winced at the sorry sight they made in the fire’s light.  The bald patches were growing and the feathers themselves lacked the lustrous sheen that Alec remembered from his first time meeting her.  The angel hummed.  “It appears that even anchoring myself to this world using your physical form and soul has done little to slow this process.  In fact I expect being here has only increased the rate I am deteriorating at.”  Selaphiel didn’t sound saddened by the prospect of her demise, more so intrigued.

“Can’t we do anything?”  Alec asked. Not long ago he would have been pleased at the prospect of regaining his privacy of mind but he did not like the cost the angel was having to pay.

Brown eyes full of warmth and reflecting firelight turned to him.  “This is not within your power to fix, nor a problem for you to solve.”  Her words were gentle and as much as Alec wanted to argue with her, she wasn’t wrong and they both knew it.  “I am not sure any more if I want to stop it.”   Alec made a questioning noise. “I see now why Samael fell, rejecting the creator’s design.  Samael coveted your freedom, a gift we were not given.  Although the nephilim may view angels as perfect beings and humanity as flawed it is in fact quite the opposite.” He did want to refute the notion as it went against much of the lore and history he was taught as a child, but after sharing his body and mind and soul he understood her meaning.  “I too want that freedom, but I am unwilling to become a demon, and so I will fall, and my existence will end and perhaps I will receive a new beginning.”  

Grief, sudden and sharp, ripped at Alec’s chest.  “But you don’t know if you will.”  

Her laughter was filled with wonder and sorrow.  “No, I don’t.  It is terrifying and exhilarating and I both welcome and dread it.  Which is confusing?”  

Hazel eyes crinkled as Alec smiled at the odd expression on her face.  “What about your duty?”  He reached out and gripped one of her hands, the feeling of the angel’s Grace fizzed against his skin and skittered across his mind.  

Guilt, an emotion Alec knew well flickered across her features.  “Another angel, one perhaps not created for the role will step forward, as was the case with the other angels who fell.”  Her mouth twisted into a frown.  “I cannot help but feel…almost sickened by my own selfishness and yet I still cannot sway myself from this path,  I wish I could explain it better.”  

Alec shook his head.  “You don’t have to explain it to me, I can feel it, the way you are changing.”  The longer Selaphiel was with him the less foreign the angel’s thoughts and feelings were.  It wasn’t that he was growing used to her presence, it was that she, her very being was changing.  Her reactions to the world, to Alec’s experiences, were becoming more and more human.  He didn’t understand why this change had to come at the cost of Selaphiel’s life.

“Not my life, my existence as an angel.  It was how the creator made us.  As I said, we are flawed.”  Selaphiel’s face grew grim.  “But there is something I need your help with.  I need to find Ithuriel.”  

Alec nodded, knowing that it had been put off long enough and Selaphiel’s time was running out.  “Tomorrow.  Magnus is coming to the Institute.  I can engage him.  If Valentine was focused on hiding Ithuriel from angels and from shadowhunters perhaps he overlooked beings of demonic origins.”  

Selaphiel nodded and with a frown turned back to the fire.  “I just don’t understand why Ithuriel did not pray to me.  No mortal, nephilim or not, should have the power to keep someone’s prayer from me.” 

The Lightwood heir‘s expression became grim, worried as well what it could mean.  Could Valentine have that kind of power?  Also what was he going to be able to offer Magnus as payment?  They weren’t on the best of terms at the moment and Alec supposed he might be able to get an audience with another High Warlock through his connections at other Institutes, but that would potentially expose him to questions he did not want to answer.  

“Pay him with this.”  Selaphiel’s small hand held a rich brown feather that’s edges appeared to be dipped in copper.  Alec opened his mouth to refuse but Selaphiel spoke over him.  “It is willingly given and a manifestation of my Grace.  The warlock will not refuse.”  

Alec took it from her and found himself back in his office, sitting at his desk with the surprisingly heavy feather still in his hand

By mid morning the next day he was trying and failing at reading through the report summaries from the previous night’s patrol.  His mind was more focused on wondering just what he was going to say to Magnus when he saw him that evening and how he was going to convince him to help him even with Selaphiel’s feather.  Lela Turan, his Chief Investigations Officer, rapped on the entry to his office, interrupting his thought spiral.  Turan was another one of Alec’s recruitment picks his parents had actually listened to him about.  She was only a few years older than Alec himself and served at the Tehran Institute after her obligatory tour.  In the few months she had worked at the NYI she proved to be efficient at her job and had an almost eerie calmness to her that Jace and Izzy both found off putting.

  Alec waved her in.  “Turan, you have something?”  

“Yes, sir.  One of our contacts with the NYPD, a werewolf by the name of Luke Garroway came forward claiming to have information regarding the draining of mundane’s.  His partner, Alaric Romero was the one who first provided us with the initial report and is usually who my people deal with.”  Alec waited, knowing Turan liked to provide context first.  “I was available for the interview and given the suspicion that the drainings are connected to the Circle spoke with him myself.  He told me that he has information on Valentine that could be helpful to us.”

“He wants something for it?”  Alec guessed.

Turan’s braided head nodded.  “He wants a meeting with you and he wants to speak to Clarissa Fairchild.”   Alec’s eyes widened.  He wondered how the man even knew they had the girl.  “I ran his face against our database and called in Starkweather for confirmation.  He was originally Lucian Greymark, parabatai to Valentine Morganstern.”  Alec blinked.  Not once had Valentine mentioned having a parabatai in his journals.  Of course Turan wasn’t finished.  “Starkweather was not able to tell me more due to the binding spell, but I don’t believe Garroway is currently in contact with the Circle or Valentine.  I found him credible and vehemently opposed to Valentine.  I believe he could have useful information for us.”

The younger shadowhunter contemplated his schedule and the potential information that could be gained from agreeing to speak with the werewolf.  Knowing that Turan would only give her opinion when she was certain of something “I’ll speak with him.  Now.”  

Turan nodded and lifted up her tablet, tapping on it before a messaging notification sounded.  Alec’s own tablet dinged.  “That’s everything we have on Lucian Greymark.  Do you want time to review it?” 

Alec shook his head.  “I’ll skim it with the man in front of me.  He already knows the cards he holds and he must know that we have Fairchild otherwise he wouldn’t be here.  Any idea why he wants to speak with her?”

“He said he helped raise her.”

Alec brought a finger to his lips to silence the questions that wanted to jump out.  “Send him in.  I want to be able to give this the proper time and I have a feeling I’ll be dealing with it and whatever comes from it up until our meeting later.”  

Turan nodded and Alec appreciated that she didn’t question his desire to speak to the man alone.  With the precious moments he had before the former Circle member arrived Alec considered just how he should play this.  

This man was used to being treated with suspicion.  He was a shadowhunter turned downworlder and no doubt whatever place he held within the New York Pack was constantly questioned.  Alec knew that those shadowhunters who were lost to the Downworld either by vampirism or lycanthropy were shunned by the family they had and most were expected to end their own lives.  They were usually equally unwelcome and mistrusted in whatever community they landed in if they didn’t take they didn’t choose suicide.

He remembered Magnus’ reaction to his unforgiving judgement and demands the previous night.  

Mind made up he stood quickly and strode from the office just in time for an unfamiliar and solidly built dark skinned man free of runes to turn the corner with a two man escort.  Alec thanked Turan mentally for not putting the man in cuffs.  “Dismissed, I’ll take it from here.”  The two security guards glanced at each other before both bowed their heads and left.

Deep brown eyes assessed him.  “Alec Lightwood I presume?”  

“Correct, Luke Garroway.  Follow me.”  Not giving the other man much time to adjust or speak he led the former shadowhunter to Jace’s favorite practice room.  “Sibisi,” he greeted, the young shadowhunter was posted at the door and one of the shadowhunter’s assigned to watch the girl today.  

“Director!”  The teenager stepped aside, allowing Alec and Luke to enter the room.

When the door swung open they were greeted with the sight of Jace adjusting Fairchild’s stance.  Alec wanted to groan.  While Jace’s hands had a reason to be on the girl’s body it wasn’t great timing considering her self proclaimed pseudo father was standing at his side.  

The two other shadowhunters assigned to babysitting duty that day greeted Alec and he dismissed them quietly from the room.  

Jace, finally catching on that someone else entered the room looked up and his change in attention caused the red head to turn around.  “Luke!” she cried and was quickly crossing the room and throwing herself into the werewolf’s arms, who caught her and embraced her with the ferocity and worry that only a loving parent could.  If there was any doubt in Alec’s mind that Garroway wasn’t telling the truth it was gone now.

Jace walked up giving Alec a questioning look.  He handed his parabatai his tablet open to the file Turan sent him.  

Fairchild was babbling some explanation about the Shadow World and Alec winced when he saw what was about to happen.  

“Clary, Clary, I know,” Garroway interrupted her, clearly pained by the way he was about to break the trust she had in him.

Alec reached over to his tablet in Jace’s hands and opened a recording application.  He gave a pointed look at Jace before he left the room, trusting Jace wouldn’t leave the two completely alone and would keep the tablet close enough that it would record the pair’s interaction.  He’d speak with Garroway after the man was emotionally worn out from shattering his adopted daughter’s world view for the second time in just a few days.

His day was a whirlwind after that.  His meeting with Garroway following time with Clary as she seemed to like to be called, went better than he could have hoped.  The man spoke plainly and openly.  While Alec got the sense that he knew more than he let on about the possible whereabouts of the Mortal Cup the man also left the Institute with the promise of further cooperation and communication.  

The leadership meeting, which made Alec feel like an imposter, drained him of everything he had, somehow went as smoothly as he could have hoped and then Magnus walked in.  

Alec wondered if Magnus found him in the midst of battle if he would be just as paralyzed by the man.  By some miracle Alec was able to speak and not make an absolute fool of himself.

When Jace led Magnus away, after announcing the Inquisitor’s arrival Alec wanted to pull him back, but he knew he needed to clear his thoughts before he faced Jace’s grandmother and Magnus’ continued presence was distinctly counterproductive.  Not that much could be done about the giddy high he was currently experiencing. 

Magnus agreed to give Alec another chance.  

He had absolutely no idea how he was going to make it work but he was resolved to try.  He changed back into his normal hunting attire out of habit before he went to his office and found the Inquisitor sitting in front of the fire with a glass of his father’s whiskey in her hand.  

Well, perhaps this wasn’t the formal meeting he’d been mentally preparing himself for.  “Madam Inquisitor, how may I serve?” It was a traditional greeting that was barely ever used outside of ceremonies and within sacred spaces of Idris.

Sharp grey eyes sent a shot of adrenaline down his spine and he stood a bit straighter.  Her lips quirked upwards.  “I thought when we first met that you were your mother’s son.  She never had time for such things, bit of a blunt instrument.  You have her spine and her forthright way of speaking your mind.  But you have a bit of your father in you as well don’t you.”  It wasn’t really a question and Alec didn’t open his mouth to answer.  “Much more manipulative than I originally took you for aren’t you? I saw you formally recognized Magnus Bane.  Well timed.  He might be one of the most powerful warlocks currently alive and one of the few to stick their necks out during the Uprising for their own kind.”  She scoffed in disgust at what she no doubt saw as cowardice of a lesser species and Alec swallowed to give his mouth something to do.

No small amount of shame made his stomach turn because she wasn’t wrong either, at least not about his motivations for recognizing Magnus when he did.   “It bought good will,” he acknowledged, “and High Warlock Bane has agreed to aid us in reconstructing the warding scheme of the Institute to protect it from the Circle.  Our wards keep out demons and beings of demonic origins.  They do little against our own kind.”  The words were bitter on his tongue but true.  

The Inquisitor tipped her head and waved a hand at the armchair opposite her, an invitation for Alec to sit.  The burn that she was inviting him to sit in his own office was fleeting in the face of her next comment.   “He could be a powerful ally and if it would get us closer to Valentine I’d work with a Prince of Hell,” her voice was full of loathing that was soul deep.  

Alec’s downturned face hid his reaction as he realized she’d just compared Magnus to the most powerful and terrifying of demons.  Breathing out slowly through his nose, he knew needed to get off this topic before he said anything that gave away his thoughts or feelings on Magnus.  “I apologize that we could not keep Valentine’s survival or the Circle’s resurgence quiet any longer.”

The elderly shadowhunter shook her head not noticing his prior emotion, her gaze on the fire again.  “It was long enough.  My reason for coming here is to tell you what I’ve found.  I fear that the Circle was not stamped out as it should have been.  Sometimes I detest my role.  The office of Inquisitor, investigates, it prosecutes, it recommends sentences based on the crime.  It does not however serve as judge or executioner.”  She looked at him, her gaze bitingly cold.  “I recommended deruning for both of your parents.  And look what they got.  It should have been my first clue.”  

Alec breathed in sharply, almost dizzy with the information, whatever happiness and good mood he had left from his time with Magnus was stripped away.  He needed to get himself in hand if he was going to make it through this conversation.  He swallowed, allowing whatever he was feeling to pass.  Let her see that it did affect him.  He wasn’t made of stone and those were his parents no matter that they were part of some terroirst group twenty some years ago.  Once he felt like he could speak again he did. “What clue?”

Something approving was in the twist of her lips as if Alec had just passed some unknown test.  She leaned forward.  “I bring this to you because I trust our mutual interest in Valentine’s demise.  The Circle has a foothold within the Clave.  I don’t know how deep it goes, if there are supporters on the Council itself or the regional Enclave Councils, but you must tread carefully.”

Questions bubbled in his mind as his stomach turned at the thought.  He opened his mouth but couldn’t find the right words and shut it again and waited for the Inquisitor to continue.

“I’ll do what I can to root out his supporters in our homeland, but you need to find the Cup, Lightwood.  He has always wanted it and who knows what chaos or destruction he will cause if he gets it.”

The younger shadowhunter nodded.  “It’s my top priority at the moment along with locating Jocelyn Fairchild and increasing the security of my Institute.”

“And the Fairchild girl?  I question the Consul’s wisdom in letting her remain here. Does she truly not know anything as your report suggests?”

Alec shook his head, trying not to react at the damn near treasonous words the Herondale matriarch just spoke.  He chose his own words carefully.  He knew the Inquisitor no doubt had some informants in the Institute but he didn’t want to give her more than she needed to know.  The woman herself basically called them temporary allies and he didn’t doubt that his parents, whether they were involved in the Circle currently or not, would be her targets in the future.  He just hoped that his position and relationship and bond with Jace would keep himself and his siblings from her wrath.  “No, she had no knowledge of the Shadow World, a mundane except for her nephilim blood.  However, Luke Garroway, formerly Lucian Greymark came forward today.”

The Inquisitor’s head snapped up.  “Valentine’s parabatai?  He’s alive?”

“Yes, he said if Jocelyn had the Cup she never told him, but he has promised me access to Jocelyn’s belongings.  He, with warlock aid no doubt, cleared out Jocelyn’s home before we found it.  He said it was to protect Clarissa from the Circle.”

The Herondale matriarch hummed.  “Probably only after he and whoever helped him combed through everything and couldn’t find the Cup themselves.  Why is he not in custody?”

Alec bobbed his head in agreement having had the thought himself.  “He’s no longer under shadowhunter jurisdiction unless he breaks the Accords.”  At the Inquisitor’s look he added,  “Werewolf.”  The woman’s lips curled in distaste.  “He has promised to cooperate with me under the condition that he is able to see Fairchild, who may, after exposure to our world, recall something that could lead us to wherever Jocelyn might have hidden the Cup.”  

The elder pursed her lips.  “Well,” she raised her glass, “Here’s to fruitful hunts for the both of us,” and downed the rest of it.  Not one for idle chit chat, the Inquisitor announced her intention to return to Idris and Alec escorted her to the portal room

Alec’s thoughts strayed to the missing angel, his personal hunt, as they walked.

It was going on eight o’clock but he doubted Magnus would be asleep yet.  He let security and mission control know he was leaving before shooting a message off to his siblings and grabbing one of the feather’s Jace hid in his room, stashing it in his jacket’s inner pocket alongside Selaphiel’s, before heading to Brooklyn, stopping at a patisserie on the way that luckily happened to be open.

The door to Magnus’ loft opened before he could rap his knuckles against it.

“Now this is a surprise,” Magnus greeted him with a teasing grin and arms full of Lightning Bug.  The warlock was dressed casually in a loose flowing silvery robe and sleep pants of royal purple.  A black tank-top dipped low, showing off the beginnings of toned pectorals.  The baby waved her chubby arms.

Alec’s eyes fought to stay on Magnus’ face or the baby as he froze, not quite mentally prepared to face Magnus' dazzling presence and suddenly feeling stupid for not texting.  “A welcome one?”  

Magnus’ smile turned blinding.  “Very welcome.”  He allowed the door to open further.  “Little Bug look who came to see us.”

The baby’s head bobbled and she blinked at him sleepily, but managed something between a coo and gurgle in greeting.  “I’ll trade you,” Alec said, setting the box of pastries down on a buffet table next to the door and holding out his arms for the baby.   She was a good distraction and focusing on her was easier than Magnus in lounge wear.   

“You see how quickly I’m forgotten?” Magnus asked the child whose focus was completely on Alec now.  He huffed but was still smiling as he handed the baby over.  

Alec cooed at the child.  “Have you been having a good time since I last saw you sweet girl?”  Although much of his attention was on the child he followed Magnus, who had picked up his offering and led them deeper into the loft.

“She’s been positively spoiled.  Warlock babies are rare and rarer still are they found before they are young children before their magic completely manifests.  New York has quite the warlock population and they are all sending her toys.”

“She deserves it all don’t you Lightning Bug?”

Magnus busied himself with the box and laughed at it’s contents “Alec, did you clear out a bakery of everything they had left?”

Alec shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what you would like.  We were going to have dessert before we got interrupted.”  

Magnus looked up from where he was plating a small spread.  “Oh I think we at least got a little taste of it.”  His smile was lascivious and Alec wondered if his ears were actually on fire.  

“Don’t flirt with me when I’m holding a baby,” he snapped out trying to ignore how tellingly red his face must be.

Magnus ran his eyes up and down Alec’s body, clearly trying to make him expire on the spot.  “You obviously have no idea what you look like holding a baby.  Also how exactly do you know how to hold a baby?”

He grabbed desperately at the change in topic and his mouth ran quickly through the explanation, perhaps adding more than Magnus needed to know.  “I was thirteen when my youngest brother was born.  For the first few months, my mother stayed in Idris, with my grandmother.  I was at the Academy at the time and was allowed to visit regularly.  After she returned to New York, I portaled to and from the Institute often.”  

“You were devoted,” Magnus observed, but there was something about the way he said, as if it was a revelation that made Alec look up from the adorable bundle being lulled to sleep by his heart beat.  Magnus’ deep brown eyes were watching him with something considering in their dark depths.

The intensity was different than the previous sexual interest and made his anxiety flair.  He hummed as a response as the little warlock snuffled sleepily against his chest and began to pulse gently.  “I should probably put her to bed though.  I made the mistake of holding Max, that’s my brother too often when he slept and it kind of made him not want to sleep anywhere other than in someone’s arms.”  

Magnus waved a hand towards a door off the hallway perhaps knowingly granting Alec a moment of escape. The nephilim opened it and stepped into a fully decorated nursery.  He smiled.  “Well, you’re not a year old and you have the High Warlock of Brooklyn wrapped around your little finger.”  He laid her down and she fussed a bit as he stayed with her until she settled, taking the moment for himself to breathe before going back out.

“You can shut the door,” Magnus said from the couch.  “I have the room spelled so that we can hear inside but no sound will reach her.”

“Handy.”

“Magic often is.”  

Magnus handed a him a mug, patting the space beside him and Alec was surprised when he took a sip to find herbal tea as he sat down.  “Is the bar closed?”

“Darling, the bar is never closed.  But I don’t think alcohol will do either of us any good at the moment.”   Alec nodded in agreement.  “And as happy as I am to see you, I think you came here for more than just my company.”  

Alec winced.  “Your company is more than enough,” he tried to reassure the warlock.  “But you aren’t wrong.”  Alec reached into his jacket.  His fingers finding Ithruiel’s feather which felt cool and almost like a normal feather to him, compared to the warmth and heaviness of Selaphiel’s.  He pulled it out and set it on the coffee table in front of them.  

Magnus blinked at it, before his brown eyes widened in realization.  “Alexander, that’s an angel feather.”  

“Yes, it is,” Alec confirmed, forcing down a shiver at the way Magnus said his full name.  Now certainly was not the time.

“Explanation, now please.”

“My siblings and I discovered Valentine’s survival approximately a week and ago.”  Magnus’ head snapped from where he was staring at the feather in near disbelief to Alec’s face.  “We were investigating another matter and stumbled on evidence of Valentine’s existence in what I can only describe as a laboratory.  These feathers littered the ground of a cell that’s floor was covered in burned runes.”  The warlock’s full unwavering attention was on him as Alec continued his story.  “We believe that he still is holding the angel this feather belongs to as his prisoner.  My parabatai and I attempted to track it.  We couldn’t.  I’d like you to try.”  He paused waiting for Magnus to react.  “And I’ll pay you of course!” He added hastily when he realized he forgot that part.

Magnus was about to open his mouth to respond when something in his expression shifted and magic swirled at his fingertips.  Alec stood, hand on the hilt of his holstered seraph blade as the air in the room fizzled and a portal crackled into existence.  A short woman supporting the bloodied form of a man stumbled through it.

Magnus made a motion and the portal closed.  “Dorthea!” the High Warlock cried with no small amount of concern in his voice.

“We’re okay!  We’re okay,” the woman responded.  Magnus helped her get the man to a chair.  “Elliot just had a run in with some Circle members but together we took care of it.”

“Long time no see Magnus,” the male warlock greeted.  

While they were getting Elliot situated Alec swept up the feather, not wanting the other warlocks to see it.  

“I would have managed on my own, but Dot definitely helped.”  Magnus tsked as his magic took care of the superficial looking but gushing head wound the bespectacled man was futilely trying to stem with a handkerchief.   “Didn’t mean to interrupt your evening.”  The female warlock looked up, perhaps not noticing Alec but attending to his presence for the first time.

“Alec, this is Elliot and Dorthea, Elliot, Dorthea this is Alec, he’s a friend.”  

He could tell they both had clocked him as a shadowhunter despite Magnus’ short introduction.  His hunting clothes and seraph blade strapped to his thigh didn’t do much to conceal his identity.  “Perhaps we can continue this tomorrow Magnus?” Alec questioned, not enjoying the scrutinizing gazes of the other warlocks and stepping towards the hallway.  Normally it wouldn’t bother him but he felt distinctly out of place in Magnus’ loft suddenly.  

“No, you stay right where you are.” Magnus ordered with a look that kept him in place as if by magic.  “Now there must be more in you coming here, than you wanting to share your tale of battle with me.”  Both warlocks shared a look before glancing at Alec.  “He’s staying so either share or freshen up and go, we were having the most pleasant of evenings before you arrived.”  Alec blinked as he felt himself warm at Magnus’ obvious defense of his presence.  If either warlock was bothered by Magnus’ snappy attitude they didn’t show it.

“They weren’t trying to kill us.  They were trying to capture us and we got one of them to talk before he got his stele and activated some rune that stopped his heart,” the woman, Dorthea shared.  Alec winced, he’d heard rumors of such a rune that Circle members used in the first uprising to kill themselves before they could be interrogated.  Magnus raised a brow for her to continue.  “Whatever Jocelyn did to ensure she couldn’t be interrogated, Valentine knows a warlock was behind it and he’s trying to find someone powerful enough to undo it.”

Alec’s eyes widened at the implication and he cast a worried look at Magnus.  If he was looking for powerful warlocks surely he would come for the High Warlock who lived in the same city as Jocelyn and if the man somehow found out that Magnus aided Jocelyn in altering her, or their daughter’s memory?  

“We need to get the word out Magnus,” Elliot said, pushing himself up from the chair.  “I doubt I’m the first one his people attempted to take.”  

Magnus nodded and looked at Alec.  “Can you send this through the channels and have the other Institutes get in touch with their recognized High Warlocks?  I’ll send something out on my end to New York, but warlocks aren’t as connected as you shadowhunters are.  Not even I have a good way of notifying them.”  

Alec nodded, pulling out his phone and opening his email.  “I’ll send something to mission control.  They will post a bulletin that will go out to all Institutes.  I can’t guarantee that all Institute Head’s will choose to notify their territory’s High Warlock but it’s better than nothing.”

Magnus nodded.  “Dorthea, go to the Spiral Council.  Tell them, they may do nothing but at least we can say we tried.  Elliot, I’d offer you refuge for the night-”

The other male warlock shook his head.  “Don’t worry about it, I have a home in Tennessee I don’t spend enough time in.  I’ll hunker down there for the time being.”  Soft orange magic flickered and a small scrap of paper appeared in his hand which he held out to Magnus.  “Here if anyone you trust needs a place to stay I can take on a few.”

Magnus clapped the other man’s shoulder.  “Thank you, keep yourselves safe.”  Neither acknowledged Alec as they left through another portal.  Magnus sighed and the tension drained out of him, making his shoulders slump in a lack of posture that Alec didn’t think was natural to him.  “It was like this during the Uprising.  One new horror or attack after another.  Absolutely exhausting.”

“Magnus if Valentine is seeking out powerful warlocks-” Alec cut himself off, unsure how to acceptably express his concern and anxiety spiraling at the thought of what could happen.  He sucked in a breath against the sudden weight of fear pressing against his chest at the thought of the Circle hunting Magnus.

The warlock stepped into his space and lifted a hand to cup his cheek and once again proved how clearly he could read Alec.  “Alexander, I was always going to be a target.”

Alec clutched at his wrist as he leaned into the hand trying to ground himself with the feeling.  He used both Magnus' presence in front of him and Jace’s through the bond to exert control over his breathing.  When he felt like he could he spoke.  “I know, I know that but I’m not accustomed to worrying about you.”  He cringed knowing that didn’t sound right.  

Magnus once again understood his sentiment and smiled softly as he brushed back the hair that fell across Alec’s forehead.  The touch and scent of something clean and woody on Magnus’ wrist brought him closer to the present.  Magnus guided them down to the couch again and pressed himself fully against Alec. He weaved his fingers through Alec’s dark waves and his fingers found the back of Alec’s neck at the base of his skull, pressing into the tense muscle there.  Alec couldn’t help the groan that escaped his mouth at the feeling.  “Oh sweetheart, I can’t imagine the day you’ve had.  You looked tired hours ago and then had to deal with that absolute terror of a woman.”  

“What about you?  You’ve had to deal with,” he waved a hand “the danger to your people the resurgence of the Circle and Valentine has brought  and a baby.”  Was his speech slurring?  Maybe Magnus put something in the tea.  Or his fingers were magic.  Probably both.  The whiplash of the revelation that there may be Circle members or at least sympathizers in the Clave, which he was still processing and the appearance of the warlocks and the threat to Magnus made him feel his earlier fatigue increase tenfold.  

He felt completely wrung out.  He closed his eyes enjoying the feeling of Magnus, not wanting to leave but knowing he didn’t have much of a choice.  He would no doubt need to answer some questions from Heads of other Institutes who received his bulletin regarding the warning to the High Warlocks.  “I should get back to the Institute.”  He’d much rather stay right where he was, but he needed some sleep to deal with whatever tomorrow brought.  

“You can go, but I’m sending you back via portal and I require payment.”

Alec’s eyelids, which he was attempting to open lifted up to meet Magnus’ gaze with confusion.  “Payment?” he questioned.   Magnus hummed and Alec could see his gaze was firmly on his lips.  “Oh.” His lips twitched with humor even as he felt his cheeks flushed.  The pad of Magnus’ thumb dragged heavily across his bottom lip and arousal burned low in his gut.  Alec let out a breathy sigh, leaning forward expectantly.  

A stab of panic from Jace through the bond had him yanking himself back and his brain snapped to as if he was suddenly doused in ice water.

Magnus drew back in alarm at the sudden movement.  “What is it?”  

Alec dug in his pocket for his cell phone and quickly dialed Jace.  “Something’s wrong.”  He did in fact realize this response was probably distinctly unhelpful to Magnus, but Jace wasn’t calming down and there was restless anger filling the bond.  When the call connected, his parabatai didn’t waste any time.  “Clary’s friend has been taken by the New York vampire clan.”

“What?”  That wasn’t even in the same realm of things Alec had been imagining.

“They want Clary to bring the Cup or they’re going to kill him.”

Alec pinched the bridge of his nose at the stupidity.  “She doesn’t have the Cup, and even if she did we wouldn’t let her go through with such an asinine deal.”

“I know,” Jace responded, something along the lines of incredulity and irritation giving his voice an edge.

“Please tell me you didn’t let her run off.”  Magnus sat forward clearly done with being kept in the dark.

Jace scoffed. “No, Sibisi and Meadowlark are watching her.  But Alec, I spoke with one of the vampires.  They’re serious.”  

“What the hell are they playing at?  Threatening to kill a mundane won’t get them the Cup and it’s going to draw our involvement into their affairs.”  It didn’t make any sense and vampires weren’t known to make such rash and idiotic decisions.  It was something far more often attributed to werewolves.  “The head of the clan is Camille Belcourt.  She’s gotten away with far too much to be caught doing something so stupid.”  He felt the warlock next to him stiffen and he met Magnus’ gaze.  He was surprised to find his face no longer interested but guarded instead.  “Listen call Mendoza in, he’s on patrol tonight with some newbies.  He negotiated with the clan recently when those newly minted sponsors went into vamp territory without invitation.  He said whoever he dealt with was reasonable.” 

“It didn’t sound like they were inclined to be reasonable Alec,” Jace returned and the shadowhunter pushed down his own frustration at the younger’s tone.  He could practically feel Jace gearing up for a fight, whether it was with him, the vampires or both he wasn’t going to waste time and find out.  

“Jace you aren’t going to the storm the Hotel Dumort by yourself and you certainly aren’t going to start a war over one mundane.  Get mission control to call Mendoza back and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”  He disconnected the call not wanting to hear Jace’s reply but feeling his pigheadedness through the bond had him finding Aline’s number.  He wanted to believe that Izzy would have the sense not to go along with whatever dumb scheme Jace had worked out, but he’d rather enlist Aline who would certainly not question his orders.

She picked up on the first ring.  “What’s up Alec?” 

“Find Jace and don’t let him leave the Institute.  I don’t care if you have to put him in a cell.”  

He heard her blow out air on the other end.  “Alright, I just saw him head towards the weapons hold.  I’m on it.”

Alec hung up the phone and looked toward Magnus whose expression was carefully crafted blankness.  He didn’t have the time or the energy to try and figure out why or what had changed.  “I swear, I’ll pay whatever you want me to but I need to get back to the Institute and make sure my parabatai doesn’t start a war with New York’s vampires.”

The warlock nodded jerkily and a few seconds with some sparkling hand motions a shimmering portal appeared.  Alec hesitated before stepping through.  He wanted to properly say goodbye, but he felt as if the moment had passed, something in the air changed and Magnus didn’t seem like he would be happy to receive the kiss he so heavily hinted at earlier.  Swallowing down his disappointment, Alec nodded and stepped toward the portal.  

“Alec, wait!” Magnus pulled him back around and Alec made a noise of surprise that was lost in the warlock’s mouth as Magnus suddenly covered Alec’s lips with his own.  The shadowhunter sank into the kiss greedily, thrilled to have this again.  When Magnus ended the kiss, he stepped back and cleared his throat, trailing hands down Alec’s front under his open jacket.  “Do be careful.  Camille…” 

Alec frowned at the conflicted look on Magnus’ face.  

The warlock shook his head.  “She’s wickedly intelligent and has little to no care for anyone or anything.” 

There was hurt in his voice that Alec wanted to erase, but he knew he couldn’t so he shoved down his own curiosity and concern and gave his farewell.  “Keep yourself and Bug safe.  Come by the Institute tomorrow?  We’ll talk about the wards and-” he pulled Ithuriel’s feather out from his pocket and held it out for Magnus to take.

Magnus nodded, accepting the feather and Alec swooped in, feeling bold from their previous lip lock to steal another kiss.  He felt Magnus give a huff of amusement.  “Go on shadowhunter, you have work to do,” the warlock murmured against his lips.

Alec pulled away enough to see Magnus’ lips pulled upwards and felt better about leaving him.  Turning, he stepped into the portal before he could mentally talk himself into another kiss.  It was so terribly easy.  The pressing void of the portal swallowed him before he found himself outside the Institute.  Steeling himself for whatever he was about to deal with Alec felt the shadow of Selaphiel’s wings fan out behind him.  For once the angel of prayer felt genuinely angry.  

He sent a promise to her.  ‘After we deal with the vampire situation we will focus on Ithuriel.’

The angel’s Grace crackled through him and he felt a rush of angelic power.   Whatever deterioration Selaphiel might be suffering, it did little to make her less powerful and Alec shivered with the sudden energy.  ‘Your body is adapting, you will be able to wield more Grace than you did previously.  If you need to, don’t hesitate to use my power.’

The guards at the Institute’s entrance were witness to the almost vicious smile he sported as he entered and were no doubt left wondering what exactly put that expression on their Director’s face.