Chapter Text
Magnus is the high warlock of Brooklyn.
Most days, he is proud of it.
Some days, not so much.
On the good days, Magnus takes full advantage of his title and what comes with it. The glammed out parties, the numerous lovers, and not to mention, the power.
On the bad days, however, Magnus often finds himself walking along the edge of the Brooklyn bridge. He places one foot in front of the other and counts the number of steps it takes him to walk to the end of the bridge. By the time he makes it to the other side, he usually snaps out of it, portaling himself to some other country to take his mind off of whatever was bothering him at the time.
Usually.
At 413 years old, Magnus has been to every continent, every country, every city, every nook and cranny of this abysmally small world, and still, he has never feels as if that was enough.
And when those thoughts creep up into his mind, he finds himself sitting on top of the Brooklyn bridge once again, counting the number of cars driving through, and wondering if the mundanes below him ever feel the same way he does at that moment.
Empty.
It is Wednesday.
Or is it Thursday?
Magnus doesn’t care much for the days of the week anymore.
He takes another sip of his drink and watches the crowd of people dancing along to the beat of the music. A Seelie takes a seat beside him, and presses her body against his. Magnus looks down at the pretty woman and rests his arm against the back of the couch.
“Why so gloomy, Magnus?” she asks, a small pout forming on her pale lips.
The warlock shrugs his shoulders, before pulling out his compact. He examines his face, running a finger along his eyeliner to remove the smudges that had formed throughout the night. “This is the third party this week, darling. After a while they do tend to get a bit repetitive...Even the ones I throw myself.”
He feels the couch shift beneath him and her breath soon brushes against his ear. “Then should we...leave?” she asks, placing a hand on his knee. “We can find excitement elsewhere.”
Magnus shuts his compact and rests his hand on top of the Seelie girl’s before slowly pushing it away. He shoves the compact into his back pocket and stands up from the couch, much to the her disdain. “Now how I would look as a host if I did that, sweetie? The party host should never leave before his guests!” He brushes some glitter off his pants and spins around to face the poor girl, a frown now pasted on her pretty features. He smiles and gently grabs her chin. “Now a beautiful woman like you shouldn’t spend the rest of the night pouting. Here,” he says, conjuring a bright cocktail drink with a snap of his fingers. “This one’s on me.”
Magnus sends her a final wink before swiftly moving across the dance floor.
“Love that top dear,” he says to a dancing vampire. “Make sure you don’t get any blood on it!”
He winks at a group of werwolves huddled in a corner before waving the bartender over.
“Dearest, the theme of this party is pretty in pink,” Magnus says, waving a hand across the club. “And yet, the drinks are purple. Do you know why that is?”
The bartender shrugs and Magnus rolls his eyes as he snaps his fingers. All the drinks instantly appeared bright pink.
“You’re having me do all the work, dear,” he says, grabbing the lapels of the bartender’s coat before tugging him forward. “It makes me very tired. And we wouldn’t want that, now will we?”
The bartender shakes his head, “No Mr. Bane.”
Magnus lets go of him, the corner of his lips tugging up into a smile. “Good good!” He claps his hands together. “And call me Magnus. Mr. Bane makes me feel...old.”
Magnus hears his bedroom door push open, and quickly grabs his pillow to cover his face. A few seconds later, he hears his curtains pull open and although his eyes are now covered, he can feel the sun’s heat brush up his bare legs.
“For the love of...” he groans, shifting so that he’s now on his stomach. “You know how much I detest waking up when the sun is out, Catarina!”
He hears footsteps approach him, but before he can tighten his grip on the pillow, it gets snatched from beneath his head.
“Sometimes I forget you’re over 400 years old, Magnus,” Catarina says, throwing the pillow onto his back. “Now stop being such a child and get up! We have errands to run.”
“Errands?”
Magnus finally opens one eye, as Catarina takes a seat on the edge of his bed.
"I need to stock up on ingredients for some healing potions,” she reminds him. “There’s been a rise in demon attacks the past few days, and the number of mundanes coming in through the hospital is...It’s bad, Magnus. Something’s happening. I can feel it.”
Magnus lets out a breath of air before pushing himself up. He rests his chin on Catarina’s shoulder, and smiles. “You’re lucky you’re my best friend, darling.”
“Sometimes, I think I’m your only friend.”
At that, Magnus places a hand on his chest. “What?” He gets up on his knees. “I am Magnus Bane! People line up just to see me, my parties are to die for and-”
“Calm down little Warlock,” Catarina says, clearly unamused by him this morning. “If you are so amazing, let’s see if you can get ready in less than an hour, shall we?”
A laughter spills out of Magnus’s lips. “Now that’s expecting too much from me, Catarina.”
“Goat’s eyes?”
“Check.”
“Unicorn tears?”
“Check.”
“Toad’s heart?”
“Check.”
“Farie blood?”
“Now that was a hard one to acquire, wasn’t it? I mean, it’s just a few drops and they act like it’s gold or something. Frankly, I’m offended that-”
“Magnus, please!” Catarina cries out. “Just confirm that we have it. My shift starts in an hour.”
“Faire blood. Check.”
“Okay, last one on the list. Moon salt?”
“Check, check, check!”
Magnus hands Catarina the bag of ingredients just as she crosses off the last item on her list. She takes the bag from him and gently places it on the ground before stepping towards him and wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Thank you, Magnus,” she says, her voice muffled against his shirt. “This week has been such a long week, and I have to admit...I’ve been a bitch for more than half of it.”
Magnus places his hands on her shoulder and pulls her back. “You? A bitch? Never.”
Catarina rolls her eyes and gently places a kiss on his cheek. “I have to go. Shift starts soon,” she says, grabbing the bag off the floor. Just as she is about to create a portal to leave, she stops in her steps. “Magnus, be careful. There’s been some Circle members roaming the streets. I’ve passed by a few myself. I thought I was seeing things at first, but the Circle mark was definitely there. I...I don’t know what this all means, and frankly, I haven’t really had the time to care, but...I just wanted to let you know.”
Magnus nods and ushers her to go. “Now don’t worry about me, Catarina. I’m the high warlock of Brooklyn! I can take care of myself,” he says with a wink.
Catarina smiles and waves a blue hand in the air to conjure up a portal. She yells out a final goodbye before stepping through.
The portal shuts close and Magnus lets out a sigh as he looks down at his watch. He only has two hours before he has to head back to Pandemonium, but with all the traveling he has done today, all the warlock really wants to do is crawl into bed and sleep for eternity.
Another night, another party.
Magnus stifles a yawn and leans against the back of the couch. The vampire sitting beside him lifts up a drink, and he takes a sip just as something peculiar catches his eyes.
Maybe the night won’t be so boring after all.
Magnus quickly uncrosses his legs and gets up from the couch. This is his club! Did they really think he wouldn’t notice two suited men, wearing sunglasses inside a dimly lit dance floor? They weren’t even dancing!
“Circle members aren’t welcome in my club,” Magnus says, his eyes flickering down to the mark on the men’s necks.
“No worries, warlock,” one man says, “It’s all ancient history.”
That hairstyle is ancient history.
“Really?” Magnus steps closer, revealing his warlock mark. “To me, it feels like a blink of an eye.”
As one foolish man approaches him, Magnus raises a hand and restrains him back. He really didn’t want to use any magic tonight.
The man begins to cough, his body slowly losing oxygen as it becomes harder for him to breathe. Magnus raises the man’s body up from the ground and his gaze flickers to the other man beside him.
“We’ve endured worse!” The chocking man manages to squeak out.
Magnus rolls his eyes as he observes the man now hanging in the air. “You’ve inflicted worse.” He turns back to the other circle member. “Leave.”
The Circle member snarls at him, but he knows not to push the matter. Magnus lets go of the other man, and his body quickly falls onto the floor as he erupts in a fit of coughs.
“And if you do wish to ‘endure worse’ like you’ve mentioned,” Magnus says, crouching down in front of the gasping man. “Then please come again.”
The other member quickly grabs the man and drags him across the crowded dance floor. Magnus’s eyes followed the two men and when he sees that they have left his club, he finally conceals his warlock mark.
"Well that was certainly a mood-killer,” he yells out.
Fortunately, the music is able to mask the sound of his frustrations. The other partygoers seem to not hear him as their bodies continue to move along the dance floor.
Now, all Magnus wants to do is go home, but what kind of host would he be if he did that?