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Chapter Text

Whatever Alec had expected when Magnus had promised to throw a huge party to celebrate their marriage, this reception was…not it.

First of all, he hadn’t banked on Magnus’s talent as both a host and a companion. To say Alec hated parties was a colossal understatement, but as long as he stayed by Magnus’s side, the discomfort he’d expected never got a foothold on his nerves. The moment he began to feel his skin crawl with the pressure of too many eyes waiting for him to mess up, Magnus seamlessly guided the conversation around to a topic Alec enjoyed, something not prone to lead to uncomfortable questions or expose his misanthropic tendencies.

A large crowd danced to overloud music at the other end of the great room, but Magnus seemed content to stay with Alec. He didn’t even try to drag Alec into the undulating throng the way Izzy would have.

The moments that were awkward came from places Alec had never anticipated, like the fact that almost everyone here believed he and Magnus had married to cement a political alliance between the New York Institute and the Downworld factions. There didn’t seem to be any graceful way to work into the conversation how it may have started as such, but somewhere along the way, they had begun to fall in love. Nor did Alec know how to tell these people that the proposed alliance--the Brooklyn Shadow-world Council--might never come to fruition. So now they were married…simply for the sake of being married.

After only a few weeks of knowing each other, and a lot of ups and downs.

With the knowledge that they’d been maneuvered into this situation by the Seelies to discredit one or both of them.

And with no real plan for how they were going to avoid the political trap closing around them. Or, specifically, around Alec.

“You look like it might be time to retreat to the roof for a breather,” Magnus murmured in his ear, jolting Alec from his thoughts. He shivered at the brush of Magnus’s breath against his earlobe and neck, inhaling deeply before he turned his head to stare at his husband.

His husband.

By the Angel, was this really happening?

Alec took another long, slow breath, then another.

“No, I’m okay, I just started thinking too hard. I’m actually having a good time with the party. It’s the stuff that we’ll have to deal with afterward that has me ready to panic.”

Magnus gave him a stern look, but a tiny twinkle in his eyes gave him away. “Twenty-four hours, Alexander. That’s what you promised me and I’m holding you to it. In addition to not rushing off to work for that time, I’m declaring a moratorium on politics or political scheming.”

Warmth began to spread through Alec’s chest, loosening the tension that had been constricting his lungs. It was ridiculous just how taken he was with Magnus, considering how all this had started. “You’ve got me sold, but you may have to go a few rounds with Lydia before she’ll agree to hold off on restructuring the administration of the Institute until the day after tomorrow.”

“Send her my way and I’ll have a few very pointed words with her on the subject,” Magnus offered playfully. “In the meantime, I was thinking of starting the subtle process of clearing people out so we can begin our honeymoon. What do you think?”

Alec blinked. “I’d assumed the party would carry on until it was nearly dawn.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There are children here who are up past their bedtime.” He flicked a glance past Alec’s shoulder. “Speaking of whom, I think I see your little brother heading this way.”

Alec turned to find an agitated-looking Max weaving through the crowd toward them, his gaze darting around as if seeking something. “Hey, Max. You having a good time?”

Max frowned. “I can’t find Madzie.”

All levity faded. “What happened?”

“I was keeping her entertained with Mom, like you asked. Some other guests invited Catarina to dance with them. We told her Madzie would be okay with us.” As he spoke, Max’s spine straightened, and he clasped his hands behind his back as he continued scanning the room. His sentences were short and brisk, as if reporting to his commander.

Alec could see how far Max had come in his training in those few actions, the way he was learning to be vigilant even amidst distractions, to search for his target in large, busy crowds. “We were doing fine, then Dad came up and said something to Mom. I couldn’t hear what. Mom got tense. They got snippy with each other the way they always do these days. A moment later, I noticed Madzie was gone.”

“Hell,” Alec muttered, meeting Magnus’s eyes. “She’s probably nervous enough around all these Shadowhunters without my parents bitching at each other in front of her.”

“I’ll get Cat,” Magnus said, already pivoting. “You start looking in the quiet corners. Hopefully she just found someplace secluded, or portaled herself home.”

With Max on his heels, Alec began weaving and dodging through the mass of people to check the bedrooms, neither of which contained a scared warlock child. The balcony was open and the guests were milling in and out; Madzie certainly wouldn’t have retreated there.

“I’m gonna check the roof,” Alec said, turning to Max. “Find Magnus and let him know the bedrooms were empty, and to start clearing out the guests. I’ll text him if I find her.”

Max nodded—though Alec could see questions forming—and slipped back into the milling crowd.

At the top of the spiral, wrought-iron stairs, he found someone he hadn’t thought to look for. Curled in a ball in a corner near the door that opened onto the rooftop garden, Mouse watched him approach warily.

“Hey, sweetheart. It’d probably be quieter in the bedroom, you know.” Alec stooped to scratch her ears, but didn’t pause more than a second. When he opened the door, Mouse slipped through it before he could block her. He’d have to retrieve her later and hope she didn’t find her way off the roof to the ground before he could. Right now, Madzie was the priority.

At first glance, he didn’t see her in the soft glow of the fairy lights. But then he caught the flash of a sequin from the hem of her skirt, in a dark corner between the wall and a potted tree.

Alec blew out a relieved breath and pulled his phone from his pocket.

She’s on the roof. Give us a few minutes. Tell Max she’s ok and thank him.

Madzie drew her knees up tighter to her chest as Alec slid down the wall to sit beside her, ignoring the way the rough brick snagged the fine shirt Magnus had chosen for him.

“Hi Madzie. Too loud at the party?”

Her dark eyes met his warily. The fact that she was back to not speaking said a lot about just how unsettled she was.

“Yeah, me too. It’s okay. We can stay here.”

Though it was still spring, the weather had turned unseasonably warm the past couple days. Intermittent showers, with little open land to absorb the moisture, had resulted in that uniquely New York brand of humidity as the rain evaporated from the pavement and hung in the air. Already he could feel sweat dappling his brow and making his shirt cling. But a breeze seemed to be moving in; he turned his face up to greet it, breathing deeply.

A moment later, a velvety nose nudged his hand.

“Look who’s come to see us,” he murmured, turning his hand of proffer scritches as Mouse head-butted him again.

The tiniest smile flitted across Madzie’s face then faded.

Alec smiled. “Wanna see if she’ll let you pet her? Hold out your hand, allow her to check you out.”

At Alec’s gentle coaxing, Madzie let Mouse sniff her until Mouse deigned to demand chin and ear rubs. The tension in Madzie’s tiny body eased as Mouse settled across Alec’s thighs and began purring. Madzie leaned against Alec to reach the cat better, her weight resting more heavily against his side as her ministrations to Mouse slowed.

By the time Magnus and Catarina tiptoed onto the roof, Alec had a sleeping cat on his lap and a snoring child tucked under his arm.

It took Magnus a moment to stop staring when he found Alec seated on the tiled surface of the rooftop terrace, blinking drowsily with a sleeping cat and child draped over him.

“Need a bucket?” Catarina murmured, smirking when Magnus stared at her in confusion. “You just got married. Hate to see you melt into a puddle and end up running down the gutters before you even get a chance to enjoy it.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” he replied, narrowing his eyes at her. Alec, in the meantime, was looking around as if uncertain about how to get up without disturbing either Madzie or Mouse.

“I’ll take her,” Cat offered, bending to lift the little girl. Madzie whimpered, and stirred enough to wrap herself around Catarina, then promptly fell back asleep. “Way past this kiddo’s bedtime. Thanks for finding her for me, Alec.”

“My pleasure.” Alec’s voice was slightly rough, as if he’d been caught in the verge of falling asleep himself. “She’s sort of back to not talking for the moment. I think tonight was a bit too much for her. Sorry.”

Cat shook her head as Magnus made a portal for her. “Nothing to be sorry for. There’s gonna be good days and bad days until she knows she’s safe and he’s not coming back. As long as she’s got us there to help remind her, she’ll be okay. You two have a good honeymoon.”

“Good night, my dear,” Magnus said softly, and closed the portal once she’d stepped through. Then he squatted beside Alec, who still looked unwilling to move with Mouse sleeping on his lap. Rubbing the cat’s ears roused her slightly, but apparently not enough to dislodge her. “I think my wedding present may have decided you’re her human.”

Alec waved his hand dismissively. “Eh, too early to tell. Is everyone gone?” Magnus nodded, smiling at the thrum of Mouse’s purr beneath his fingertips. “Sorry I wasn’t there to see them out with you.”

“You were tending to something much more important. By the way, Maryse apologized for losing track of Madzie and said she’d see you when you got back to the Institute.”

Alec’s mouth tightened. “Not my dad?”

“No, apparently urgent business called him back to Idris tonight.” Magnus flicked Alec a rueful look. “He left even before the festivities wound down.”

“Good. One less thing I have to deal with when I get back to work. I—” Alec’s voice broke off as a warm raindrop struck Magnus’s cheek. A second later, he yelped sharply as Mouse launched herself off his lap and streaked for the open door leading to the stairs. “Ow. Claws.”

“Well, at least your cat dilemma has been resolved.” Magnus rose and offered Alec a hand up.

“Easy for you to say,” Alec muttered as his fingers wrapped around Magnus’s. His voice dropped a little, hitting a low, husky tone Magnus was only just starting to become familiar with. “A couple centimeters to the left and I would have needed my iratze before we could start this honeymoon.”

“Probably not the use the angels intended that rune for, but all in a good cause.” He started to pull Alec closer, but stopped as another raindrop splattered on his shoulder. “Should we get inside?”

“In a bit. I like the breeze.” Alec’s hands settled on Magnus’s waist and drew him near, until they were barely inches apart standing there almost on the exact spot where they’d spoken their vows a few hours earlier. “So, um. We actually did it. We got married.”

Sporadic droplets continued to pelt them, falling slow and heavy, but Magnus found they mattered less now, with the electricity of Alec’s nearness humming along his nerves. “We did,” Magnus said, huffing at the surge of disbelief that still accompanied the idea.

Alec chuckled along with him, then his smile fell a little. “Is it…weird? I mean, that we still don’t really know what this is all going to look like when the dust settles?”

“Do we need to?” Magnus asked with a thoughtful hum, sliding his hands up Alec’s biceps to his shoulders. “Can’t we simply let it be what it’s going to be? Wing it?”

“Yeah.” Alec gave him a sheepish grin that brought back the melting sensation in Magnus’s chest. “That’s not something I’ve had a lot of experience with.”

Alec didn’t appear to even realize that his fingers were moving in slow circles at the small of Magnus’s back, making it a little harder to track the conversation. “Well, it so happens that I have. We can work on it together.”

“Guess it’s hard to micro-manage a future that’s going to last indefinitely, huh?” Alec asked with a slight frown, and that particular train of thought wasn’t going to end up anywhere good at all.

“You learn to seize the moment,” Magnus said, striving to keep his tone as light as possible as he let his hands drop deliberately down Alec’s back to rest on his ass and tugged firmly until they were plastered against each other. “And this moment happens to have a lot worth seizing. Don’t you think?”

Alec’s eyes widened, and his tongue swept across his lips. “Oh. Yeah. Definitely.” He nodded with the breathless distractibility of a young man who’d only just recently discovered the wonders of sex. The sluggish rain continued to fall around them as Alec’s lips parted eagerly for Magnus and his grip on the back of Magnus’s shirt tightened.

“Didn’t you mention something a few days ago about wanting to deflower me properly on our wedding night?” Alec asked in a gravelly voice when Magnus’s lips slid down the wet skin of his throat.

“I did, though I wasn’t being serious,” Magnus murmured, more interested in Alec’s low groans and the restless way he was rocking against Magnus than the particulars of who might do what to whom.

“I am,” Alec said so bluntly that Magnus leaned back to stare at him. Alec’s eyes were huge and filled with so much heat it was a wonder the redwood patio furniture didn’t spontaneously ignite. Alec dove in for another kiss, messy and aggressive, and all Magnus’s jocularity fled. Alec steered him back until a chaise bumped the back of his calves and Magnus almost fell onto it before he managed to catch himself and execute a more graceful descent.

Magnus laughed incredulously as Alec straddled his lap. “What, here on the terrace?”

“Yes,” Alec muttered, kissing him again, harder. He ground his backside down against Magnus’s erection. As if the clouds had been waiting for them to ratchet up their passion, the tempo of the droplets splashing them increased.

“In the rain?” he pressed when Alec let him back away enough to ask.

Alec’s breath was coming fast and sharp, and his nod was jerky. Magnus got the impression that he wouldn’t be capable of words of more than one syllable for much longer if they kept going the way they were. “You were sitting right here when you proposed to me. We had our first kiss—” he pointed to a nearby sofa “—right over there. And tonight we got married over there.” Alec took a deep breath and his shadow-dappled complexion darkened a little bit under the strings of icicle lights. But his eyes were steady and sure. “Please, Magnus. I want it.”

For a moment, all Magnus could do was stare at him, stunned into speechlessness by the core of romanticism that Alec laid bare before him with all his customary lack of guile. A blunt-spoken warrior prince with the secret heart of a poet, that was Alexander Lightwood.

Lightwood-Bane?

Maybe, though knowing the Clave it would likely never be an official moniker.

At any rate, his husband.

Alec rocked against him again and oh, that was quite enough sentimentality, thank you very much.

“Yes. Of course. Anything you want, Alexander,” Magnus vowed, surging up to drag Alec down into another urgent kiss. “Anything at all.”

Chapter Text

“Isabelle!” Izzy glanced up from strapping on her thigh holster to see her mother striding across the Ops center toward her. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of leather and oily cleaning polish that always surrounded the weapons racks, and braced herself. So far, Maryse’s stay at the Institute had been relatively frictionless, and for Alec’s sake, and right now she wanted to keep it that way.

Also, her mom seemed a little less…hell on wheels…these days, and that was worth a bit of encouragement.

“You’re going out on a call?” Maryse asked coming to a stop. Like Izzy, she’d changed out of the gown she’d worn to Alec’s wedding and now wore black leggings under a long black sweater, and shoes with a sensible heel. Since Alec had demanded their mother help with patrols while staying at the Institute, Maryse had been dressing more casually than Izzy could ever remember.

“We just got a report of a rogue vampire den that has snatched a few mundanes off the street,” Izzy explained while Maryse grabbed a holster and a bow off the rack. She kept her tone light and an easy smile fixed firmly on her face; there was no way she could let her mom know just how treacherous missions involving vampires were for her right now. Not until she found a way to come clean about the yin fen. “Everyone else is out on patrol, even with the few reinforcements you strong-armed the Clave into lending us so we could attend Alec’s wedding. I offered to go so Lydia could stay here working dispatch. I thought I might call Raphael Santiago—he’s been cracking down on the rogue dens in his territory since he and Magnus turned Camille Belcourt over to the Clave—but we’d have to get there fast. Dawn isn’t far off. If you’d like to come instead we can use sunrise to our advantage.”

“I would.” Maryse armed herself with brisk efficiency, inspecting the bow she’d chosen and slinging a quiver of runed arrows over her shoulder. “I’ve spent the last two decades mired in politics and administrative duties. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed field work.”

Izzy eyed the bow. “I thought you preferred a broadsword.”

“I’m not as young and fit as I used to be.” Maryse sighed. “I’ve neglected my training in favor of my political aspirations. But my aim is still solid.”

“Does this mean you have no plans to return to Idris right away?” Izzy asked cautiously as they set out from the Institute.

“I don’t have much of a choice,” Maryse said with a grimace. “The Clave is—frankly, Isabelle, I’m worried about the political landscape right now. They’re focused less on controlling and preventing demon incursions into our realm and more on policing the Downworld population. They’re practically obsessed with the unrest since Valentine’s massacre.”

Izzy frowned. “Seems like they were heading in that direction even before the massacre. I know Clave R&D has been coming up with some things that are in outright violation of the Accords. When he was running the Institute, Aldertree tortured Raphael with concentrated UV rays. And don’t get me started on those tracking chips the Inquisitor wanted us to use during that rash of murders Kaelie committed. What do you think pushed Alec into finally calling the summit and proposing the Brooklyn Shadow-world Council.”

“That’s the tip of the iceberg,” Maryse said. “Too many years have passed since the Circle uprising. History is being rewritten. It’s becoming…romanticized…in certain factions, and Valentine painted as a misunderstood would-be savior instead of a genocidal maniac.”

“Are there really that many who think that way?”

“More than I’d like. And plenty of others who like to imagine themselves moderates that are slowly moving in that direction. They’ll condemn Valentine with one breath and approve a harsher stance on Downworld affairs with the next.”

“You’ve always disliked Downworlders,” Izzy blurted before she remembered her resolution to try to get through this visit without any quarrels. “I would have thought you’d be in favor of the Clave taking a hard line with them.”

“Unfortunately, you’re not mistaken. When I left Idris even just last week, I had no real objections to what the Clave has been focusing on. But since I’ve been here for Alec’s wedding—well, I’ve had to confront a lot of my positions on things.” She winced at Izzy’s startled glance.

“Because of Alec’s marriage?”

“That’s only the start of it.” Maryse took a deep breath and pushed her shoulders back. “On a strictly political note, there are no doubt many people wondering if I plan to denounce his marriage when I get back to Idris. But that would undermine Alec’s career and his efforts to stabilize relations between the Clave and the Downworld here in New York, as well as undermining the unified front we Lightwoods have always presented in the Clave. Even when our positions on issues differ, that unity has protected us; it kept your father and I from facing far more severe consequences after the Circle uprising. Without it, we lose credibility. We’re reduced to an unprincipled clan of over-ambitious backstabbers.”

“That didn’t stop you from turning against Jace,” Izzy snapped, then clamped her lips together, cursing the resentment that had her so ready to pick a fight when Maryse seemed to be making a sincere effort to connect.

Maryse drew a shuddering breath. “You’re right. It didn’t. I thought I was protecting the rest of my children, but I was deeply, deeply wrong. And I’m sorry for that. You and Alec proved you understood the core principles of being a Lightwood much better than I did.”

Izzy stared at her mother’s pensive profile. For as long as she could remember, Maryse was always doing. Bustling about, issuing orders, telling them all the way in which they were wrong, all the time. She didn’t know how to respond to this quieter, introspective Maryse.

“And what about if you put politics aside?” she asked finally.

“Politics aside, I could never do that to Alec. I love him too much to betray him like that. And I love the nobility of spirit his efforts here demonstrate. He’s trying to make things better, even at the risk of great personal cost to himself.”

“You know his marrying Magnus isn’t just about the treaty, right?”

Maryse nodded, bowing her head. “I got that impression, yes.”

Frustration bubbled to the surface again before Izzy could stop it. “Here’s what I don’t get, Mom. How can you—why do you hate Downworlders so much you need to have reasons not to denounce your son’s marriage? Isn’t the fact that Alec is happy enough?”

“I’ve been asking myself that question for days, Isabelle. Which is why I said Alec’s marriage is only the start.”

“And what’s the answer?”

“I don’t know.” Maryse looked down at the sidewalk for a long moment. “I don’t know when or why my antipathy toward Downworlders was born. A great deal of it is simply...cultural prejudice, I’m sure. I certainly can’t remember my family ever speaking of Downworlders very fondly. Mostly, though, I think it started with my brother.”

Izzy frowned. “But he married a mundane, not a Downworlder.”

“Yes, and the fact that he chose to be deruned and leave his family and his life as a Shadowhunter behind and live as a mundane created enough of a scandal to make me a pariah by the time I reached the Shadowhunter academy. But then a popular, charismatic boy brought me into his circle of friends and gave me a place where I felt like I belonged.” She gave Izzy a bleak smile. “That was the secret to Valentine’s appeal, you see. He found the lonely and outcast children, the ones who were fearful or disaffected, and he gave them the acceptance they all secretly longed for. We were so caught up in him that we never realized how slowly and insidiously he was poisoning our minds. His thinking became more and more twisted, and ours with it. Eventually there was nothing he could have said that we wouldn’t have agreed with.”

“But you grew up,” Izzy protested. “Once you were old enough to know better, you still stood with him.”

“We did. All but a few of us. Like Lucian. And when those few met unfortunate fates we quelled our discomfort and rationalized it to ourselves.” She fell silent for a long moment, and Izzy waited, matching her stride for stride as Maryse sorted through her thoughts. “You know, it’s very difficult to examine that sort of history without being self-serving. You naturally want to portray yourself in a better light, make excuses for what you did. But nothing can excuse what I did then, the things I said. The harm those beliefs drove me to perpetuate.” She cleared her throat, blinking rapidly. “Wherever they came from, I made them mine for too long. I even tried at times to pass them on to my children, though thankfully I appear to have failed on that score. I suppose in the end, I’m just trying to figure out how much of it started with how I truly felt and how much of it I parroted from the people around me until I convinced myself it was how I felt.”

“Does it really matter, if you’re sincerely trying to do better now?” Izzy asked softly. They slipped smoothly past the foot traffic on the sidewalk, used to passing through the night unnoticed.

“I just don’t want to be a hypocrite about it.” Maryse gave her a rueful smile. “Whatever else I’ve done, inconsistency has never been one of my sins. I can’t claim a sudden change of heart just because my son has married a Downworlder. Or because I met a little warlock girl who has moved me. Or because I find myself missing friends I alienated back then.”

A few leftover raindrops from the brief storm a couple hours ago blew off an awning as they walked beneath it, splattering her hair. Izzy pulled the collar of her dark jacket up, humming thoughtfully in the grey pre-dawn. “I don’t think having a few specific reasons to reassess your worldview makes you a hypocrite, Mom. Not if it’s a real change. It just makes you someone capable of understanding they were wrong and trying to be better. Everyone starts somewhere.” Maryse nodded slowly, but didn’t seem inclined to reply.

The silence stretched on, until Izzy ventured, “Is it Jocelyn you miss? I would have thought the two of you would clash. Not that I really got to know her before she died, but she seemed like she liked having her own way as much as you do.”

Maryse smiled softly. “We weren’t close. I was actually better friends with Lucian, but I rejected him just like everyone else when he was bitten. And I hated him and Jocelyn both when they ‘betrayed’ the Circle, until I finally came to understand that they were right and I was the one who had been… so very wrong. Then I wished I could take it back, but it was too late.”

“Maybe not. This council Alec is trying to form, it could heal some of those wounds. If we could leverage the Lightwood influence, get our allies within the Clave behind it, that could take some of the heat off Alec until we can prove that this business with Aldertree is all a set-up.”

“To be honest, I’m not certain the allies we Lightwoods have surrounded ourselves with would be in favor of Alec’s efforts with the Downworld here. Some of them aren’t at all pleased with us over Alec’s marriage.” Izzy stopped mid-stride, staring at her mother, and Maryse’s habitually frank gaze darted uncomfortably to the side. “Because of our history with the Circle, your father and I have had to be careful to remain moderate, but the voices that supported us after the Circle was defeated have been hinting that it’s time for us to delicately reaffirm our position on the Downworld.”

“But you’re not going to, right?” Izzy demanded sharply.

“I don’t think I can bring myself to. Not now. I couldn’t do that to Alec, or to you. Your father though—he’s not immune to their…influence.” Her mouth tightened, her chin coming up. “He’d be subtle about it, of course. Again, we Lightwoods always present a united front. He wouldn’t publicly denounce Alec, but he’d make a display of affirming his love and support for his misguided son while demurring Alec’s unfortunate choices. He’s a politician through and through. He prefers the path of least resistance, and he goes where expedience demands.”

The damp breeze flung Izzy’s hair across her face and she pushed it back impatiently. “It’s her, isn’t it? She’s the one influencing Dad.”

Maryse’s eyes widened. “You knew?”

“He was being too damn furtive, checking his text messages constantly while trying to pretend he wasn’t. So I stole his phone.” Izzy scowled. “Also, he’s started wearing cologne.”

“Oh, the cologne.” Maryse sneered and began walking again, her strides fast and angry. “He hasn’t worn that since we were on our honeymoon.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” She had to trot to catch up with her mother. “It wasn’t my secret. I thought it might be better for everyone if I just stayed out of it. And eventually it became obvious you already knew.”

Maryse swiped her fingers under her eyes. “You should never have been in the position to have to make that sort of decision. It just makes me all the more furious with your father that you had to have your loyalties divided like that.”

“Leave him.” She caught her mother’s arm, forcing her to stop. “Leave him, Mom. He’s betrayed us all. First with the affair, and now he’s considering undermining all the work Alec’s been doing here? All Dad’s talk about honor and deeds, it’s a sham. He’s a sham. You can return to the Institute. Max can finish his training with us.”

Two more tears escaped Maryse’s eyes, but she reached out and cupped Izzy’s face and for the first time in years, Izzy felt the love of her mother as something more than an abstract concept, or something to envy her friends for.

“If I do that, who will be the voice in Idris championing Alec’s efforts here?” Maryse asked, her voice hitching. But she was smiling. “You and Alec, and Jace also, you’re all so brave. You’re finding your own way, making your own roads. And I need to be there within the Clave, removing the obstacles they’re going to try to put in your path.”

Izzy let her mother draw her into a tight hug, carefully weaving past the quiver and bow to hug her back. It was a long moment of just letting herself soak up the nearness of her mother, all the affection she never imagined her mother would show, before Maryse drew back and gave her a shaky smile.

“Thank you, Isabelle,” she said, settling the strap of her quiver in place again before they resumed their walk. “I think I will leave Max with you, at least. I would prefer he be away from all the bickering. As for your father, don’t judge his political maneuvering too harshly. Like all of us, even if we can’t agree with what he’s doing, he is still doing what he believes will protect the family.”

“By subtly throwing Alec under the bus?”

“He loves you and your brothers, and he wants to see you all thrive and be successful,” Maryse said with absolute conviction. “Never doubt that. But even Consul Malachi is voicing less tolerant opinions on Downworlders. If I know Robert, he thinks that if the Clave shifts too far in that direction, the fact that he appears to have been aligned with them all along may shield Alec, and possibly even Magnus. No one would want to risk alienating the Lightwoods and our allies by targeting our son-in-law.”

Izzy frowned. “But he’d be opposing you.”

“It’s not the first time your father and I have discreetly positioned ourselves as respectfully dissenting voices on opposing sides of an issue, united even when we disagree. Then, whichever way the political climate shifts, the family still has allies.” Her face tightened briefly. “The stakes just haven’t typically been quite this… personal.”

Izzy grimaced. “I hate politics. Give me a decaying cadaver any day of the week.” Maryse laughed. Actually laughed. Izzy wasn’t certain when she’d last heard that sound. She wanted to sit there and bask in it as the sun rose, to find a coffee shop and just chat with Maryse while this golden moment was still upon them and they could talk together this way.

She wanted to tell Maryse everything that had happened these past few months. Even tell her about the yin fen.

Instead, she pointed an alley, on the other side of which would be the boarded-over boutique they were seeking. “This is the den.”

Maryse nodded, and they slipped down the alley, alert for any vampire activity outside the lair. Just as they reached the front of the shop, they heard a scream from within. She and Maryse jolted into motion.

“They’ll be in the basement or a windowless back room,” Izzy said, speaking rapidly. “Another ten minutes the sun will be up far enough that they won’t be able to run, but if they’ve still got mundanes in there, they might not have that long.”

Maryse agreed with a grim nod. “I’ll go up the fire escape and break the windows of the apartment so they can’t flee to those rooms. With any luck, I can use the stairs leading down to the shop as a high ground to shoot from.”

“I’ll take out the front windows and try to drive them into your line of sight.” Close quarters with multiple targets wasn’t an ideal place for her electrum whip. She left it on her wrist and drew her seraph blade instead.

A moment later, a crash from the fire escape announced Maryse’s assault on the first of the upper windows. With a roundhouse kick, Izzy punched through the glass and half-rotten plywood covering what had once been a merchandise display. She widened the hole with her blade and carefully wriggled past the remaining shards in time to see a vampire disappearing down the stairs.

Frightened wails echoed from beyond the open door the vampire had fled to. Mannequins and old merchandise displays were strewn around the room, forming a jumbled mess she had to pick her way through to reach the basement stairs. At the top, she called, “Night Children! On the authority of the Clave, you are commanded to surrender yourselves and any mundanes you have on the premises for investigation into possible violations of the Accords. Any effort to resist will be met with lethal—”

A blur of motion was her only warning as one of the vampires came flying up the stairs toward her. Izzy’s blade took him through the chest, but he was followed by two more, both of them female. izzy backed away a step, trying to lead them toward the shattered front window where daylight was slowly creeping in. They broke off their attack, retreating to draw her toward the stairs and the safe darkness of the basement, which forced her to advance to re-engage them. One way or the other, they needed to be dealt with before she could get to the mundanes they below.

Her blade took the second vampire across the chest—a non-lethal slash, but enough to send the woman recoiling in pain. In her peripheral vision, door of the utility closet beside the stairs opened. She kicked the third vampire down the stairs and whirled to face the new threat.

The new vampire wore a blood-stained police uniform that was still sharply pressed. He smirked and tsked. “Forgot to check your corners, Shadowhunter.”

From a shadow she had assumed to be just a decrepit mannequin, another vampire emerged as the one Izzy had wounded got back on her feet. The undead cop lunged for her and Izzy bolted for the window again. The arms of the wounded vampire snapped around her, halting her escape. A wave of perfume too fresh for the vampire to have been turned more than a day or two ago hit her senses, and then fangs sank into her neck.

Razor-edged bliss flooded her veins. More satisfying than the best possible orgasm, sweeter than the grace of the angels, safer even than the love of her family. She forgot why she had been fighting, forgot there even existed a concept of danger. The inevitable death that awaited her at the end of this road was irrelevant. Nothing mattered but surrendering to that pleasure.

A sharp pain in her wrist—the other vampire, the cop. Another surge of venom-borne rapture swept through her. The seraph blade fell from slack fingers. She hung limp in the arms of the vampire holding her, drowning in the scent of cloying perfume.

“Isabelle!”

She heard her mother’s alarmed voice call her name from a hundred miles away, but couldn’t find any reason to respond. Pain pierced the ecstasy as the vampire who was feeding at her wrist staggered back with an arrow in his chest, his fangs creating a gash as they were ripped from her flesh. The one holding her let her fall as it turned to confront…

…someone. Whoever was there stopping them. It should matter, but it didn’t.

Izzy sank to the floor, only vaguely aware of the sound of combat around her. Crashes and roars and the muted explosion of vampires being reduced to ashes. Slowly her scattered senses began to achieve coherency, but she still couldn’t move, except to drag herself toward the window without any understanding of why she was moving in that direction.

“Izzy!” That was Jace’s voice…what was Jace doing here? She thought she could hear Clary as well, but it was Jace kneeling beside her, his fingers at her throat.

“…When we got back to the Institute, Lydia…sent Izzy out to investigate a report of a den…Jace…see if she needed backup…” Clary’s voice wavered in and out, but Izzy managed to open her eyes to see Jace’s worried face hovering above her.

“You okay?” he asked, sweeping her hair back. Things were making more sense by the second, fear starting to override the high of the vampire venom. Her senses were alive with it, but she had to hide that. She couldn’t let on just how wonderful she felt. Not here, not now, not with her mother standing right there…

“I’m…I’m fine,” she murmured. Jace’s hand wrapped around her shredded wrist. “I’m okay.”

Jace looked like he wanted to argue, but Izzy flicked a look at Maryse and then back at him, pleading with her eyes, and he closed his mouth with a grimace. “Little too much vampire venom,” he said casually. He and Clary exchanged glances and Clary pressed her lips together. “We’ll get her back to the Institute, keep an eye on her for an adverse reaction. Let’s check the basement.”

Maryse began to descend from her vantage point halfway up the stairs, nodding tersely. “Look at this room. It’s set up like an obstacle course. And two vampires were laying in wait for me upstairs.”

Jace frowned, relinquishing Izzy into her hands. “They knew you were coming. How?”

“I’d like to know that myself. I’ll take care of Isabelle. See if any mundanes are still alive downstairs.”

Maryse kept pressure on Izzy’s wrist and activated her iratze rune while Jace and Clary disappeared into the basement. A moment later, they returned, faces stony.

“There weren’t any mundanes down there,” Clary announced.

Izzy shook her head, fighting against the hum of pleasure still lighting up all her nerve endings to try to keep her thoughts focused. “The report Lydia received said there were mundanes on the premises. We heard screams…”

“A ruse,” Maryse said, hissing in anger. “Someone lured us here to kill us.”

“They were new vamps, though,” Izzy argued. “The cop’s uniform was still crisp. The blood stains on his collar were fresh. One of the women still smelled like perfume; she couldn’t have been turned more than a few hours ago.”

“One of the vampires was wearing a gi,” Clary said. “And the female I killed was seriously ripped.”

“I don’t like this,” Jace muttered. “Without someone to guide them—usually an older vamp—new vampires are feral. They operate on instinct; they don’t plan like this. Someone went to the trouble of turning vampires who were all strong and/or trained to fight, and kept them in check long enough for you to walk into a carefully-laid trap. They reported the den while the Institute would be mostly empty, most of our people out on patrol or other calls.”

“If I hadn’t joined her, Isabelle would have been all alone here.” Maryse’s voice hitched and she cleared her throat.

Jace nodded, scowling. “Question is, did whoever made the report know that it would be Izzy? Or were they just after any random Shadowhunter who answered the call?”

Chapter Text

“Why didn’t anyone call me about this?” Alec demanded, looking angrily from Jace to Maryse to Izzy. She looked small and pale in her infirmary bed, but at least she was being watched over by medics.

“Twenty-four hours, remember?” Jace’s smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes. The way his gaze quickly flicked toward Maryse and back made it clear just what he wasn’t saying.

Izzy hadn’t told their mom about the yin fen yet.

Alec’s jaw clenched, but he reconsidered what he said next. “I would have come in for this. One of my Shadowhunters was led into a trap—”

“And if there had been any actionable intelligence about the source of the attack, we would have contacted you,” Maryse said. “We conferred with Lydia, and she called that vampire, Clary’s friend, in to explain, but there was only so much he could tell her.”

“Simon? Why him?”

“The report came to us through him,” Izzy answered. “On the way home from your reception, some vampires he didn’t know informed him about the den. He says strange vamps approach him a lot these days for various things, since his status as a Daylighter became public knowledge. The unfamiliar vampires wanted to know if they should report a den they’d heard was snatching mundanes. He said he’d handle it and passed the information on to me and Lydia. I decided to take the mission.”

“By yourself?” Alec demanded incredulously. “Iz—”

Her eyes flashed a warning at him. “Alec. With the intelligence we had, there was no reason I couldn’t handle it, especially once Mom decided to join me. Simon was told there would be three vamps at most. We had no way of knowing there would be seven, or that they’d be physically fit, recently turned, and trained to fight.”

“Do we have any idea who was coordinating them? Someone who wasn’t recently turned had to be the brains behind a trap with that level of sophistication.”

Izzy and Maryse shook their heads in unison. “I think they might have gotten away,” Izzy replied. “Either they took off just before we arrived, or they escaped while we were fighting the others.”

Alec closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, giving himself time to consider how to handle this. The Institute infirmary didn’t have the antiseptic smell that pervaded mundane hospitals; disinfecting here was done mostly with purification runes. Nonetheless, there was something about the air here that Alec would always associate with pain and misery.

“You’re okay?” he finally asked.

Izzy gave him a stilted smile. “I’m fine. The medics are just keeping an eye on me to make sure I don’t have a bad reaction to the double dose of venom.”

Alec clenched his fists at his sides. “I need to talk to Izzy alone for a moment,” he said neutrally. “Jace, Mother, wait outside please.”

Jace’s look was both understanding and approving. Apparently Alec wasn’t the only one more concerned than he was letting on in front of Maryse. Once the door closed behind them, Alec pulled up a stool at Izzy’s bedside.

“Iz, I get why you don’t want Mom to know about the yin fen. Sooner or later, you’re gonna need to come clean, but that’s between you and her. The medics, however, need to know.”

“Alec, I’m fine,” she protested.

“Yeah, last time I heard that from you, you weren’t even close to fine. Did you inform the medics, yes or no?”

Izzy gritted her teeth. “No. If they put it in my records—”

“I’ll have a word with them, see to it that they don’t. But until they give you the all-clear and we know you’re not in danger of relapsing, you’re confined to the Institute. Understood?”

“You can’t afford to be down a Shadowhunter right now!” she argued.

“If you force me to, I’ll make it an official order and to hell with your file,” he snapped. “I almost lost you a few months ago because I was too wrapped up in my own issues and I wasn’t paying attention to what was going on with you. That’s not going to happen again. I’ll trash your career myself if it means keeping you safe, you got me?”

“Oh, I see, so this is actually about you and your guilt,” she shot back with a glare. “In case you weren’t aware, Alec, I kicked this thing on my own once already without my big brother bullying me into doing it his way. I got through the withdrawal without you and the medics watching over me. I can do it again.”

Her scathing tone was like a lance through his chest. “Jesus, Izzy, do you even hear yourself? This isn’t you talking. You don’t hurt people to drive them away like this.”

She sneered. “Well, you’ll forgive me if I’m a little too busy trying to keep myself from sneaking out of here and heading for the nearest bleeder den to coddle your feelings right now.”

Alec sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s that bad?”

She flung her hand in the air, displaying the violent tremor rocking it. “What do you think?” Her eyes flooded with tears. Her words came faster, her tone increasingly desperate. “I’m trying so hard, Alec. And every time Mom or the medics check in on me, I have to pretend I’m alright, and it just makes it harder because if—if I could just have another taste, just a small one, I wouldn’t have to pretend for a while and I want that so bad. By the Angel, I don’t think I can do this again!”

“Shh. Shh. Yes you can. I know you can.” Alec slipped off his stool to climb onto the bed beside her, feeling the bone deep tremor that wracked her entire body as he hugged her close. “I’ll talk to the medics, and see if Magnus can come. He’s seen this before, he might know something to help make it easier until you’re over the worst of it. Okay?”

Izzy pulled away and wiped her gray, tear-streaked face, sniffling. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He met her eyes and tried for an encouraging smile. “I’m gonna step out into the hall to find something for Mom to do to get her out of here, but I’m locking the door when I go. I’m sorry. Only the medics or Jace and myself will be allowed in and out until you’re released. Even if you try to leave, we’re not going to let you. You don’t have to do it alone this time, Iz.”

She nodded and curled into a tight ball on the bed, turning her back to him. Alec drew his stele and activated the locking rune on the door before closing it behind him.

The medic on duty was filling out reports on the terminal outside the door. Alec took her aside and explained the situation.

“Look, can you keep this off the books, as a favor to me?” he asked quietly. “You know how damaging this could be to her career.”

She frowned for a moment, but finally nodded. “For now, providing Isabelle responds well to treatment. I’ll write it up as a moderate-to-severe venom reaction. That way if she ever gets bitten again, the medics who treat her will at least have some idea of her increased risk. But if it looks like it could become an issue that might endanger anyone she works with in the future, I won’t have a choice but to report it, sir.”

“Agreed,” Alec said briskly. “What sort of treatment do you have for this?”

“Time, patience, and mandatory quarantine while she detoxes, mostly,” the medic replied, grimacing. “I can place a somno rune on her to keep her unconscious for the worst of the withdrawal—and to keep her from trying to escape, if it comes to that.”

“Do what you need to do. I’m going to request the High Warlock check her over as well. He may know some potions or spells that could help. I’ll make sure he knows to consult with you.”

“Of course. And, by the way, sir, congratulations on your marriage.”

Alec repressed the smile that wanted to light up his face at the reminder and gave her a sedate nod instead. “Thank you. Carry on.”

He found Jace and Maryse in the Ops center, but Lydia had already begun holding a briefing before he could speak with them. He mounted the steps to stand beside her, keeping his stance casual, trying to project the image that relinquishing the position he’d worked so hard to achieve wasn’t killing him.

“I’m sure you’re all thrilled to see my face again, and relieved to know I’ve recovered fully from Raj’s demon-influenced attempt to rip out my heart,” Lydia said, addressing the room with ease. “That means the rest of you might get a crack at it instead—assuming I actually have a heart, which I’m given to understand has been a subject of intense and animated debate since the last time I was here.”

A spatter of embarrassed chuckles rippled through the assembled Shadowhunters and Alec smiled fondly. He’d always admired that Lydia owned her reputation as a hardass. It was one of the traits that had convinced him they might make a compatible marriage, once upon a time.

“It grieves me to inform those of you who bet that my presence here meant it was time for another changing of the guard that your money is gone for good.” Another ripple of amusement, this one with some discomfort mixed in. “The Clave has a keen interest in the success of this Institute’s negotiations for peace with the Downworld. For reasons surpassing understanding, they have decided that I am not best suited to conduct those diplomatic efforts and that Alec Lightwood should continue in his role as lead negotiator.”

Alec barely restrained himself from doing a double-take. This wasn’t what they had discussed.

“Instead,” Lydia continued smoothly, as if this was all according to the plan they had thrown together the morning before Alec’s wedding, “I’ll be acting as Alec’s deputy in charge of overseeing daily operations, freeing him up to spend more time brokering peace. I’ll also coordinate the integration of reinforcements as they are dispatched from other Institutes to replace the Shadowhunters we lost here in Valentine’s attacks and the subsequent Downworld unrest.” She bowed her head briefly, respectfully, and many of Alec’s people did the same. “This means that all of you will finally be getting more than one night a week off duty. And finally, at the behest of the Inquisitor, I’ll be overseeing an inquiry into some…irregularities…that arose while Victor Aldertree was running the Institute. Pending the outcome of that effort, there may be investigators from the Inquisitor’s office coming to interview some of you. You will, of course, offer them your full cooperation. Dismissed.”

When the congregated Shadowhunters had dispersed, he murmured beside her, “Did something change in the twenty-four hours I was gone? Because none of what you just said has any resemblance to what we talked about.”

“Actually a lot has changed,” she replied softly. “I would have filled you in before I called the briefing but you were checking on Isabelle. Let’s talk in your office.”

“Give me a minute to have a word with my mother and Jace and I’ll meet you there.” Lydia nodded and Alec crossed the Ops center to where his family waited. He leaned in close to them and pitched his voice low. “It turns out Izzy is having a mild venom reaction, so the medics have put her under quarantine until it can pass, for the safety of herself and others. You won’t be able to see her for a few days.”

Jace’s head shot up. Alec met his eyes briefly, but kept his face blank as Maryse protested, “But she was fine a few minutes ago.”

“I noticed she was pale and sweating a little. That’s why I asked to speak to her privately. While we were talking, she started spiraling a bit. Luckily we caught it before she was released from the infirmary. If she starts suffering any hallucinations or delusions, she’s in a secure area where she can’t harm herself or anyone else. Look, Mom, I think maybe you should return to Idris for a while. Izzy’s going to feel pretty self-conscious about this when it passes. You know how she gets about being sick.”

Maryse looked like she wanted to argue, but instead she pressed her lips together and appeared to consider for a moment before she spoke. “It’s not her fault, of course, but you’re right. She and I have made some tentative steps toward finding common ground but I’m not going to be the first face she’ll want to see when she’s back to herself.” Her tight smile quivered a little at the corners, and her eyes blinked a little too rapidly. Alec wanted to offer her a hug, but here in the middle of the Ops center wasn’t the place. Especially not when her spine was that rigid.

“It so happens I’m needed in Idris anyway,” she continued, lifting her chin. “I have meetings I need to attend with some unexpected new allies before the next Council is called. I’d like to leave Max with you, though, to get him away from all the fighting your father and I have been doing these days. Can you arrange for him to work with the trainers here? He can do his lessons online with his tutor.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll go check on him now, see if he wants to spar,” Jace offered. “He and Clary can work out together when we have time; they’re probably pretty evenly matched.”

“Sounds good. I need to get to a meeting with Lydia,” Alec said, kissing Maryse’s cheek and accepting her hug. “See you soon.”

Lydia had not made herself comfortable behind his desk—even though it had been her desk not long ago—but she had helped herself to the files sitting on the desktop. She closed the portfolio she was browsing as Alec walked in and closed the door.

“Now,” he said without preamble. “What happened yesterday that changed our game plan?”

“Well, first of all, I came to the conclusion that another change in leadership would be detrimental to the morale of your already over-extended people. And second, I had two very interesting meetings while you were honeymooning.” Lydia hooked one leg over the other and wrapped her hands around her knee. “Dorothea Rollins and Raphael Santiago.”

“Dot?” Alec frowned. “She’s been sick, a result of Valentine’s experiments on her. She wasn’t even feeling up to making it to the wedding. What brought her to you?”

“At your wedding reception, I asked Catarina Loss to pass on a message for me, and since it came from another warlock and was couched as semi-personal request rather than a demand from the Clave, Ms. Rollins accepted. I remembered something you said when I arrived the other morning, about how she had been held captive by Valentine. But there was no record of you interviewing her to see what intelligence you could gather.” Lydia peered at him for confirmation.

“You’re right,” Alec said, speaking slowly as he tried to recall why it hadn’t seemed necessary at the time. “She was very ill, and with Valentine already in custody, the only reason I would have had to interview her was to see if she had any information on where he had hidden the Mortal Cup. It didn’t seem likely enough to justify disturbing her, though. If his Downworlder captives had known where he hid the cup, he would never have left them alive.”

Lydia’s eyebrows lifted significantly. “And at the time, I’m sure you had no reason to suspect anyone within the Institute was collaborating with Valentine.”

Alec let out a sharp breath. “You’re right. That’s not something that occurred to us to look into until last week. Good catch. I hadn’t considered asking Dot about it.”

“You’ve been busy,” Lydia said with a shrug, smiling wryly. “I seem to recall how crazy it gets planning a rush wedding while running an Institute.”

Alec blushed and ducked his head. “So what did she have to say?”

“When I asked her if he received any visitors, she said that all Valentine’s followers were in and out of his hidey-holes constantly, but there was one person who only checked in a couple times and didn’t defer to Valentine the way his followers typically did.” Alec leaned forward, bracing his hands on the surface of the desk, waiting for the rest of it. “She never got a look at him, but she did hear a distinct British accent…and mention of the London Institute.”

Alec swore under his breath. “That can’t be coincidence.”

Lydia shrugged. “It’s looking less and less likely.”

“And Raphael Santiago? What was that meeting about?”

“I suspect your new husband might have put Santiago up to coming,” Lydia said with a smirk. “He was seeking Reparations for a violation of the Accords committed against him personally while Aldertree was Head of this Institute. He’s been reluctant because the Clave is typically biased in favor of their own in such cases. Filing it now, however, is a demonstration of trust on behalf of the Brooklyn vampire clan. They’re testing if your offer of allyship was made in good faith and if his grievance will get a fair hearing.”

Alec closed his eyes for a moment with a short, incredulous laugh. “Unbelievable. Magnus wasn’t exaggerating when he told me how politically shrewd he could be.”

“Santiago’s gesture made a very pointed statement,” Lydia agreed. “This is the closest we’ve been to peace with the Downworld of this City since Valentine’s massacre. If we pull you out of those negotiations now, we’re back on the brink of a war, with far less chance of successfully brokering peace when we try again. Recent reports are that anti-Idris sentiment is spreading rapidly through the Downworld in every city where we maintain a Shadowhunter presence. They’re looking to New York to figure out whether peace is even possible.”

Alec rubbed his forehead. “And the discrepancies over Aldertree’s death?”

“We were right about the security footage from that time period being missing. However, it turns out there’s one witness who isn’t related to you and who survived Valentine’s assault on the Institute. I spoke with her and she confirmed Aldertree—or someone disguised as him—was running the Institute for up to two weeks after you allegedly reported him KIA during Valentine’s attack at the City of Bones.”

“Who?”

“A woman named Lindsay Sedgewick.”

“Sedgewick. Right. I don’t know her well, I think she arrived with Aldertree. I’ve heard rumors she occasionally voices some minor anti-Downworld sentiment, but nothing I can really bring the hammer down on. She’s one of a handful of Shadowhunters here in the Institute that Izzy says don’t really approve of my diplomatic efforts.”

“Better still,” Lydia said decisively, tapping her fingers on her knee. “She becomes an even more credible witness if she’s got no motive to lie on your behalf.”

“So you think between Raphael’s request for Reparations and and Lindsay’s confirmation that someone was masquerading here as Aldertree after he was supposedly killed, the Clave will be more interested in investigating him than me.”

“If we’re being optimistic, sure.” Lydia shook her head. “Realistically, though? I think we can expect the Clave to try to make this go away as quietly as possible. They’ll notify Raphael that with Aldertree dead, they have no way of pursuing his grievance, but that he can rest assured that with you running the Institute, there’s no cause for concern that the unfortunate incident will be repeated, and so on.”

Alec huffed in annoyance. “So that’s it?”

“Well, what do you expect? A vigorous investigation into Aldertree will draw attention to the fact that their golden boy to whom they entrusted one of our largest Institutes was likely a traitor working for Valentine. They’re not going to want that. But they’re also not going to be investigating you, so I’d call this a win.”

Something uncomfortable squirmed in Alec’s gut.

“What if Aldertree wasn’t the only one?” he insisted. “Hell, what if he was?”

“The only mole in an Institute?” Lydia frowned at Alec’s brusque nod. “No one is going to want to hear that.”

“So we’re just going to close our eyes and plug our ears and hope that if we wish really hard, none of Valentine’s followers are out there planning to continue his work?” Alec pushed his chair back and paced over to the fireplace, leaning with one hand on the mantle as he stared into the flames, trying to get his rushing thoughts in order. “Whoever was parading around here as Aldertree—the person who escorted Valentine to Idris disguised as Raj—is still at large. And that person had high-level Clave security clearance and now they almost certainly have the Mortal Cup and quite possibly the Soul Sword.”

Lydia turned in her chair, her jaw tightening. “I know. And I’m right there with you. I plan to see if I can get to the bottom of this until I’m outright ordered to stop looking into it and probably as far past that point as I can get away with. Okay?” Alec stared at her a long moment, then nodded tersely. “Okay. So those are all things I’m going to bring to Inquisitor Herondale’s attention. She’ll probably start interrogating Valentine about his accomplice or accomplices, but given that I’ve already received hints from the Consul’s office to sweep this under the rug, there’s going to be political pressure coming from that angle. Especially with the clout the Aldertree family has; even assuming the person who infiltrated operations here wasn’t actually Victor Aldertree, they’re not going to want his name dragged through the mud like this. Luckily, I take my orders from the Inquisitor, and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how relentless she can be.”

Alec laughed dryly. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it? Rumor has it she has a special axe to grind where Valentine is concerned.”

“Three, actually. Named after her son, her daughter-in-law, and her unborn grandchild. And she keeps those axes very sharp.” Lydia bowed her head for a moment, then gave Alec a somber look. “Alec, you need to be aware, the deeper I dig into Aldertree—or whoever that was—the more likely it is I’m going to have to go on the record about all his dealings here. Including those pertaining to your sister.”

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “I told you that to make my case to you personally that something was fishy about Aldertree, not as part of any official investigation.”

“I know. And I’ll do what I can to protect Isabelle, but you need to be aware of the possibility.” She released a slow breath, tapping her fingers again. “I take her stay in the infirmary as an indication that there have been some setbacks?”

“Yeah, and I just asked the medics to keep it out of her file if they can.”

“You both need to consider whether coming clean sooner rather than later would be less damaging to her career. The longer you sit on this secret, the worse it’s going to look for her if it gets out.”

“I’ll bring it up with Izzy once she’s over the worst of it. Thanks, Lydia.”

“I’ll let you get to work.” She rose and took a couple of the files she’d been perusing off his desk. “Any files pertaining to the investigation, I’ll be storing down in a secured vault in the catacombs. Only I will have access to it, but I’ll brief you regularly on my progress. I’m going to need some office space as well.”

“We’ve got a lot of residence rooms empty since we lost so many people. I’ll find you one already equipped with a desk and make sure you get whatever else you need.”

“I appreciate it.” She paused with her hand on the doorknob, smirking. “It’s sort of funny, isn’t it? The way we’ve come full circle?”

Alec laughed, truly laughed, for the first time since he’d left Magnus drowsy and grumbling in bed that morning. “Well, we did set out to run the Institute together. And here we are.”

“Indeed.” She narrowed her eyes and scrunched her nose, then declared with a decisive nod, “This way is better.”

Chapter Text

Alec looked up eagerly at the rap on the frame of his office door, hoping it was Magnus. His response to Alec’s text requesting he come had been brief, almost terse. There was an urgent matter requiring his attention and he would stop by when he could. And then nothing.

The brisk knock, however was nothing like Magnus’s playful tap. Jace stood in the doorway, his brow furrowed.

“Hey.” Alec set his paperwork aside as Jace approached his desk. “Just so you know, you and I are the only ones besides the medics with clearance to visit Izzy, so any time we get a chance to swing by and see her, let’s do that. I promised her she wouldn’t have to do this alone this time. I’ll add Clary to the list when Izzy’s over the worst of it, but for now let’s keep it small.”

“Max was worried when I gave him the party line about a venom reaction,” Jace said with a sigh. “I don’t like lying to Mom or the rest of the family, but it’s not our secret to tell, is it?”

“Exactly. Why are you here, anyway? I thought you and Clary would be spending the afternoon together, or something.”

“Eh, change of plans.” Jace waved his hand dismissively. “She decided to go visit Dot instead.”

“She’s been doing that a lot lately.”

Jace shrugged. “She doesn’t have much more time with Dot, and she knows it.”

Alec nodded, sighing. “True. So what’s up?”

“There’s a Shadowhunter here, named Sebastian Verlac. He says he’s looking for whoever raided that vampire den the other morning.” Jace’s eyes flashed at the mention of the trap. “I didn’t want to explain that Izzy was unavailable, or why. I could talk to him myself, since I was there at the end, but the fact that he even knows there was a raid means he has information about our operations here. I’d bring it to Lydia, but I thought you might want to ask him about it personally.”

“Damn right I do,” Alec muttered, shoving back from his desk and coming to his feet. Jace stood aside to let him pass before falling into step with him. A blond Shadowhunter Alec had never seen before stood watched over by one of the guards in the vestibule outside the Ops center.

“Sebastian Verlac?”

“Yes. You’re the Head of this Institute?” Verlac asked in a mild British accent.

“Alec Lightwood.” He accepted Verlac’s brief handshake, taking the opportunity to size him up. He was disarmingly pretty, with sky-high cheekbones that made him look almost delicate. The shape of those cheekbones, his brow, even his jaw, reminded Alec of Clary, oddly enough. His hand was calloused, as anyone who put in hours of training with a sword would be, but his smile and the precise execution of his handshake—brisk, firm, not too aggressive—spoke of some training in diplomatic courtesies. “How is it you know about the mission to the rogue vampire den the other morning?”

“I arrived maybe an hour after dawn yesterday. I’d expected to find it teeming with vampires and instead found scattered ashes in a derelict building. I assumed that was the work of the local Institute.”

Alec nodded once. “And what has you investigating a den in our jurisdiction?

“Of course, forgive me. I should explain what brings me here. Er—is there somewhere we can speak privately?”

“This way.” With the knowledge that there might still be some of Valentine’s people infiltrating the Clave, there was no way Alec was taking a stranger through the Ops Center and into his office until he’d been vetted. Instead, he led Verlac to the greenhouse, which was thankfully empty. Jace followed a pace behind them, his easy soldier’s stance disguising the fact that he was at full alert as well. “Now, you were saying?”

“Forgive my caution,” Verlac said with a tight-lipped smile. “Some of what I have to say could be harmful to a number of Shadowhunters—or at least distressing to their bereaved loved ones—if it became public knowledge. I’m going to have to beg for your discretion.”

“That depends on what you have to say,” Alec replied coldly. “I’ll decide what needs to be made common knowledge and what doesn’t.”

“Right.” Verlac clamped his mouth shut, appearing to weigh his options, and then sighed. “Well, rather than belabor the need for delicacy, let’s get right to it. There’s a very powerful rogue vampire at large who is working in conjunction with a corrupt Shadowhunter. They’re specifically setting traps for Shadowhunters who are—or once were—yin fen addicts.”

Jace hissed quietly where he stood at Alec’s shoulder. It took an effort to keep his own expression neutral. If they gave away anything now, they risked exposing Izzy. “And you know this how?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Verlac bowed his head for a moment, then drew a deep breath and met Alec’s eyes squarely. “I was almost one of their victims.” He pivoted and started to pace a little, his hands moving as he spoke. “I’m originally from the London Institute. I was wounded on a mission almost a year ago, and I wasn’t healing as I should have been. One of our administrators was an ex-field medic who offered me a salve that he said would speed up the healing process.”

“Victor Aldertree,” Jace said through gritted teeth.

“I see you’ve made that fine gentleman’s acquaintance,” Verlac said with just enough understated rancor to stir Alec’s reluctant sympathies. “What I didn’t realize at the time was that he wanted access to my family. I have some distant relations who are respected voices within the Clave, you see. He used my dependence on the yin fen to persuade me to drop mention of his name in various reports, always in the most glowing terms, naturally. Soon he was being promoted, and eventually transferred, and I was left without a supply of yin fen.”

He turned away, carefully pinching a bundle of wilted buds off one of the blooming plants. “I’m not—not proud of myself. Of the things I did, after he was gone. I was a frequent caller at various dodgy vampire lairs around London for several months.” His shoulders rose and fell with another long, slow breath, and he turned back to face them, clasping his hands behind his back. “Eventually one night I was dispatched to lead a small team in a dawn raid on a nest of rogue vampires. It was—well, my powers of observation weren’t at their keenest just then, but even in the euphoria of my latest venom high, it seemed odd that I was tagged to lead the mission. I didn’t have the seniority for it, you see. I didn’t question, though, didn’t want to draw attention to myself in any way. I went, and there were many more vampires than our intelligence had indicated there would be, and they were all—”

“—trained fighters, and feral,” Jace finished in unison with him.

“Precisely.” Verlac studied his feet for a long moment before he continued. “There were two other Shadowhunters with me that night. They didn’t make it. I barely made it myself. When I was recovering in the infirmary from my ‘accidental’ venom exposure, I happened to see the reports the medic was filing on the two Shadowhunters who didn’t survive. Examination of their bodies had shown degeneration consistent with long-term vampire venom dependency. Or what might have been the accelerated degeneration that comes with shorter-term yin fen addiction.”

He shook his head, a slightly bewildered expression on his face, as though he couldn’t quite wrap his head around Aldertree’s audacity. “When I did some digging, I discovered that the families of those two Shadowhunters were also well-positioned within the Clave, and they’d been supporters of Aldertree’s career advancement. I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t the only one and began looking into which other voices within the Clave tended to foster Aldertree’s career. Members of those families to could be traced to other Institutes where Aldertree was assigned at one time or another. A pattern emerged.”

“He controlled them, used them, then got rid of anyone who could accuse him of procuring and distributing yin fen after he no longer needed them,” Alec concluded.

“I simply—got lucky.” Verlac offered him a humble smile. “When I learned Aldertree had last been transferred to New York, I had to come, to warn you. Please, your Shadowhunters from the mission—was I too late? Were they—are they—?”

“They’re fine. Reinforcements reached them in time.”

“Thank the Angel.” Verlac seemed to shrink a little, clasping his arms around himself. “You, er, don’t seem particularly surprised at the mention of yin fen. I assume you already knew at least some of this?”

“Some. Not the fact that he’d done it at other Institutes.” It was difficult not to be more forthcoming, with Verlac standing there looking so unassuming and trustworthy, but he wasn’t about to offer Izzy’s name to this stranger. “How do you think Aldertree got you assigned to lead that mission?”

Verlac blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Jace nodded, catching Alec’s train of thought. “You said he’d already been transferred to another Institute. How did he arrange for you to lead the mission?”

“I-I really couldn’t say.” Verlac’s weight shifted from one foot to the other. “He was always an adept hand with the computers. Perhaps he retained his authorization or left himself a back door into the system?”

“That’s consistent with what we know about him,” Jace remarked, meeting Alec’s gaze. “But how does he arrange to have these vampire dens set up? Aldertree’s not a friend to the Downworld, that’s for damn sure. Who’s this vamp he has setting up dens with combat-trained fledglings, and what’s he offering to get their cooperation?”

“Immunity from prosecution by the Clave?” Alec hypothesized. “The vamp gets to run rogue dens in Aldertree’s jurisdiction and Aldertree covers up for them, keeps them from being investigated for violating the Accords when they happen to kill mundanes or create subjugates. In exchange, Aldertree gets venom to make yin fen and a clean-up crew to hide the evidence after he moves on.”

“And Aldertree allays suspicion by putting on a show of cracking down on dens run by other vampires, like going after Raphael to get him to hand over Camille,” Jace added. “And it’s all too scattered, too much distance between the Institutes where it’s going on for anyone to discern a pattern, unless they’re actually looking for it. Damn. He’s almost as good as Valentine at making sure his bases are covered.”

“Except here he went after the wrong Shadowhunter,” Alec said grimly, once again leaving Izzy’s name out of it. “He couldn’t get the kind of control he wanted.”

Jace’s eyes glowed with pride. “Score one for us.”

Alec looked at Verlac, who was standing silently, his head bowed in thought. “So you’re recovered now?”

“Hm?” Verlac blinked, shaking himself out of his musings. “Um, yes. It wasn’t pleasant, but yes. Actually, I, er, sought the help of a small, quasi-monastic group of warlocks who specialize in healing magic. They were able to keep me isolated and sedated until the worst of it had passed, and they had potions which helped with the pangs and tremors. I have a tincture they gave me, an extract of a rare root, if you think it might help your…your Shadowhunter. Whoever they may be.”

Whatever slowly-warming regard Alec had been developing for this stranger chilled like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on it. “We have warlocks we’re consulting, thank you,” he said stiffly. “Our Shadowhunter is receiving the best care possible in quarantine right now, and it will stay that way until, at the very least, we can establish your bona fides. Frankly, you’re AWOL and you don’t have Clave authorization to be here.”

Verlac jerked as if stung. “Oh. Oh! I beg your pardon, I didn’t mean—Of course, you wouldn’t just trust—You’d want to—er—”

“The Penhallows have some Verlac cousins, don’t they?” Alec asked Jace, ignoring Verlac’s stammering apology.

“Probably who he was referring to when he mentioned his relatives in the Clave,” Jace said with a nod.

“Good.” Alec drew his stele from his pocket. “Let me see your wrists, please.”

“Ah. Shape-shifting rune. Of course.” Verlac pushed the sleeves of his baggy sweater up and offered his forearms.

Alec ran his stele over both, nodding in satisfaction when no hidden runes activated. “Good. Leave us a contact number, if we need further information or assistance we’ll be in touch after we’ve confirmed your identity.” Verlac pulled himself into parade rest and nodded briskly. “Thank you for the information. Jace will escort you out. Jace, come see me when you’re done.”

“Alec!” Aline Penhallow’s face split into a wide grin on the screen of his tablet. “Well, this is a nice surprise.”

Alec smiled with genuine pleasure. “Hi, Aline. It’s been a long time.”

“It has. I hear congratulations are in order.”

His smile widened into a grin that strained his cheeks. “Yeah. Sorry the wedding was so rushed that your family couldn’t clear your schedules to attend. I would have loved to have you there.”

She sobered, blinking in surprise. “I meant your promotion. I’d heard the marriage was a political alliance, a bid at peace with the local Downworld factions. But…I take it from that smile there’s more to it?”

“Oh.” Alec flushed and glanced away from the tablet. “Hm, let’s just say the timing of the marriage was politically expedient, but it’s something I would have eventually been happy to do, regardless.”

“Wow. That amazing, Alec. And…brave.”

Not just because Magnus was a warlock, either. That part went unsaid. He and Aline had never needed to put it into words, what they understood about each other. It’d been unspoken between them in every commiserating glance they’d shared since they were preteens. Back then, Alec had been suffering the first pangs of his infatuation with Jace, and Aline had been trying to hide a crush of her own. Idris gossips had been speculating whether their families would someday try to arrange a marriage between them, and he and Aline had shielded each other by allowing the rumors to persist.

“I knew the people who truly cared about me would have my back,” Alec said, giving her a level look.

Aline nodded once and looked away. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Alec glanced up as Jace entered his office and beckoned him over. Jace grinned when he saw who was on the tablet. “Hey, Aline!”

“Hey yourself. Wild stories reaching Idris about you these days. Glad to see you’re in one piece!”

“Well, not for want of trying,” Jace quipped, taking station behind Alec’s shoulder. “Did Alec fill you in on our visitor?”

“I think he was just about to. Alec?”

“We’ve had some security breaches here at the Institute in recent months, so no one gets access without extra vetting. But today we got a visit from someone who claimed to have information pertinent to an investigation we have ongoing. We think he may be related to you. From the London Institute, a guy named—”

“Sebastian? You’ve seen Sebastian?” Aline leaned in close to her camera, her expression intent. “Is he all right?”

“Guess that answers that,” Jace muttered.

Alec ignored him. “If he is who he says he is, he’s fine. You can vouch for him, Aline?”

“Possibly.” She frowned for a moment. “He was one of my closest cousins, growing up. He disappeared about six months ago, and the aunt who raised him has been worried sick.” She dropped her voice to a murmur. “There’s rumors he became a yin fen addict.”

Alec glanced at Jace and then back to the tablet. “Again, if our visitor is who he says he is, then he’s confirmed as much. He says he went AWOL to detox, but that he’s clean now. He doesn’t appear to have been using a shape-shifting rune, but we’d still like to confirm his identity before we allow him access.”

“Leave it to me,” she said confidently. “I’ve confided things in Sebastian I’ve never spoken aloud to anyone else. If anyone can ascertain that it’s him, I can.”

“Thanks, Aline. I appreciate it.” Behind him, Jace pulled out his phone. “Jace is texting you his contact information.”

Aline held up her own phone and a few seconds later, it chimed. “Got it. Mom is dragging me to a Clave meeting in a few minutes, but I’ll call him when there’s a recess.”

“Still trying to get you interested in the family business, is she?” Jace asked.

“You know my mom. She’s convinced sooner or later I’ll decide I like politics better than field work.” She sighed. “I’ve got to go.”

“Take care, Aline. Swing by New York when you get a chance.”

“Don’t be a stranger in Idris,” she shot back, and disconnected the call.

“Well, so far so good,” Jace said as Alec swiveled his chair around. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the sill of the stained glass window. “It’s looking more and more likely that this guy is legitimate.”

“Yeah.” Alec rubbed his neck. “I guess. My next call is to the London Institute to get his file transferred over. I’m trying to decide how much of my reluctance to trust him is for good reason and how much of it is just—”

“—Your general dislike of people you don’t know?” Jace finished for him. Alec rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Come on, this is Izzy’s safety we’re talking about. And you’re right about all the security breaches. If there’s ever been a time when a little extra caution is called for, it’s now.”

“Exactly.” Alec sighed. “It’s not paranoia if someone really is out to get you, right?”

“You know it. And when dealing with Valentine and his minions, that’s doubly true.” Jace frowned. “On the other hand, if he’s telling the truth, there’s clearly a pattern to the way Aldertree has operated. Verlac’s story lines up perfectly with what happened to Izzy—”

“Maybe a little too perfectly,” Alec said with a grimace. “I mean, what was Izzy’s favorite book to quote from all through our training?”

“The Art of War. ‘To know your enemy, you must become your enemy.’” Jace nodded in understanding.

“I don’t know. I could be wrong. He wasn’t glamoured, so at least there’s that. I guess we’ll see what Aline has to say.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, frowning to see that Magnus hadn’t yet texted him back. “I’m gonna go check on Izzy before the sun goes down and we need to gear up for the hunt. Coming?”

“Right behind you.”

Chapter Text

“Alexander?” Magnus stepped off the elevator outside the Institute’s infirmary just as Alec emerged from what must be Isabelle’s room. Alec’s head was bowed, his shoulders slumped, but he snapped upright the moment he heard Magnus’s voice, eyes glowing gratefully. Jace came out the door after him, but when he saw Magnus there, he patted Alec on the shoulder and murmured something about seeing him later before heading off down the corridor.

“Hey.” It took a couple very obvious tries before Alec managed to make himself smile. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier.” Magnus glanced over at the sparse artwork on the walls of the hallway outside the infirmary, decorative sketches of various healing runes. “Dot is…not doing well. I was with her all day.”

“Are you able to help her any?” Alec asked.

“There’s only so much I can do. She’s…fading.” Magnus rubbed his fingers together, frowning. “Her magic is getting weaker, and with it, her physical strength. Even though we isolated the demon toxin that went into making Valentine’s mind-control serum, we haven’t found a way to stall or reverse the illness such constant exposure caused. At this point, Dorothea is mostly focused on…preparing herself.”

“I’m sorry.” Alec reached out, stroking his hands down Magnus’s shoulders and biceps. Magnus closed his eyes at the touch, trying to release the day’s frustration.

“I’ve known Dot for over a century,” he said, his voice unsteady. “Being immortal—and having immortal friends—naturally you assume they’ll be with you forever.”

One of Alec’s hands cupped Magnus’s jaw. “Valentine’s in custody now. He won’t take any more, I promise.”

There it was again, that deadly earnest eye contact only Alec Lightwood seemed to manage. If anyone had told Magnus a year ago that he’d meet a Shadowhunter—much less a Lightwood—capable of such absolute, unimpeachable sincerity, Magnus would have laughed in their face.

It made the knowledge of what he wasn’t telling Alec that much more burdensome.

“How’s Isabelle doing?” he asked abruptly.

Alec ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end as he slumped against the wall. “Awful. It’s—it’s terrible, Magnus. I can’t believe she went through this by herself before.”

“Quite likely, it’s worse this time,” Magnus said gently, sliding a hand down Alec’s arm. “She’s adapted to no longer having the venom in her system, which sort of…amplifies the effect when she’s exposed again, especially getting a double dose like this. Alexander—” Magnus bit his lip and turned away, pacing a few steps down the corridor and then back. “You should be aware that from here on out, each time she’s exposed, the withdrawal is going to be more violent. And the more it happens, the more likely she is to hit the point of no return, where the venom withdrawal could kill her.”

“What?” Alec straightened abruptly. “What do you mean?”

“Yin fen addiction is a double-edged sword. The dependency that arises from short-term usage is bad enough. Long-term usage, particularly in larger doses, is toxic and eventually will kill the user—as will cessation of the drug.”

Alec’s face went pale, he fumbled to brace a hand against the wall, leaning forward like he’d been gut-punched.

Magnus began to pace again. “Now, some of that is the result of what the vampire venom is combined with to make yin fen; anyone who crafts it mixes it with a different potion or salve or powder to enhance or prolong the effects. Without those impurities, vampire venom is somewhat less toxic; hence the reason the Accords don’t outright prohibit vampires feeding in limited amounts from voluntary donors. But at this point, without knowing what ingredients went into the yin fen Isabelle originally used, we have no way of knowing how close she is to the threshold for toxicity or irreversible dependency.”

“I need to talk to Lydia, make sure Izzy doesn’t get assigned to any more vampire-related missions, no matter what.” Alec blew out a heavy breath, rubbing his jaw as he slumped against the wall again. “She’s gonna hate that sort of restriction. She’ll think I don’t trust her to do her job.”

“You’ll find a way to make her understand,” Magnus said warmly.

“Why didn’t we know this?” Alec demanded abruptly. “We hear about yin fen, growing up in Idris, or in the Institute, or during our training, but it’s—it’s all apocryphal, you know? There’s no real facts, just rumors about. It’s bad and how we need to avoid it. No explanation of what the consequences may be. Even Izzy, with all her training, didn’t really know.”

Magnus sighed. “Probably for the same reason you were forbidden to hear about the Circle until Valentine resurfaced,” he said, leaning on the wall with his shoulder pressed against Alec’s. “The Clave thinks burying mistakes will help keep the next generation from repeating them. Which is nonsense, of course. The repetition is the result of forgetting the lessons the past has to teach us. I’ve seen it happen century after century. Just look at what’s going on in mundane politics these days and you’ll see ample evidence of it even now.”

Alec responded with nothing more than a grunt. A moment of silence passed before he asked, “Is there anything you can do to help Izzy?”

“Aside from pain-relieving spells that won’t last very long—and I’m afraid I’m not able to stay by her side to keep renewing them for days on end—there’s not much. Right now she just needs to sweat it out. And I’m sorry, I know that sounds…callous and brutal, but—”

Alec hesitated, biting his lip. “There’s supposed to be this, um, this tincture. I don’t know what it’s made of, some rare root. Supposedly it’s made by some, uh, monastic group of warlocks…but I don’t know the Shadowhunter who suggested it, and I’ve never heard of the warlocks. I thought you all tended to function separately?”

“Ah.” Magnus paused, mulling over his next words. “I…may have heard of this group. It’s true we operate individually, so they’re unique in that regard. I won’t mention their name, because they tend to be secretive. I’m frankly astonished that your Shadowhunter knows.”

“He said they helped him overcome his yin fen addiction,” Alec muttered.

Magnus nodded slowly. “That’s possible. They do tend to specialize in healing and reversing the effects of dark magic. Catarina studied with them for a while, but she wasn’t willing to commit herself to the order. They may know remedies for yin fen withdrawal that the rest of us don’t.”

“So you think the tincture would be safe to use?” Alec asked, looking eager.

“If it came from them, then yes, it probably would be,” Magnus said after a thoughtful pause. “I don’t know how this Shadowhunter came across them, but these warlocks have a creed that proscribes doing harm, much like the Hippocratic oath mundane doctors used to take. Since, sadly, most yin fen is manufactured by warlocks, they would feel beholden to devise some sort of remedy for the damage it causes.”

“That’s good to know.” He pulled out his phone and looked down at it, then shoved it back in his pocket with a frustrated sigh. “It could still be hours before I can get this new guy vetted, and in the meantime Izzy’s suffering. Even unconscious with a somno rune, it’s obvious she’s in pain.”

Magnus grabbed Alec’s hand between both of his own. “Wait until you have confirmation. A dubious potion from unknown sources is the last thing Isabelle needs. Now, do you need to go patrol?”

“Soon.” Alec offered him a crooked smile. “But first, we decided we’d try to have dinner together most evenings, didn’t we?”

Warmth surged in Magnus’s chest. “We did indeed. Is there somewhere particular you feel like dining tonight?”

Alec pushed himself away from the wall and extended his hand to Magnus. “Yeah. My room.”

Magnus laughed, slipping his hand in Alec’s. “By all means, lead the way.”

The door to Alec’s room had scarcely closed behind them before Alec’s hand was at the back of Magnus’s neck, pulling him into a deep, urgent kiss.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all day,” Alec confessed when they came up for air, foreheads pressed together and breathing ragged. “It’s crazy, Magnus. I’ll be in the middle of something completely ordinary, filling out a report or—or whatever, and suddenly I realize I’ve been staring at the wall for ten minutes, imagining I’m with you again.”

The admission flowed from Alec without reserve or shame, so freely it took Magnus’s breath away. No attempt at machismo or stoicism whatsoever. Rather, Alec offered the words with a sense of wonder behind them; as though the feelings he shared were an unexpected treasure he never imagined he’d be able to claim.

“Is it just me?” Alec panted, trembling fingers cupping Magnus’s face as though he held something precious. Emotion swelled in Magnus’s chest until there was scarcely room for his lungs to fill, and he couldn’t help but respond with equal openness.

“No, definitely not.” Magnus ducked his head. “I, um, may have messed up a potion today because my mind wandered,” he murmured.

Alec’s breath puffed against Magnus’s cheek as he chuckled. “Twenty-four hours wasn’t long enough.”

“Not nearly,” Magnus agreed, pulling him back in for another kiss as Alec started tugging Magnus’s shirt out of his waistband.

They staggered across the room together, tripping over themselves in their haste to get rid of their clothing. Alec fell back on the bed and stared up at Magnus, his eyes full of amazement. “Is this how it always is?”

“Not even close,” Magnus said with absolute conviction, sliding his fingers into Alec’s hair.

“I mean, I really wouldn’t know,” Alec said, an edge of uncertainty creeping into his tone. “I’ve never—never felt this way.”

Magnus swallowed hard, feeling suddenly naked in a far more metaphorical sense. He wasn’t sure if it was bravery or naïveté that allowed Alec to bare his feelings with so little reserve, but Magnus wasn’t sure much more of this wouldn’t flay him alive. “Neither have I.”

Alec’s brow furrowed. “What? But you—”

Magnus cut that sentence off with another kiss. “Not like this,” he vowed against Alec’s mouth, then made sure he was too busy to speak again.

By the time they were finished, there was no possible way they could manage a full meal before Alec had to leave. Magnus conjured a plate of fruit and cheese and they ate in bed, popping bites into their mouths as they enjoyed their final few moments before duty would call Alec away.

“Do you need to get home tonight?” Alec asked, chewing slowly on a bite of melon. His lips glistened with juice and it was all Magnus could do to restrain himself from cleaning it off with his tongue. “Late night client meetings, summonings, potions that need supervision, any of that?”

“Not tonight,” Magnus said, stifling a yawn. “I had actually intended to offer to patrol with you, but helping Dorothea today depleted my magic enough that I’ll be better off resting.”

“Would you mind staying here?” The request came almost abruptly, the words rushed as though Alec had to force himself to ask even though he wasn’t certain how they’d be received. “I mean, I can understand if you’re not comfortable staying in the Institute. I just—I don’t want to be too far from Izzy until she’s doing better. But I still want to be with you.”

This Shadowhunter Magnus had married was going to be the death of him. With his heart trying to melt and trickle down his ribcage, Magnus made himself answer lightly, “I have no objections, assuming I’m not going to be unceremoniously evicted in the middle of the night by order of the Clave.”

“No, definitely not. Lydia is running operations now as my deputy and any orders from the Clave will get passed through by her when I’m out, and she’s not going to evict my…husband.” Alec closed his eyes, his lips twitching into a lopsided smile. “That still feels a little strange to say.”

“It does.” Magnus was far too mesmerized by the sweep of Alec’s lashes as his eyes fluttered open again. “It’s…not a title I ever imagined I’d be able to claim, frankly. For anyone, ever.”

“Why?” Alec asked, his smile morphing into a bemused frown. Another piece of Magnus’s heart detached itself and worked its way over to Alec for that innocent confusion, even while Magnus wondered why he couldn’t have married a Shadowhunter whose idea of pillowtalk didn’t involve examining Magnus’s soul with a scalpel and microscope.

“I suppose it varied. Not that the subject came up, really. I had mortal partners I was with for years—decades even. But most of them eventually moved on. The immortality issue was too much for them to handle, or I was too much for them to handle, or they wanted children I’d never be able to produce, or—I don’t know. Proposing to you was—”

“Something that only happened because of extraordinary circumstances.”

“I don’t regret it.”

“Me either.” Alec slipped his fingers through Magnus’s, squeezing gently. Then he took up Magnus’s hand, studying the Lightwood family ring still resting on his finger. “Shadowhunter tradition says you’re only supposed to wear this until the wedding. But usually it’s replaced by runes, and we can’t do that. All your rings are silver. Would you wear gold, if I gave it to you?”

“I’d wear anything you gave to me,” Magnus said, though he had to force the air past his vocal cords from a chest too tight to breathe properly. “Well, except acid-washed jeans. Beyond that, anything is on the table. Necklaces, rings, lingerie, fishnets, even flannel and hiking boots—though I’d probably grumble about the boots.”

Alec grinned and leaned in for an all-to-brief kiss. “You’re lucky I don’t have a fishnets fetish,” he murmured, and slipped out of bed.

“I’m sure I could fix that.” Magnus got rid of the fruit plate with an indolent wave of his hand and curled into the pillows, yawning. “I’ll just rest here until you get back.”

“Is it alright if I let the medic on duty in the infirmary know to call you if Izzy’s pain gets too bad?” he asked over his shoulder as he pulled on his boxer briefs and jeans.

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” Alec shrugged into his shirt, then picked up his hastily-discarded thigh holster from the bedside table. He rummaged around in one of the drawers pushing aside a stele and various papers until he found whatever he was looking for.

“Broken stele?” Magnus asked casually, adjusting his earcuff.

“Hm? Oh, no.” Alec smiled softly, picking it up and then setting it down again. “It’s a child-sized one, made a little sturdier to withstand being dropped. I used it when I first started training. After I hit my growth spurts, I got a larger one that fit my hand better. Max used this for a while, too, but then he got his own.” He closed the drawer, leaning over Magnus for another kiss. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

An impatient rap sounded at the door and Alec sighed. “That’ll be Jace.”

“At least he had the decency to wait until we were done,” Magnus grumbled. “Go do your job, Shadowhunter. I’ll be here.”

Alec stole another swift kiss, then strode for the door, closing it swiftly behind him. Magnus heard Jace remark loudly that Alec smelled like Magnus’s cologne, but their voices faded away before he could catch the retort.

Magnus lay there a long moment, a heavy feeling in his chest as he debated with himself. Finally, the memory of the dark veins snaking across Dot’s lovely face, and the weakness that continued to plague her and wear her down, won out.

Sighing, he reached for the drawer.

Chapter Text

“Catarina, I’m glad you could make it to stand in for Dot and Magnus,” Alec said warmly, shaking Catarina’s hand. “How’s Madzie doing?”

“Still skittish, I’m afraid.” She smiled ruefully, and as Maia closed the blinds in the front windows of the Hunter’s Moon, let the glamour slip away, her skin shifting from deep brown to dark blue. “She hasn’t spoken since the other night. I can’t get her to tell me what upset her.”

“Damn,” Alec muttered. “I’m sorry. If I’d known my parents getting tense with each other would set her back like that—”

Catarina shook her head. “It’s like I said, these things are gonna happen, and there’s not always going to be a way to know what will set it off. We help her through them as best we can, and in time it’s gonna be easier.”

“Well, when she’s feeling up for it, I’d love to visit her again. But, you should know—” he dropped his voice and leaned in close. “—There’s going to be an investigation into whether or not Valentine might have been aided by one or more collaborators within the Clave. That’s what Lydia Branwell needed to discuss with Dot the other day, to find out what she might have witnessed during her captivity. I’m going to try to give you a heads-up if I learn anyone’s turning their attention to Madzie, but if they manage to do an end-run around me…”

“Enough said. You’re the only Shadowhunter my door is opening for anytime soon. Anyone else tries to get past the wards, me and that baby will be long gone by the time they make it through.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want them to upset her further. If she knows anything, the people she trusts will have a better chance of finding it out anyway.”

Catarina nodded, giving him a speculative look. “You know, for a Shadowhunter, you just might be worth the goblin drool it’d take to hex you.”

A surprised bark of laughter slipped out before Alec could stop it. “Thanks. I think.”

She grinned. “Now, where’s that new husband of yours?”

“I guess Dot’s having a rough morning. He said to go ahead and start without him and he’d be here when he could. We should probably get things moving,” he said, gesturing to the tables pushed together to form one long table in the empty bar.

Catarina nodded and flung out a hand, opening a portal. A moment later, Raphael stepped through and joined Simon, who’d arrived on foot since he had no need to avoid daylight. Raphael glanced quickly at the tightly-closed blinds, then gestured Simon to their seats.

“Thank you all for coming, especially so early in the day,” Alec said with a nod to the vampires as Luke, Maia, and Meliorn were seated. “Maia, thank you for letting us use the Hunter’s Moon.”

Maia gave him a tight smile. “No problem. We just need to wrap this up quickly so I can get the bar ready to open.”

“We’ll try to move this along, then,” Alec promised.

“Where’s Jace?” Simon asked.

“He’s at the Institute, which sort of leads into something I wanted to bring up before we got onto treaty talks. Raphael, you may have a new vamp encroaching on your territory. A few days ago, two of my people were led into a trap in a rogue vampire den. My sister is currently back at the Institute being treated for a venom reaction—” Raphael’s spine went rigid and Alec held his eyes for a moment to let him know that yes, the situation was exactly as bad as it sounded. “—which is why Jace isn’t here. He stayed behind so one of us could be nearby, just in case. I’m sure by now Simon has filled you in on how that vamp den came to be reported to us?” Raphael nodded stiffly. “What he couldn’t have known that the lair would be laid out like a maze, making both combat and retreat difficult. There were far more vamps than were reported. They were freshly Turned, and were trained fighters. We were led to believe they were holding mundanes, so to try to save lives, our people went with an emphasis on speed rather than caution. It nearly got them killed.”

“So you’re looking for a vampire audacious enough to target mundanes who are physically fit and know how to fight,” Raphael said thoughtfully. “Powerful enough to Turn and maintain control of multiple fledglings at once. That’s a tall order. If she weren’t already in Clave custody, I’d immediately suggest it was Camille’s work. She’s one of the only vampires I’ve met who’s old and powerful enough to pull something like that off.”

“We have reason to suspect this vampire’s been active in other cities in recent years, including London about six months ago. I can get a complete list of where they’re believed to have operated, if you think it will help narrow things down?” Alec offered.

Raphael gave him a noncommittal shrug. “It couldn’t hurt, but the Night Children aren’t like the Clave. We don’t keep a database to track our people’s movements.”

“Any help you can give us would be appreciated,” Alec said. “It’s in both our interests to work together on this. The vampire in question is specifically targeting Shadowhunters, and their presence in your territory threatens to destabilize your new regime.”

“Agreed.” Raphael nodded, still frowning. “Send me the list and I’ll see what I can dig up.”

“Thank you.” Alec looked across the table from Raphael. “Luke, one of the fledglings appears to have been a cop. I have no idea which precinct he was from, but if there’s an investigation into his disappearance—”

“I’ll do what I can to deflect it if it comes near my desk,” Luke said grimly. “But we’re here to talk about the treaty, aren’t we?”

“We are.” Alec folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Now that everyone’s had time to look it over and discuss it with their people, where do things stand?”

“I’ve gotten tentative commitments from the Bronx, Queens, and Harlem clan leaders,” Raphael said. “Still waiting on Manhattan, but I’d say it looks promising.”

“Any issues with the proposed terms?” Alec asked. “Changes or amendments you want to put on the table?”

“Terms look solid but my pack still wants Valentine handed over for execution.” Luke leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “I can’t blame them; I have plenty of personal reasons to want him dead myself. What chance do we stand of any real solidarity if we can’t be united on this issue first and foremost?”

“Not much,” Alec admitted. “And I would like nothing better than to tell you I can help you meet that condition. But the fact is, there’s no way the Clave is going to agree to it. First off, they’re still interrogating Valentine regarding the whereabouts of the Mortal Cup. I think we all agree that even if it’s just his followers and not Valentine himself, anyone having access to an artifact that could allow them to summon and control an army of demons is an issue that takes priority?”

Luke conceded the point with a nod. “Yeah, but what if he never gives it up? He knows how to withstand torture. It was something he drilled into all of us in the original Circle.”

“Well, we can’t use a mnemosyne rune on him unless he’s willing to share the memory, so I assume at some point the Clave will attempt to hire a warlock willing to forcibly steal it.”

Catarina hissed softly beside him. “Only a handful of us have the ability to do that against someone as strong-willed as Valentine Morgenstern, and fewer still would be willing to go there for any price. Also, I wouldn’t put it past that bastard to have his own brain booby-trapped against anyone who made the attempt.”

“Ouch. I’ll make a note to pass that warning along to the Clave,” Alec muttered.

“You better.” She pinned him with a look. “You know exactly which warlock they’re gonna tap first for memory work.”

“So we’re back to Square One,” Maia snapped. “Valentine’s got an indefinite stay of execution unless he gives up the Cup, and our people have to wait for him to die of old age, far away in Idris, rather than face justice.”

“What if I try to find a compromise?” Alec offered, rapping his pen on the pad of paper before him. “Under the Law he has to stand trial, regardless of when his sentence is carried out. Now frankly, Dorothea Rollins is the best witness we have against him on charges relating to his most recent activities. Considering her failing health, they’re going to need to have the trial sooner rather than later if they want her testimony. Since the vast majority of Valentine’s most recent victims were here in New York, I could probably sell it to the Clave to hold the trial here, open to anyone who wants to attend—Shadowhunter or Downworlder. Even if the Clave doesn’t care about my efforts to broker peace, the families of the Shadowhunters who died in Valentine’s attack on the Institute are here; it’s a reasonable gesture to facilitate them attending the trial. Do you think your pack would be willing to consider moving forward with negotiations if I could accomplish at least that much?”

Luke frowned. “The Clave’s not gonna let you open the Institute to every Downworlder who wants a seat at the trial, even if you had space for all of them.”

Magnus’s voice came from the empty space behind Alec’s chair just as the whipping winds of portal energy buffeted them all. “In the interest of keeping negotiations moving forward, I’m sure myself and other local warlocks would be willing to offer a reduced fee on our services to glamour and ward the park outside the Institute, if it became necessary to accommodate more people than the Institute can hold.” He swept toward the table and claimed the empty seat on the other side of Catarina. Alec had to clear his throat and look away until he had his face under control, quashing the goofy smile that wanted to escape. “I apologize for my tardiness everyone. Catarina, my dear, thanks for stepping in for me.”

“Well, that settles that,” Alec said, turning his attention back to Luke and Maia. “Thank you, Magnus. The Clave may balk on the grounds of security considerations, but I’ll try to float that plan past them first. And if they insist the trial be held within the walls of the Institute, would each faction be willing to agree to accept a limited number of seats, perhaps two dozen each?”

Luke gave him a bleak look. “You really think I got more than two dozen wolves left in my pack after that massacre?” He held Alec’s eyes for a moment, then snorted in disgust. “Yeah, we’ll accept limited seats. If you can get the trial moved here, we’ll press forward on the treaty.”

“Thank you.” Alec gave him a grateful nod, then moved on. “Meliorn, is there any use trying to get a straight answer out of you about where your queen stands on the treaty?”

“One may always ask,” Meliorn drawled, leaning back in his chair. “My queen is giving the matter all the consideration she has promised.”

“Which is to say, none at all,” Alec shot back. “I’ve met her stipulations and then some. What’s her objection to the treaty? She has carte blanche to propose changes and amendments at this stage of the negotiations, so why not at least consider it?”

Meliorn shrugged. “Perhaps the Seelies are tired of being beckoned to bargaining tables convened at the whim of the Nephilim. You say you’re not dictating terms, but the very fact that these summits have been instigated by you establishes a certain…directional momentum.”

“I haven’t seen her proposing any alternatives.”

“Who says the Nephilim would be invited if she did?”

Luke, Magnus, and Raphael all straightened in their chairs.

“Right, because that’s exactly what the Downworld needs, to turn these peace talks intended to prevent war into open antagonization of the Clave,” Luke snapped.

The muscle in Magnus’s jaw flexed. “Alec did what your queen asked when she demanded he marry a Downworlder, despite the damage to his standing with the Clave. And I’m convinced of his sincerity when he says he wants peace and equality between all our peoples. All the queen’s divisiveness can offer us is a continuation of the same ages-old stalemate.”

“Perhaps your infatuation with your new husband has clouded your judgment,” Meliorn said with a smirk. “You have been witness to the duplicity of the Nephilim before. Centuries of it. You were there when the very first Accords were negotiated. You’ve seen the way they speak of peace when they actually mean obedience. We’ve heard a great deal of talk here, but all of it has been about what Alec Lightwood thinks he can persuade the Clave to agree to. Why are we still deferring to the Clave at all, if this Council is meant to function as an independent body? How do we know that when faced with conflicting loyalties, this Shadowhunter will hold true to his word and choose the alliance he’s promising here?”

Alec scoffed. “So you’re saying…what? To prove my independence from the Clave, I have to forcibly remove Valentine from their custody if they refuse to hand him over for execution? I have to disregard the fact that the Mortal Cup is still missing and could fall into the hands of someone as bad or worse than Valentine? Because if those are the Seelie Queen’s terms, I’m drawing the line. No. I won’t do that. For one thing, it would be a pointless provocation that would only make tensions worse. For another, from what I can see, your queen’s concern isn’t that I’m dancing to someone else’s tune, she just wants to make sure it’s her tune and not the Clave’s.”

Meliorn sneered. “And far be it for a Shadowhunter to concede to the wishes of a Downworlder.”

“Alec didn’t say that,” Luke said, eying Meliorn coldly. “The goal here is supposed to be peace, not escalation.”

“As long as that peace doesn’t inconvenience the Clave,” Meliorn needled.

“So the queen has a better proposal?” Luke shot back. “Frankly, I’m not all that interested in hearing what sort of alliance she’d suggest, because I’m pretty sure it would start and end with her calling the shots for the entire Downworld. Alec is at least proposing a plan in which we all have an equal voice, which is more than the Clave or the Seelies would ever offer.”

Alec gave him a grateful glance, taking a moment to draw a deep, slow breath and consider his words. “Look, if anyone wants to float a plan that won’t escalate tensions I will do what I can to make it happen, or at least to find a middle ground we can all live with. But I said at the very beginning I won’t support provoking the Clave and I’m standing by that.”

Meliorn turned his gaze to Raphael. “You’ve been silent. What do the Night Children stand? Are they content with the status quo?”

Raphael drummed his fingers slowly on the table top. “The Night Children remember the last time the Seelies tried to stir up tensions, when the Accords were renewed. I’ve taken your side before, Meliorn, on the matter of killing Clary Fairchild when we thought she was the only one who could activate the Soul Sword.”

Simon’s eyes shot wide open and he turned an outraged look on Raphael, but Raphael held up a hand. “I was wrong. Even if I’d succeeded in killing her, it wouldn’t have saved our people that night. Valentine, with his manipulations and multi-layered schemes, may be more subtle and crafty even than your queen. He would have activated the sword anyway, and the one person capable of deactivating it would have been dead.”

Raphael paused and met their eyes, one person at a time, until he was sure he had their attention.

Lydia was wrong about Raphael approaching her at Magnus’s behest, Alec thought as he held that stare. That had been Raphael’s own doing. He was quiet, but he was a thinker. He saw the big picture even when those around him didn’t. Alec had had an inkling of insight into that fact months ago, when Raphael had given Simon back to them as a gesture of cooperation, but at the time Alec had been too wrapped up in his turmoil over Jace and the way Clary had crash-landed into their lives to really get it. And more recently, he’d been seething in resentment over Raphael almost killing Izzy, but now he could see just how astute a leader Raphael was.

“That’s what trying to outwit our enemies almost brought us to,” Raphael finally concluded. “So it’s time we stop thinking in terms of who can suggest the cleverest scheme and start thinking in ways they will never comprehend. Trust. Cooperation. Honor. Good faith. These ideas are foreign to Valentine and his followers—and frankly, to the Clave as well. But not, I think, to this new generation of Lightwoods running the Institute. We can’t change the way the Clave, all the way on the other side of the world in Idris, is going to act. But we can affect how we deal with matters locally, and set an example for others to follow.”

Alec had to swallow twice before be could speak. “Thank you, Raphael. I hope I prove worthy of that trust.” He drew a deep breath and set his shoulders. “Meliorn, obviously I can’t make the Seelies sign on with this. And I know you have to answer to your queen. But just a few months ago, my sister risked her everything—her career, her place among her family and people, her safety, her life—to save you and prevent war between our people. If that means anything to you, see if you can persuade your queen to at least give this a chance to be successful.”

Meliorn met his eyes for a long moment, then sighed. “You each raise fair points. But, as you say, I am loyal to my queen, and I’ve learned too well the perils of disobedience.” His eyes grew unfocused for a moment, and then he nodded as though settling an argument with himself. “Very well, Alec Lightwood. Bring Valentine Morgenstern back to the New York Institute to stand trial or face execution, and the Seelies will agree to your treaty.”

Before Alec could respond, Meliorn rose and marched out of the bar with his lieutenant on his heels.

Alec slumped in his chair and blew out a breath. “Why do I feel like that was another trap?”

Luke huffed. “With Seelies? Bet on it.”

“Perhaps not a trap,” Raphael said mildly, pushing back from the table. “But I’d take it as a warning. They know something you don’t, and getting Valentine back here won’t be a simple matter. I’ll be in touch once I hear from the Manhattan clan leader.”

Alec nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Raphael. I appreciate what you did today, and in going to see Lydia.”

“It was the least I could do. Give Isabelle my regards and wishes for a quick recovery. Magnus, if you could open a portal for me please?”

“I’ll do it,” Catarina offered, rising. She patted Magnus on the arm and he bussed her cheek with a kiss.

“Give Madzie my love,” he murmured, and then she and Raphael were gone.

“I need to get back to the Institute,” Alec said as he stood, extending a hand to Luke and Maia. “Thanks for being willing to work with me. I hope we can find a compromise your pack will consider acceptable. I’ll be in touch once I have word from the Clave.”

Magnus took his leave of the others and followed Alec toward the door. “I’ll come with you for a bit. Shall we walk, or portal?”

“Can we walk for a few minutes?” Alec turned his face into the dim sunlight that filtered between the nearby buildings as the door closed behind them. “I need to process everything that just happened before I move on to the next thing. I never expected Raphael would be the one championing the cause.”

“Didn’t you? I did,” Magnus said calmly. “Raphael Santiago is a man of deep personal integrity and unshakeable loyalty. However, few people realize it because his motivations are often inscrutable, and he’s highly unsociable on the best of days.”

“Well, I owe him.” Alec drew a deep breath and fell into step with Magnus as they made their way down the crowded street. “How’s Dot?”

“Fading.” There was a bite in Magnus’s tone that said not to inquire further. “How’s Isabelle?”

“In excruciating pain. Sebastian Verlac is coming back to the Institute this afternoon to give her that tincture, now that his cousin Aline has vouched for him. After that, with any luck, he can help us track down that vampire, which may give us some clue as to where we can find Aldertree, or whoever was posing as him.”

“I hope something productive comes of it. Let me know what I can do to help,” Magnus murmured with a distracted smile.

Alec stopped walking so suddenly that Magnus kept going for a few paces before he seemed to realize Alec was no longer beside him. “Are you alright?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Magnus’s smile was a little too placid. Beautiful, but somehow insincere.

“I don’t—” Alec cut himself off, struggling to put the feeling in his gut into words. What grounds did he have to accuse Magnus of hiding something from him when they’d only been together a few weeks, only married for a few days? “Something’s not right. Is it—I know you’re upset about Dot, is that it? If you need to talk about it…”

“Alexander, I’m fine,” Magnus said with that same false calm. His hand closed on Alec’s biceps, squeezing gently. “In a few days or a couple weeks, Isabelle will be better and the treaty negotiations will have moved forward and perhaps you’ll have even caught up with Aldertree. Everything will be perfect.”

“Right.” Alec sighed and made himself let go of the matter for now. There would be time to convince Magnus to let him in, when everything was settled. Magnus’s shoulders were broad and firm under Alec’s hands as he rested them there. “Look, when things calm down, when the treaty is signed and Valentine’s trial is over and everything, can we go away for a while? Just the two of us? Have a real honeymoon?”

The plasticine veneer of cheer dissolved from Magnus’s face, leaving behind something much warmer and more vulnerable. Surprised. Perhaps touched, even.

“I’d like nothing more,” he said softly, cupping Alec’s jaw and brushing a kiss across his lips. After a moment, he drew away, leaving Alec feeling colder. “I need to get to a client meeting. Can I make a portal to the Institute for you?”

“Sure.” Alec shunted aside his lingering feeling of unease and managed a smile. “Thanks.”

Chapter Text

The fractured oblivion of the somno rune was an imperfect shield against the agony that wracked Izzy, trying to wring her inside out, but as it slipped away she clung to it, wailing in protest as she emerged into hellish reality.

“Shh, shh, Izzy, it’s okay.” Even the dim lighting of the infirmary was too bright; it clawed at her eyes until she squeezed them tightly shut. Alec’s soothing murmur may as well have been a shout right next to her ear. His hands on her shoulders felt like vipers sinking fangs into her flesh. “Izzy, there’s someone here who has a tincture that can help, but I don’t want to give you anything without your permission.”

“Huh?” She twisted on the bed under the sweat-soaked sheets, unable to escape the pain as she tried to piece Alec’s words together into something that made sense. She squinted at him, then quickly slammed her eyelids shut once more.

“This is Sebastian Verlac. He has something that might help, if you’re willing to try it.”

“T-taking d-d-drugs from str-strangers is wh-what g-g-g-got me into this m-mess.”

“Aline vouched for him. He’s her cousin,” Alec said, his tone soft and full of love. “You know she’s never let anyone hurt you. Me either.”

“Cl-Clave v-v-vouched for A-Aldertree. P-people make m-m-m-mistakes.” Why did Alec have to wake her up to ask her this and make her make this choice. The temptation to try something—anything—that could help was so strong she wanted to weep with it. Which was exactly why she couldn’t trust herself to accept it. She was too desperate, and it sounded too good to be true.

“Perhaps I could try?” The voice was unfamiliar, but the accent was similar enough to Aldertree’s that Isabelle lunged up in the bed, intent on tearing this stranger to shreds. Her nails ripped furrows down the side of his face before Alec managed to restrain her.

“Izzy!”

The stranger’s bleeding visage loomed over her as Alec held her down. “Isabelle, I understand,” he said, his words as sweet as honeyed poison. “I’ve been where you are. You trusted someone to help you, and he betrayed you instead. And now everything is absolutely wretched and you don’t know who to trust anymore. Please. I just want to make it better for you.”

She glared at him a moment, scalding tears tracking down her cheeks, then nodded jerkily. “G-give it to me.”

He drew a stoppered vial out of his pocket and opened it. Keeping his movements slow and deliberate, he placed a drop on his finger and licked it off. “See? Perfectly safe.”

She nodded again and opened her mouth. She winced as the sharply bitter flavor of the drop coated her mouth, but within seconds the dizzily spinning world started to slow and coalesce into focus. The shaking subsided, the agony eased, and she slumped against Alec with a weary sigh.

“You okay?” he asked gently, kissing her temple. Izzy nodded cautiously.

The stranger gave her a small smile. “Little more bearable, isn’t it? It won’t make everything immediately better, but it will keep the pain and tremors manageable until the worst of it is past. One drop under the tongue each hour for a day or so, all right?”

Alec gave him a grateful look. “Thank you. I—” his phone buzzed next to Izzy’s ear and he drew back. “Sorry, let me just—” Izzy eased herself away from him to let him check it, leaning her head back against the pillow.

“So. Sebastian, was it?” she said, pleased to hear her voice was steady. “Like Alec was saying, thank you. How did you know—?”

“It’s a long story, really, but—”

He broke off as Alec touched Izzy’s shoulder. “I need to go. Inquisitor Herondale just showed up unannounced and wants to speak with me and Lydia immediately.”

She pushed herself up in bed, thrilled at the way her arms bore her weight without wobbling. “Is everything alright?”

Alec shrugged apprehensively. “I doubt the Inquisitor would be here if it were.”

“I’d be happy to sit with Isabelle, if you’d like,” Sebastian volunteered. “I’m sure she’d appreciate some backstory as to how I came to be here.”

“Yeah.” Alec held out a hand to him. “Thank you again for helping her. We owe you. If you’re planning to stay for a while, I’ll work on getting you officially transferred over from London and cleared for access to the Institute and mission information.”

“Yes, I think I’d like that. Thank you,” Sebastian said with a tight-lipped smile.

Alec squeezed Izzy’s arm one last time and strode from the room. She frowned after him for a moment, then turned her attention back to their new friend, who was looking after Alec as well, his expression almost…studious.

“You and your brother form quite the impenetrable wall, don’t you?” he mused before she could speak. “I’d sooner be thrown into a pit of edomei than try to convince him I meant you no harm again. You defend each other fiercely.”

Her mother’s words on the sidewalk whispered in her mind. “We Lightwoods always present a unified front, even when we disagree. We always protect our family, no matter what. It’s what keeps us strong.” She managed a smile. “I know Alec can be pretty intimidating, but you helped me. That’s going to go a long way with him.”

“Well, it was the least I could do.” He shook himself and turned away from the door to look at her again. “That, and help find the people responsible for setting that trap for you.”

“How do you know about that?”

His voice washed over her, soft and melodic, as she settled back into the bed and listened to his story of Aldertree’s ambition and betrayal.

“So he did this to others, to you,” she murmured when he finished. “We’re just the only two who lived.”

“We’re survivors, you and I,” he said with a gentle smile. “I reckon anyone who’d try to harm us had best be wary.”

“Until Aldertree, or whoever’s masquerading as him, is caught, neither of us is safe,” she said bleakly. “We know too much.”

“We’ll look out for each other,” he vowed. “Is your appetite returning? I remember being famished after coming out of withdrawal. A nourishment rune only does so much. It wouldn’t do you any harm to be up and moving a bit, either, since being confined to a bed is miserable under the best of conditions. What do you say we get clearance from the medic to take a stroll to the kitchens? As long as we keep the tincture close at hand, I doubt you’ll be in any danger of running off for a fix. And I have a sort of personal tradition of getting to know new friends by making a meal for them.”

“Oh, please, yes.” She threw back the covers, grateful that, unlike mundane hospitals, the Institute infirmary tended to put non-critical patients in light pajamas rather than an open-backed gown. “You cook?”

He shrugged sheepishly as she pulled on a robe and located a pair of slippers. “I pick things up here and there.”

“My brothers give me a hard time about my cooking,” Izzy said fondly. It felt good to smile; the relief of no longer being in agony was so intense she was nearly giddy with it. “But they know I do it because I love them. It’s just my way of taking care of people.”

“Well, no matter how dire the circumstances, food rarely comes amiss.”

“Exactly!”

The brief euphoria of freedom from pain had faded by the time they reached the kitchens, replaced by weariness. Sebastian helped her onto a stool where she sat, so tired she thought she might fall asleep there as he cooked.

“The fatigue is to be expected,” he remarked. “The somno rune is great for keeping you from bolting for the nearest bleeder den, but it’s not really rest, is it? A day or two, you’ll be feeling more yourself, though it may be a week or more before you’ve completely recuperated.”

“What’s in that tincture?” she asked.

“Some…rare root, I believe?” He shrugged. “It’s a bit of a secret. One of the conditions that came with it was that I wouldn’t tell anyone about it. I’m afraid I’ve broken that vow as much as I’m comfortable doing.”

Izzy smiled wistfully, watching him move around the kitchen. “I suppose that answers the question of whether or not I could take it to my lab and analyze it, see if there’s a way to replicate it to help future Shadowhunters who find themselves in trouble.”

“Well, hopefully we’ll track down Aldertree sooner rather than later and then there will be far less cause for concern on that front.”

“True.” She rested her chin in her palms and closed her eyes, listening to the scrapes and thuds as he stirred and chopped, drifting in and out. In a far distant part of her mind, she could feel the achy, insidious yearning for the yin fen ready to surge forward again, but it wasn’t there, yet. For now she could still think clearly. “I wonder why Aldertree switched yin fen suppliers.”

A pot clattered against the stovetop, jerking Izzy out of her drowsy musings.

“I beg your pardon?”

“DNA analysis showed that the yin fen Aldertree gave me was made from venom from a vampire Valentine was experimenting on at one point. It’s our strongest piece of evidence that he was aiding Valentine, somehow.” She folded her arms on the counter and rested her head on them. “I wonder when that arrangement began, when he moved from what he did with you—which appears to be purely ambitious—to what he did with me—which we believe was more of an attempt to divide and conquer, keep me and my brothers and Clary from being a stable, unified force against Valentine.”

“I—” Sebastian frowned down at whatever he was stirring, his expression troubled. “I had no idea anyone believed him to be in league with Valentine. I always assumed his motives were political. Well. Maybe he imagined he’d be able to climb higher ladders in Valentine’s regime than under the Clave?”

“Maybe,” Izzy conceded, though that explanation felt unsatisfactory. “That just seems like an awful lot of lives ruined for really not much more recognition than he could’ve gotten just doing his job well.”

“Could he be a true believer in Valentine’s cause?”

“Nephilim supremacy? Definitely possible. He was no friend to the Downworld.” She felt silent for a moment, her brain groggily shifting gears. “Strange that he tried to get rid of me.”

“How so? It’s his modus operandi.”

“Sort of. When he tried to have you killed, though, he was still carrying on in his career as Aldertree. You could level damaging accusations at him. But since he left New York, he’s been either presumed dead or MIA. He was even suspected of being the one to take the Soul Sword.” She frowned, fighting the drowsiness trying to fog up her brain. “Targeting me was pointless.”

“Perhaps he’s simply a stickler for thoroughness?” Sebastian suggested. “Feel free to rest. It’ll be a while before the soup is ready, and forgive me for saying so, but you look simply knackered.”

“Yeah.” Izzy closed her eyes, but even then, she could see the last glance she and Aldertree had shared, up on that rooftop as Alec caught her when she swayed. “I guess I just thought he felt bad for what he’d done, in the end,” she slurred. “I can’t believe he’d try to do it again.”

“Madame Inquisitor,” Alec said deferentially, slowing his jog to a brisk walk as he entered the Ops center. He wound between the sentries that accompanied the Imogen Herondale whenever she travelled. “We didn’t receive word that you would be arriving.”

“That’s because I didn’t send word, Mr. Lightwood. Your office. Now.”

“Of course. This way..” He met Lydia’s grave gaze as they fell in behind the Herondale.

Only once Alec’s door was shut behind them did anyone speak. “Where is Clarissa Morgenstern?” she demanded.

“Sleeping, I believe, Inquisitor,” Lydia answered crisply. Like Alec, she stood at ease with her hands clasped behind her back, while Herondale made herself at home behind Alec’s desk. “She was out late on patrol.”

“I want her brought here for questioning.” The Inquisitor laced her hands together on the blotter, leaning forward. “We’ve long suspected that Valentine’s acquisition of the Mortal Cup and the Soul Sword were an attempt to amass all three Mortal Instruments and summon the Angel Raziel. He was stymied only by virtue of the fact that no one knew where—or what—the Mortal Mirror was. Clave Intelligence, however, has picked up rumors that Jocelyn Fairchild was in possession of the Mirror. It’s absolutely imperative that we find it.”

“The Mirror?” Sheer dint of will kept the shock out of Alec’s voice.

“I thought we didn’t even know if it really existed,” Lydia said, sounding equally astonished.

The Inquisitor’s face gave way nothing of her own reaction to this revelation. “What people may have believed or not about the Mirror is irrelevant now. Valentine’s followers are still out there, in possession of the Cup and the Sword, and determined to carry on his work.”

“Are we sure it’s not just rumors?” Alec asked. “What’s the source of the intelligence?”

“We’ve tracked down the original report to a warlock Fairchild once employed in her antiquities shop, by the name of Elliot Nourse. After Valentine’s massacre here, he was overheard in a local Downworld bar expressing regret that he didn’t aid ‘Valentine’s wife’ when she requested his help concealing ‘an important Shadowhunter artifact.’” Herondale grimaced. “When questioned, Nourse said he refused at the time because he didn’t want to become embroiled in Shadowhunter affairs or do anything that might put him on the wrong side of the Clave’s notice.”

Lydia shifted beside him. “Could he confirm it was the Mirror?”

“He could not,” the Inquisitor said. “However, when Fairchild requested his help, she described it as an item that could do catastrophic damage if it fell into the wrong hands. Since, at that time, the Soul Sword was safely in the City of Bones and Fairchild had already secreted the Mortal Cup away inside one of her paintings, the only Mortal Instrument unaccounted for is the Mirror.”

“Well, that certainly all dovetails nicely,” Lydia muttered. “I’ll go get Clary.”

“I doubt she’ll know anything,” Alec said to the Inquisitor as Lydia excused herself. “Even if she did, it was likely lost with the memories Jocelyn had removed from her mind.”

The Inquisitor looked unconcerned. “If she truly knows nothing, we’ll start going through Jocelyn Fairchild’s associates one by one. She must have gotten a warlock to do the work at some point; we just need to find the right one.”

Angel willing, the warlock in question wouldn’t be Magnus. Alec kept his expression neutral. “The most likely warlock is Dorothea Rollins, but she’s ill, probably dying, in fact, from Valentine’s experiments and mind-control serum.”

“All the more reason to question her soon.” Alec hated Herondale a little for the utter lack of compassion in her voice when she said that. But at least it provided him with an opening.

“Speaking of Dot Rollins’ fading health, I had an issue I wanted to bring up with you, Inquisitor.” He stood a little straighter, made his words a little crisper, deferring to her even though she was sitting at his desk. “As you’re aware, I’m trying to negotiate a standing peace with the local Downworld population to bring an end to the unrest that has been spreading through the city since Valentine’s massacre—” And Herondale’s own efforts to implement a Downworlder-tracking program, but he didn’t add that part.

She regarded him levelly. “If I recall correctly, your orders were to enact a zero-tolerance policy regarding any Downworld rebelliousness.”

He refused to twitch so much as a muscle. “Fortunately, that sort of draconian stance hasn’t been necessary. By the time I received those orders, the local Downworld leaders had already agreed to an armistice while we conducted negotiations.”

“What is there to negotiate?” Herondale demanded. “If they engage in acts of aggression against Shadowhunters, they are in violation of the Accords and will be held accountable under the Law. We cannot allow those people to flout our authority with impunity.”

Those people. Alec pressed his lips closed before he shot his own efforts in the foot by saying precisely what he thought of her attitude. Herondale’s interference with the local Downworld populace during a series of Shadowhunter murders was what had heightened tensions with the Downworld to the point where Alec had been forced to propose the treaty in the first place. Only the fact that the investigation had concluded that the murders had been done by a lone Seelie knight had enabled him to stave off the asinine tracking-chip solution the Inquisitor had proposed.

“With all due respect, Inquisitor,” he said carefully, “if our ultimate goal is peace rather than the same sort of violent subjugation of the Downworld that Valentine would prefer, we need to be respectful and responsive to the fact that the Downworld factions have legitimate grievances. The most pressing matter right now, of course, relates to the deaths of over a hundred of their friends and loved ones in Valentine’s massacre. After all, we have a duty under the Angel and the Accords to protect and defend Law-abiding Downworlders, not merely force them to toe the line.”

She gave him a narrow look. “And what is it you suggest then, Mr. Lightwood? I take it this unorthodox alliance you’ve made with the High Warlock of Brooklyn is insufficient to quell the unrest?”

“My marriage was the price of getting the Seelies to even sit down at the negotiating table,” he said, keeping his voice level. “And again, with all due respect, Inquisitor, my name is now Lightwood-Bane.”

She blinked slowly, the first hint of a reaction other than scorn she’d given him since their conversation had begun. “That’s not a name recognized by the Clave.”

“No, it isn’t. And I understand it may take time for the Clave to agree to allowing any formal use of my married name. But whether the Clave recognizes it is immaterial. The cost of getting the Seelies to consider treaty talks was that I make a marriage—to a Downworlder—that I respect and honor the same way I would a marriage to another Shadowhunter. I can hardly claim I met that condition if I reject my husband’s name.”

She studied him for a long moment, and Alec wondered if his refusal to flinch or be ashamed had impressed her. “Very well, Mr. Lightwood-Bane, what is your suggestion for how to settle your local Downworld problem?”

“The Downworlders’ first demand is that Valentine be handed over for execution in accordance with their laws. I have explained to the faction leaders that it isn’t possible, and because they recognize the importance of recovering the Mortal Cup, they have agreed to shelve that stipulation—” He drew a deep breath. “—on the condition that Valentine is brought to New York to stand trial here, a trial to which they are permitted attendance, so that they can witness him facing justice.”

“Absolutely not!” Herondale’s hand cracked against the desktop with startling vehemence. “That is out of the question.”

“Inquisitor, under the Accords, they are our allies and we are bound by the Law to see justice done for them,” Alec argued. “It’s not unreasonable for them to want to see that justice with their own eyes, to see a confirmation that we’re not sweeping Valentine’s crimes under the rug the way the Clave did in the years leading up to the first Circle uprising. And since Dot Rollins is our best witness regarding Valentine’s activities leading up to the massacre, if we want her testimony, the trial needs to be held locally, and soon, while she’s still strong enough to deliver it.”

Herondale rose and leaned across the desk, her hands braced on the blotter. Her body language was aggressive, but Alec could swear there was a hint of something else in her eyes. His request had unsettled her for some reason.

“In the past six months, the security of this Institute has had more leaks than a sieve! You expect me to believe you could possibly handle the security demands of the prisoner transfer and an open trial?”

“It’s in the best interests of the local Downworld leaders to keep their people in line. With trusted warlocks reinforcing the wards and werewolf and vampire warriors, possibly even Seelie knights supplementing the Elite Guard as enforcers, we could—”

“The answer is no.”

“This is a chance to prove that we can all work together, peacefully, to achieve justice for all of us. We have a duty under the Law—”

“Do not presume to tell me the Law, Mr. Lightwood-Bane,” she said coldly. “We are Nephilim. We do not capitulate to the demands of thugs and rabble-rousers and then trust them to behave themselves once they’ve gotten their way.”

“So this isn’t about security concerns after all,” Alec said, a sneer creeping into his voice. “This is about demonstrating that, for all our talk, we consider ourselves above the Laws we expect the Downworld to obey.”

Her eyes narrowed. “If you cannot keep order in this Institute and among the local Downworld populace without rolling over to obey their every whim, you will be replaced by someone who can. Inform the local Downworld leaders that unless they implement an immediate and permanent stop to acts of aggression against Shadowhunters, the full weight of the authority of the Inquisitor’s office will land squarely on their heads.”

“Inquisitor—”

“You are dismissed.”

Chapter Text

Walking into Magnus’s apartment for dinner each night was quickly beginning to feel like coming home, even though he’d lived in the Institute almost his entire life. Some evenings Alec arrived to find Magnus immersed in research or in the middle of mixing a potion; those nights, he’d conjure supper or they’d call for takeout. Other nights, Alec might find him cooking or just lounging on the sofa with a book. On those evenings, he was more likely to join Alec for patrol after they ate, carving the time they made to connect with each other out of the most unlikely moments.

Regardless of how Magnus was occupied when Alec arrived, there was no denying that every time he walked in, the penthouse apartment felt increasingly like it was welcoming him home.

Tonight, however, even that warm, relaxing feeling that accompanied stepping over the threshold couldn’t dispel the frustration knotting his shoulders and contracting around his lungs. Mouse was draped over the back of the sofa, and Alec could hear Magnus moving around in his study, but he didn’t stop to greet either of them. Instead, he went straight up the tightly-spiraling staircase to the rooftop terrace.

Being up high in the open air helped; it always had. He had scattered fragments of memory from toddlerhood of spending time on the balcony of his mother’s suite of their estate in Idris, while she was pregnant with Izzy. No wonder he’d taken so powerfully to this little sanctuary the moment Magnus had invited him into it. Alec stood in the fading twilight and let the scent of the potted herbs and flowers swirl around him until it had washed away the odor of dusty paper and melting candle wax that always pervaded the Institute.

The entire day was just too much to process. Izzy had improved miraculously over the course of the afternoon, but the potential disaster the Inquisitor had dropped in their laps had quickly overridden any sense of relief. And her intransigence on the Valentine issue was simply...infuriating.

“Alexander?”

“Hi.” Alec turned and managed a smile for Magnus, who stood with his back against the door, his hands tucked behind him. “Sorry I didn’t stop. I just…needed some air before I could be decent company tonight.”

Magnus tilted his head to the side with a wry smile. “If you’re under the impression that you need to be entertaining to be welcome here, we may need to clarify our expectations of this marriage.”

His teasing tone drew a reluctant smile to Alec’s lips. “That’s not what I meant,” he said gently, crossing the terrace to kiss Magnus softly. “I just…don’t want to spoil the few hours we managed to carve out of the day to be together.”

The humor in Magnus’s eyes melted into something far more tender, and he laid a hand along Alec’s cheek. “Oh. And once again you manage to surprise me. I really should just get used to it.”

“What, did you think our time together wouldn’t be important to me?” Alec asked, frowning a little.

Magnus shrugged awkwardly. “I—Well, I suppose I’m still adjusting. Trying to understand how each different part of this arrangement of ours fits together.”

Alec’s frown deepened. “We said we wanted to try to make this a real marriage, Magnus. What did you think that meant?”

Magnus slipped out from between Alec and the wall and paced the terrace, his hands twisting together before him. “How should I know, Alec?” he asked with an uncomfortable laugh. “This—us—is as new to me as it is to you. Despite all my centuries, I’ve never had…this. I’m still trying to understand all that it means.”

Alec’s dismay abated, sympathy flowing into the place it had been filling. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I had to stand there and listen to the Inquisitor being dismissive about our marriage earlier and I guess I’m a little…touchy right now.”

Magnus sighed, his hands falling to his sides as he stepped closer to Alec. “Forgive me. I’m off my stride today and spoke without considering how it would sound. I’m not being dismissive. Not at all. We’re both just still feeling our way, aren’t we?” He smiled as Alec closed the distance between them, his hands gliding down Magnus’s arms. “Sometimes I think you may have a better template for it than I do.”

“Hardly,” Alec snorted. “You’ve know the state my parents’ marriage is in.”

“Better. Not necessarily perfect,” Magnus clarified and slid his hands around Alec’s waist, pressing close for a longer kiss. “Now. There’s a proper greeting,” he murmured with satisfaction when they parted. “Did you really defend us to Imogen Herondale today?”

Alec chuckled sheepishly. “Put it this way: she won’t make the mistake of calling me Mr. Lightwood again.”

“This I have to hear,” Magnus said, smiling brightly and tugging on Alec’s hand. “Come to the kitchen and grill the spicy lime shrimp skewers while I blend us some daiquiris. You can tell me all about it. What’s the Inquisitor doing here this time?”

“Aside from possibly ringing the death knell for my hopes of getting the werewolves and Seelies to sign the treaty?” Alec asked, following him down the stairs and nearly tripping over Mouse, who was skulking at the bottom waiting for them to come down. She meowed chidingly at Alec for failing to pet her when he arrived and wouldn’t stop winding around his feet until he squatted to scratch her ears. “She’s looking for the Mortal Mirror.”

“The Mirror?” Magnus reared back, his eyes almost comically wide with astonishment. “I thought it was a myth.”

“Well, I guess that answers that,” Alec remarked, taken aback at how shocked Magnus was. Typically he greeted even the most outrageous news with more aplomb. Alec frowned thoughtfully, rubbing under Mouse’s chin while she purred. “You would probably have been first on the list of Jocelyn’s known associates to question once Clary turned out not to know anything. Unfortunately, that just leaves Dot.”

“Alexander, you can’t disturb Dorothea with this. She’s not well.”

“I know,” he said gently, rising. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t. Part of me still thinks this whole thing is probably just a wild rumor. Unfortunately, the Inquisitor can’t take that risk. If Dot has any information on the location of the Mirror, we need it before Valentine’s followers find out about it. They probably already have the Cup and the Sword. I don’t need to tell you what will happen if they get the Mirror.”

“You think they can really summon the Angel Raziel?”

“I think I don’t want to find out whether they can or not.”

Magnus sighed heavily. He reached up, fiddling with his earcuff. “Very well. Try to hold Imogen off for a day or two. Give me time to bolster Dot’s strength as much as possible, and I’ll bring her to the Institute.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Alec promised, then paused at Magnus’s deeply troubled look. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Magnus shook himself, the smile he offered transparently forced. “Just concerned, of course. So what’s this you’re saying about the treaty?”

Alec bit back a surge of frustration at Magnus’s evasiveness. On top of the lingering sense of strangeness from their false start on the roof, it soured any desire Alec had for further speech at the moment. He caught Magnus’s elbow and stopped him before he bustled off toward the kitchen.

“Let’s not talk about that right now. No more politics, no more…none of it. Let’s just—”

Even that simple request faltered and failed him. He didn’t have the words to tell Magnus that tonight he just wanted it to be easy between them, to recapture the effortless synchronicity they’d somehow managed to discover these last few weeks as they moved into this marriage.

To connect without having to pick his way through a conversational minefield.

He clutched the front of Magnus’s shirt and kissed him hard, urgently. Magnus made a startled sound and froze, but only for an instant. Then his hands were on Alec, pulling him closer, tugging at his clothing, and his mouth was open and hungry against Alec’s.

The bedroom was way too far to consider, but the sofa was right there. Somewhere in the time and effort it took to traverse those few feet and shimmy out of their clothing, they found their rhythm.

A short while later, Alec lay panting above Magnus with a cooling mess between their bellies. Their sweaty brows pressed together, their lips lazily sought just one more kiss (and then another, and another) while Magnus’s hands played with the hair at Alec’s temples. And Alec thanked the Angel and any other divine authority that might want in on the action that it felt comfortable between them again.

“What’s the smile for?” Magnus murmured against his lips.

Alec shook his head, struggling to find the words for this feeling of relief. “I guess I just wasn’t sure that would work. I’m glad it did.”

“What would work? Sex?” Magnus shifted under him and Alec tried to ease his weight to the side as much as the narrow confines of the sofa would allow.

“Yeah, sort of?” He tucked his head into the crook of Magnus’s neck, kissing the divot between his collarbones. “It’s like…me and Jace, sometimes when we’re not—not working the way we need to, not really in sync with each other? We’re bickering more than usual or whatever? When that happens, we usually end up sparring. All-out, no holds barred, and by the time we’re done, we’re back where we need to be, you know? Sometimes we just need to stop talking, get out of our heads, and find our rhythm again. Does that make sense?”

“I think so.” Magnus’s fingers trailed lazily up and down Alec’s spine. “Communication is vital and all and shouldn’t be neglected. Sex won’t always substitute. But if words aren’t working yet the need to…to connect is still there, it can be a way to cut through the noise until you can find the words you need.”

“Exactly.” He sighed against Magnus’s skin. “So…have you?”

“Have I what?” Magnus asked, going a little stiller.

“Found the words. Look, I know there’s something you’re not saying. Something you keep dodging. I don’t know why, but I think it has something to do with Dot.” Alec lifted his head and met Magnus’s eyes. “Am I wrong?”

Magnus closed his eyes, a pinched expression tightening his face. “Please tell me you’re not imagining—”

“I’m not.” Alec shook his head firmly. “Even if she wasn’t as sick as she is, you told me infidelity wouldn’t be an issue. I trust you.”

Magnus’s eyes shimmered when he opened them again. “Oh, Alexander, you are a treasure,” he said ardently, pulling Alec down for a slow kiss. When it was over, he sighed slowly. “What’s going on with Dot is…complicated. There are confidences involved, some secrets that aren’t mine to tell, and some I just promised I wouldn’t. I swear that once Dot is…is gone…I’ll tell you. I’ll need to at that point, for my sake as well as yours.”

“Okay.” Alec tucked his face into Magnus’s neck again. “Take all the time you need.”

Magnus made a surprised sound and wrapped his arms tightly around Alec. “Speaking of time, do you need to meet Jace to patrol soon?”

“No, we decided to take the pre-dawn patrol tonight. I guess Jace and Clary needed a ‘date night’ or something, and I wasn’t about to argue with the chance to spend most of the evening with you.”

Magnus beamed at him. “Well, then, we should make the most of the opportunity to enjoy ourselves. What shall we tend to first, bath or dinner?”

Alec’s stomach rumbled a little at the mention of food, but the mental image of Magnus, wet skin slick and shiny in his deep bathtub, was far more compelling.

“Bath. Definitely.”

“Can you stop, like, afterglowing at me or whatever you’re doing?” Jace grumbled as they made their way down a dark alley that reeked of restaurant refuse.

Alec blinked slowly. “I didn’t realize I was.”

“Oh, you definitely are.” They exited the alley to a more brightly lit street. Alec checked his phone, making note of how much time they had until the sun was fully up and all decent daylight-despising demons would be tucked away in their lairs. Hopefully by the time he got home, Magnus would still be in bed, as warm and sleepy-soft as he’d been when Alec had left him.

Jace growled. “You’re doing it again.”

Alec approached the door of the empty restaurant they’d been sent to check on; a nest of demons had been cleared out of it a couple weeks ago, but sometimes the ones who got away returned once they thought the coast was clear. The door swung open once he’d etched an unlock rune on it, but while the air that wafted out carried the stale scent of former demon habitation, it wasn’t strong enough to suggest the nest was being rebuilt.

“Whatever,” Alec said with a shrug, ducking inside to inspect it more thoroughly. “I thought you’d be in a better mood after your ‘date night’ with Clary.”

Jace didn’t respond, and that silence drew Alec up short. Jace usually never hesitated to hint that he wanted to unload his Clary-related drama—or bliss.

To willingly court an overshare or not?

Alec closed his eyes, drew a bracing breath, and asked, “It didn’t go well?”

Jace didn’t answer as they quickly scanned the building and confirmed the nest was gone. Alec followed him back out onto the street, where Jace stood under a streetlight, his arms folded across his chest. “We broke up, okay?”

Alec blinked. Then blinked again. “Um…wow. Okay. Are you—? You don’t seem as wrecked as I would have expected.”

“I’m not.” Jace propped his shoulder against the light pole. “Which is really annoying because it probably means Clary was right.”

“Oh, this I have to hear.” Alec leaned against the brick exterior of the building and mirrored Jace’s stance, crossing his arms over his chest. “Hit me.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Jace glowered a moment, then heaved a sigh. “I mean, for the first month or so, everything was great. And then we just started…losing interest.”

“Seriously? This has been building up for a couple months and you never mentioned it? You acted like everything was fine!”

“I was trying to convince myself it wasn’t happening.” Jace shrugged, tucking his chin down against his chest. “When we first met, the pull was so strong I didn’t think it was possible. But things just started getting weirder and weirder. It’s been weeks since we’ve had—”

“Stop!” Alec held up a hand. “Isn’t that why you wanted a ‘date night?’ Because you’ve been too busy?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re busier than the rest of us put together and you still manage to ‘honeymoon’ a couple times a day, you get what I’m saying? You make the time, all right?”

“And you haven’t been making the time?”

“I haven’t wanted to make the time. I’ve been finding reasons not to make the time. We both have.” Jace ran a hand through his hair, scowling. “Clary thinks it’s the angel blood.”

“What, it makes you a eunuch?”

Jace pointed at him sharply, “Parabatai or not, I will kick your ass so hard Magnus will have to track it all the way to Newark next time he wants to ‘honeymoon.’”

“Sorry. Sorry.” Alec swiped a hand down his face, clamping his lips together. “Go on. Angel blood.”

“It’s something Valentine said when he told us we were brother and sister. That we were drawn together because ‘blood calls to blood.’”

Alec snorted. “That was Valentine. He’s just a twisted motherf—He’s just twisted.”

“Yeah, but he wasn’t entirely lying,” Jace said with a shrug. “Clary and I do share the same blood, in a way. And those first few weeks, it’s like we needed to be close to each other, to, I don’t know, figure out the abilities the angel blood gave us. And once we’d done the work we had to do, we didn’t need to be with each other like that anymore, So maybe that’s why we felt that pull toward each other, and we just didn’t know what other context to put it in, you know?”

“I really don’t,” Alec said, shaking his head.

“Look, I love Clary. I do. I’m gonna love her the rest of my life. I just apparently don’t want to…be with her like that.” Jace shuddered. “To be honest, after the first few weeks, it sort of started making my skin crawl. And she says she feels the same.”

“Wait. Wait.” Despite his best efforts, the first snicker slipped through Alec’s nose. He covered his mouth to try to hold back a bark of laughter, but it wouldn’t be contained. The rest followed, pouring out of him in a torrent of amusement while Jace looked on in disgust.

“What the hell? Are you drunk?”

Alec flapped a hand at him. “No! Wait wait wait!” Alec gasped, clutching at his sides as he slid down the wall, fighting for breath. “Are you—are you—telling me—”

He couldn’t even manage the words. His ass hit the hard, dirty concrete of the sidewalk and he pressed his face to his knees, shoulders jerking convulsively.

“—After all you two have been through—” He snorted and that just made him laugh harder, his head spinning with oxygen deprivation. Finally, he managed to wheeze, “—That it’s like kissing your sister?”

That set him off again, the peals of his laughter echoing off the walls of the nearby alley. If a demon came along now, he was a dead man, because he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. His stomach was starting to hurt and he still couldn’t stop.

Jace gave him a withering glare. “I hate you,” he muttered, and stalked away with Alec’s howling laughter chasing him.

Chapter Text

Alec tried to smile as Maryse’s face filled the screen of his tablet, but he couldn’t quite pull it off. This was probably the most recklessly impolitic call of his short tenure as Head of the New York Institute, but he wasn’t sure what other options he had.

“Mother. Thanks for taking the time to schedule this call.”

Maryse smiled, a little wistfully, it seemed. “We shouldn’t need to make an appointment to talk to each other, Alec. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel that was the case. Are you—” she broke off, her brows drawing together. “Are you in your room?”

“Yeah.” He grimaced. “Inquisitor Herondale has commandeered my office while she looks into these reports of the Mortal Mirror being in New York.”

“Ah.” Maryse nodded in understanding. “I see. How are Max and Isabelle doing?”

“Izzy’s fine. She’s recovering, but the medics have her taking a few days of limited duty despite her protests. And Max is…incredibly determined that he’s ready to go on missions.”

“Well, so were Jace and Isabelle at his age,” Maryse said fondly. “And you, of course, insisted you had to be out there to watch over them.”

Alec ducked his head with a sheepish smile. “Well, until Izzy’s cleared by the medics, he’s training with a new transfer from the London Institute who’s still awaiting clearance for field work. I’ve got Clary training along with him; they’re pretty evenly matched in terms of skill at this point. Once Izzy’s on her feet, I’ll have her put Max through his paces for a few weeks, see how he does.”

“She’ll certainly make a demanding trainer. And, um, how are things with your marriage?” Maryse swallowed visibly, but Alec couldn’t tell if it was nervousness at approaching the subject, or distaste for it. It was hard to tell on the small tablet screen, but Alec was actually inclined to believe it to be the former. Her tone lacked the derision he would associate with the latter.

“It’s going well. Really well. Look, Mom, I know you’re leery about Magnus, but I’d like you to try to keep an open mind. The gossip you’ve heard—that’s not him.” Alec pursed his lips. “Okay, well, some of it is, but there’s more to him. You need to trust my judgment on this. Try to get to know him.”

“That might not be as easy as you’d like to believe,” Maryse said with a rueful smile. “Admittedly, when your father and I ran the Institute, we simply steered clear of Magnus, and I suspect he made a similar effort to avoid dealing with us. But that doesn’t mean we never encountered him.” She drew a deep breath. “Before we were assigned to New York. Do you understand?”

“You had run-ins with him when you were part of the Circle.” Something thudded in the pit of Alec’s stomach. “How bad?”

“Frankly? Terrible.” Maryse gave him a bleak look. “Especially one Circle raid that went bad. t was possibly the worst thing we ever did. The Clave covered it up, ignored and disbelieved Magnus’s testimony when told them what happened. Had justice truly been served, if they had listened to him, we might have been deruned and exiled—maybe even executed—before the Uprising ever took place.”

“He hasn’t said anything about it.” Alec looked away from the screen, gulping. “He probably doesn’t want me to think he’s trying to turn me against you.”

“If so, that’s kind of him,” Maryse suggested. “But there’s no way he could ever make it sound worse than it really was.”

Alec blew out a breath. There was a part of him that wanted to know, to unbury these things and bring them to light. And part of him wasn’t sure who exactly it would help now, almost twenty years later.

“So you can see why he may not be willing to consider getting any more familiar than necessary with me or your father. He’s perfectly justified in feeling that way, if that’s the case.”

“Maybe that makes it even more important for you to talk to him sometime,” Alec said after a moment of thought. “He knows who you used to be, not who you are now. Maybe he should.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded. “Really, though, I’m still figuring out for myself who I am now, and what I believe. And even once I manage that, I have no right to...to force a connection upon him. If one day he’s willing, I’d be happy to try to understand one another better, but for now I think you have your hands full with a much more important Downworld/Shadowhunter alliance.”

“That actually brings us to the reason I needed to talk to you.” Alec shifted in his chair, adjusting the tablet to get back into the camera’s range. “Look, I know the Inquisitor works outside politics to a large degree, but she’s not entirely immune to political influence. I have a firm, unambiguous commitment from the Seelies, and also the werewolves, to agree to my treaty if I can get Valentine’s trial held here in New York so that their people can see him facing justice.”

Maryse blinked. “An unambiguous promise from the Seelies?”

Alec nodded with an incredulous huff. “I know, I couldn’t believe it either. Meliorn said it without any equivocation; the Seelies will sign the treaty if I get Valentine’s trial moved to New York.”

“But the Inquisitor has refused, which is probably the catch the Seelies were banking on.” She frowned thoughtfully. “Did Imogen give any reason?”

“She cited security concerns initially, but it was obvious her real objection was the idea of kowtowing to the Downworld.”

The video on the tablet jostled as Maryse moved and then settled again. “If this goes before the Clave, she’s not going to be alone in that opinion.”

“I know. But the unrest is spreading to other cities. We can’t be the only Institute concerned about a possible war. The entire shadow world is looking at New York. How we handle this could be the template used all around the globe.”

“You’ve become such a forward thinker.” Maryse smiled, her eyes shining. “When did that happen, and why did I ever imagine I should suppress it?” She shook her head and composed her face. “Anyway, you’re right. I’ve been working closely with the Penhallows and the Branwells and their various allies on establishing a defined leftist platform within the Clave, with an emphasis on cooperation with the Downworld. Many of the Institutes, particularly those with younger leadership, are aligning with us. I believe we can bring some political pressure to bear, though of course I can’t promise the Clave will ultimately agree to your proposal.”

Alec nodded. “Of course not, but it’s worth the effort. This might be the only hope we have of making this treaty happen.”

“Then I’ll see what I can do,” she promised. “Give me a few days to get the gears moving and I’ll give you an update.”

The gleam in her eye was familiar, and Alec found himself sitting straighter before he even realized he’d done so. That was the look of Maryse Lightwood determined to make something happen. But for once, Alec didn’t need to fear it.

“Thanks, Mom.”

On the far side of the lab, Clary sat atop a low filing cabinet, swinging her legs. She was far enough away that she wouldn’t contaminate any of Izzy’s samples, but still close enough to gossip.

“So, the way you and Jace glomped onto each other when you first got here was just the angel blood?” Izzy asked dubiously, then fell silent to count droplets as they fell from her pipette into a test tube.

“I guess?” Clary said, a shrug in her tone. “I mean, it’s more than that too. But, like, when I got here, I was totally lost, you know? My mom gone, Luke gone, my home gone, finding out I was a Shadowhunter, Valentine hunting me…” She sighed. “I think I sort of…imprinted on him. Like a baby duckling or something, following him around, waiting for him to guide me.”

zzy lowered both pipette and tube to look over at Clary, arching an eyebrow. “Please, like you’ve ever once in your life let anyone guide you. Let’s be real.”

Clary ducked her head, chuckling. “Okay, fine, so I might have been a very stubborn and opinionated baby duckling, but you get what I’m saying, right?”

“I do, though I wouldn’t mention the duck analogy to Jace, if I were you.” Izzy gentled her tone and turned back to preparing her samples. “He was the closest thing you had to stable ground when your entire world was knocked off its foundation. It makes sense.” Easing the tube into a warmer, she set the timer and turned away, taking off her safety goggles. “That’s the thing about chemistry; you assume if you have it with someone then that’s all it takes. But sometimes it changes when your circumstances do. It doesn’t work anymore.”

“Yeah.” Clary nodded, looking wistful. “It’s just weird, because I don’t know where that leaves us. First we were crazy drawn to each other, but then we were brother and sister. And then, just as soon as we’d started learning to navigate that, we found out we weren’t and it was okay to start dating. So now I’ve got this person in my life whom I adore, who feels like he’s very literally a part of me, just...not that part. I have no context for who he is to me now. He’s not my brother, we’ve never actually tried to be friends, he’s not working out as my boyfriend, he’s just…Jace.”

“Maybe that’s all he needs to be,” Izzy said, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned against the lab table. “Here’s the thing, Clary: no one has a context for who you and Jace are to each other. Who he is to me? That’s easy. He’s my brother. Adoptive, yes, but still my brother. Who he is to Alec? Also easy—as long as you’re a Shadowhunter and you understand the whole parabatai thing. Those relationships have a history and a definition in our culture. The connection you and Jace share…doesn’t. It’s unique to the pair of you—which means you two can shape it however you want. Romantic, fraternal, platonic, whatever. It’s all up to you.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Clary smiled, clearly satisfied with this notion, then changed the subject. “So what about you? Any prospects now that you’re recovering and looking incredible?”

Izzy smiled, shaking her head. “I don’t know, really. Before Raphael and I had our…accident…I was sort of starting to think there was something there. The thing is, we were both so hooked on each other that—I don’t know. We agreed to stay away from each other, but then I was doing so much better than I thought I should call him again, see if we could figure it out.”

“But now that you’re back to Square One?”

“Not quite Square One, thanks to Sebastian, but close enough that it’s probably not a great idea.”

Clary’s brows pulled together. “Is it really that—I mean, I was with Simon after his dad died, when his mom’s drinking got really bad, but I don’t know anything about yin fen. How are you doing, really?”

Izzy reached down, gripping the edge of the table. “I no longer feel like I’m going to die if I don’t get a vampire bite, so that’s good. That’s enough to keep me in control. But the…the feeling of it, I still crave that.”

“When Camille kidnapped Simon, Jace told me if he was bitten, he’d feel like he was in love.”

“Right. Vampire venom mostly works by replicating the effects of certain hormones that can make you feel good or high, like adrenaline and serotonin,” she explained. “The hallucinogenic and delusional effects seen in Shadowhunters having a venom reaction are caused by its similarities to high levels of dopamine; that doesn’t seem to happen as much to mundanes. But the hormone vampire venom mimics most powerfully is oxytocin. That’s the one responsible for affection, trust, social bonding. Most people get a bit of it just by physical touching, there’s a lot of it released in childbirth and when nursing babies. Lovers get a hit of it during sex, which is why people can be inclined to make emotional declarations in the middle of sex that it turns out they don’t mean the next day.”

Clary grinned. “So, like, a really great orgasm times a hundred?”

“Exactly.” Izzy nodded. “That’s the sort of feeling a mundane gets when bitten by a vampire. Double that for Nephilim. It just feels…wonderful. Amazing. Safe, even when you know you’re courting death.” Izzy cleared her throat and looked away, swallowing against a surge of longing so powerful it made her want to weep. “I should probably stop talking about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Clary murmured.

“No, you did nothing wrong,” Izzy said, waving off the apology. “You just asked how I’m doing. I’m the one who went off on the tangent, which I’m sure is telling me something about how dangerous my situation is right now. It’s like an itch at the back of my mind, wanting that feeling again. Right now it’s really irritating, but in time it will get better.”

“So seeing Raphael again is a bad idea,” Clary noted.

“So bad. Which is a shame, because I think I really liked him. He was…a gentleman, in that old school way immortal men seem to be sometimes.”

“I wasn’t able to appreciate it at the time, but for the most part, he was incredibly decent about Simon,” Clary mused. “Do you think in the future it would be safe to be with him?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe we’d always be courting disaster, or maybe once I’m stronger we could make it work. I need to think on it. And possibly explore other options in the meantime.”

“Oh?” Clary’s eyebrows went up and she started swinging her legs again. “Are any specific ‘other options’ on your radar?”

Izzy drummed her fingers on the edge of the stainless steel table. “Once I’m cleared to leave the Institute, I was thinking of seeing if Lydia wanted to get a drink sometime. Would that be weird?” she asked, frowning. “I mean, even if it was just political, she did almost marry my brother. But I never really thanked her for what she did for me—or Alec. Nor did I apologize to her for the way I treated her in the beginning.”

Clary smirked. “Really? You’re asking me if a relationship is weird or not?”

“Right. Scratch that.” Izzy turned back to her equipment, smiling.

“So what is this you’re working on?” Clary asked. “I thought you were on restricted duty.”

“I am,” Izzy sighed, craning her neck to try to stretch out the kinks that came with lab work. “Until the medics are convinced I won’t sneak away to the nearest vampire lair if I leave the Institute. This is strictly a personal project.”

“So what is it?”

“Something I started a few months ago and then got sidetracked from.” The timer dinged and she slipped her safety glasses back on, turning away from Clary and back to the lab equipment. “After Valentine said he was Jace’s father, I figured someone should confirm that, so I took a cheek swab from Jace and I was going to run the DNA, along with yours. But that was the week of Alec’s wedding to Lydia. I put it off for a few days, but then we lost Jace and it was one thing after another until, by the time I could run the analysis, I was hooked on yin fen. And once I had detoxed, we knew Valentine wasn’t Jace’s father after all so it didn’t seem to matter.”

“And now?” Clary asked, waiting patiently while Izzy measured the next reagent and put the test tube in the centrifuge.

“Now we don’t really know who Jace is anymore,” Izzy said. “He could still be Michael Wayland’s son, but we’re not sure. The Clave keeps a DNA database of all Nephilim bloodlines. Our genealogy can get a bit confused because of all the adoptive relationships we form, and also because sometimes a Shadowhunter will choose to be deruned so they can marry a mundane. We can usually keep track of them and their children for a couple generations, but ever so often we come across someone like—well, like you. A Nephilim who was raised as a mundane. When that happens, we aren’t always capable of reconstructing their lineage to figure out which family they’re descended from.”

“So you’re going to find Jace’s biological family.” Clary gave her a delighted grin. “That’s amazing. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just keep me company. It’s a long, tedious process and honestly, and I wasn’t sure if the angel blood would affect the results. Turns out that’s the least of my worries. I’m actually running it a second time now because the results from the first run suggest possibilities that I need to be certain about before I tell anyone.”

“Like what?”

Izzy sighed. “Jace’s mitochondrial DNA—the DNA from his mother—would indicate he’s related to the Montclaires. All descendants of their bloodline are accounted for, though. One of the Montclaires, Céline, was a Circle member, which could be how Valentine pulled off his angel-blood experiment. But according to her file, she killed herself while she was still pregnant.”

“How pregnant?” Clary asked with the same trepidation Izzy felt considering the question.

“Very. I know. I considered that too: maybe Valentine staged her death and performed a c-section to get the baby. It’d make total sense.”

“If you’re a genocidal madman,” Clary muttered.

“Well, yes.” Izzy shrugged. “With the mother dead, and the baby supposedly dead, raising Jace in isolation meant there would be no one to question any…unique abilities Jace might have exhibited, the way Jocelyn did with your brother.” Izzy sighed and turned off the centrifuge. “The problem, though, is who Céline’s husband was: Stephen Herondale.”

Clary’s eyes widened. “The Inquisitor’s son?”

“Now you know why I need to be absolutely sure.” She pulled the test tube out of the centrifuge and held it up, eyeing the precipitate before getting to work on extracting it. “Jace’s Y-chromosome DNA—which a male only gets from his father—says he’s a Herondale, so that tracks. But say this second run confirms the results—what then? The Herondale’s are like—”

“—Shadowhunter royalty, from what I hear.”

“Close enough,” Izzy said with a shrug. “Imogen doesn’t like Jace. He’s cocky and defiant. She doesn’t trust him because, even though he’s not Valentine’s son, he was still raised by Valentine. So if I tell Jace about this first, and he tries to tell the Inquisitor, she may reject him or refuse to believe him. He’d be crushed.”

Clary sighed. “That’s the last thing he needs. He’s just starting to get his feet under him again after the Soul Sword thing.”

“Exactly. Of course, it’s also possible that if I tell Jace about this, he might decide not to approach Herondale at all, because that’s just the sort of noble, self-punishing thing he’d do. That’s not fair, though. He deserves whatever birthright being a Herondale might entail.” She glanced over to see Clary’s nod. “I could tell the Inquisitor myself, but that takes the choice away from Jace. I’m not sure that’s fair, either.”

“Maybe we could find some sort of independent confirmation?” Clary proposed.

“Confirmation of what?” Izzy turned and smiled at Sebastian, who stood in the doorway of the lab, the sleeves of his large sweater pushed up his arms and a curious smile on his face.

Clary glanced at Izzy rather than speaking, asking silently whether it was all right to gossip about Jace in front of him. She’d only met Sebastian a couple times, while Izzy knew him better.

On one hand, with Sebastian keeping the secret of her yin fen addiction, Izzy had no reason not to consider him trustworthy. On the other hand, this wasn’t really her secret to share with anyone who wasn’t as close to Jace as Clary was.

“We’re trying to track down Jace’s biological family now that we know he’s not Valentine’s son,” she explained, opting for the truth without going into detail.

Sebastian folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the door jamb. “Have you searched Valentine’s belongings?”

“Except for Magnus’s book of counter-spells, everything Valentine had with him when he attacked the Institute went to Idris as evidence when we transferred him,” Clary said.

“Of course, but I meant from his hideouts. Wherever those may have been.” Sebastian frowned thoughtfully. “I admit, I don’t know much about Valentine, but surely if he was raising the descendant of someone else’s bloodline, he’d want to be able to leverage that if it ever became necessary. I mean, you always stick by family, right?” he added with a smile at Izzy.

Clary’s mouth dropped open as she met Izzy’s eyes, her swinging legs going still. The same stillness came over Izzy as all the implications started to sink in. Suddenly the idea of Valentine stealing a Herondale child came with a whole new array of problems.

Shadowhunter royalty, indeed.

“Right,” Izzy agreed faintly.

“In order to do that, Valentine would need proof secreted away somewhere. Wouldn’t you think?” Sebastian glanced back and forth between her and Clary, his brows lifting.

“We searched every known hideout here in New York after he vacated or was captured,” Clary said, though she continued to stare at Izzy, trying to communicate…something.

“What about Idris?” Sebastian asked. “I’m sure Valentine’s properties were searched thoroughly after the Circle uprising, but they might not have known to look for anything related to…a situation like this. And Valentine raised Jace while portraying himself Michael Wayland, living on the Wayland estate, did he not?”

“Except for Valentine, no one would know his haunts in Idris better than Jace,” Clary said, hopping off her table.

“You’ll need permission to portal to Idris,” Izzy cautioned her. “Unauthorized travel is forbidden.”

Sebastian smiled and stepped back from the doorway. “I’ll let you two get on with it, then,” he said, and walked away.

Clary stepped close and dropped her voice. “Izzy, I think we need to tell Inquisitor Herondale what you’ve found. I know you want to leave it up to Jace, but this secret is a weapon in Valentine’s hands. Sooner or later, he’s going to try to cash in on it to get something he wants, just like Sebastian said. We need to take it away from him. Jace will understand that.”

“You’re right.” Izzy nodded slowly. “She needs to know why you want permission to travel to Idris anyway. Go talk to Jace. I’ll finish running the DNA a second time to confirm my findings, then I’ll get Alec and we can all see her together.”

Clary laughed a little bitterly. “Probably better if I’m not in on that meeting. If there’s one person the Inquisitor trusts less than the boy Valentine raised, it’s the biological daughter he never had a thing to do with.”

“She just doesn’t know you like we do,” Izzy said gently, unable to reach out to touch Clary with her gloves on. “Go on. Go do what you need to do.”

Chapter Text

Izzy was explaining about alleles and mitochondria or...something...but Alec wasn’t really hearing it. For all his linguistic studies, science was a language of which he could only grasp the most rudimentary basics. The specifics of what she was saying didn’t matter anyway, because he already knew what the evidence she was presenting supported.

Jace was Imogen Herondale’s grandson.

Alec wished he had time to sit with that and work through all the ramifications, but he didn’t. Because while he stood at parade rest behind Izzy’s chair, the other side of his desk was occupied by the Inquisitor herself, looking more shaken than he’d ever imagined possible for her.

“I ran the results twice, Inquisitor,” Izzy said. “There’s no question that Jace is descended from the Montclaire and Herondale lines. Which means—”

“—He’s Stephen and Céline’s son,” the Inquisitor concluded softly.

“I know you don’t particularly trust me because Valentine was the one who raised me—” Jace started, and the look on his face made Alec’s throat tighten. His features may have been carved in stone for all they moved, but for someone who knew him the way Alec did, his eyes gave the truth away. They pleaded with Imogen to accept him, to welcome him, to give him that blood connection he had never truly known.

If Herondale rejected Jace with that yearning fragility shining in his eyes, Alec was going to be guilty of murder, plain and simple.

“—which is why I’m requesting permission to portal to Idris,” Jace continued. “To search Valentine’s properties for some clue as to how or why he did this, what he intended to use me for.”

The Inquisitor cleared her throat. “I’m sure your first guess was correct. Leverage is his most likely motive.” Her voice was just a little ragged. She reached up with a hand that trembled and unclasped a chain from her neck, holding out the ring that dangled from it. “Do you recognize this?”

Jace nodded, swallowing. “I saw it a few times among Valentine’s things when I was a child. Back when he was masquerading as Michael Wayland.”

“It’s my family ring,” Imogen said. “It was among Valentine’s effects when he was transferred to Idris. The last time I saw it was on Céline’s hand, two days before she died and my unborn grandchild with her. Of course I wondered how he came across it. See, we always believed that after Stephen was killed, Céline wandered into the Brocelind Forest to slit her wrists where she wouldn’t be found until it was too late. By the time we located her, her body had been ravaged by werewolves. We assumed my grandchild had been eaten. And this ring was missing.”

“What did Valentine say when you asked him for an explanation?” Jace asked.

“I didn’t.” The Inquisitor’s chin lifted. “It took everything I had to resist the urge to do so, but that would have given Valentine something to use against me. Emotions cloud judgment, so I resisted the temptation. But I…ached to know the truth.”

“So, you believe Izzy’s findings?”

“Of course.” Imogen blinked, composing her face, which for a moment had looked almost as raw as Jace’s own. “Ms. Lightwood is an excellent scientist, one of the best the Clave has in her field. I have no reason to question her results.” Her voice quavered, and she smiled, just a little, but enough to loosen the knot of anxiety that had tightened in Alec’s chest as he watched this whole thing unfold. “You are Jonathan Christopher Herondale. My grandson.”

Izzy surreptitiously dabbed at the corner of her eye.

Jace met the Inquisitor’s stare for a long moment, then cleared his throat, looking away. “If you don’t mind, I’d still like to inspect Valentine’s properties in Idris. It could be he kept me secret because I was an experiment, a weapon, or he may have had some other plan.”

“Top investigators from my office have searched those properties multiple times, both immediately after the Uprising and when Valentine resurfaced last year.”

“They didn’t know Valentine like I do.” Jace gave her a grim smile. “And I can think of at least one place they probably missed.”

Imogen appeared to mull that over for a moment, then nodded. “Very well, I’ll authorize the portal to Alicante. My investigators can meet you—”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to arrange an independent portal to the shores of Lake Lyn,” Jace said quickly. “Valentine had a cabin in the woods near there, which is where I’d like to start my search. And frankly, with the Aldertree matter still unresolved and with no idea who may have been supporting him, the fewer people who know our movements, the better.”

“I’ll call Magnus and see if he’s available,” Alec offered. “We may have to wait, though. He’s expending a lot of magic right now trying to bolster Dot Rollins’ strength enough for her to come in for questioning about the Mirror.”

The Inquisitor frowned for a moment, but finally nodded, tucking the ring on its chain away again. “Very well. Let me know what you find. Jace—we’ll speak privately when you return.”

Alec followed Jace and Izzy from his office. Without a word, they slipped through the corridors of the Institute until they reached the greenhouse. Once alone there, Alec wrapped a hand around Jace’s arm and pulled him into a tight hug. Jace embraced him back, just as fiercely, and Alec could feel the way he shook. With relief or just too much emotion. Whatever. Alec closed his eyes and held him until the trembling finally passed.

“Okay?” he asked when Jace eased himself away from the embrace.

Jace nodded once, with certainty. “Okay.”

“I’m so happy for you, Jace,” Clary said, standing beside Izzy. Alec hadn’t even heard her join them.

“Thanks.” Jace let her hug him, both apparently completely comfortable. Alec shook his head, wondering where their dynamic was going to land now that they were—whatever they were.

When Clary released him, Jace drew a deep breath and met Alec’s eyes. “Whatever Imogen called me in there, you know I’m still a Lightwood.”

“Always,” Alec assured him.

Jace clapped him on the shoulder. “I need some time to myself. Let me know when you’ve reached Magnus or found another warlock for that portal?”

“Of course,” Alec said, and watched him walk away.

“You okay, Clary?” Izzy asked after he was gone. Alec turned, frowning at the way she hugged herself tightly, her shoulders hunched.

She shook herself, dropping her arms. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s fine. I was just talking with Sebastian while you were with the Inquisitor and he remarked how strange it must be, Jace finally finding his family right after I’ve lost mine.”

“We’re Jace’s family and we’ve been here all along,” Alec stated firmly.

At the same time Izzy said, “You still have Simon and Luke. And us. You have family, Clary. Plenty of it.”

Clary blinked. “You’re right. I guess…I don’t know. Simon and Luke didn’t really come up. Mostly we just spoke about my mother, and Valentine, and believing Jace was my brother and then not, and…”

“Sebastian was raised by his aunt,” Izzy explained. “He should know as well as anyone that Shadowhunters forge strong adoptive bonds. Family isn’t just about blood.”

“But…you don’t worry?” she asked, looking between them. “That Jace may…get caught up with this new connection he has, or his loyalties may be divided? I mean, it’s not like the Inquisitor is your number one supporter.”

Alec shrugged, leaning against a tall planter. “He’s probably gonna want to spend some time getting to know his grandmother, which may leave him less time for us. That’s only fair.”

“But he’s not going to stop loving us. Any of us,” Izzy said quickly, giving Clary’s arm a little shake. “No more than you stopped loving Luke once you knew Valentine was your father.”

“Well, some of that may have had to do with Valentine being evil incarnate,” Alec muttered with an eye-roll.

“I know, I know. Just—” Clary started to pace between the planters “—when Jace found out Valentine had raised him, when he thought Valentine was actually his father, he got really fixated on that. He kept saying he thought maybe being with Valentine was where he belonged.”

“Again: evil. incarnate.”

Izzy nodded in agreement, sinking onto a bench. Alec thought she looked a little drained and made a note to himself to make sure she went to rest after this. “Valentine knows exactly how to get into Jace’s head and twist his thinking, Clary,” she said. “That’s how he was able to con Jace into activating the Soul Sword, after all. That doesn’t mean that Jace is going to choose Imogen and forget about us.”

“Okay.” Clary continued to frown for a moment, then shook herself. “I guess I’m just working myself up over nothing. Things were starting to feel stable again, but then Jace and I broke up and now this…”

“Sorta sucks when your whole world just suddenly starts to shift because someone new comes along. Doesn’t it?” Alec said, sucking on his cheek.

Clary stared at him incredulously, then burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, fair point.”

Izzy smiled and rose. “I should get ready to go with Jace,” she said, heading for the archway leading back to the Institute.

“Whoa.” Alec stepped between her and the door, holding up a hand. “No way, Iz. Restricted duty, remember?”

“Then who’s going to go? You’ve got an Institute to run, and Herondale would slap Clary in irons if she even thought about getting involved in a search for evidence relating to Valentine.”

“Well, there’s goes that idea,” Clary muttered. “I’ll see if Max is free to spar some more. Not sure I love the fact that I’m getting my ass kicked by a preteen, but I guess that’s what I get for not training since birth.”

She slipped away, leaving Alec and Izzy, staring each other down.

Alec drew a breath, trying to keep his tone soothing. “Izzy, I know you want to get back out there and prove you’re on top of everything again. That’s why you spent all morning in the lab. But you heard Herondale earlier. Even she knows you’re one of our best. So you don’t have to prove anything to us. Take the time you need to recover fully.”

“You still haven’t addressed my point,” she said stubbornly.

“Lydia’s backing me up on daily operations now, and I don’t have any diplomatic meetings scheduled this afternoon. And frankly, I know Idris. Clary doesn’t. I can do this with Jace.”

Izzy looked like she wanted to argue, but then she pressed her lips together and nodded. “I guess I’ll go rest, then. Let me know when you get back.”

Alec watched her walk away with a heavy feeling in his chest, then pulled out his phone. Izzy stopped in the doorway, though, as Lydia came jogging down the hall toward the greenhouse.

“Alec, Clary said you were in here. The Inquisitor needs us. Magnus has arrived—with Dorothea Rollins.”

“Still think you’re going to Idris with Jace?” Izzy turned to ask, arching her brows. Alec glowered at her, and she smirked. “I know, I know. You’re right. I’m not up for it yet. What about Sebastian? He helped me, he’s discreet, and Aline vouched for him. We’d trust her if she were here.”

The urge to reject letting a newcomer get any more involved was like an itch at the back of Alec’s neck. “Why don’t you try Luke first, see if he’d be willing to go? He’s a cop, so he knows how to look for evidence, and if anyone knows Valentine as well as Jace, it’s him. If he can’t make it then—” Alec sighed. “Yeah. Sebastian.”

“It’ll be okay letting an outsider in, big brother,” Izzy said, amusement twinkling in her eyes. “I’ll go talk to Jace and call Luke. Good luck with Dot.”

Lydia stared at him after she left. “Idris?”

“It’s a long story,” Alec said tiredly. “I’ll catch you up later. Come on. Let’s see what Dot has to say.”

“—After Jocelyn died, the sigil appeared on my arm,” Dot was explaining to the Inquisitor as Magnus let himself into Alec’s office after arranging with Catarina to open a portal for Jace and Luke. “I was able to hide it under my clothing; Valentine never knew it was there. Which is a relief because with his mind-control serum, I couldn’t have prevented myself from telling him what it was, if he had asked.”

“And what, exactly, is it?” Imogen Herondale asked, her words clipped sharply enough that Magnus got the feeling she felt it beneath her to accept Dot’s input on this matter.

Dot eyed her coldly. “It’s a map, of a sort.” She turned her wrist over, displaying the intersecting cluster of lines. “These are ley lines that run under New York. If I can find this precise juncture, that’s where Jocelyn hid the Mirror.”

“If you can find it?” Herondale asked. “You mean you don’t already know?”

Dot shook her head. “I didn’t want to. I gave Jocelyn a spell she could use to phase the object she wanted to hide into a small pocket of another realm, and etch a map to that location into her skin, which would pass to a trusted second party if she were to die. Since she wasn’t a warlock and couldn’t create her own magic, I told her she would have to do it at a location where there was powerful magical convergence. I also agreed to be her backup and accept the sigil in the event of her death. That was the end of my involvement with it until now. I didn’t even know it was the Mortal Mirror she was trying to hide until Magnus told me.”

“But you knew it was a Shadowhunter artifact you were helping to conceal from the Clave.” The accusation in the Inquisitor’s tone had Magnus bristling, his hands twitching at his sides.

Dot’s chin rose and by rights her stare should have turned Imogen Herondale to ash or a pillar of salt. “The Clave hasn’t done such a great job of keeping their dangerous artifacts from falling into the wrong hands, has it?”

“We have detailed maps of the local ley lines,” Alec said, stepping in before the Inquisitor could reply. “You think you can find the correct location?”

“If I don’t die first.” Dot gave him a grim look. “I’ve got maybe a few more days. There is one thing, though. When I find it, I’m turning it over to Clary. What she does with it is her affair.”

“The Mirror is not yours to bargain with,” the Inquisitor said stiffly.

“Actually it is.” Magnus stepped forward, drawing their eyes to him. “The Mirror has been out of the Clave’s possession for almost two decades. It passed on from Jocelyn Fairchild and has belonged to Dorothea Rollins for close to four months now. By the laws that govern the ownership and alignment of magical artifacts, it is, in fact, Dot’s. I could summon a copy of the relevant portions of the Accords, if you’d like?”

Herondale gave him a withering look. “I know the Law, warlock. However, it does not apply when the object in question was stolen from its rightful owner.”

“Can the Clave truly claim ownership when it lost track of the Mirror so long ago that no one knew what it was or if it even actually existed?” Magnus shot back. “It wasn’t stolen. It was simply found and claimed, which again means Jocelyn Fairchild had legal possession of it and passed it on to Dot.”

“Issues of the legality of ownership aside,” Alec cut in, his attention on Dot, which was probably sensible. Magnus’s argument with the Inquisitor was really nothing more than a pissing contest, and Magnus felt bad for the position Alec found himself in, caught between them. “If rumor about the Mirror reaches Valentine’s followers, their attention is going to be on Clary. They’ll try to track her movements to see if she’ll lead them to it, or if they can grab her to torture the location of it out of her.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to make sure she’s protected, won’t you?” Dot said bluntly. “Now show me these maps. Time’s wasting, and I don’t have much of that.”

“Why don’t we get you set up in a room in the infirmary?” Alec suggested. “Magnus and Catarina can work with our medics to help keep you as strong as they’re able, and you can rest whenever you need to.”

Dot blinked, taken aback by that small gesture of kindness. “Thank you, I appreciate that. I’m sure it—it won’t be more than a couple days.”

Herondale looked like she wanted to argue, but Lydia, who had been silent up to that point, stepped up beside Alec. “This also means we can increase security on Ms. Rollins for as long as she needs it, Inquisitor” she pointed out. “Given the danger she’s in, it’s a sound decision.”

Alec shot her a thankful look as the Inquisitor pressed her lips together and nodded. “Very well, see to it, Mr. Lightwood.”

“Magnus and I will escort you and I’ll set you up with access to those maps,” Alec said, extending a hand to help Dot up. The cold, anxious knot in Magnus’s chest warmed and loosened, even as he had to push back a fresh surge of guilt.

Once Dot was on her feet, Magnus took her arm, letting her lean heavily against him. Alec hovered nearby, ready to catch her if she swayed, and they guided her from the office.

As they approached the elevator, a fair-haired Shadowhunter Magnus didn’t recognize approached. “Alec, if you have time, I have a question for you about the training regimen you wanted for Max and Clary—”

Magnus pushed the button on the elevator. Alec frowned, staring at the unfamiliar Shadowhunter, and then he nodded once as though settling some internal debate. “Actually, Sebastian, right now I need you to leave that. I’m reassigning you. This is Dorothea Rollins, a friend and ally, and she has important intelligence for us. She’ll be housed in the infirmary here for the next couple days, and with Izzy still on restricted duty, Clary only half-trained, and Jace on another assignment, I’m running short on people I can trust with security arrangements for Ms. Rollins. Your cousin spoke very highly of your abilities, which is why I assigned you to work with Clary and Max in the first place. Think you’re up for the job?”

The newcomer smiled. “I’d be delighted to be of service.”

Chapter Text

Daylight filtered in through the gaps in the dark drapes, casting golden stripes across the foot of the bed when Alec opened his eyes. A thickly muscled arm was draped over his waist, and he was surrounded by warmth.

Waking in the morning with Magnus pressed against his back was a feeling Alec could definitely get used to. Even if it was in Alec’s considerably-less-luxurious bed in the Institute.

“’Morning,” Alec rasped as he felt Magnus begin to stir. “I thought you’d be in the infirmary with Dot all night.”

“She needed rest,” Magnus murmured against the back of his neck. “I decided to get a few hours of sleep myself. Clary volunteered to sit with her in case she wakes.”

Alec rolled to face him. “How is she?”

“Hopefully strong enough to finish this task before…before the end. She thought she was getting close last night. Perhaps a few more hours with the files will be enough.” Magnus smiled sadly, and Alec laid a hand along the side of his face. He looked softer in the mornings his face devoid of makeup, all his glittery jewelry sitting in a bowl on the counter of Alec’s en suite bathroom.

Magnus nuzzled into his palm for a moment, then changed his tone. His next words were brisk, making it clear he wished not to speak of Dot’s impending death. “I need to run home today to feed Mouse and brew some more of a potion I’ve been dosing Dorothea with, but it won’t take long.”

“I’ll make sure Dot has someone with her the whole time,” Alec promised. “I’ll sit with her myself, if Clary isn’t there. Maybe I can help her go through the maps.”

“I’d appreciate that, Alexander. Thank you.”

What Alec had meant to be a light kiss evolved into something else as Magnus drew him closer, his arms sliding around Alec. His lips parted, inviting Alec inside, and he rolled to his back, dragging Alec over him.

Alec gladly allowed it, sinking down on Magnus’s body until they both groaned at the pressure of it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alec registered the ding of his phone with a new text message, but it was of far secondary importance to the way Magnus’s hands slipped inside the waistband of Alec’s boxer briefs and cupped his ass.

He hissed and rocked against Magnus in response, knowing they should stop and finish undressing but unable to muster much concern over whether they were naked or not, as long as they were kissing and touching and moving together.

His phone chimed again as Alec nipped his way down Magnus’s neck, sucking on the tendon curving down to his shoulder. Being close to Magnus like this was like drowning in pure sensation. Alec breathed in the lingering scent of yesterday’s cologne, tasted the salt of Magnus’s skin. The bristle of Magnus’s scalp teased his fingertips, velvety soft and prickly at once. The press of Magnus’s flesh against warmed him everywhere they touched. Magnus’s low moans filled Alec’s ears like a symphony, drowning out everything else…

…Except the ding of Alec’s phone.

“You really should check that,” Magnus said with a chuckle, even though he had Alec’s underwear halfway down his hips and his mouth still hadn’t stopped moving on Alec’s skin.

Alec silenced Magnus’s laughter with a firm push of his hips. They groaned together.

“If I do it’s going to be something important, and we’ll have to stop,” he complained, tonguing Magnus’s earlobe. Magnus arched up and at the same time pulled Alec in closer by his grip on Alec’s hips in a thrust that drove the air from Alec’s lungs.

“If it’s something important, better we know now than when someone comes banging on the door to fetch you.” Magnus released him with a sigh. Alec stared at him in disbelief for a moment before he managed to extract himself from that place where rational thinking didn’t apply.

“Right. Okay.” Alec drew a deep breath, and then another, and reached for the phone. He scanned the messages and rolled off Magnus, forcing himself not to groan in dismay. “Jace and Luke are back from Idris. They need to talk about what they found. Damn.”

“I should check on Dot anyway,” Magnus said with a sigh, easing himself away. “Mind if I use your shower?”

Alec grinned. “Mind if I join you?”

Alec found Jace and Luke with Clary in the Institute library, standing over a table strewn with leather-bound journals. “Found something?”

“The Morgenstern and Wayland estates didn’t turn up much, but as I suspected, the Clave never searched Valentine’s cabin,” Jace said. “We didn’t find much there, but what we did find…”

“…Is disturbing,” Luke said bluntly. “Starting with the fact that someone’s been there recently. Chimneys had all been swept out, the ashes in the fireplace and woodstove were still warm; couldn’t have been banked more than a day or two ago. Garbage had been buried behind the cabin and the dirt was freshly turned.”

“Who?”

“Depends on if we believe Luke’s nose.”

Alec’s gaze shifted to Luke, who gave him a wry look. “Werewolf senses. I was picking up two scents in the cabin, Valentine and one other. The other one was…familiar, but I don’t remember from where. Didn’t smell quite right. A little like a demon. Whenever I tried to place it, I just keep remembering Jocelyn back in the last days before the Uprising. Valentine’s scent…it was strong. Fresh. It was like he’d been in that cabin yesterday, not years ago.”

“There’s no chance of that,” Alec said, frowning. “He’s locked up in the Gard, has been for months.”

“Could Valentine have gone back there before he was captured here?” Clary asked.

Luke shrugged. “Can’t see any other explanation for it. His scent was stronger than the other guy, but that could just be because he spent more time there.”

“I have an idea who the other person was,” Jace said, his face grim as he pointed to the journals. He opened one and laid it before them.

Alec leaned over to look at it. Two neat, side-by-side columns were written in a meticulous hand, and at the top of each of them was a name.

“Jonathan Christopher Herondale. There’s that confirmation we thought we might need,” he murmured, then looked at the other column. “...and Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern?”

Luke blew out a breath. “That’s why the scent was familiar. I smelled him all over Jocelyn for a few months after he was born.”

“My brother?” Clary said, her face pinched. “The one who supposedly died in a fire at Fairchild Manor when he was a baby?”

“Except according to this, he lived in that cabin until he was at least ten years old. The last entry about him was ten years ago, which means he couldn’t have died before Clary was born.” Jace said, scanning the pages. “Valentine kept notes on both of us, about our training, our temperaments. Comparisons, like—”

“Two sides of the same experiment,” Clary finished for him. “Guess I was…what, a spare subject in case he needed one?”

“Valentine never knew about you,” Luke reminded her. “He must have been giving Jocelyn the angel blood when she got pregnant.”

“Why?”

Luke gave her a sad smile. “We’ll probably never know.”

“Unless it’s in here somewhere.” Jace flipped through the journals, his attention only half on the conversation around him.

“So you’re saying you think the person whose scent Luke picked up was Valentine’s son?” Alec asked, forcing Jace to tune back in. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Jace said. “The last entry in the journals describes his plan to banish Jonathan to another realm.”

“Why would he do that?” Clary asked, wide-eyed.

“I don’t know,” Jace snapped. “I’ve only had a chance to glance over these so far. Once I get into them, I’ll have more answers. But if you want me to guess, I’d say Valentine probably discovered he couldn’t control the monster he had created.”

“Wanted to get rid of the problem but couldn’t kill his own son?” Luke said with derision. “Yeah, that sounds about right for Valentine.”

Clary rubbed her brow. “I’ll never understand the way that man’s mind works.”

“We’re getting off track,” Alec said firmly. “Our immediate concern is who was recently occupying that cabin. If Valentine somehow…got rid of Jonathan ten years ago, what makes you think it was him?”

“Scent of brimstone in the basement, for one,” Jace said, ticking off points on his fingers. “Traces of a crude summoning or banishing circle too fresh to have been made ten years ago. The fact that Jonathan and Valentine are the only two who have occupied that cabin, except for the time Valentine took me there when I was a child. Also Luke didn’t smell anyone else, so that sort of eliminates the possibility of a third party.”

Alec rubbed his chin, frowning down at the stack of journals. “So let me see if I follow. You think…what? Valentine summoned Jonathan back from wherever he was banished to, shortly before he attacked the Institute here and was captured? And Jonathan has been living there since?”

“It’s the closest thing I have to a working theory for now,” Jace said, shrugging. “I’ll know more once I dig deeper into these journals. We need to find this guy. Worst case scenario, he’s a dangerous loose end that needs to be tied up. Best case scenario, he knows where the Cup is. Maybe even the Sword.” He glanced at Clary. “I assume you want to help?”

“Definitely, but—Dot—” She looked uncertainly back between him and Alec.

Luke frowned. “Wait. What about Dot?”

“She’s dying. She’s only got a few days left.” Clary laid a hand on his arm and continued before Alec could stop her, “She said she helped my mom hide the Mortal Mirror, though, and she’s trying to help us find it so it’s not out there unprotected and unaccounted for once she’s gone.”

“If Valentine’s literal demon spawn is out there somewhere with the Cup and the Sword, we definitely need it back,” Alec muttered.

“The Mortal Mirror?” Luke said incredulously. “Jocelyn never mentioned anything about that.”

Clary sighed. “To me either, but then she didn’t mention the experiment Valentine did on Jonathan or who knows what else. She hid a lot. From both of us.”

“Yeah, but I can’t believe she’d hide that. Not after all we went through to keep the Cup out of Valentine’s hands.” He squeezed Clary’s shoulder and sighed. “I gotta get to the station. Give Dot my best.”

“I’ll check on Dot,” Alec offered to Clary while extending his hand to Luke. As Luke shook it, he murmured, “Listen, the Inquisitor is here, and she’s really not going to be thrilled with this information about the Mirror going beyond my office,” he said, giving Luke a level stare.

Luke smirked. “What information? I was just helping Jace with his search.”

“Thanks.” Alec returned the smile, nodding. “I’m heading to the infirmary, so I’ll walk you out. First though, Jace? The Inquisitor is going to want you to report to her on what you found.”

Jace rubbed his eyes, leaning over the table. “As if I’d forget what I went to Idris for in the first place. I’ll go see her once Clary and I have gone over the journals a bit more.”

“Probably wouldn’t hurt you to get some rest, too. Make sure you do that before patrol tonight,” Alec said, clapping him on the back, then followed Luke from the library.

“So how’s the effort to get Valentine transferred here for trial going?” Luke asked as they approached the entrance by the bank of elevators. Down the corridor, Alec could see the Ops Center, bustling as always, his people efficiently going about their jobs. It was a little strange not to be directing it all, though that was what Lydia was here for now. He’d just gotten used to that role before everything shifted.

“It’s a work in progress,” he said dryly. “Can you keep your pack on board with the armistice while I try to work the Clave around to agreeing with the plan?”

Luke’s jaw flexed, but he nodded, his gaze steady on Alec’s. “If you can keep the Clave from giving us a reason to break it.”

“I’ll do everything I can,” Alec agreed as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, the elevator doors swishing open behind him. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have news.”

“I’ll wait to hear from you,” Luke said with a nod, and left. Alec stepped into the elevator, scanning his text messages. Just as the doors were about to close, an arm thrust between them and Izzy slipped inside.

“Hey! Did you get the text from Raphael?”

“I was just about to check—” He broke off as she kicked her leg up onto the bar that wrapped around the interior of the elevator, strapping on a thigh holster. “What the hell are you doing with that?”

“Meliorn contacted Raphael with intel on the vamp who set that trap,” she said quickly, her eyes alight. “Apparently one of the half-Seelies who lives outside the court learned something and passed it on. Raphael has subway and steam tunnel access to the location, so he going to meet us there while we still have daylight on our side.”

“Iz—”

“I know you think I’m not a hundred percent yet, but I can do this.”

“Iz—Izzy—stop.” He caught her hands as she tried to check the various pouches on the holster to make sure they held everything she’d need. “I know you can do this. I know you can. I don’t doubt your abilities for a second. But you can’t go on vampire missions. Not anymore.”

She rotated her hands in his to clasp him back, squeezing. “Alec, this is personal. I worked so hard to get myself clean, and this vamp just—”

“I know. I do. But if you get bitten again, it could be really bad. I told you what Magnus said about the withdrawal getting more violent every time you have to go through it. About hitting the point of irreversible dependency. If you have to go through this process again, it could kill you.”

“Then I guess I just won’t get bitten,” she said coldly, trying to pull her hands from his.

“It’s not that easy and you know it. You didn’t mean to get bitten last time, but it happened. It can happen to any of us, if we fight enough vampires. Those are just the odds.” He released her hands to grip her shoulders. “Getting addicted to yin fen is not something to you come back from and just resume your life like it never happened. I wish it were, but there are long-term ramifications. This is one of them. You are now at increased risk, and we’re not going to pretend that’s not an issue.”

“Alec,” she pleaded, then bowed her head. “Dammit! I should never have trusted Aldertree. I knew yin fen was dangerous. Why did I—?”

“Hey. Hey.” Alec drew her into a hug. “He was your commander. You should have been able to trust him to look out for your well-being. And none of us knew how bad this could be, because the Clave never let us learn about it fully. Izzy, if this were any other mission, I’d send you in a heartbeat. But no more vampire missions, ever. I’ll make it an order on the record if I have to. Please don’t make me do that.”

“Understood.” Her voice was muffled in his shoulder. “Get this vamp for me.”

“I will do everything I can,” he vowed, drawing back enough to meet her eyes directly. “Me and Raphael both. In the meantime, can you do something for me?”

“What?”

“Magnus is with Dot as she tries to pinpoint where the Mirror is hidden, but he needs to leave to go make a potion for her. Clary is helping Jace sort through the evidence he found in Valentine’s cabin. I have Sebastian covering security for Dot, but he’s not family and she—” Alec grimaced. “It’s her last few days, and she’s spending them helping us secure the Mirror. I don’t think she should do it alone.”

“I’ll stay with her.” Izzy sighed and bent to unstrap her holster. “Here. Guess you’ll need this more than I will.”

The vampire’s lair was a boarded-over bodega in a neighborhood that was only just starting to see the effects of so-called revitalization projects. The fact that a property like this hadn’t been snatched up yet by developers was the first clue that something was off about it.

Alec’s phone buzzed with a text from Raphael, announcing that he was ready to begin the assault from the basement while Alec worked his way down. They still had two hours of full daylight left, but as long as Raphael stayed away from the windows, he’d be safe. Alec texted back that he’d come in through the front, then stuffed his phone in his pocket and began ripping the weathered wood off the door.

When he entered, he heard the sounds of combat from the cellar beneath the storeroom. Alec quickly checked the possible hiding spots on the main floor. The utility closet was empty, the walk-in cooler so rank with the odor of rotten dairy and spilled beer, that Alec nearly gagged, but otherwise uninhabited. As he was about to descend into the cellar, a thump from overhead grabbed his attention.

“Someone in the attic!” he shouted down the stairs to Raphael, and began searching for the access ladder. As he pulled it down to extend it, the thuds from above became the sound of a fight. Alec quickly scrambled up the ladder, but as he reached the top, a form moving so fast it was nothing more than a blur rammed into him, sending him plummeting eight feet to the cracked tile floor below. The wind driven from him, Alec coughed, rolling to his feet and reaching for his seraph blade.

Before he could grab it, the vampire that had knocked him down zipped around the shafts of sunlight and sped into the cellar. It knocked Raphael aside as he reached the doorway from the storage room and rushed past him.

“That was Camille!” he hissed, and sped after her.

“Alec, are you alright?” A crisply accented voice called from the top of the attic access hatch, and Sebastian’s face appeared in the dark hole in the ceiling. He slid nimbly down the ladder, his knuckles bloodied and bruises on his face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Alec snapped. “You’re supposed to be watching Dot.”

“Isabelle is with her,” Sebastian explained quickly. “She sent me to help you. She thought it would be…fitting…if I were to get some payback for both of us. When I saw you were going in the front, I went to the rooftops and came in through one of the vents. Landed right on top of the bloody thing. I’m lucky she didn’t rip my throat out before I had a chance to fight back.”

“Dammit. Now we’ve lost the vampire. Again.” Alec rubbed his head and stalked toward the cellar, Sebastian on his heels.

“I admit I wasn’t prepared for a vampire that powerful,” Sebastian remarked. “The speed with which she moves—”

“She’s ancient,” Alec said bluntly. “The odds of us finding her again are—”

He broke off when Raphael leapt through the grating down into the tunnels and stalked toward him, getting right up in Alec’s face.

“She’s gone. What the hell is the Clave playing at, Lightwood?” he snarled. “Aldertree tortured me and threatened my clan to force me to hand over Camille and they just let her go?”

Sebastian strode toward them, reaching for his blade, but Alec raised a hand to forestall him.

“I have no idea,” Alec gritted. “But I damn sure intend to find out.”

Raphael glared at him. “I risked my credibility speaking up for you and your treaty,” he said, each word low and dangerously precise. “Don’t make me regret it.”

He was gone before Alec had a chance to reply. Alec stood there a moment, thoughts churning and seething inside his brain, then glowered at Sebastian.

“Get back to your post. I need to have a word with the Inquisitor.”

Chapter Text

“Why has Camille Belcourt been released from Clave custody?” Alec demanded after pausing to give only the most perfunctory rap on the open door. His jaw flexed at the sight of the Inquisitor behind his desk. She was thumbing through one of the leather-bound journals Jace discovered. Jace stood by the fireplace, apparently interrupted in the process of filling her in on his findings.

“What?” Jace asked, glancing at him in surprise. “Camille?”

Herondale closed the cover of the journal slowly, then lined it up directly in front of her with a careful, fastidious precision.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked finally, looking at Alec as though just noticing him.

“Camille Belcourt. Former leader of the Brooklyn Clan.” Alec bit off each word, fighting to keep his frustration on a tight leash. “She was remanded to Clave custody almost four months ago for multiple violations of the Accords, including murdering mundanes and establishing rogue vampire dens where the vampires she sired also killed mundanes.”

“If I recall, the vampire in question was dropped unceremoniously in the middle of the Gard without explanation or documentation to back up the charges against her. She was imprisoned by her jilted ex-lover and an ambitious subordinate who wanted her position,” the Inquisitor said coldly. “Without evidence, we had no option but to release her.”

“The Clave was so eager to get her into custody that Aldertree tortured Raphael Santiago and threatened to murder his entire clan if they didn’t turn her over.” Alec sucked in a breath, forcing himself to lower his voice. “Why insist she be remanded and then release her?”

Herondale looked at him impassively. “Victor Aldertree exceeded his commission and authority, of that there is no question. We are investigating his activities and when he is taken into custody—assuming he wasn’t, in fact, killed in action as per your report—he will explain himself or face the consequences. None of that, however, changes the fact that we had no evidence against her.”

“Wait, why wasn’t I called to testify?” Jace asked. “I could have given you all the evidence you needed. I saw her dens. She murdered Simon Lewis—”

“She had a Writ of Transformation signed by Mr. Lewis. And—” She gave Jace a look that was almost tender. “Forgive me for saying so, but your testimony would not have been credible, considering at the time you were being shown those dens by Valentine in an effort to persuade you to fight for him.”

“There’s something more to this.” Alec braced his hands on the edge of the desk, looming over her. “I know your reputation for being relentless, Inquisitor. If you didn’t have enough evidence to try her, you would have held her until you did. And with anti-Downworld sentiment in the Clave growing every day, there would have been a heightened demand that you investigate the charges.”

“I cannot manufacture evidence where none exists,” she said in clipped tones.

“Oh, really? That didn’t stop you when you had my sister on trial. Or when you had Maia Roberts falsely arrested.”

“Alec—” Jace’s hand closed around his biceps but Alec shook him off.

“If your office had investigated, we would have been aware of it; they would have made this Institute their base of operations. But that never happened. There was plenty of evidence; you just never made the effort to look for it.”

“Are you accusing me of being remiss in my duty?” Herondale asked dangerously. “If Camille Belcourt did in fact commit any violations of the Accords, they happened in your jurisdiction. The task of finding the evidence to sustain charges was yours.”

“If your office had informed me you needed me to investigate the matter, I would have done so,” he shot back. “But I wasn’t in charge until several weeks after she’d been remanded. Your trusted, hand-picked representative was.”

“Aldertree’s posting was a political assignment. I had nothing to do with it.”

“So, what? That’s it? Your hands are clean?” Alec sneered, pushing away from the desk. “Camille Belcourt was responsible for an ambush that nearly killed two of my Shadowhunters last week. Any mundanes—or Nephilim—that she murders from this point forward are on you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I suggest that you tread very lightly.”

Alec gave her a stony glare of his own. “This is unbelievable. I’m trying to secure peace in this city and now the leader of the Brooklyn clan is furious because he thinks he was tortured for nothing.”

“Mr. Lightwood,” The Inquisitor looked at him coldly. “The more I see of your leadership, the more I am inclined to suspect that your personal ties to the Downworld have begun to affect your judgement.”

“It’s Lightwood-Bane, Inquisitor. And do you think a war with the Downworld won’t cost more Shadowhunters their lives? I appear to be the only one here trying to prevent that!”

Herondale rose slowly to her feet and planted her fingertips on the desk, mirroring Alec’s posture from just a moment ago. “Jace, escort Mr. Lightwood-Bane from the room, and then return here to receive your posting. Until such a time as a thorough inquiry into his conduct and fitness has been concluded, you, Jace Herondale, are the Head of this Institute.”

Alec didn’t speak again until Jace got him up to the roof, where day’s final rays of late spring sun beat down upon them. The light breeze did nothing to cool his fury.

Jace shook his head incredulously. “Well, this is a day I never thought would come. I’m the level-headed one and you’re flying off the handle.” He scoffed. “What were you thinking, going off on her like that?”

“By releasing Camille, she almost got Izzy killed, Jace! And she’s now jeopardized our negotiations with the vampires!”

“All true, but dammit, Alec, what do you think antagonizing her is going to accomplish?”

“Don’t you see what’s happening?” Alec rounded on him. “This is the second time she’s stonewalled me for no good reason. She’s lying about why Camille was released. All the tells were there. She was caught off-guard when I first mentioned Camille. She had to take a moment to compose herself. Something’s not right about this.”

“Oh, you think?” Jace retorted. “The number of things that aren’t right about this can’t even be counted, starting with the fact that I’m supposed to be in charge now? And you just blew whatever chance you had of finding out what’s really going on.” He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Look, can you just—stay up here a while, cool down, and avoid pissing her off for a few hours? Let me talk her down from making this official? Surely she’s got to see I’m the least qualified person for this damn job.”

“That’s never going to happen,” Alec argued. “You’re a Herondale. She was looking for ways to jump you up the ladder from the moment she found out you were her grandson.”

“Well, then we really are going to be at war with the Downworld, because your primary job is negotiating with them and I’m going to have a little trouble filling that role, since they’d rather just gut me.” Jace swept a hand through his hair, pacing. “It’s not permanent. Give Imogen credit for that, at least. She was getting heated but she knew enough not to make any lasting changes until she had time to cool down and re-assess.”

“Well, if you needed any more support for the idea that she’s hiding something, there it is,” Alec muttered. “Imogen Herondale doesn’t get heated, remember? I was pushing at something she doesn’t want pushed at. We need to know why.”

“Just…give me a chance to work on her, all right? In the meantime, if I’m in charge, fine, then I’m giving you your assignment. Keep interfacing with the Downworld and make that treaty happen. But if you need something from the Clave, go through me for it. Hopefully, if we play this right, no one needs to know that technically you’re taking orders from me instead of the other way around.” Jace’s mouth twisted. “And I meant what I said. Cool down, rein it in. I will make that an order if I have to.”

“Fine. Fine.” Alec rubbed his eyes, looking out over Battery Park. “I’m going to go for a walk. I’ll be back later.”

He left Jace on the roof, striding away without looking back. A quick glimpse in the infirmary revealed that Magnus wasn’t there. Izzy was sitting beside Dot, helping her go over the ley line maps on a table, while Sebastian guarded the door. Alec didn’t stop to talk with them, nor did he raise his head or make eye contact with anyone while heading for the front door of the Institute. Humiliation and rage boiled in his blood, and when a hand closed around his arm, Alec’s fist was halfway back and ready to fly before he stopped himself to see who it was.

“Alec?” His father gave him a confused look. “I just saw Jace, he told me I might catch you if I hurried. Are you—going somewhere?”

There could only be one reason Jace would send Robert outside to catch him, knowing the mood Alec was in. He was trying to keep Robert away from the Inquisitor and from any news that Alec had been demoted. Alec reined his temper in with effort, sparing a grateful thought for his parabatai.

“Just for a walk. Frustrating day. Why are you here?” he asked, eying Robert coldly. He turned to continue in the direction he’d been heading and Robert fell in step with him.

“I’m here unofficially, to talk with you about this request you’re making to have Valentine transferred to New York to stand trial,” Robert said.

Alec opened his mouth to inform his father he was no longer the person in charge of such matters, then froze. Maybe Robert had some idea why Herondale and the Clave would try to stonewall him on this, something Alec could use for leverage.

“It’s a reasonable request,” he said instead, stopping to fold his arms over his chest. “The Downworlders are willing to negotiate, but we have to show them we’re taking their concerns seriously. It doesn’t mean we have to execute Valentine before we find out where he stashed the Mortal Cup, which is what they were insisting upon before. There’s no reason we can’t meet them in the middle on this. So what’s the hold-up?”

Robert mirrored his pose, facing him in the middle of the walking path as mundanes flowed around them without even being aware that they stood there.

“You need to stop,” Robert said firmly. “You’re drawing all the wrong sort of attention.”

“To who? To me? To the family?” Alec frowned. “My job is to secure peace in this city. How is that drawing the wrong kind of attention?”

“To the situation.” Robert leaned in, dropping his voice. “There are some serious matters of internal security that the Clave is dealing with right now. Classified matters. This business with Aldertree is just the start. We don’t know how deeply entrenched Valentine’s operatives are. And right now, most of the Clave is unaware of that fact. It needs to stay that way. I shouldn’t even be telling you, but you need to know. If word gets around—”

Alec rolled his eyes, cutting his father off with a sharp sweep of his hand. “Stop. Just stop. Knock it off with the dodges and vague insinuations and just tell me what the hell is going on.”

A muscle in Robert’s jaw twitched. “Valentine has escaped.”

“What?”

“Lower your voice.” Robert closed his eyes for a moment and sighed before opening them again. “Someone infiltrated the Gard. Disabled the security cameras. Slaughtered the Elite Guard, and released him. Alec, only someone with the highest levels of clearance could have pulled this off, and we have no idea who.”

“Son of a bitch.” Alec ground the heels of his palms into his eyes for a moment before letting his arms fall to his sides. “This is a nightmare. When did this happen?”

“A little over a month ago,” Robert said grimly. “Only a handful of people from the Inquisitor’s and Consul’s offices know.”

“Dammit. That’s why she’s been stonewalling me.” Alec squeezed his eyes shut, his mind spinning. “This is the trap the Seelies were setting. They know. They knew I’d never be able to get Valentine transferred here for trial because they knew he wasn’t in custody any longer.”

“There’s no way they can know,” Robert argued. “I cannot exaggerate how tightly classified this information is.”

“They know.” Alec paced away from him, rubbing his forehead. “I need to tell Luke—”

“You can’t. If you do, there will be no stopping a Downworld revolt.”

Alec spun, staring at him incredulously. “Are you insane? You think they’re not going to find out? The Seelies already know. There is no way to hide this.”

“That’s not possible. Our only chance of containing the situation is to keep it quiet until Valentine is recaptured.”

“Listen to yourself! What is with the Clave thinking that if they just ignore a problem, it doesn’t exist?” he demanded. “Valentine is going to turn up again. And when the Downworld realizes that he was on the loose and we lied to them about it, our credibility—my credibility—will be shot to hell. Any hope we have of negotiating for peace now or ever will be gone.”

“We have our orders.”

“No. No. We have one chance of preventing a war, which is to come clean right now.”

Robert strode forward, wrapping his hands around Alec’s arms. “Alec, this is a state secret. Do you understand that? I’ve committed treason just by telling you. If you tell anyone—even Magnus—you could be stripped of your runes and exiled.”

His hands shook at his sides, but Alec wrenched himself away from his father and straightened his spine. “Fine,” he spat. “Let them exile me. After I’ve stopped a war.”

He spun on his heel and stalked away, only to be stopped short as Robert called out, “What about Magnus?”

Alec whirled back around to face him. “Leave him out of this!”

“Do you really think he won’t be charged with espionage if you rush off and spill state secrets to him? He could be executed. And what of me and your mother, your sister and brothers? If you’re charged with treason, the rest of us will be under suspicion as well. And with Isabelle’s history—”

“How do you know about that?”

Robert blinked. “Know what? Her trial was only a few months ago. Alec, what are you—?”

Two more puzzle pieces slotted together with a snap in Alec’s mind. “Camille Belcourt. Was she imprisoned in the same wing where security was compromised?”

The question earned him another puzzled stare from his father. “Yes, but that’s not important. What’s important is—”

“This was all a set-up from the start.” Alec jerked his stele from his pocket. “I can’t be here,” he muttered, sliding the adamas tip over his speed rune. With Robert still spluttering behind him, he dashed away.

Chapter Text

The bilious yellow potion was a perfect aesthetic match for the disgust Magnus felt working over it. He eyed the sluggishly bubbling brew as if staring long enough into the cauldron might somehow subvert its purpose, but it was too late for that. Far too late. The wheels he’d helped set in motion couldn’t be stopped now, not without rendering everything that’d already done worthless.

And he’d delayed too long already. It was time to finish this.

Closing his eyes, he murmured the final incantation to infuse the potion with the spell it was meant to carry, and removed it from the flame. A brief touch of magic cooled it enough that he could ladle it into the waiting phials without shattering the green-black glass or burning his fingers.

He carefully slotted the phials into a padded satchel. Only one was necessary, but he couldn’t take the chance that it might be broken. Upon the pouch he cast a glamour that even a Shadowhunter’s Voyance rune would be hard-pressed to penetrate. Only himself and those whose attention he deliberately drew to it would be able to see it.

Then, into the final empty pocket of the satchel, he slipped the stele he’d taken from Alec’s nightstand.

It was done. Almost. All the remained to be done was deliver the satchel.

Magnus bowed his head over it and asked himself, for the thousandth time, if he was doing the right thing.

How long he stood there meditating on the choices that had led him to this moment and the ones that would carry him forward, he didn’t know. A noise intruded upon his consciousness, from the direction of the bedroom. He heard Mouse meow, a sound that started off plaintive but became more demanding each time it was repeated. Leaving the satchel on the table in his study, Magnus walked down the hallway to find her sitting on the sill of the window that led to the fire escape closest to the bedroom.

“What is it, sweetheart? Is there another cat out there?” he crooned, picking her up and holding her securely against his chest. But when he peered out onto the fire escape, it wasn’t another cat sitting huddled in the shadows under the ladder to the next landing.

Magnus opened the window with a snap of his fingers and ducked through it to join Alec outside. “Alexander?” he asked gently. “Why are you out here, of all places? You could have come inside, gone to the roof or balcony if you needed air. You don’t need to skulk.”

“I-I know. I’m sorry. I just—I didn’t—” Alec broke off, looking away. Magnus’s heart clenched to hear the return of that uncertain stammer. He’d been so comfortable and confident lately that Magnus had almost forgotten it was a habit of his, when Alec was overwhelmed or nervous.

After a moment of silent, Alec hung his head. “I needed to be near you.”

Near him, but not with him. A knot of dread began drawing tight in Magnus’s gut.

“Well, someone needs to be near you,” he said with a brightness he didn’t feel. He gestured to Mouse, who was indeed squirming toward Alec. He gently lifted her out of Magnus’s arms, and Mouse immediately curled against him with her velvety nose tucked into the crook of his neck, purring loudly as he rubbed her ears.

Alec closed his eyes and dipped his face to rub his jaw against her soft fur for a moment. They could have been the very picture of peace and contentment, except for the fact that Alec looked—

Shattered.

Small.

Afraid.

“Are you alright?” Magnus asked, leaning against the brick wall.

“Not even close.”

“Ah. That makes two of us.”

“I asked Izzy to stay with Dot when Clary couldn’t be there. She’s not alone.”

Magnus swallowed against the lump in his throat and murmured, “I appreciate that. It helps. Somewhat.”

Alec remained leaning against the ladder, his eyes drifting closed for a long moment.

“It’s funny. All week things have felt…off…somehow. Uneasy. Prickling like eyes on the back of my neck. Except for a few moments when I’m with you and I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life. I think I knew this was coming, somehow.” Then, out of nowhere, he announced, “I’m no longer Head of the Institute.”

“What?” Magnus asked, sharply enough that Mouse slitted one eye open to give him a wary look. “Why?”

“I was impolitic with the Inquisitor. To say the least.” He heaved a long sigh. “Camille Belcourt is free and at large. She was behind the ambush that almost killed Izzy last week.”

“How? After all Raphael went through—”

“And you. Don’t think I don’t know what it cost you to turn her over.”

Magnus didn’t bother to deny it. “Why was she released?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted the cat higher and buried his face in her fur until she wriggled.

“Alec?”

With a sigh, he lowered the cat and wove around Magnus to the window, depositing Mouse inside. She promptly jumped up onto the sill and head-butted Alec’s hand until he stroked her absently. His thoughts could have been in an entirely different realm, judging by how distant his gaze was.

The anxious knot drew tighter still, pressing on Magnus’s diaphragm, shortening his breath.

“I love you,” Alec said.

It sounded less like a declaration and more like an apology.

“I know. And I love you,” Magnus replied simply. Helplessly. Because what else could he say?

Alec gently pushed the cat inside until she dropped off the window sill with a chirp of offended dignity, then eased the window closed until she was safely shut in and walked away. He paced the limited confines of the fire escape landing, the steel clanking and squeaking beneath his boots. The breeze picked up, gusting around them like an ominous portent.

Without warning, Alec drove his fist into the brick wall.

Red dust and chips of masonry exploded around them, a few swiping Magnus’s cheek as they flew past and fell through the open iron grate under their feet.

“Alec!” At least Magnus no longer had to worry about that knot in his chest. It had burst with the impact of Alec’s hand against the wall, and in so doing had released a flock of agitated starlings in his chest, their wings bashing against his ribs. He didn’t know whether to be angry at Alec’s foolishness or terrified at what could have driven him to do such a thing. “Are you—Let me see that!”

Terracotta-colored powder mingled with blood on Alec’s knuckles. He stared at it impassively. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Magnus.”

“What wasn’t?”

“I worked and trained my whole life to do this,” Alec said thickly, still gazing at his hand as if unsure who it actually belonged to. “To run the Institute. Not because I was ambitious. I knew once I was in charge, I could take care of everyone. Protect the people I love. Fix the problems no one else ever seemed to find their way to fixing.”

“You still can.” Unable to bear the sight of Alec’s raw and bloodied knuckles a moment longer, Magnus called up his power with one hand and took Alec’s wrist in his other. He gingerly mended the scrapes with delicate wisps of magic while Alec gave no hint of noticing.

“I can’t,” he said hollowly. “Not now.”

“Why not?”

It was a long moment before Alec responded. “These weren’t the choices I was supposed to have to make, Magnus. I’d sacrifice myself in a heartbeat, if I had to, but that’s not the issue. Instead, I have to choose between saving countless people or protecting the few that I love. I never trained to do that. I wasn’t prepared.”

Magnus drew a long slow breath and blew it out. Then another. “Alexander, what’s this about?”

“I can’t tell you.” He shook his head, trying to draw his healed hand from Magnus’s grasp. Magnus refuse to relinquish it until the tug-o-war threatened to become a scuffle. “I won’t put you at risk.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know. Which is why you need to give up on the treaty. Give up on the Clave. On me. I can’t do what I promised to do. I can’t bring us together to look out for each other. I-I can’t do it, Magnus. I can’t.”

Magnus’s throat ached at the utter defeat with which Alec hung his head. “We knew it wasn’t going to happen quickly or easily, Alec. Just because you’re no longer head of the Institute doesn’t mean—”

Alec waved his words away with a swipe of his hand. “Doesn’t matter if I’m Head of the Institute or not. It’s never going to happen at all. Not now.” He drew a shaky breath. “I think you need to consider the Downworld alliance Meliorn hinted the Seelie Queen might offer.”

“I don’t think any of the other factions would take a chance on the hooks that would be buried in such an offer unless the circumstances were extreme.”

“Then you definitely need to consider it.” Alec turned away, his shoulders rising and falling on a deep sigh. “I promised Raphael. Dammit. He went out on a limb for me, and I know it was because he felt like he owed it to Izzy for what almost happened. But I promised him…and the only way to keep that promise is to jeopardize you. How do I even make that choice?”

Frustration started to seethe beneath Magnus’s concern. “I don’t know how to answer that, because I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about state secrets,” Alec spat over his shoulder, his mouth twisting as though the words left a vile aftertaste. “I’m talking about me committing treason and you being charged with espionage and what will happen to my family in that event. And how what it’s really all about is the Clave holding your well-being over my head because they’ve decided saving face is more important than the safety of the shadow world.”

Ah.

Magnus bowed his head and closed his eyes, counting his own heartbeats as he breathed slowly in and out. Behind him, the pads of Mouse’s paws squeaked against the glass of the window and he heard her muted mews, but he tuned them out.

He considered his words.

He considered the phials in his study, and the secrets he himself kept, and whether he had any right to expect Alec to share when he wasn’t doing so himself.

The difference, of course, was that Magnus was under no illusions that his silence sheltered Alec. He simply didn’t want any interference.

“If I had to choose,” he said slowly, “between my own safety and that of the shadow world, I think you know what my choice would be.” He lifted his head to find Alec had turned to face him. Magnus met his eyes squarely. “I didn’t marry you to be protected. And certainly not by the Clave’s paternalism.”

Alec flinched, but the conflict in his eye appeared no closer to a resolution than it had before Magnus spoke.

Time to hammer the next blow home, then.

“I can’t speak for your sister or the rest of your family, of course, but I suspect they’d feel the same.” Magnus shook his head. “Didn’t we just have this discussion a few days ago, about the inherent harm of keeping people in ignorance?”

He saw that thrust hit its mark, saw the resigned agreement in Alec’s eyes before he closed them for a long moment. When he opened them again, they were filled with fear, but not uncertainty. Not anymore.

Reluctance was still an issue, however. Alec’s mouth opened and shut. Once. Twice. As though the words were trapped in his throat, unable to tear themselves free.

That little bit of vocal paralysis alarmed Magnus more than anything that had happened yet this evening. He reached for Alec, filled with a sudden conviction that the next few moments could change things between them forever.

“Kiss me,” he entreated.

Consternation furrowed Alec’s brow. “What?”

“Just kiss me. Please.”

Alec complied. His kiss was a fragile thing at first, hesitant, tentatively seeking, ready to retreat to safety in a blink. Like a newborn creature peering outside its mother’s cozy nest for the first time.

Then desperation took over. Alec’s arms snapped around Magnus in a crushing embrace. The kiss transformed into something fierce, implacable, violently needy. Magnus responded in kind, his arms sliding around Alec, his mouth sucking, biting, devouring…

When Alec finally broke away, his chest heaved with an urgent need for breath, and his lips were swollen and glistening.

“There.” Magnus forced a smile, pretending his voice wasn’t quavering. “Now I know what you kiss like when you’ve got something you need to get off your chest. No secret will ever be safe from me again.”

It was a lie, of course, a flimsy attempt at humor that Alec was kind enough not to puncture.

“Valentine escaped Clave custody,” he said bluntly. “About a month ago, there was a jailbreak. Someone infiltrated the Gard and that’s how Camille got free. I swear, Magnus, I only found out right before I came here—”

Magnus almost reached out, to pet and reassure Alec that of course he hadn’t known, of course wouldn’t have hidden this.

But he couldn’t. Because Alec almost had.

Hadn’t he wondered all along if, when the chips were down, Alec would truly stand against the Clave?

He’d hoped, yes, far beyond anything Magnus had ever hoped for in all his centuries of living. He’d risked almost everything to marry Alec on the chance that maybe, just maybe, those hopes might come to fruition.

But he hadn’t ever been sure where Alec would land when the moment of truth finally came upon them. Not really.

And wasn’t that what those damned phials sitting in there were all about? That the Downworld couldn’t trust the Clave to look out for them, not even the Nephilim whom they loved, like Clary and Alec?

“The Clave was going to hide this from us?” he demanded, his teeth bared in a snarl. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this sort of rage. “And you—you weren’t going to tell me?”

“I—I don’t know. I found out and I came here and I hadn’t had time to even think—”

“What is there to think about? A genocidal madman who wants me and all my kind dead is on the loose and you almost went along with hiding it. I had to talk you into it!”

“That isn’t fair. The only reason I had to consider it even for a second is because they threatened you.” Alec reached for him. “Magnus, please—”

Was he being unfair? Could he really expect anyone, even Alec, to immediately have the right answers to that sort of dilemma?

What stupendous irony. If anyone had asked Magnus a few months ago, perhaps even a few weeks ago, what he would wish for if he had a partner faced with a choice between saving Magnus and the world, he would have said he’d want his partner to at least hesitate before choosing the world.

But nothing made sense anymore. Magnus closed his eyes against the sharp flare of his warlock mark and turned away.

Alec was right.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Except…this was an opportunity, wasn’t it? Unlooked-for, but nonetheless, something to be seized while they had the chance.

“I need to get Dorothea her potion,” he muttered, and turned away. The window sash flew open with a flick of Magnus’s finger, and he was halfway down the hall to his study by the time Alec had managed to fold his lanky form through it without tripping over the cat.

“Magnus, please,” he called. His voice drew nearer as Magnus collected the satchel off his worktable. When he turned, Alec was standing in the doorway, his eyes begging Magnus for—something. Something Magnus couldn’t give right now, because he had to keep moving forward or everything would fall apart. “We need to talk about how we’re going to tell the other Downworld leaders.”

“Later.” He clutched the strap of the satchel tighter. “Dot. The—the Mirror. We need to finish dealing with that. Even more so now that we know Valentine is free. We’ll handle the rest later.”

Before Alec could respond, he summoned a portal to just outside the Institute’s wards and stepped through it.

Chapter Text

“I don’t understand,” Alec said, frowning at Dot. Magnus could see the consequences of his harrowing day in the shadows under his husband’s eyes and the tight corners of a mouth that was usually much softer. He wondered again if he’d been too hard on Alec; had Alec merely been a stand-in for Magnus’s resentment toward the Clave, or had it been justified?

He kept swinging back and forth between remorse and fury, like a weather vane in high wind. Right now there was just no time to sit with himself and pick through it all, pluck the threads of reason and fairness out of his emotional tangle.

“We already talked about the fact that Clary would need extra security in the event that Valentine’s people heard the rumors about the Mirror. Now you want to go retrieve it with just her and Jace?”

“Clary has to come,” Dot explained. “I’ll only give the Mirror to her. Jace is for added muscle.”

Imogen Herondale looked distinctly displeased with this arrangement. “And if I refuse permission for Ms. Fairchild to go on this mission?”

“Then you don’t get the Mirror at all,” Magnus interjected quickly. “The spell Dot gave Jocelyn to conceal it also ensures that it can only be transferred by the one who bears the sigil, and then only if that person is willing. If anyone attempts to take it without Dot’s consent, the results will be…highly unpleasant.”

Beside Alec, Jace folded his arms over his chest, making a display of casual confidence that somehow didn’t manage to mask the fact that his newly acquired cloak of authority was exceptionally ill-fitting. “Well, I suppose it’ll be easier to portal in and out without drawing attention to ourselves if we keep the party small.”

“What if you’re heavily outnumbered?” Alec asked with some asperity.

Jace shrugged. “If it comes to a fight, I’m the best one we have to defend Dot and the Mirror.”

“Magnus will be coming, too,” Dot said, her voice reedy and her body hunched in an armchair Magnus had conjured so she wouldn’t have to spend her time there confined to a bed. Her beautiful face was twisted with pain, and Magnus knew exactly what it was costing her not to succumb too soon. “My magic isn’t strong enough to make a portal anymore, so if we need to get out quickly, we have to have him there.”

Alec’s eyes widened and he looked ready to argue again, but the Inquisitor spoke before he could. “The decision rests with your commander, and he has spoken,” she said with a pointed look at Alec. Jace’s face tightened, his jaw clenching as his eyes darted uncomfortably away. The fact that he didn’t speak up to defend Alec lost him a few points in Magnus’s regard.

Alec’s posture grew more rigid. He clasped his hands behind his back and spoke staring straight ahead, addressing a point somewhere above Imogen Herondale’s head. “I understand that, Madame Inquisitor,” he gritted, “but my parabatai and I have always planned strategy together, regardless of who was leading the mission.”

Jace smirked then, and promptly reclaimed those points he’d lost. “You’ve got an idea, Alec?” he said warmly. “Let’s hear it.”

“Decoys. Izzy and I glamour ourselves as you and Clary and leave on foot. After we’ve been gone a while, your party portals out.”

Magnus and Dot shared an alarmed glance. “That would put you and Isabelle in grave danger,” Magnus argued, grasping for plausible objections. “Outnumbered, without backup or means of escape. It could be suicide.”

“Securing the recovery of the Mirror from Valentine’s leftover followers must be our first priority, Mr. Bane,” Herondale said so sanctimoniously that Magnus wanted to blast her through the wall, if for no other reason than she was deliberately maintaining the fiction that it was Valentine’s followers they were concerned about, rather than Valentine himself.

But then, so was Alec.

“Lightwood-Bane, Madame Inquisitor,” Alec said coldly, his gaze still fixed over her head. Magnus glanced at him in astonishment, then ducked his head to hide a smile even his grim mood couldn’t quite suppress.

“Wouldn’t they expect a ploy like that?” Isabelle asked.

Jace shrugged. “They’re Valentine’s followers, not Valentine himself. He recruits them for zealotry and obedience, not brilliance.”

Magnus’s barely-banked rage reared up and he shot Alec a look that should have skewered him where he stood. Alec met Magnus’s stare steadily, then slid a sideways look at Herondale. He discreetly lifted one finger in a silent plea for patience.

“But there is the possibility of Jonathan we have to consider,” Jace continued before Magnus had an opportunity to decide whether to press the issue now or not. “Valentine taught him everything he taught me. We have to assume he’s just as skilled, and far more likely to see through the ruse.”

“I’m sorry, who?” asked the quiet British Shadowhunter Alec had assigned to guard Dot. Sebastian something-or-other.

“My brother,” Clary said. She huddled with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her brows drawn down. “I still don’t agree that he’d necessarily be continuing Valentine’s work. Why would he help that man? After what those journals said Valentine did to him—”

“Well, you always stand by family, though, don’t you?” Sebastian said with an awkward smile. “So of course he’d support his father. United front and all.”

“Exactly,” Jace said. “We all know what Valentine did to me, and he still managed to talk me into doing his bidding one way or the other, more times than I can count. The need to win his approval, his love, as twisted as it was—I can’t describe how warped your thinking gets when he’s got his hooks in you. If Valentine did summon Jonathan back, we have to expect that level of unflinching, unquestioning obedience from him.”

“Tell me again why no one ever stamped a giant silence rune on that man’s forehead?” Clary muttered. Then she dropped her arms and stood a little straighter. “My point is, if Valentine has somehow conned Jonathan into helping him, that’s all the more reason for us to try to un-con him.”

“You saw what Valentine said in the journals about the demon blood,” Jace argued. “The demon who gave it to him told him it would burn all the humanity out of Jonathan. That’s why Valentine banished him, because he was worried it was already happening. He’d committed at least two murders before he was ten, one of whom was a Shadowhunter child.”

“I know,” Clary said, wavering. “I just think we should…make some effort to try to save him, if we can.”

The Inquisitor frowned. “Ms. Fairchild, do not let your sentimentality hamper your ability to do your duty. Anyone who attempts to interfere with our efforts to retrieve the Mirror will be stopped by any means necessary.”

“So we have to deal with two concurrent possibilities,” Alec said, guiding the conversation back around to the point before Clary could go full redhead on Herondale. Did the Inquisitor even notice how effortlessly he took control and brought them back on track, while even Jace was still chasing tangents? “One: Izzy and I may find ourselves outnumbered if Valentine…’s people buy our ruse. Two: the possibility that Jonathan is out there, that he’ll accurately anticipate the diversion, and that he may interfere with efforts to reclaim the Mirror.”

Magnus seethed, at himself as much as Alec. Valentine was the one who was going to set their plans awry, if anyone, and none of these people talking strategy—except for Alec himself—had that crucial information.

At the same time, if Valentine refused to rise to Alec’s bait, so much the better for Magnus’s own plans.

The constant contradiction between what he knew what right and what what most expedient for the plans he and Dot had laid was giving him a headache. Disgusted with himself, he held his silence.

“If Jonathan shows up where we are, I’m definitely the best equipped to deal with him,” Jace was saying with certainty. “I’m more concerned for you and Izzy.”

“What if we had backup?” Isabelle suggested. “We could turn this into the opportunity to set a trap for Valentine’s followers. We choose a destination. Portal as many Shadowhunters there as we can while Alec and me are en route. I could also call Raphael. His vampires might appreciate a chance to take some of the Circle remnants out.”

“And Luke,” Clary added. “The pack still wants blood. Maybe we can’t give them Valentine’s, but dealing with his followers would still be some payback.”

“That could work,” said Sebastian. “Even if they have the Soul Sword, it’s been deactivated, so the Downworlders should have nothing to fear. It could be a chance to seriously deplete the number of Valentine’s followers remaining. And, as Clary says, offer the Downworld a chance at retribution at the same time, which could ease some of the…tensions…you’ve been dealing with.”

“I see no problem with the plan so long as the Downworlders are not told about the Mirror.” Herondale said. “That remains on a strictly need-to-know basis.”

Alec frowned at her. “The only reason we know about the Mirror is because of gossip coming out of a Downworld bar. You really think they don’t already know we’re trying to track it down?”

Jace jumped in quickly, before his grandmother had a chance to take umbrage at her reasoning being challenged. “I’ll talk to Lydia about getting reinforcements ready to portal out once we decide on a location for our diversion team,” he said, his shoulders twitching uncomfortably.

“Let me know when your teams are ready to leave,” Herondale said, and walked out of the room.

Alec drew a deep breath and straightened his posture. “Jace, Clary, Izzy, I need to speak to you privately, please.”

As he spoke, he gave Magnus an unflinching stare. Never, in all his centuries, had Magnus known anyone who did eye contact quite the way Alec did it. No guile or evasion. Just naked honesty. Under that regard, that silent promise that Alec would do whatever he could to make this situation right, Magnus felt a significant portion of his fury dissipate.

He nodded back at Alec, managing a small smile. “I need to give Dorothea her potion and bolster her strength with another spell. We’ll meet you in the Ops Center when we’re ready?”

“See you there,” Alec said. “Sebastian, thanks for guarding Dot. Jace, Clary, and Magnus will be with her from here on out, so you can report to Lydia for your next assignment. Um—er, well, that is—I mean—” he flushed and looked at Jace, wincing.

Jace sighed. “Yeah. What he said. Dismissed.”

When they had all gone and closed the door behind them, Magnus knelt before Dot where she sat, pressing the glamoured satchel into her lap and speaking the word that would enable her to see it.

“Are you ready, my dear?” he asked gently.

She lifted her ravaged face and nodded. “Let’s end this.”

“Valentine has escaped Clave custody,” he said under his breath. He called his power to his hands and pushed it into her. Dot gasped at first, her spine bowing, but then she relaxed as the pain relieving effects of the spell began to work. Some of the agony smoothed away from her features. “You know he’ll come for the Mirror.”

She met Magnus’s eyes, determination burning fiercely in her own. Her shaking hands fumbled to clasp his.

“So much the better,” she said, and let him help her to her feet. “I’m not afraid of him.”

The air of the late spring night was colder than it should have been.

The air everywhere was colder than it should have been. Dot couldn’t remember the last time she’d been warm. Whatever demon had produced the toxin that went into Valentine’s mind-control serum—or perhaps one of his other experiments—clearly hailed from a realm far hotter than this one.

Dot clutched the thick sweater Magnus had given her closer around her as he closed the portal behind them. As though from far away, she could hear Clary and Jace still bickering about whether or not Valentine’s son could still be somehow saved.

Dot knew better. She remembered too well what Jocelyn had confided to her, on many late nights when they stayed up with a pitcher of margaritas after Clary had been tucked in to bed. And she remembered fragmented snippets of what she’d overheard from Valentine’s own mouth while she shivered in her cage like an animal. After she’d helped Clary and Jace jump off the ship, Valentine had become a great deal more circumspect around her, making certain to leave the room before discussing any plans. She’d never heard enough to offer anyone any of the answers the Shadowhunters had sought, but she remembered Valentine speaking of his son. At the time, she’d thought he was talking about Jace, but now she understood who they were actually dealing with.

The perfect weapon, Valentine had called him, so long as one was strong enough to aim it correctly.

Well, if all went according to plan, at least Clary wouldn’t have to make the call of whether or not her brother was beyond saving.

Magnus hovered protectively by her side while Dot made a show of consulting the sigil etched onto her forearm. “It’s close,” she called to Clary, leading them toward the statue under the gazebo in the middle of the park. She’d chosen this park because she knew Jocelyn used to bring Clary here. Now, with an eighteen-year-old’s utter self-absorption, Clary was convinced Jocelyn had intended for her to find the Mirror all along.

It helped sell the story.

Standing before the statue, Dot took Magnus’s hand and drew upon his power to fuel the guttering flames of her own magic. Murmuring an incantation, she opened the small, inter-dimensional pocket and drew from it the mirror in its golden, rune-marked case. Even that small spell exhausted her. She slumped against Magnus, shaking.

“So far, so good,” Jace muttered. “Now let’s get out of here before someone realizes Alec and Izzy were a diversion.”

“Give me…a moment…” she panted. “Can’t…handle portal travel again…just yet.”

“Take your time, Dorothea.” Solicitously, Magnus passed another soothing wave of pain-relieving magic over her, his hands glowing with the gentle blue of healing. Perhaps only someone who had known him for over a century could see the anguish in his eyes every time he looked at her. If they did, they’d no doubt interpret it as grief for the impending death of a friend. Surely no one would attribute it to remorse for the ways he’d helped her deliberately exacerbate her own condition, in preparation for this moment.

Oh, how they’d struggled with this decision. For weeks, in long conversations about what the future held for her as her magic and immortality slowly diminished, until she was simply a shell of who she’d once been. She’d sought his help to find a way to give meaning and purpose to it, and though it had torn his heart, he’d acceded to her wishes.

She clutched the mirror tighter, tuning out Clary and Jace fretting in the background. Even the magic Magnus was using wasn’t enough to ease the burn of the literally cursed poisons coursing through her veins. “They need to hurry,” she whispered to him, biting back a moan of agony.

“It’s out of our hands now, dear,” Magnus murmured back, his voice a little ragged. “Dot, have we done the right—”

The glowing tip of seraph blade erupted from his chest. High and to the right of the heart, thank whatever divine or infernal powers had prompted Magnus to angle himself toward her as he spoke. A severe wound, but not a fatal one. Magnus cried out in pain, sliding to the ground as the blade was jerked back. Dot saw the flash of it poised above their heads, ready to come down. She heard Clary’s startled cry and flung herself forward to shield Magnus, glaring at the monstrosity looming over them, its eyes a demonic black in a charred face.

How could a demon wield a seraph blade, she wondered. And then she knew what she was looking at.

Jace leapt over her and Magnus, his blade striking sparks against Jonathan’s. Dot tried to summon magic to her hands as they fought, tried to call the power to heal Magnus’s wound, but she had already spent what little magic she had left. Somewhere in the darkness, the short, vicious battle seemed to be going badly. She was vaguely aware of Clary pleading with her brother, offering him welcome and acceptance he would just turn from this path. Jace snapped a warning for her to stay back.

But worse than all of that was the burning in Dot’s own veins. She had to get them out of here, before it was too late.

With blood flecking his lips and sliding down his chin, Magnus was trying to gasp something at her. Dot had no idea what. Shoving the mirror in her pocket, she took his hand, lacing their fingers tightly together. A small nod told her he knew her intent, and he let his power flow through her again.

She flung a ball of magic out that knocked Jonathan off his feet and halfway across the park, then began casting another spell.

“Jace! Take Clary and Magnus and go!” she shouted, feeding all the power she could pull into a portal.

He didn’t need telling twice. Only once he’d dragged Clary toward the portal by her arm and stooped to help Magnus to his feet did he hesitate.

“The Mirror!”

“Magnus knows. Just go!” she hissed, sweeping the portal toward them at the same instant she released Magnus’s hand. They disappeared into it, and Dot kept it open with the last of the magic she had siphoned from Magnus and stared defiantly at the monster coming furiously toward her, seraph blade drawn and ready to murder.

“If you kill me, you’ll never get the Mirror,” she taunted. She drew the mirror out of her pocket and waved it before him.

Jonathan hesitated, then seized Dot by her sweater and hauled her into the portal.

The swirling, chaotic energies of portal travel were once something Dot could navigate without effort, but it was too much for her so soon after the portal they’d taken to the park. When she awoke, she was lying on the floor of another cage, as she had done so many times before while Valentine held her captive.

But this time, she wasn’t alone. The Iron Sister, Cleophas, sat next to her, tucking a ragged blanket that smelled of motor oil around Dot.

“You’re still here,” Dot croaked. “I wondered if you would be.”

“I haven’t had the opportunity to escape. Yet. I have been hiding the fact that Valentine’s mind control serum is having a diminished effect on me, though. The purification trials I endured to become an Iron Sister grant me some immunity to demonic poisons.”

“Lucky you,” Dot muttered bitterly.

Cleophas gave Dot a troubled look. “I thought you were finally free,” she said, sounding far more grieved than was warranted by the few times they’d encountered each other before Dot had been left behind with misinformation Valentine had wanted seeded to the Shadowhunters. “But then Valentine’s son arrived up and dropped you in here and told me to make sure you don’t die.”

“With what?” Dot asked, with an incredulous chuckle that dissolved into a fit of coughing. Cleophas slid an arm behind Dot and helped her sit up to clear her lungs.

“You’re not well,” she said gravely.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Dot glanced around at their surroundings. They appeared to be in some sort of a deserted garage. Locked in the cage together as they were, apparently Jonathan and Valentine’s other followers felt confident enough to leave them unguarded.

Performing a quick inventory, Dot was relieved to see the satchel was still hanging across her body, and she still clutched the mirror. Jonathan knew, then, about the lie Magnus had told. He believed the mirror could only safely change hands if Dot offered it over willingly. Which meant someone who had been in the room with them before they left the Institute was working for Valentine.

Well, hopefully they wouldn’t be for long.

“You need to get out of here,” she whispered to Cleophas, opening the satchel. She pulled out one of the phials Magnus had stashed within and swallowed it down, shuddering. Then she checked the side pocket. There where Magnus had said it would be, was the stele he had stolen.

Dot pressed it into Cleophas’s hands. “Leave. Now, while no one is watching. When Valentine returns, everyone in this room is going to die. His injections may have killed me, but I don’t intend to be the only one. I’m taking out him and his army.”

Cleophas inhaled sharply and stared at her for a moment, then bent and pressed a kiss to Dot’s brow. “Angel watch over you, Dorothea Rollins,” she whispered.

Dot clutched her by the shirt and pulled her closer. “When you get outside, hide until Valentine’s people are all in, then lock the doors with the strongest runes you can manage. Block them physically if you can.”

“I will.” Cleophas dragged the stele over several of her runes to activate them and rose. The cage swung open with an unlock rune, and from the next room over a alarmed shout echoed through the garage, followed by a shuffle of running footsteps.

The first sentry to arrive fell almost soundlessly. Moving nearly as swiftly as a vampire, Cleophas grabbed a dangling chain from an engine hoist and looped it around the man’s neck, snapping it neatly. Two others pounding along behind him were incapacitated so quickly Dot wasn’t sure how Cleophas managed it. By the time more reinforcements arrived, Cleophas had nimbly scaled the heavy racks of tools and engine parts and vaulted out through one of the skylight windows.

Dot smiled as she heard the patter of footfalls on the corrugated steel of the roof, then closed her eyes, mustering her strength. She needed to at least make a show of attempting to escape. Pulling herself to her feet, she hobbled for the open gate of the cage, only to find herself grabbed roughly by Valentine’s henchmen.

“Dot.” Valentine shook his head as he emerged from one of the doorways leading to the office area of the garage. She wanted to slap the arrogant tsk off his lips. “I’m disappointed in you. All those times I asked you what else Jocelyn might have kept from me and you never mentioned the Mortal Mirror.”

“I didn’t know it was the Mirror she had hidden,” Dot retorted, meeting his eyes without flinching.

“Give it to me.” Valentine extended his hand. Dot tried to pull away, but the Circle members restraining her blocked any retreat.

“Careful,” cautioned a familiar voice. From the shadows emerged Sebastian, the sweet-faced British Shadowhunter who had guarded her these past two days. Dot didn’t know why that betrayal should sting, but it did nonetheless. She wished she had some means of warning Magnus and his husband, but that would be Cleophas’s job now. “Apparently, it’s enchanted so that it will self-destruct violently if one attempts to take it without her consent.”

“You warning is invaluable, Jonathan,” Valentine said smoothly. “But Dot knows I can make her hand it over willingly if she refuses, and I don’t think she wants that. It looks like those injections she had during her time with me haven’t done her any favors. But then, she always was on the weak end of the spectrum, as far as warlocks go.”

Dot hung her head, as she knew he expected her to do. Because once those words would have hurt. Once it would have filled her with shame to be reminded that her magic was almost pathetically weak compared to other warlocks, even when she was at her best. She’d met mundane magical scholars over the centuries who could do nearly as much.

Now, however, she didn’t care. She had nothing to fear, nothing to regret. Not anymore. For all Valentine’s brilliance and planning, she had out-thought him this time. She’d made a play he’d never see coming, but only if she didn’t give it away too soon. So she hung her head and let him believe her to be ashamed.

“The Mirror, Dot. Now.”

With a show of heavy reluctance, Dot reached out and dropped the mirror into his hand.

Valentine stared at it a moment, then at her. “Dot. Do you really think I wouldn’t recognize one of Jocelyn’s trinkets?” he sneered. “Jocelyn’s mother, Adele, gave her this when we graduated from the Shadowhunter academy. Did you really sacrifice yourself just to create a diversion?

Dot gazed back defiantly.

”You did this to hide something. Where’s the real Mirror?”

“You can’t make me tell you. Not this time.”

“I think I can,” he said smugly, and gestured to one of his people.

A sharp jab in her neck, and then the burn of the demonic toxins flooding her blood, taking slow, insidious root in her brain. Normally within minutes, she would be totally obedient.

Not this time.

Before she lost all her own will, Dot murmured her final incantation, and smiled at Valentine as she felt her own skin and organs begin to slowly melt. The burning breath that seethed from her chest carried the first cloud of poison. It was a twisted grimace of cold, bitter triumph, and it quickly morphed into agony—but only for a second before she was beyond the reach of any pain.

The Shadowhunters around her began to cough and gag, tearing at their throats with their own fingernails as acidic vapor wafted away from Dot’s dissolving body. It filled their lungs and began to corrode them from the inside out. They fell to the floor, writhing, their shrieks of torment nothing more than a breathless keening.

The whole thing was eerily quiet.

Valentine reeled away from her, staring at Dot in shock and horror, his own hand clutching his throat as he began to cough. Beside him, his son was doubled over, hacking as he grabbed Valentine’s arm and attempted to drag him away.

The last thing Dot saw before her eyes melted into more of the corrosive mist was the two of them stumble and fall to the floor.

She died knowing she had won.

Chapter Text

Izzy checked her phone for the third time since they’d left the Institute for the Chelsea piers. “Raphael says from the rooftops he can see four Circle members trailing us,” she reported in Clary’s voice. “Two a couple blocks behind us, a couple others the next block over.”

“That’s not enough,” Alec murmured back, making no effort to resist the urge to look around as though suspecting he might be followed. After all, disguised as Jace and on this particular mission, it would look suspicious not to exhibit a healthy amount of paranoia. “Think they got wind of the ruse?”

“It was always a possibility.” Izzy was walking a little closer to him that she normally would, trying to emulate what Valentine’s followers—probably unaware of the recent breakup—would expect to see from Clary and Jace in terms of body language. It was weird. He had absolutely no compunctions about walking arm-in-arm with Izzy or letting her casually hug him any time, but right now she looked like Clary. Alec had to fight the constant urge to put a bit more distance between them. “Raphael did say, though, that one pair swapped out for another a few blocks back. They could be trying to get ahead of us.”

“So maybe six.” Alec kept his voice pitched low in case any of their followers had a hearing rune activated. “I don’t know, Iz. If Valentine bought our decoys, I’d expect more people sent to take us out. If he didn’t buy it, I’d expect less.”

“They might think six-to-two are reasonable odds in their favor.”

“No way. Valentine knows Jace’s abilities better than that.”

“Well, regardless, we’ve got a chance to take out up to six Circle members. And we especially have a chance to help the vampires and werewolves get…if not a pound of flesh then maybe at least an ounce or two?”

“Yeah,” Alec muttered, the skin between his shoulder-blades still uncomfortably tight. He pulled out his phone and chose Luke’s contact. “Luke, something may not be right here. The number of Circle members trailing us isn’t what it should be. Tell your people and Raphael to be careful, and pull out if you get so much as a bad feeling about anything. I don’t want to lose even one more Downworlder to the Circle.”

When he hung up, Izzy was looking at him, a small smile curving “Clary’s” lips.

“What?” Alec asked, resisting the urge to squirm.

“I just…” She shook her head, sighing. “The Inquisitor’s insane if she doesn’t recognize how good a leader you are.”

Alec grimaced. “I should have held my temper when I confronted her about Camille.”

“You knew she was hiding something. And now you know what.” She drew a deep breath. “Are you going to tell Luke and Raphael?”

“I have to,” he said heavily. “I asked them to trust me, and I swore I wouldn’t let them down. I need to honor that. But out here in the field isn’t the place to have that particular conversation.”

“Okay, then. Let’s get this done,” Izzy said briskly, and quickened her pace.

It wasn’t hard to spot the team of Shadowhunters that had portaled ahead to secure the location near the Pier 54 archway. Two were masquerading as stumbling drunks who had wandered away from a party in the marina. A few more were disguised as indigent people picking through waste cans or huddled on benches. At this time of night, with so many of their slim number of Shadowhunters needed to patrol, it was impressive Lydia could muster up even this many—five in total—to serve as backup. He knew the bushes and shadows concealed wolves, and the vampires waited to sweep in from the rooftops.

Alec accompanied Izzy to the side of the archway and shielded her from sight as she pantomimed creating a rune that would enable “Clary” to break the spell phasing the non-existent mirror into another realm.

“I can’t get it to work,” she said loudly enough to be overheard, pretending to wield her stele more urgently.

“What, your runes decide to stop working now?” Alec demanded, with what felt like an appropriate amount of Jace’s snark into the delivery.

“You want to try to draw it?” Izzy shot back, moving her arm in sweeping strokes. “Got it!”

Izzy brandished a silvery makeup compact triumphantly, then tucked it into her pocket. “Let’s go.”

“We’ve got company.” Alec drew his seraph blade, holding it high and across his body in Jace’s preferred stance. It wasn’t a fighting style Alec cared for, but he couldn’t give away the deception just yet. Not when six of Valentine’s people were converging on them, blocking them off from retreat in every direction except down the pier and into the river.

Izzy drew her own blade, holding it in Clary’s inexpert grip, which was a hybrid of Jace’s style and…something else taught to her by Angel only knew who. If that was Clary’s starting stance, Alec was going to have to make sure the Institutes trainers were overseeing her technique better.

As the Circle members drew nearer, Alec and Izzy backed away, far enough down the pier to leave Valentine’s people only one route of escape, back the way they had come. He could see his Shadowhunters abandoning their disguises and approaching, cutting off that avenue, forming a barricade at the start of the pier.

Six on two wasn’t great odds, especially not with Izzy at less than a hundred percent, but it’d be better once the Shadowhunters from the Institute joined in the fight. While range was still on their side, Alec dropped his blade at his feet and let the glamour fall from his bow, no longer concerned with maintaining his masquerade. His first arrow took one of the Circle members out, and beside him, Izzy’s whip cracked. Another Circle member was yanked off her feet, electrum coils wrapping around her neck. With a jerk on the whip, Izzy flung her over the barricade at the edge and into the Hudson.

The remaining four Circle members charged, driving Alec and Izzy down the pier and closing the range to make the bow and whip useless. They scooped up their blades again. Alec was just about to yell the order for the Downworlders to join the attack when he noticed the smirk on one of the Circle members faces.

Where were his Shadowhunters?

Alec ventured the briefest of glances to realize his people had stopped there where the pier began, leaving Alec and Izzy to fight alone. All of them, except the four Alec and Izzy were engaging, turned to face the direction the vampires and werewolves would be attacking from.

Oh, hell.

Sucking in a sharp breath, he yelled, “Luke, Raphael, pull out! It’s a tr—”

He never managed to complete the warning. One of the Circle members slammed into him, knocking Alec off his feet. He got his blade up just in time to stop the downward thrust of an enemy blade and scissored his legs, catching the man’s ankles between them and rolling to jerk him off balance. Alec’s sword skewered him on the way down.

At the base of the pier, Alec heard a werewolf yelp in pain, and another one snarling viciously. Dammit, why weren’t the Downworlders breaking off?

The bladed tip of Izzy’s staff sliced across the throat of one of the three remaining Circle members she and Alec faced, and the man went down with a bloody gurgle. Alec could hear her labored breathing; could see the slight sway in her stance. But then one of the last two remaining Circle members was pressing him with an aggressive flurry of attacks that drove Alec to the very edge of the pier. He fell back against the K-rail, the water rushing by under his back. He heard Izzy cry out his name in alarm and got his sword between him and his attacker barely in time to block a blow that would have cleaved him in two.

Shouting with effort, Alec forced the man back enough to wedge a foot between them. He felt the concrete barrier behind him slip toward the edge, just a little, but it offered him the clearance he needed to use his leg to shove his opponent back. Izzy gave a pained yell and stumbled to her knees, but the Circle member Alec was fighting gave him no opportunity to check on her. Alec fought furiously to gain the upper hand to drive the man back and give himself more space to get between Izzy and her opponent, but whoever this guy was, he was clearly one of Valentine’s best-trained fighters. Even after a lifetime of sparring with Jace, Alec was evenly matched, or nearly so.

He saw a blur out of the corner of his eye and tried to shout a warning to Izzy, but in that instant, she found her opening and skewered the Circle member she had been fighting. As the man collapsed, behind him Raphael smirked and shrugged.

“Should have known you were holding your own, Isabelle,” he said, and casually reached over to snap the neck of Alec’s opponent.

“Thanks for checking,” Izzy said with a breathless chuckle, leaning on Alec as he turned to look her over. A gash ran down one of her biceps and he fumbled for the stele in his holster, putting his own body between her and Raphael.

Behind him, Raphael sighed. “You don’t need to worry about me attacking at the scent of her blood,” he said grimly. “I have myself under control.”

Alec glanced over his shoulder as he activated Izzy’s iratze rune. “Can you say the same for all your vampires?”

“They’ve had their fill of Shadowhunter blood for the night,” Raphael replied, looking back up the pier. That was when Alec realized the sounds of combat had stopped. “But there’s something you should see.”

Back up the pier, the mood among the werewolves and vampires was…not exactly one of camaraderie, but both factions were feeling ebullient enough in the aftermath of a well-fought victory that they at least weren’t snarling or hissing at each other. Several of each group appeared to have been wounded but were already healed or swiftly in the process of it, including Maia, who clutched a hand to her ribs as she pulled on a shirt. Drying blood dappled her skin, nearly black under the lights along the pier.

They werewolves appeared to be taking turns getting dressed after having their injuries checked, none of them self-conscious about their nudity. Those who weren’t getting checked over—dressed or undressed—were standing guard, forming one half of a circle around a wounded man lying on the ground. The vampires formed the other half.

Luke turned to face Alec as he arrived, giving him a reserved smile.

“Your people okay?” Alec asked, ignoring the groaning figure surrounded by Downworlders. He glanced over the other bodies lying on the ground, some of them with their throats torn out, some shredded by claws, some just ripped apart. All of them bore Circle runes. “I don’t recognize any of these people.”

Luke nodded. “I’m guessing the Shadowhunters who were actually supposed to be backing you up are floating down the Hudson now. Except for this one.” He gestured to the man his people were guarding. “I know I’ve seen him around the Institute. The Circle rune on his neck is brand new.”

The guards backed away, allowing Alec to approach. He muttered a curse. “Duncan.”

Alec couldn’t remember when Duncan had transferred in. Possibly around the time Lydia had taken over the Institute the first time, or shortly thereafter, when the Clave had been sending them reinforcements under the conviction that the Institute was at risk.

“Guess we should be grateful it’s not someone we’ve known our whole lives this time,” Izzy murmured sadly.

Duncan had deep claw gouges crossing his abdomen. Alec could see his viscera bulging through the shreds of his flesh.

Izzy squatted beside him. “Peritoneum is still intact.” She brandished her stele and drew it over Duncan’s iratze. “You’re lucky. Your organs haven’t fallen out and your angelic healing still works. At least until the next full moon.”

“No,” he groaned, his entire body shaking. In shock or revulsion, Alec couldn’t say. “Just kill me. I won’t be one of those animals.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Maia said, disgust dripping from every word. Behind her, several werewolves growled. “You think you’re badass enough to slaughter us, but you don’t have the balls to try to live as one of us?”

Luke crouched opposite Izzy. “Look, man, I get it. I was a Circle member before I got Turned. I know how hard it is to accept what you’re gonna become. It’ll get better. In time, you’ll realize Valentine’s people are wrong in everything they told you about us. We’re just people, trying to live our lives.”

Duncan glared at them and said nothing.

Alec sighed. “Duncan, you have a wife and a little brother working in the Institute. If I recall correctly, you’re raising your wife’s niece, too. You’ve got people who will miss you if you don’t come home.”

“I can’t go home like this! There is no home for me anymore,” he said, choking on a sob. “Just kill me already!”

“It’s not that easy. I need answers.” Alec touched Izzy’s shoulder and she rose, making room for him to kneel in her place. He slid his seraph blade slowly into its holster, watching Duncan’s eyes track the movement like that blade was his very salvation. “Izzy, call the Institute, tell them we need a prisoner escorted to the holding cells. He can wait for full moon in there.”

“No!” Duncan clutched at his arm. “No. Please. I’ll tell you everything I know. Just promise me you’ll slit my throat when I’m done.”

Alec met Luke’s eyes, and Luke shrugged. “I can’t make him want to live. And I doubt the pack’s gonna want him around. Do what you want with him.”

Alec grimaced. “Who recruited you?” he demanded, refusing to extend the promise Duncan sought.

“Aldertree.” Duncan’s answer came without hesitation. “He said he felt the same way I did about Downworlders, and he knew others who thought like that too.”

“What did he want from you?”

“He wanted me to try to spread anti-Downworld sentiment in the Institute. Said a war was coming, and our people would be safer if they weren’t conflicted about where their loyalties should lie.” He sneered at Alec. “He said I needed to remind them of their purpose. They were being misled by demon-loving traitors like you.”

Alec scoffed, but he refused to rise to the bait. “When did you know it was the Circle you were working for?”

“I didn’t. Not until tonight. But I wouldn’t have cared if I had known. The Circle wasn’t wrong! My parents were friends of the Whitelaws who ran the Institute before the uprising. One of my first memories is attending their Rite of Mourning with my mother in tears beside me. The Circle tried to protect them, while the Clave did nothing.”

“I was there that night,” Luke said. “I was still part of the Circle then. Those werewolves didn’t kill the Whitelaws, the Circle did. We did.”

Alec swallowed. “Including my parents?”

Luke nodded, meeting his eyes apologetically.

Alec closed his eyes for a moment, then forced his mind back to the matter at hand. “Why doesn’t anyone know about that?”

“The Circle lied to the Clave to cover it up and blamed the werewolves, and the Clave was happy to believe them.” Luke shook his head in disgust. “That’s when I understood what the Circle had become. Wasn’t long after that Valentine tried to feed me to the werewolves. Literally.”

Duncan looked from Luke to Alec. “You’re just going to let him lie about your family like this?”

Alec rubbed his forehead and sighed. “I don’t believe it’s a lie. If fact, I’m certain if I called my mother, she’d confirm every word of Luke’s story. My parents did terrible things with the Circle. But they were wrong, and they know it. They’re trying to be better people now.”

Alec didn’t like the twisted smile Duncan gave him. “You don’t know anything.”

“Enough of this.” Alec pushed himself up from the pavement, towering over Duncan. “How many Circle plants are there in the Institute?”

“As far as I know, I’m the only one. If there were others, Aldertree never told me.”

“And who is your contact in the Circle now?”

Duncan rocked his head back and forth with a sort of manic desperation. “I don’t know. No one contacted me again or asked anything else of me after Aldertree left. But when I was assigned to the mission tonight, I got a fire message warning me the Circle would attack any Shadowhunters who were dispatched with me, and that I’d better be on the right side when it happened. They gave me the Circle rune before you arrived, after the other Shadowhunters were dealt with. That’s all I know, I swear!”

Alec swiped a hand through his hair and stalked away. At his hip, his phone chimed with a text alert.

“You have to kill me!” Duncan called after him. “Please, I answered your questions!”

“Do it yourself,” Alec snapped over his shoulder. His phone chimed again. “Or contact your Circle comrades. I’m sure they’ll be glad to do it for you. Luke, Raphael, can I have a word with you, please?”

A third message came through as he stood off the the side, waiting for Luke and Raphael to speak with their people and join him. As they approached, he closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, then pitched his voice low.

“Look, I received some intelligence from the Clave earlier that you should be aware of. Understand this is classified. I’m committing high treason by telling you, but—”

“Alec!” Izzy called urgently, running toward him, waving her phone. “You need to get back to the Institute, right now! Magnus was badly wounded out on the mission with Clary and Jace.”

“What?”

“Go, man,” Luke said, shoving Alec on the shoulder. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it later. We’ll make arrangements for an urgent summit meeting tomorrow and let you know when and where. Go be with your husband.”

Alec nodded, his throat tight. “Thank you,” he said wholeheartedly, and sprinted away with Izzy on his heels.

Chapter Text

Despite his desperate rush to get back to the Institute, Alec managed to call Catarina and inform her that Magnus had been injured. She promised to find someone to watch Madzie and get there as quickly as she was able. Overhearing Alec’s side of the conversation from where she sat next to him in a filthy mundane cab, Izzy offered to look after Madzie and asked the taxi driver to pull over to let her out to make her way to Catarina’s house.

Alec wasn’t certain that running back to the Institute wouldn’t have been faster than waiting for the cab to make its way through snarls of traffic, but finally the sign for Battery Park appeared. Alec stuffed his money through the partition to the cabbie and jumped from the car nearly before it had come to a stop.

The infirmary was full of bustling medics treating Magnus’s wound with what amounted to little more than mundane field medicine. Angelic runes wouldn’t work on him, and they wouldn’t have access to warlock healing. As he rushed to Magnus’s side, he caught a glimpse of Clary and Max, hanging back in a corner out of the way. Jace was nowhere to be seen.

Magnus was conscious, thank the Angel, but his face was pale and twisted with pain. Dried blood at the corners of his mouth and trailing down his chin suggested one of his lungs had been punctured, and his breath sounded alarmingly raspy.

“Hey. I’m here,” he said, linking his fingers with Magnus’s. “I called Catarina. Izzy’s gone to sit with Madzie so she can come.”

Magnus squeezed back and gave him an attempt at a smile, but when he tried to speak, he began to cough and a mist of blood splattered everyone around him.

“What’s his status?” Alec demanded, staring at the splash of crimson on his hand in dread.

The chief medic—the one he’d conspired with to keep Izzy’s yin fen addiction out of her files—looked up from the other side of the bed. “Holding his own for now,” she answered. “But if we don’t get a warlock in to heal him, we’re going to have to perform surgery to repair the wound and re-inflate his lung the mundane way. We all know the procedure, in theory, but none of us have experience with it. We’re too reliant on runic healing. We need a warlock.”

“Catarina Loss is on her way, she should only be a few minutes out.”

The medic nodded an acknowledgment and jerked her head toward the corner where Clary and Max sat. “In that case, sir, give us room to work, please.”

She was right. He was in the way. But it would have been easier to tear his own arm off than release Magnus’s hand. Alec felt the effort of it like a physical torment; unlinking his fingers from Magnus’s was like slowly rending his own flesh. Finally he drew away and staggered backward toward the chairs against the wall.

“Where’s Jace?” he asked Clary, dropping into one.

“Reporting to the Inquisitor.” Her eyes were swimming with tears. “He has to explain how we lost both Dot and the Mirror.”

“What? How?”

Clary shook her head. “I don’t know. Jonathan was there. He stabbed Magnus. Then he and Jace were fighting and I was trying to get through to him, convince him he didn’t have to do Valentine’s bidding, and that’s when Dot drew on Magnus’s magic to open a portal practically on top of us. She said to ask Magnus about the Mirror, but we checked his pockets. He doesn’t have it. It’s gone.”

Magnus burbled a groan from the bed and Alec shot to his feet, but the medics had closed in around him and there was no place for Alec to reach him. After a moment, he quieted, and Alec sank back down into his chair.

“What are you doing here, Max?” he asked, trying to muster a smile for his brother.

“I saw them bring Magnus in,” Max said gravely. “But you weren’t here, and Jace had to go. I thought family should be with him.”

Alec’s eyes burned and he reached out to run a hand over Max’s hair. “Thanks,” he said, his throat tight.

“You’re a good brother, Max,” Clary said, sniffling. “I wish we were all so lucky.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Max gave her a considering look. “Jace isn’t your brother anymore.”

Clary gave a watery chuckle. “No, definitely not.” She sobered, looking over at Magnus. “And my real brother isn’t who I thought he’d be. He hurt Magnus. And Dot…”

Two more tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. Unlike his mother or Izzy, she felt no need to try to hide them or wipe them away or preserve her makeup from their ravages.

“I know Dot was dying,” she said. “I know she only had a day or two left. But it shouldn’t have been like this. She should have been with the people who care about her.”

Magnus groaned again, something that sounded like an argument, or protest. Alec clutched the arms of his chair against the urge to rise again, and listened as the medics urged him to calm down.

The chief medic turned to speak over her shoulder.

“I want everyone who isn’t medical personnel out of the room, right now. He’s too agitated to have you in here.”

Alec clenched his jaw against the urge to argue and instead nudged Clary and Max up and out of the room. They sat in the chairs lining the hallway outside while Alec hovered at the door, watching through the small window at the top while the medics worked inside.

“What happened to Dot once she portaled you away?” Max asked Clary innocently. The elevator chimed its arrival down the hall and Alec turned toward it, praying it would be Catarina. Sebastian came striding out, however. Alec turned back to the little window, barely glancing at him.

Clary’s voice was filled with venom. “My brother happened,” she told Max. Out of the corner of his eye, Alec saw thought he saw Sebastian almost trip over his feet as he stopped short. “It turns out my real brother is a monster.”

Sebastian hesitated before approaching, apparently unwilling to court the idea of Clary turning that wrath on him.

“What is it, Sebastian?” Alec asked, not bothering to look at him.

“I, er, just…got in from patrol and heard there’d been an…an incident with Dot. Your husband, is he all right?”

“No,” Alec said flatly. “He’s not.”

“What happened to you?” Clary asked, sounding shocked enough that Alec dragged his attention away from the window to actually take in Sebastian’s appearance.

His fair skin was a mottled red, as though irritated by some allergic reaction. His eyes were bloodshot.

“Ah.” His normally smooth voice was full of grit, as though his throat were raw. He looked down at his reddened hands as though seeing them for the first time. “Particularly rare and nasty subspecies of elapid. A little more slug-like than a true elapid, which tend to be closer to snakes. They spew a slime that corrodes flesh on contact as a defense mechanism, and the fumes from it inflame the tissue of the throat and lungs. I got it washed off my skin quickly, so hopefully it will heal in a few days’ time.” He hesitated, then asked as though he couldn’t help himself, “Did I hear you properly? You ran into your brother, after all? And he’s with the Circle?”

Alec turned back to the window and listened with half an ear as Clary filled Sebastian in on how Magnus had come to be injured and Dot had sacrificed herself for the rest of them.

“Jace was right about Jonathan,” she concluded bitterly. “When I see him, I’m going to make him pay. For Magnus, for Dot, for all of it.”

“But…he’s your brother. Your family,” Sebastian protested. “You always stand by family, isn’t that what you all keep saying?”

“He’s not my family,” Clary spat. “We may have the same blood, but he’s not. Maybe he could have been, if Valentine hadn’t twisted him, but we’ll never know.”

“Don’t worry about Jonathan,” Max said, nudging Clary with that embarrassed, almost grudging brand of emotional generosity unique to preteen boys. “Jace says the Lightwoods always take in strays.”

“Thanks, Max,” Clary said softly. Whatever they said next was lost on Alec as he became absorbed in the flurry of activity around Magnus’s bed. His phone buzzed with a message, and Alec dug it out of his pocket, frowning to see Catarina’s name on the screen.

Standing outside. Denied permission to enter.

As Alec read the message, their phones all chimed in unison with the Institute’s alert message, a security advisory flashing on their screens notifying them that the Institute was being closed to Downworlders not already on the premises. Clary and Max shot out of their chairs, following quickly on Alec’s heels along with Sebastian as he jogged down the hallway toward the elevator.

When the doors opened, however, the elevator was already full. Jace and Imogen Herondale stood there along with two of the Elite Guard.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, looking from Jace to the Inquisitor and back.

“I want Mr. Bane’s—Mr. Lightwood-Bane’s—room under guard at all times,” the Inquisitor said, ignoring Alec.

“I’m sorry, Alec,” Jace murmured, leaning in close. “It’s Imogen’s orders. She thinks Magnus and Dot may have conspired to steal the Mirror.”

“You can’t be serious!” Alec ran a hand through his hair, trying to tamp down the panic surging up in his chest. “Catarina Loss is standing outside right this minute to heal him. If you don’t let her in, the medics are going to have to do a mundane procedure that, frankly, they don’t have the training to actually do. Magnus could die.”

“Well, perhaps you can answer the question of what your husband may have done with the Mirror.” Imogen turned an icy gaze upon him. “Dorothea Rollins words when she was last seen were that he had it. But he does not.”

“Dot’s last words were that Magnus knew about it,” Clary corrected, her hands clenched furiously at her sides. “He can’t tell us what he knows until he’s healed. All you have to do is let Catarina in, then this can be settled.”

“Really?” The Inquisitor’s words dripped with disdain. “We should let another warlock into the Institute when all evidence indicates that the last ones we trusted misled us into helping them hand the Mirror over to the Circle.”

“That’s crazy!” Clary said hotly. “Magnus and Dot would never do that!”

“Dorothea Rollins worked for Valentine for months. We were fools to believe she ever stopped. Perhaps Mr. Lightwood-Bane was duped by her, or perhaps he was complicit.”

Clary appeared ready to explode. “Dot didn’t work for him, she was his captive! He used a mind control serum on her!”

“So she claimed. And yet now she’s disappeared with his son, and the Mirror with her. For all we know, this entire ploy was an elaborate setup.”

“There are other explanations, Imogen,” Jace said, looking from Alec and Clary to his grandmother with barely masked anxiety. “While Clary and I were busy confronting Jonathan, Magnus and Dot may have transported the Mirror somewhere safe, to be recovered later. We need Magnus healed before we can find out.”

“Our medics will do their best for him,” Herondale said, softening her tone. “Then we can determine the extent of his complicity. But until further notice, no other Downworlders are to be permitted entry.”

“You’re so worried about Downworlders. Maybe you should start focusing on the people already within this Institute!” Alec snapped. “That’s the real threat to our security.”

Her gimlet gaze found Alec again. “Just what do you mean by that?”

“Our plan tonight was leaked to. By Duncan, one of our own people. We found him wearing a brand-new Circle rune.”

“Duncan?” Jace asked in astonishment. “I knew he had some anti-Downworld sentiment, but—”

“Aldertree recruited him, apparently,” Alec explained. “The Circle killed the Shadowhunters that were dispatched as backup for me my sister and then tried to kill the Downworlders who came to assist us on the mission. So now we’ve lost five more people. We’re lucky the Downworlders didn’t think we’d led them into another trap, or any hope for peace would have been lost. Which is exactly what the Circle wants. They want a Downworld uprising.”

Jace frowned. “How do you figure?”

“Duncan confirmed as much. Aldertree told him a war was coming. Torturing Raphael, cracking down on the Downworld. It was part of a plan to increase tensions.”

Jace sighed. “That idea has Valentine’s fingerprints all over it. Provoke the Downworld into hostilities, turn the Clave against them, and suddenly instead of being enemies of the state, the Circle looks like heroes who saw it coming from the start.”

“Exactly.” Alec looked at Herondale, who was listening with a thoughtful expression. “Inquisitor, please. Regardless of what you think of me, or my husband, you are playing into the Circle’s hands. If Magnus dies, we lose a powerful ally, and Downworld sentiment will turn against us once they learn you denied Magnus the care he needs.”

The Inquisitor shook her head. “You present an interesting theory as to the Circle’s strategy and motives, but I’m afraid the order remains. We will take no further chances with the security of this Institute. Our people will give your husband the best care they can.” She looked at the Elite Guardsmen. “Allow the medics all the room they need to work. For now, we’ll proceed on the assumption that Mr. Lightwood-Bane will have a satisfactory explanation and allow him visitation, but he’s not to leave the Institute until the matter is settled, even if you have to bind his hands to prevent him from using magic.”

She walked away without so much as sparing Alec another glance, and he started after her, his hands ready to wrap themselves around her neck. Jace planted a hand on his chest and shoved him back until the elevator doors closed behind Herondale.

“Do not ruin what little standing you have left with her, Alec!” Jace snapped.

“Are you Head of this Institute now or not?” Alec shot back. “If so, act like it instead of letting her walk all over you.”

Jace’s head jerked back. “Whoa! I’m not the enemy here.”

“Then try being on my side of this before she ruins everything we’ve been working for! Or don’t you remember how desperate we were to find a way to make things right and secure lasting peace after the Soul Sword and those damned tracking chips?”

Jace flinched, and Alec knew he’d struck a low blow there. “You don’t need to throw that in my face. Look, regardless of the fact that Imogen’s my grandmother, she is the Inquisitor,” Jace said with an emphatic shake of his head. “She outranks me about a dozen times over, and you know that. You’ve been just as helpless to countermand her orders as I am now.”

“We gave a promise to the Downworlders who attended that first summit, when we offered them the treaty.” Alec dropped his voice. “We swore we’d do whatever it takes to protect them from unprovoked aggression by the Clave. Do you remember what that entailed? How far we promised we’d go if we had to?”

Jace’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping. He glanced quickly at Sebastian, who was lurking several feet away, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, to the Elite Guards who had taken up station on either side of the door to Magnus’s room. “You can’t be talking about—”

“Whatever it takes. You have until dawn to decide which side you’re coming down on before I pull the pin on this. And if my husband dies before then? Don’t bother pretending it’s mine.”

Alec slammed into Magnus’s room before Jace could respond. Magnus appeared to be unconscious on the bed, and the bustling activity seemed to have subsided. When Alec entered, the subordinate medics filed out.

“We’ve sedated him with mundane drugs and have him stabilized for now,” the chief medic said before Alec could prompt her for an update. “We need that warlock soon, or we’re going to have to prep him for surgery.”

Alec rubbed his brow, where the tension was beginning to coalesce into an ache. “That may be unavoidable. The Inquisitor has forbidden any other Downworlders entrance. Are you the medic who’s best trained to do the mundane procedure?”

She nodded. “Not that that’s saying much. It’s ego, really, that keeps us from learning non-Nephilim healing as well as we should. When this is over, I’m going to propose to the Clave Medic Corps that we start slipping our people into mundane teaching hospitals to learn alongside the med students there.”

“I’ll back you if you do,” Alec said. “Not that that counts for much either, since I’m no longer in charge here.”

“Because of him?” she asked, nodding toward Magnus.

Alec sighed. “Not entirely, but I’m sure being married to a Downworlder—and a man—doesn’t help.”

“I understand. My girlfriend’s a werewolf with the Queens pack. I, um, haven’t really mentioned her to many people around here.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Alec tried for a reassuring smile, but it probably came out as more of a grimace. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I ever got your name?”

Her smile managed to be much more genuine. “Liz Velez. Don’t worry about the name. Heads of Institutes don’t generally deal with the medics much unless there’s a contagion or a severely injured Shadowhunter to report on.”

“Well, Liz, I’m not Head of the Institute anymore. And even if I were, I probably still should have taken the time for introductions.” He turned his focus back to Magnus and dropped his voice to a bare murmur, “Tell me honestly—do I need to look for some way to violate the Inquisitor’s orders and get him out of here?”

Liz looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then glanced toward the closed door. “I can keep him stable for maybe another hour,” she replied under her breath. “If you can’t find a way to persuade the Inquisitor before then, let me know and I’ll step outside for a smoke break.”

Alec frowned in confusion. “A smoke break?” That was a mundane habit very few Shadowhunters ever picked up. And Alec could swear he didn’t detect the slightest hint of cigarette smoke even standing right next to her.

“Yeah. A smoke break. Outside.” She gave him an intent stare. “Where I might just bump into someone glamoured as a Shadowhunter. Whom I would then innocently accompany into the Institute to avoid triggering the wards.”

Alec sucked in a breath. “A smoke break. Right.”

It was an incredibly brave offer she was making. And also a risk Alec had no right to ask her to take. “Understood. Let me see what I can do first. Don’t—don’t stick your neck out unless you have no other choice.”

“I don’t plan to,” Liz said simply, checking over Magnus’s vitals. “But as far as I can see, there’s coming a point where this Institute is going to have to choose between doing things the Clave’s way or our way, and it seems like the Clave’s way isn’t getting us anywhere. I know where I plan to stand where that happens. And now so does the Head of my Institute.”

Chapter Text

He found Jace staring grimly at a monitor while the Ops Center bustled and hummed around him. The urge was strong to turn and go another way, slip outside and sneak Catarina in the way Liz had suggested, but he couldn’t risk the Inquisitor finding out and arresting him before he had a chance to meet with the Downworld leaders in the morning. Nor could he do anything to delay the healing Magnus needed.

Gripping his resolve in clenched fists, he headed straight for Jace.

“Any progress on locating Jonathan?” he asked, trying to tone down the snap in his tone he usually used when demanding a report from one of his people. He didn’t bother to apologize for being confrontational a few minutes earlier, and Jace didn’t need or expect it. That was just the way they worked in moments of stress. They clashed and then they came back together to do what needed to be done.

Jace shook his head. “No. I went to get that box of his baby things Jocelyn kept, to try to track him, but it’s gone.”

“Which means someone on the inside must have taken it,” Alec said grimly. “Duncan?”

“I hope so. Because if it wasn’t—”

Alec dropped his voice and leaned in closer. “—it means we have another mole. Duncan said he wasn’t aware of anyone, but Valentine—and presumably Jonathan—are smarter than that. They’d compartmentalize for operational security.”

“Exactly.” Jace sighed, his shoulders falling. “Alec, about my grandmother—”

“You think I don’t understand the position you’re in?” Alec scoffed. “I get it. You just found her. You want to…bond. Form that connection. I understand. But this isn’t about playing favorites. This is about saving my husband’s life. And it’s about the example we want to set here for the other Shadowhunters, and the sort of Institute we want this place to be. It’s about who you and I want to be as people.”

Jace hung his head, but Alec wasn’t done. “Are we going to be like the Clave when they just…went along and let the Circle operate unchecked? Are we gonna be complicit in atrocities like the ones Valentine committed because we turned a blind eye instead of taking the chance to stop it? Or are we gonna stand against it—even if it means standing against people we care about who are doing the wrong thing?” Jace looked up and Alec met his eyes squarely. “You knew the answer to that question, back when it was me dragging Meliorn to the City of Bones to be tortured.”

Jace swallowed audibly and nodded. “You’re right. I know. I—”

Whatever he was about to say was lost as Lydia approached. “Hey, how’s Magnus?”

Alec glanced back and forth between them and beckoned them both closer with a crook of his fingers. “Unless someone has a better idea, I’m going to go outside and fetch Isabelle. Who needs an escort in.”

“Izzy?” Jace frowned. “But why—oh.”

Lydia’s eyes closed tiredly. “Alec—”

“If anyone has another idea, I’m listening,” he snapped. “But I won’t let Magnus die because of the Inquisitor’s misplaced paranoia. We’ll get to the bottom of what happened with the Mirror, but I know Magnus didn’t conspire to hand it over to Valentine.”

“Valentine?” Lydia repeated, blinking. Alec and Jace exchanged a look, which didn’t escape her notice. She leaned in even closer and hissed, “He’s escaped?”

“About a month ago,” Alec mumbled, barely moving his lips. “The Clave’s been hiding it. I only found out yesterday. In the morning, I’m having a Council meeting and telling the Downworld leaders.”

Neither Lydia nor Jace looked happy with that idea, but they both nodded. Then Lydia stepped back and snapped abruptly upright. Alec spun to see the Inquisitor approaching.

“Mr. Lightwood-Bane, can you tell me why an important witness to the Circle’s operations before Valentine’s capture was never interrogated?” she demanded, barging between him and Jace, barely giving them enough time to step back from the console. She tapped in a name and Alec’s heart fell as Madzie’s picture appeared on the monitor. “In the aftermath of Valentine’s attack on this Institute, it was your job to gather the intelligence we needed to find the Mortal Cup, yet you never questioned one of his captives.”

Alec clenched his hands against the protective rage that tried to rear up inside him. Now, more than ever, he needed to tread carefully. Getting confrontational with Herondale was just going to sharpen her focus on Madzie, and add more iron to her resolve against rescinding the Downworlder ban.

“She’s a traumatized child, Inquisitor,” he said respectfully, clasping his hands behind his back. “She was only with Valentine a few days after he took her from her guardian. She also has a tendency to become nonverbal when anxious or with people she doesn’t know particularly well. Since the chances were minimal that she would possess actionable intelligence on the Cup, and since Valentine was already in custody, I didn’t see the point in causing her further distress.”

“She’s a warlock who aided and abetted Valentine’s attack on this Institute,” Herondale said pitilessly. “It was frankly negligent for you not to take her into custody and turn her over to the Clave for questioning.”

“She’s an innocent little girl Valentine tricked into helping him.” Alec’s nails dug into his palms with the effort of moderating his tone. “Even in the unlikely event that she does know something, she won’t be able to communicate it to us. As far as I’m aware, she hasn’t spoken at all since she got spooked about something a week ago.”

The Inquisitor turned to Jace as though Alec hadn’t spoken. “I want her brought in for questioning.”

“Imogen, Alec’s right,” Jace said, holding up a hand to forestall Alec’s protest. “Look, I know better than anyone how manipulative Valentine can be. Just like he did with me, he deceived this little girl into doing things she didn’t want to do. Now, thanks to him, she’s terrified of Shadowhunters, and she has unusual powers that could be very dangerous if she feels threatened. We can’t just dispatch some of our people to bring her in, or let a stranger question her without understanding how delicately this needs to be handled.”

Herondale’s face and posture softened slightly. Jace was getting through, even if Alec wasn’t. Thank the Angel for that, at least. Jace had played it just right, deliberately reminding his grandmother that he was also a victim of Valentine’s, creating a kinship between him and Madzie in her mind.

“What do you suggest?” she asked.

“Drop the ban on Downworlders for now, until we have real evidence to justify it, not just a suspicion. Have Madzie’s guardian, Catarina Loss, bring her in. Catarina can heal Magnus while Alec talks to Madzie. She trusts him.” He glanced over to meet Alec’s eyes, and Alec’s chest tightened with a surge of gratitude and affection. “You and I can watch on the surveillance cameras.”

The Inquisitor frowned and Lydia took the opportunity to add her support.

“It’s a sound idea, Madam Inquisitor,” she said with a nod. “It would be useless to try to question the child if she’s too frightened to speak. If Alec has a rapport with her, we should use that to keep from traumatizing her further. And if there are specific questions we need to ask, we can send him a text while he talks to her.”

“Very well.” Herondale didn’t look thrilled to approve the plan, but she did. It was probably as much of a win as they could expect. “For now, Ms. Loss may enter the Institute to treat Mr. Lightwood-Bane’s injuries, provided she produces the warlock child for questioning when she does so.”

“I’ll go speak to her,” Alec said, already turning for the door.

Convincing Catarina was another matter entirely.

“You want me to bring that baby here, to the Institute, in the middle of the night? Do you know how many nightmares she has about this place?”

Alec shook his head. “I don’t want any part of this,” he swore. “I told you I’d try to keep the Clave off Madzie’s scent and I did everything I could to keep that promise. But now the Inquisitor has Madzie in her sights, which means either you bring her in for me to question her, or the two of you become fugitives from the Clave.”

Catarina scowled at him. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve circumvented the Clave’s warped idea of justice. Doubt it’ll be the last.”

“But at least this way, we have a chance of minimizing the ordeal for Madzie, and saving Magnus. You can go on the run with Madzie; I wouldn’t blame you if you did. But if that happens, Magnus will be in the hands of a Nephilim medic who freely admits she’s not qualified to perform the mundane procedure she’ll need to heal him.”

Catarina cursed under her breath. “We already lost Dot tonight. Damned if I’m gonna lose him too.” She flung her hand out angrily to create a portal, glaring at Alec. “I’ll be back soon. Do not make me rethink my opinion about you, Alec Lightwood-Bane.”

Once she was gone, Alec bent over, his hands on his knees, and drew several slow, deep breaths as he tried to calm the frantic beating of his heart, which had been racing since that moment on the docks when he’d heard Magnus had been injured. Or, really, since his father had told him about Valentine’s escape.

“Alec?”

He straightened and spun at the sound of his mother’s voice, blinking in confusion as she came down the steps from the Institute.

“Mom? What are you doing here?”

“I got a call from Max, telling me Magnus had been injured, and that Imogen was interfering with him getting the care he needs.” She smiled fondly. “Max was concerned that there weren’t enough Lightwoods here to rally in support of you.”

Alec smiled wearily. “What a kid. I guess that means Dad already left, then? He arrived this afternoon.”

“No, he’s still here,” Maryse said, her lack of inflection speaking volumes. “I ran into him on my way through the Ops Center; he said he needed to consult with Imogen about a matter.”

“Probably pleading for her not to charge me with high treason,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead. “Not that it will do much good.”

“Alec—” Maryse gave him a searching look. “Is it true what Imogen has done?”

Alec scoffed. “Which part?”

“All of it. Including what the Clave has been hiding from everyone.”

He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Dad told you?”

“Just now. He’s concerned you might do something rash.”

“So you came out here to remind me not to tell anyone?” Alec asked bitterly.

Maryse shook her head. “No. I think covering it up is the absolute worst thing you could do. If there’s one universal constant, it’s that the truth will always out. Valentine won’t stay hidden forever. If you want any hope of maintaining your credibility and salvaging relations with the Downworld, you need to be in front of this issue when he emerges, not behind.”

Her thought process on the matter was so nearly identical to his own that Alec nearly laughed. He closed his eyes and thanked the Angel that someone, other than his siblings, recognized that fact. “Good. I’ll be dealing with that in the morning. For the moment, I need to make sure my husband is healed. And find the Mortal Mirror, and Valentine, and his literal demon spawn. Then I have to interrogate a traumatized four-year-old. And, by the way, I lost my position, which is no surprise because I knew from the beginning they put me in charge here in the hopes that I’d fail but still. I would have liked a chance to make it work.”

“Oh, Alec.” Maryse smiled sadly, stepping forward to lay a hand along his jaw. Then her tone became crisper, the unyielding instructional one he remembered from childhood. “Prioritize. One crisis at a time. Take care of Magnus. Others can work on the rest for now.”

“That’s my plan.” Alec turned as he heard the chaotic, rushing-wind sound of a portal opening nearby. Izzy stepped through, and then Catarina, with Madzie in her arms. Madzie had a stranglehold on Catarina’s neck and her face buried in Catarina’s shoulder. Alec silently damned Imogen Herondale for subjecting her to this.

“Hey, Madzie,” he said softly. She turned her face just enough to peer at him with one eye. “You look sleepy. Did Izzy keep you up too late?” He dropped her a wink, and Alec thought he saw her half-obscured face relax a little.

Izzy smiled fondly and brushed a hand down Madzie’s back. “We may have gone overboard on the girl-talk. Just a little.”

“Okay, kiddo,” Catarina said. “Remember what I told you? Alec’s gonna hold you now so I can go help Magnus, all right? And later, when we know Magnus is doing better, Alec’s gonna need to talk to you a little bit about some of the things you saw when you were with the bad man. But it’s okay. You know he won’t hurt you.”

Madzie nodded reluctantly and Alec held his arms out, letting Catarina pass her over. He, Maryse, and Izzy escorted them inside and directly up to the Infirmary. Jace and Clary were waiting outside Magnus’s room with Max, and Alec opened the door for Catarina.

“Liz, this is Catarina Loss. Catarina, our chief medic.”

Liz smiled. “It’s an honor, Ms. Loss. Thank you for coming. I’ve heard you’re one of the best warlock healers in existence and I can’t wait to see you work.”

Catarina blinked in surprise at the courteous and eager greeting, but wasted no time, going directly to Magnus’s bedside, her hands already glowing with magic. Alec felt Madzie turn her head away from his shoulder and realized she was watching, taking in Magnus’s condition and Catarina’s efforts. Catarina looked up with a gentle smile. “Wanna help? Like we’ve been practicing?”

Madzie nodded eagerly and slid out of Alec’s arms almost faster than he could release her. She went to stand before Catarina, who laid her hands over Madzie’s and guided them, the blue glow of healing surrounding both of them.

“Her magic is exceptionally strong,” Catarina remarked calmly as Madzie’s lips moved in a silent incantation. “She may be one of the strongest warlocks I’ve seen since Magnus himself. But until she came to stay with me, no one taught her about the positive, helpful things she could accomplish. She’s been afraid to do magic since that night he brought her here, but we’re working on moving past that. Showing her how much good she can do, and that she doesn’t need to fear it.”

As Alec watched, it seemed that Magnus’s drugged sleep became more comfortable, some unconscious tension leaving his face. His breath gradually lost that alarming, wheezing note, and he seemed to slip into a more relaxed slumber.

Madzie swayed a little and Catarina gently eased her back away from Magnus’s bedside. “That’s enough, kiddo. It’s too late and you’re too tired to do more. Why don’t you go sit outside with Alec a while and rest a bit?” Madzie nodded and let Alec scoop her up, and this time when she tucked her face into the crook of his neck, it was with a weary yawn instead of fear. Catarina spoke calmly, her attention focused on the magic she was weaving above Magnus’s chest. “Alec, it’s going to be a couple more hours. She tends to be a night owl, but see if she can get a bit of a nap. And tell your Inquisitor I don’t want you questioning her until I can be there to keep an eye on things.”

“I will,” he promised, and carried Madzie out into the hall.

Out in the hallway, only his mother and Max remained, Max snoring softly with his head against Maryse’s shoulder. Alec sat down beside him and settled Madzie in his lap as Maryse murmured, “Jace, Clary, and Isabelle have gone to continue work on tracking Valentine’s son.”

Madzie went rigid in his arms, jerking back to give Alec an alarmed look.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “It’s okay. He’s not here, and even if he was, I wouldn’t let him anywhere near you. You don’t ever have to be afraid of him again.”

Madzie gradually let her head drop back down to rest against his chest, but it was obvious from her tension that any hope of her napping was lost for the time being. She huddled against him like a frightened rabbit, quivering and hoping that if she remained still enough, the threat would pass her by.

Alec held her tighter, as if his arms alone could shield her from her own fears.

He looked up to see Maryse watching them with soft eyes. “You’ve always been so good with young children.”

“Please tell me this isn’t leading up to you mourning the fact that you’ll never get grandchildren from me,” he said with a forced chuckle.

“That’s never even been a thought in my mind.” She waved a dismissive hand. “There are always orphans in the shadow world in need of families to care for them. I have no doubt when the time comes, at least a couple will find their way to you.”

They didn’t speak after that, and Alec thought it should have been strange, that with all the complicated issues between them and all the prejudices Maryse was working to overcome, she should be the one here now, providing him companionship and solace. And yet it felt right. And for all his distress over losing his position as Head of the Institute, Alec had to admit right now it was a relief to have no responsibility to keep everything running while he waited. The crushing fear was gone; now that Catarina was with Magnus, Alec knew it was simply a matter of waiting, not of whether Magnus would live or die.

How long they sat there in silence, Alec couldn’t say. Long enough for Madzie to begin to relax against him, her breathing going slow and deep. When the elevator doors slid open again, the soft ding may as well have been an klaxon blaring along the quiet hallway.

Madzie jerked in his arms, her hand drifting up to the scarf around her neck as his father and the Inquisitor strode toward them.

“Is this the warlock child?” Herondale demanded.

Alec caught Madzie’s hand on a gentle grip, keeping his tone soft. “Hey. It’s okay, Madzie. You don’t have to do that.”

Max, who had also abruptly awoken when the Inquisitor spoke, looked from Robert and Herondale to Madzie, who was staring at them with wide-eyed apprehension. “You’re scaring her,” he said, his voice thick and raspy, but he sat up and angled his body so that he shielded Madzie from them.

Taking care not to raise his voice, Alec said calmly, “Catarina Loss has agreed to let me ask her some questions, but she would like us to wait until she can watch, make sure Madzie doesn’t get too distressed. I felt that was a reasonable request, considering she knows Madzie better than anyone. As soon as she’s done healing Magnus, we’ll proceed.”

Herondale likewise softened her tone, which Alec would have thanked her for, had he felt the slightest inclination to extend her credit for anything. “Valentine isn’t going to sit and wait for us to figure out what he’s up to. If this child has any information that may help us find him and the Mortal Instruments, we need it now.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Maryse argued. “Madzie is tired and clearly anxious. Surely we can at least wait until she’s had a chance to rest—”

Robert opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, the door to Magnus’s room opened and Liz poked her head out, meeting Alec’s eyes. “Magnus is awake, now, if you’d like to see him,” she said with an uncertain flick of a glance Herondale.

For his part, Alec pretended the Inquisitor wasn’t there. “Madzie, you wanna go with me to see Magnus?”

She gave a tiny nod and Alec let her slide off his lap, guiding her into Magnus’s room with a hand on her shoulder.

“Just—give us a minute, please,” he murmured as he brushed past the Inquisitor. Her lips compressed into a tight line, but she nodded.

At the sight of Magnus, Alec lost the ability to care about the people filing into the room behind him, including Herondale and his father. He stopped beside Catarina and clasped Magnus’s hand in both of his, staring down at him.

He looked a little gray still, his makeup smudged or rubbed away entirely, but his breath no longer rattled and wheezed and the pain in his eyes was muted.

Still, he was heartbreakingly beautiful.

It took Alec a moment to make his voice work. “Magnus,” he said softly. Just that one word, a name, but it felt like a prayer. “I—Are you—I can’t—” He gripped Magnus’s hand tighter, shaking his head back and forth as though that would rattle the words he was searching for loose. “Please don’t ever do that again.”

Magnus huffed a soft chuckle, then made a pained sound, clutching his chest. “Getting skewered wasn’t part of our plan,” he rasped. Alec bent down, lifting their joint hands to press a kiss to the back of Magnus’s. “It’s not an experience I care to repeat.”

“Please don’t,” Alec whispered against his skin.

“Mr. Lightwood-Bane,” Herondale said sharply. “Now that you’re healed, perhaps you’d like to explain to us what happened to the Mortal Mirror.”

Shadows crept into Magnus’s eyes, something very like rage stealing across his face as he looked away. His mouth tightened and he sucked in a breath to speak—and promptly fell to a violent fit of coughing.

“That’s enough,” Catarina said sternly. “Just because he’s awake doesn’t mean he’s well yet. We still have some work to do. You can hold off on getting answers from him until we’re done.”

“In that case, I’m sure you won’t mind if turn our efforts to questioning the child,” the Inquisitor said with a sniff, and Catarina’s eyes flashed.

“The child has a name: Madzie. And yes, I do mind if you question her without me present. Whatever she has to say—assuming even Alec here can get any answers from her—can wait another hour until I’ve finished with Magnus.”

Alec glanced down to discover that Madzie was no longer standing beside him as she had been when he approached the bed. He glanced around the room, trying to peer around all the adult bodies for her little form. “Where is Madzie?”

Everyone began twisting and turning, checking around them. Maryse looked out into the hallway and then returned, frowning. “Max is gone, too. He was concerned that she was so anxious. Perhaps he took her somewhere quieter.”

Alec’s imagination began to churn out nightmare scenarios.

“We need to find her. Now.” He shoved past his father and Herondale to get to the door. “If there are any more Circle moles in the Institute, she could be in danger.”

Chapter Text

“There’s no video of her getting off the elevator,” Alec said, frowning. He rewound the surveillance footage and scanned each floor the elevator might have serviced for five minutes after the feed showed Madzie sneaking in on the infirmary level while the rest of them were preoccupied with Magnus. The elevator never opened. “Hell, there’s no footage of her in the elevator. It’s like she disappeared the moment the doors closed.”

“Could she have portaled out?” Clary asked.

“Can’t open a portal inside the wards without setting off the alarms,” Jace said with a shake of his head.

“And even if she had, there’d be surveillance footage of it.” Lydia shouldered Alec aside and tapped at the keyboard projected on the touchscreen. “Someone has tampered with the feeds. What we’re seeing here is probably footage from this time yesterday or some other night, with the time stamp edited to make it look like tonight’s feed.”

Izzy paced restlessly beside of the bank of monitors. “Who has the clearance to do that?”

“Me, Alec, Jace, and the Inquisitor, off the top of my head,” Lydia answered. “But that doesn’t mean someone hasn’t hacked into the surveillance system.”

“Given the way he rigged his training simulators, I’d say Max is probably the best hacker we have, but I don’t see any reason why he would do this. Unless he was trying to hide Madzie?” Izzy stopped her pacing and leaned over Lydia’s shoulder, tabbing between feeds until she was back at the Infirmary level. “He didn’t get into the elevator with her. Do we have footage of him following her?”

Alec watched the feed as they scanned through it. Max’s head popped out of the door to Magnus’s room just as the elevator doors closed on Madzie, and he looked down at something in his hand.

“What is that in his hand?” Alec asked. “Zoom in. Is that her shoe?”

“She must have lost it when she was sneaking out of the room,” Izzy murmured. “Max is so proud of his tracking, he probably used it to find her.”

Lydia zoomed out again as Max slipped into the hallway and through the door to the stairway, and then…

“Nothing.” Jace swore under his breath.

“The feed in the stairwell has been looped just like all the others,” Lydia said, switching futilely from camera to camera.

“Whoever it was had to work fast to do all this in just a few minutes’ time,” Jace remarked.

Alec gritted his teeth. “Unless there’s back door access left somewhere in the system, maybe weeks or months ago by someone who knew they might need to shut down the feeds someday.”

“You’re thinking Aldertree,” Jace said. It wasn’t a question.

Alec nodded. “We knows he’s adept with computers, and he’s messed with the video feeds before. He got rid of any footage of him himself here in the Institute for nearly two weeks after he was reported KIA in the City of Bones. He could have left a protocol hidden in the system for whoever infiltrated the Institute after him to access.” He glanced over at his father, who was standing beside the Inquisitor watching the discussion intently. “Is this what happened in the Gard?”

“I won’t ask how you know that,” the Inquisitor said, shooting him a warning glance. Robert gave Alec a troubled frown. “But yes, this is exactly what happened to the cameras there.”

“Which further suggests it’s one of Valentine’s people at work,” Jace muttered. “We need to find them. Now.”

“We need to be careful,” Alec cautioned. “We can’t turn out the whole Institute on this. Madzie doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but if a group of Shadowhunters she doesn’t know approaches her, they might spook her enough to feel she has to defend herself. And we definitely don’t want Shadowhunters who don’t know her thinking they need to strike first.”

“She is a dangerous and potentially hostile Downworlder on Clave ground,” the Inquisitor said coldly. “If our people need to defend themselves, that is precisely what they should do.”

Jace looked between them, shaking his head. “No. There’s no reason it has to come to that,” he said to Herondale. “We just keep the search parties small, with at least one person she knows in each group. Clary and I will start at the roof and work our way down through the living quarters, Alec and Izzy will take the sub-levels, and as soon as Catarina returns, she and Lydia can do a room-by-room search of all the offices on the ground floor and the greenhouse.”

“There are a lot of places to hide in the sub-levels,” Izzy said dubiously. “This could be a long search.”

Lydia nodded. “Catarina and I will join you down there once we’re done up here. I’ll put out word to anyone presently in the Institute that if they spot her, don’t approach, just contact one of us.”

“Since the girl doesn’t know me, I’ll return to the infirmary, in case Max tries to contact one of us,” Robert said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looked like he was on the verge of saying more, but then he grimaced and walked away.

Alec met Jace’s eyes and nodded. “We’ve got our assignments. Let’s go.”

The basement and sub-basement levels of the Institute were a labyrinthine mess of utility rooms, storage vaults containing dusty furniture and artifacts owned by Shadowhunters who died a century or more ago, crypts where clergy had been interred when the Institute had still been a church, and containment cells for prisoners awaiting transport to the City of Bones or Idris.

Alec’s and Izzy’s voices echoed off the cold stone as they searched musty chamber after musty chamber, calling for Max and Madzie. Izzy had one of Max’s old toys in her hands, glowing with a tracking signal, but it didn’t do much good other than to tell them Max was somewhere down here. They kept waiting for the sense of proximity to get stronger, but by the time they’d finished searching the first sub-basement and were moving on to the second, it hadn’t happened yet.

“It’s actually fading,” Izzy said, frowning down at the wooden soldier in her hands as they finished searching all the containment cells. “That can’t be. There’s no way we passed him and didn’t notice.”

The elevator at the end of the tunnel dinged and opened to reveal Catarina and Lydia.

“Nothing on the main floor and greenhouse,” Lydia reported. “I’ve told Jace and Clary to head outside and search the graveyard and park once they’re done upstairs.”

“I brought one of Madzie’s scarves from home to track her,” Catarina said. “She’s definitely still on the premises of the Institute, but I couldn’t get a look at where. It’s dark, and cold. She’s terrified, and I think she can smell blood.”

Alec stopped mid-stride. “Blood? That’s not good.”

Izzy looked at him with huge, worried eyes. “If Max is injured, it could explain why his signal is getting weaker. We need to hurry.”

“Catarina, may I?” he asked, holding his hand out for the scarf. A warlock’s tracking magic was stronger, since it was possible to get a visual of exactly where the target was. In the absence of that image, however, Shadowhunter tracking would be more useful by providing them a direction to search in.

“Please do.” She handed the scarf over while Alec etched a tracking rune on his hand.

He clasped the scarf tightly, and a warm glow immediately surrounded it, accompanied by a subconscious tug toward the crypts at the other end of this level. “This way. She’s close.”

That end of the sub-basement was inexplicably dark, as though all the lights had shorted out at once. Alec pulled a witchlight out of his pocket and handed it to Izzy while Catarina summoned a glowing sphere that floated before them. They didn’t bother going room to room; the signal from the scarf was pulling him straight down the tunnel, which he knew would eventually end in a wall lined with burial chambers, intermixed with a few decoy tombstones that actually disguised secure vaults for holding top-secret relics and records.

Their footsteps became slower as they progressed, skirting the tombs that rose up at intervals along the way. The utter silence ahead was enough to weigh Alec’s heart down with dread. Surely if Max was okay, they’d hear him talking to Madzie by now, even if she didn’t respond.

“Alec, look,” Izzy said in a shaky voice, pointing to the floor. Before their feet was a smudge of blood, stamped with the vaguest hint of a shoe print.

Splatters of blood beckoned them down the dark tunnel like gruesome breadcrumbs, leading them not to safety but to a nightmare.

It was Izzy who spotted Max’s familiar shoe sticking out from behind a sarcophagus. With a cry, she ran toward it, dropping the witchlight as she fumbled for her stele. Catarina pushed more magic into her glowing ball of light, illuminating the area fully, and for a moment, Alec wished she hadn’t.

Surely if they could just have a few more seconds of darkness, the Angel could take it all back and it wouldn’t be real.

There in the light, he couldn’t deny what he saw. Max lying on the cold, hard, dirty floor, his throat slashed and blood pooling around him. His eyes stared blankly up into the darkness.

“Max, no. No, Max, by the Angel, please!” Izzy sobbed, clutching him to her.

Alec couldn’t move, couldn’t approach. He felt frozen, as though he’d been entombed alive in one of the sarcophagi that surrounded them. The only thing that let him know he was still living was the pain of his heart breaking, the burning in his eyes.

“Ave atque vale,” he heard Lydia murmur, but he couldn’t manage those words yet. Not now. Not for Max. “What did she do to him?” she asked, horror in her voice.

Catarina’s response was short and sharp enough to snap Alec out of his paralysis. “This wasn’t Madzie.”

He swallowed thickly and forced himself to nod. “She—she’s right.” he said, his voice breaking. He swallowed down a sob and tried again. “Catarina’s right. If it had been Madzie, he—Max would have been asphyxiated. This was someone else.”

He swiped roughly at the hot tears that were streaming down his face. “We need to find Madzie.”

“Thank you.” Catarina murmured, her hand closing on his arm in gentle consolation. “Alec, I’m so very sorry. But thank you.”

He nodded, stooping to pick up the witchlight Izzy had dropped and pressing it into one of her hands. His hand trailed over her bowed head as he did so.

“I’ll stay with him,” she said, her voice cracking. “He shouldn’t be here alone.”

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered, and followed Catarina’s light as she led the way down the tunnel.

As they approached the dead end, Alec thought he heard the tiniest hint of a whimper.

“Madzie?” he called softly in unison with Catarina.

“Madzie, it’s me, kiddo,” Catarina said softly, waving Lydia back. “I know you’re scared. But it’s just me and Alec. You trust us, right?”

There was a shuffle from up ahead, and at the edge of the glow cast by Catarina’s ball of light, Madzie peeked her head out from behind another sarcophagus.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Catarina ran forward and scooped her up, Madzie clinging to her like a limpet. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Alec’s gratitude at finding Madzie safe and alive was a numb and distant thing. He turned back the way they’d come, to where Izzy’s soft sobs still echoed.

“Alec,” Lydia said, touching his arm. “I know we need to get Madzie and Max out of here, but the vault, the one where I was keeping my files relating to the Aldertree investigation? It’s standing open. It’s empty.”

Stuck in-between, no longer injured but not yet entirely well either, Magnus sat stewing in the bed while the medic, Liz, checked him over. After he had some rest, he could continue to heal himself, though it was always more effective when done by another warlock. Catarina, however, had portaled home to see if Madzie had gone there, and when she returned she would be joining Alec and the others in turning the Institute upside down.

The need to join them in the search prickled like needles under Magnus’s skin, but he was all but chained to this bed for now. Not literally, but thanks to the Inquisitor’s orders, the guards on the door wouldn’t allow him to leave.

He would have if he could have, though each breath still burned despite the hole in his lung being repaired; accelerated healing was a wearying business and he’d probably need to rest soon. Which meant even if it had been possible, he’d be more of a liability searching for Madzie than an asset, much to his disgust.

And now he was going to have to explain the business with the Mirror, revealing the deception he and Dot had pulled off. He at least wished for an opportunity to speak to Alec about it first, but he doubted luck would be that kind to him.

All in all, he wanted to vent his mounting frustration by blasting something to smithereens, but he didn’t think the Institute’s medics would appreciate their gleaming equipment being reduced to fizzing splinters.

At least Liz-the-Medic’s companionship was quiet and inoffensive.

As for the third person sitting in his room? He wasn’t so sure yet.

“I’m surprised you’re not joining the search,” he remarked to Maryse, trying to keep his tone conversational rather than giving in to the urge to needle. “You seemed taken with Madzie.”

“I am.” Maryse’s small smile wobbled at the corners, and she looked at the door as if tempted to use it. Magnus rather wished she would. But then she seemed to settle some internal debate with herself, and met Magnus’s eyes squarely.

In that moment, when she made up her mind and faced him with such straightforward resolve, she was so much like Alec that Magnus’s breath caught and his heart lurched.

This is where Alexander gets it.

It was considerably harder to cling to his irritation at her continued presence when he was seeing echoes of Alec’s vulnerability and bravery in her demeanor.

“Madzie’s a lovely child. Someone she’s at least somewhat comfortable with should be here if she returns,” she said with more conviction. “But you need rest, so I volunteered.”

“Well, that’s—that’s kind of you,” Magnus said awkwardly. Despite her obvious effort, “kind” was never a word he imagined he’d apply to Maryse Lightwood.

Liz slipped from the room with a promise to check on him later.

Maryse looked down at her hands, which fidgeted anxiously in her lap. “If you do need to rest, or—or if you’d simply prefer, I can wait outside. But, if you wouldn’t mind, I thought we might—”

“—Clear the air?” he supplied as she faltered, and was rewarded with a shy smile.

“I-I’m not sure that’s really possible,” she said, and again, there was a disarming hint of Alec in her subtly babbling delivery. She sniffed once and straightened her spine, sitting rigid in her chair. “I’ve given you no reason to think kindly of me, and I have absolutely no right to impose myself upon you if you’d rather I not be here. So I-I will leave, if you wish, with no hard feelings. But if not, I thought we might try to find—if not full conciliation, then at least enough common ground to avoid causing Alec any…dilemma.”

The appeal was baldly honest, lacking any artifice. Just like Alec. But she had a point—he owed Maryse less than nothing, and on this particular night, generosity of spirit was in scarce supply. The softening tendrils of empathy that had started to reach toward her withdrew behind the barrier of his pain.

“You’re wrong.” He said, flailing about for something to offer in lieu of the reciprocal overture she sought. “You have given me one reason to think well of you: by whatever happy accident, you raised Alexander.”

Maryse smiled slightly. “My son, it turns out, is an excellent judge of character. Not a trait he inherited from me or his father, needless to say.”

“He’s an admirable man, on that we can agree. Possibly one of the most remarkable young Nephilim I’ve encountered in centuries.”

A soft flush darkened her cheeks and she ducked her head. “Not quite the repellant brat you once assumed he’d be?”

On any other night, he might have taken those words with as the teasing they were intended to be. They might have made him laugh, at his own rash assumptions and the way things spoken in anger always managed to come home to roost.

Not tonight.

“You don’t want to remind me of that night, Maryse,” he said coldly. “Not right now.”

Her eyes widened and her mien quickly sobered. “You’re right. Of course. It’s not a laughing matter. And I’ve never considered it such.”

Magnus clenched his fists in his lap. “I lost a very dear friend tonight,” he said, a raw rasp in his voice. “And, indirectly, you contributed to her death. I witnessed Valentine Morgenstern commit atrocities. I witnessed your husband and friends killing Shadowhunters who tried to do the right thing, to stop him. And when it was over, I told the Clave the absolute truth about what I’d seen, but they didn’t believe me. Because you and your comrades lied.”

Maryse bowed her head and nodded, making no effort to deny or excuse what she had done.

“The result of that lie was that Valentine was able to continue operating unchecked,” Magnus continued. “He evaded punishment for his crimes long enough to re-emerge twenty years later and start it all over again. In the end, he killed a woman whose only crime was having the terrible judgment to befriend Valentine’s wife.”

Maryse was silent for a long moment, and when she finally looked up again, her eyes shone wetly. She blinked rapidly, but no tears fell.

“You’re absolutely right.” She cleared her throat. “I won’t make excuses; there is no excuse. But I am deeply, deeply sorry. For your loss, for my actions back then, and for everything that has happened since that I could have tried to prevent, if only I hadn’t been so blind.”

“Then we have that, at least,” he said, a sudden weariness washing over him. The physical pain of his wound was nothing to the ache of loss. Some of it, also, might be the backlash of pouring so much magic into Dot these past few weeks. He was too tired, and hurt too badly, to try for anything more tonight. “It’s a starting point: our common interest in Alec’s well-being, and the fact that you at least feel some remorse for what you did. Someday…someday maybe we can build on that. But not tonight. I can’t.”

“I understand.” She rose from her chair, smoothing her skirt down. “I’ll let you rest. Thank you for speaking with me, Magnus. I truly wish you and Alec all the best.”

She drew the privacy curtain closed on her way out, so Magnus couldn’t see what was happening out in the corridor. All he heard was Maryse’s horrified gasp and a clamor of activity that quickly retreated into the room next door.

“What happened?” Magnus heard Maryse demand, her rising voice so ragged that Magnus found himself pushing through the pain in his chest to climb out of the bed. “What happened to him?”

“We don’t know.” Isabelle’s answer was full of tears, her voice cracking. “We found him like this!”

Him?

Not Alexander. Please, please not Alexander. Magnus wasn’t sure who he was pleading with, but he pleaded all the same.

Isabelle’s harsh sobs weren’t reassuring.

He flung back the privacy curtain and found himself face-to-face with Catarina, who was clutching a terrified Madzie.

“What happened, Cat?” he asked as she carried Madzie to the bed Magnus had just vacated, laying her down. Madzie promptly curled into a tight ball on her side, trembling. “Is it Alec?”

“No.” She raised dark eyes full of gentle pity. Her scrubs were smeared with blood, as were Madzie’s clothes. She stroked Madzie’s hair and sighed. “Not Alec. It’s the little brother. Max.”

Chapter Text

Alec looked…absolutely shattered.

Magnus had heard of heartbreak intense enough to make the angels—notoriously pitiless as they were—weep. He’d even experienced grief on that level once or twice. But he’d never imagined how the angels themselves would appear as they wept.

Now he knew.

Alec’s reddened eyes met Magnus’s over the top of Maryse’s head as Alec held her, tears tracking down his cheeks unchecked. There was something so…hollow…in his gaze. It was the look of someone utterly devoid of hope or joy, someone whose very heart had been scooped out by the merciless hand of a callous and capricious deity.

For the second time that night, Magnus felt himself pierced through the chest.

He didn’t approach the Lightwoods filling the room. As much as he wanted to go to Alec and offer him comfort, it was obvious Alec was trying to be strong for the rest of his family. Jace and Isabelle clung to each other as well, and Robert Lightwood stood off to the side, a little apart, hunched over and looking somehow diminished.

Magnus knew he wouldn’t be rejected, if he approached. But the question was, what could he do right now that would most benefit Alec and this family he’d never in his wildest dreams expected to become a part of. The answer was: pathetically little, except attend to the practicalities Alec needed to neglect while he comforted his loved ones. Later, there would be time for Magnus to offer him a safe place to fall apart himself, but not yet. He let his eyes express his sympathy, and Alec nodded once in acknowledgment and buried his face in Maryse’s hair.

“What happened?” Magnus asked softly, stepping back from the door into the hallway where Lydia and Clary stood. Clary’s face was streaked with tears, and Lydia’s entire being radiated that awkward, miserable state of feeling sympathy for someone but not quite being close enough to them to actively offer comfort.

She, too, pitched her voice low. “We found them in the sub-levels. Max’s throat had been slit, and Madzie was hiding. I need to get back to the Ops Center; the Institute is on full lockdown. No one goes in or out until we find who did this.”

“Understood,” Magnus said, receiving the unspoken message. He, Catarina, and Madzie were all stuck here until the murderer was caught.

Which meant they had no hope of getting Madzie back home, where she’d feel safe again.

Clary laid a hand on his arm as Lydia left. “Go take care of Madzie. I’ll stay here in case they need anything.”

Magnus nodded and retreated to the room where Catarina was tending to Madzie. Madzie sat on the bed, looking tiny and fragile, the shoe missing from one foot. Her eyes were haunted, and her mouth was open as Catarina asked her gentle questions, as though she wanted to provide the answers, but the words were locked in her throat, unable to escape.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Catarina said, kissing Madzie’s brow as tears of frustration and fear fell from those huge, terrified eyes. “I know you’d tell us if you could. You’re such a good girl. You’ll be okay.”

Madzie shook her head wildly, pointing at the wall that divided her room from the one where Max’s body lay.

“No, sweet pea, that won’t happen to you,” Magnus promised, ignoring the pain of his wound to squat beside her bed. “Catarina and I won’t let it.”

Her mouth moved again with a sort of desperate urgency, her breath hitching hysterically. She was on the verge of hyperventilating when Cat murmured a tranquility spell and lightly brushed her glowing hand across Madzie’s forehead. Madzie sank bank on the bed, not exactly asleep, but calm enough to close her eyes and slow her breathing. It would only last a short while, though, before the panic returned.

“She wants to tell us what happened,” Cat said, meeting Magnus’s gaze. “This baby’s trying so hard, but she just can’t. And if we don’t find a way to help her, you know sooner or later Imogen Herondale is going to come barging through that door demanding answers, scaring her worse.”

“If she does, I will burn her to a cinder,” Magnus swore, feeling his eyes flash.

“Magnus—” Cat began, but before she could continue, Alec carefully pushed open the door and peered inside. His face was blotchy, his shoulders slumped, and he walked into the room as if trudging through wet cement up to his knees.

He had to clear his throat twice before he could speak, and even then his voice was thick and clogged. “How—how is she?”

Catarina’s face hardened, as if for an instant, she wanted to blame Alec for what had befallen Madzie. In the end she couldn’t. “Not well,” she said instead, in a resentful mutter. “We were just talking about how we need to keep your Inquisitor away from her.”

He nodded jerkily. He wiped the tears away with the back of his hand, straightening his shoulders. Each word seemed to cost him tremendous effort. “The plan was, um, that I’d be the one to talk to her when she got here. We-we should stick to that, before the Inquisitor gets any other ideas.”

“It was a good plan, but it’s not gonna work,” Catarina said with a sigh, her posture relaxing a little. In the end, Alec wasn’t the enemy, no matter how hard her protective instincts were screaming at her. “She’s trying to tell me what happened but she…she just can’t. She can’t make herself speak.”

Magnus’s expanding chest ached sharply as he drew a deep breath. “Perhaps it’s time for me to step in.”

Catarina gave him a dismayed look. “You’re still healing, Magnus. You should be resting, not doing magic.”

“Well, ordinarily I’d be the last person to argue with your expertise in matters of healing, Cat,” he said with a wry smile he had to force, “but it seems our options are limited and getting narrower by the moment.”

“What are you talking about?” Alec asked in his shredded voice, folding his arms across his chest as though he could hold himself together that way.

“I am the world’s foremost expert on memory spells,” Magnus explained. “We’ve disregarded the idea of using that with Madzie thus far because it would be better for her to deal with the trauma she’s experienced in her own time and her own way, until she can put it into words for herself. But time isn’t on our side and the longer this drags on, the more likely it is that the Inquisitor is going to do something to make Madzie’s recovery even more difficult.”

Alec nodded slowly. “So, something like that you did with Clary?”

“Not exactly,” Magnus answered. “I can…peer at Madzie’s memories without removing them. Even show them to another. If she chooses to share the memories and doesn’t resist the process, it won’t cause her any discomfort. I’ve done this with Jace and Clary, in fact, when they needed help interpreting the vision Ithuriel granted them.”

“Are you well enough to do it?” Alec asked quietly.

Catarina made an unhappy sound but Magnus held up a hand to halt her protest. “It’s not a complicated spell. I can do it without depleting myself too much or interfering with my healing.”

Alec looked at the floor for a long moment, so long it seemed like perhaps he’d zoned out entirely and forgotten they were there, waiting for his response. When he looked back up, however, Magnus realized it had simply taken him that long to focus his normally disciplined mind well enough to process what Magnus was proposing and what it would entail.

“All right. Catarina, can you continue healing Magnus for now, please?” he asked. “I’ll talk to Jace and Lydia and the Inquisitor, let them know about the change of plan and deal with any arguments that need to be had far away from Madzie. Plan to do this in another half-hour to an hour?”

Catarina nodded once. “I’ll have Magnus as ready as I can.”

Alec started to back out the door and Magnus moved before he could stop himself.

“Alexander—” he reached out and caught Alec’s hand, which trembled in his grasp. “Alec, I am so—so very sorry.”

Alec’s lips whitened. Tears quivered on his eyelashes as he closed his eyes and sniffed once, then gave a jerky nod. “I know. I’m—I-I can’t do this. Not yet. Please? Magnus. I can’t.”

Magnus’s heart broke a little more. “I know, Alec. I know. Go do what you need to do.”

It was Jace who made the difference, running interference with his grandmother. Sympathy for Alec and his family might not have been enough to move her, otherwise.

An hour after he left them, he returned to the infirmary room with Jace, the Inquisitor, and Maryse at his heels. Izzy had chosen to stay with Max’s body until the Silent Brothers came for him, and Robert had opted to stay with her. Alec was surprised his father wasn’t more insistent on getting the answers they needed, but Robert seemed shrunken and broken, even more so than the rest of them.

Magnus was sitting on the bed beside Madzie, and to Alec’s eye he seemed to be in considerably less pain. He stroked Madzie’s hair, speaking to her gently.

“—Alright, sweet pea? Remember, it won’t hurt. You just need to let me in to see the memories, and then no one will try to make you talk about it if you can’t.”

Madzie nodded soberly, casting a nervous glance toward the door.

Alec turned to the people behind him. “I want everyone to wait out here except my mother. Madzie knows her, trusts her a little. Between the two of us, that should be verification enough that there hasn’t been any tampering with the memories?”

He punctuated the question with a glower at Herondale, who’d had the audacity to suggest that one of the warlocks might try to lie about the memories they recovered if there was something they wanted to hide. Only Alec’s assurance that Magnus could share the memories with Alec as he accessed them, and Jace’s heartfelt plea for her to trust Alec on this, had ended the debate.

Jace nodded, his eyes as red-rimmed and his face as full of loss as Alec’s own. “Of course. We’ll be here when you have something to report.”

Alec closed the door firmly on the rest of them and squeezed Maryse’s hand once before crossing to Madzie and Magnus.

“What do I need to do?” he asked. The answer should probably be obvious, but clarity of thought was a rare and precious commodity at the moment, and not something to be squandered on insignificant details. Each small act of concentration felt like it cost him a year of effort.

“Just sit beside us,” Magnus said gently, patting the edge of the bed. “And try to clear your mind.”

That seemed like an absurd proposition, and yet when Alec tried to seek a blank space in his mind, one free from all the grief and turmoil, his thoughts went there gratefully, as though glad to escape.

Magnus laid a hand on the side of Alec’s head, and another on Madzie’s. He murmured an incantation in Latin that Alec should have been able to translate as easily as if he’d spoken English, but there in that safe, empty place in his mind, the words were just gibberish. He closed his eyes, and then…

…The corridor of the sub-level was musty, with cobwebs swaying and dropping dust overhead, but Madzie didn’t stop. She could hear voices echoing off the stone walls, coming closer, and she needed to find a place to hide.

“So, you say this girl was a prisoner of Valentine’s?” asked an accented voice. The voice she didn’t think she recognized, but the accent was familiar. She’d heard something similar before, during her time with the Bad Man.

“Yeah.” That other voice was the Shadowhunter boy. Alec’s brother, Max. He seemed to be nice, but she kept seeing him with Shadowhunters she knew weren’t nice at all. Alec seemed to think Max was a safe person for her, but Madzie wasn’t so sure. “Everyone is too busy with Magnus and fighting with the Inquisitor, so I decided to look for her myself.”

“I see.”

“Alec says she’s really scared of Shadowhunters, so you should stay back. She knows me.”

“She’s a warlock, Max. Are you sure she’s not a threat?”

“She won’t hurt me. She’s just scared.”

“That’s when people are at their most dangerous, you should know this from your lessons,” the accented voice chided. “You need to keep away. Let me approach her.”

“No,” Max said firmly. They were close enough now that Madzie could see them down the corridor when she peered around the big stone grave…things. “I told you. She trusts me. I don’t want to scare her any more.”

“Here’s the thing, Max.” The accented voice…changed a little. Grew calmer, and somehow that made it scarier. “You know how Isabelle is always talking about how families need to stick together? Present a united front? That’s what the Lightwoods do, no matter what, right?”

“Uh-huh. So?”

“Well, my father taught me the same lesson. And this girl, she knows things that could be harmful to my father. I need to…” he seemed to fumble for words. “…I need to make sure she doesn’t tell anyone.”

It took Max a moment to answer. “You’re not gonna hurt her, are you, Sebastian?”

“No. No, of course not.” Sebastian chuckled, and to Madzie’s ears it was an evil sound full of menace. It was just like the way the Bad Man laughed when making promises. “I just need to…talk to her.”

Madzie curled up in a tighter ball behind the stone grave-thing, staring at the dead-end before her. She couldn’t create a portal in here; she’d already tried, and even if she could, it would attract their notice. She silently begged Max to argue with the accented man some more, to give her time to find a way out, but Max said nothing else.

Only one set of footfalls echoed off the stone walls, coming closer and closer. Until…

There was a sudden shuffle of running footsteps, and Max’s voice, firm and clear, “You said your father was dead.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re lying. Your parents are dead. You were raised by your aunt. That’s what you told me.” Max’s voice quavered just a little, but he spoke as though he had no doubts. “You’re the one they were talking about. Valentine’s mole in the Institute. You want to hurt her.”

“Max, you need to put take your hand off your blade and get out of my way. This is for you and your family as much as it is mine.” Sebastian got even quieter and more insistent. “I don’t wish to hurt you. We both want to protect our families. We can only do that by getting rid of this warlock.”

“She’s just a little girl. We’re Shadowhunters. We don’t hurt innocent children, even if they are Downworlders. We took an oath.” The metallic zing of a blade being drawn from its sheath echoed in the corridor, and Max started murmuring something. At first Madzie couldn’t make it out, but then his voice grew clearer. “…and vow to uphold the Laws of Heaven, so I may join the ranks of the Shadowhunters, the guardians of peace.”

What followed was barely a scuffle. Madzie peeked around the grave-thing in time to see a flash of blood arc cross the corridor, and then a blond man she didn’t recognize lifted his head. His skin was weirdly splotchy, like he had a bad rash, and his eyes were black and full of demonic evil as he looked straight at her.

Madzie let loose with a surge of her magic, blasting him off his feet and shorting out all the lights for this half of the basement. In the darkness, she scrambled away from her hiding spot and fumbled for another grave-thing to hide behind. This one was off more to the side of the corridor, creating a space between it and the wall that she tucked herself into.

“Madzie?” he called into the darkness, and there was a flash of light. Peering through a crack, she saw a glowing stone in his hand. She flung out a ball of magic and knocked it out of his grip and off into the darkness, where it stopped glowing.

“It’s a dead end, little warlock,” he voice had dropped to a low growl. “I will find you.”

If there was one thing Madzie knew how to do, it was staying quiet. That had been the first and most unbreakable rule when she’d lived with Nana. You didn’t speak about the strangeness of all the babies, or the desperate women who came seeking help and came up from the basement looking haunted. You never, never spoke of any of it, even if someone asked.

Madzie huddled there in that tiny crevice between the grave-thing and the wall, and stayed quiet while he fumbled and cursed in the dark, drawing nearer.

Then she pulled off her scarf.

He didn’t die the way he should have, as the oxygen was sucked out of the air around him. Whatever he was, he wasn’t like the Shadowhunters she had killed when the Bad Man had brought her here. He coughed and wheezed, and he stopped coming closer, but he didn’t die.

Eventually, though, he gave up and ran away, as voices came ringing down the corridor from the far, far end of the basement.

Madzie remained where she was hidden. And stayed quiet.

Alec gasped as Magnus halted the flow of memories into his mind. It took him a moment to remember that he was Alec, not Madzie, and to shake himself free of the terror of hiding in that gap behind the sarcophagus, being hunted in the dark. Then he jumped off the bed and ran for the door.

“It’s Sebastian,” he blurted once he’d yanked it open. Jace, Herondale and Clary all came to their feet. “He killed Max. I think—I think he’s Jonathan.”

“What?” Clary’s jaw dropped. “How—”

The door to the room that still held Max’s body opened, and Izzy stood there, pale and tear-streaked, with Robert standing behind her.

“How could it be Sebastian?” she asked. “We trusted him.”

Alec shook his head. “He kept talking to Max about Madzie knowing things that could hurt his father. Sebastian Verlac’s parents are dead. He was raised by his aunt. He had to have been talking about Valentine.”

“I’m on it,” Jace said, storming toward the elevator with Clary on his heels.

“And what about the girl’s time with Valentine?” the Inquisitor asked once they were gone. “What does she remember? Does she know about the Cup?”

“I-I don’t know yet. What she shared was about Max, what happened down in the basement. We didn’t see her memories of Valentine.”

“We can try again,” Magnus offered, laying a hand on Alec’s arm. “Madzie seems to have coped with sharing the memories without any undue distress. As long as she’s still willing, we can focus more on her time with Valentine.”

“Yeah.” Alec nodded grimly. “I want to know what the hell Sebastian meant when he mentioned protecting our family.”

“Ours?” Izzy echoed with an astonished look. “Why would he say that?”

“It could easily have been a lie,” Magnus said quickly. “You can’t give too much credence to it.”

“I know.” Alec nodded at him, then looked from his mother to his sister and father again. “Sebastian was trying to convince Max to let him kill Madzie, but Max…Max protected her.”

Pride and tears both welled up and threatened to choke him. Tears spilled down Izzy’s cheeks while Robert bowed his head and wiped his face.

Behind Alec, Maryse sniffled. “Well, let’s find out the truth then,” she said, and when Alec turned back to her, she was dabbing at her eyes.

Beside the bed, Catarina was murmuring something to Madzie, and Madzie was looking calmer than she had before, as though sharing the memory had relieved her of the burden of bearing it. Alec and Magnus sat with her again, and Alec noticed Izzy had come to stand in the doorway, leaving Robert alone with Max.

“Madzie,” Magnus said gently, “we need to do the spell one more time, okay? This time, though, I need you to try to remember some of the things you saw when you were with Valentine. Things he may have talked about, or people he might have spoken with. If he ever mentioned a Cup around you, we really need to know about that too, okay?”

Madzie nodded, and then reached past Magnus to place her hands directly on Alec’s head. She silently mouthed the incantation Magnus had used earlier, and…

…Madzie stared down at the spellbook she couldn’t read. Pretty Dot had been teaching her from it, but Pretty Dot had needed to rest, because she was sick. So now there was nothing for Madzie to do but sit there in the shadowed corner and wait.

At the far end of the indoor carnival, the man who had promised to help Madzie find Nana strolled among the cages with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked pleased with himself, and Madzie hoped that meant he would take her to her Nana soon. He kept promising, but they never went to Nana no matter how many times he promised. He got her treats and spoke kindly to her, but the way his eyes had gleamed when he learned what her gills could do and the way he talked to Pretty Dot gave Madzie a bad feeling, like worms wriggling in her stomach. As though she’d eaten too much sugar and might throw up.

Right now the man had company, another man with dark marks on his skin. He had a beard and an accent and wore a suit. He stood with his spine straight, but he seemed relaxed.

His smile wasn’t a pleasant one.

“…unfortunate that Alec Lightwood hasn’t succeeded in removing himself from the board in a fit of grief over what he did to Jocelyn. Still, it’s fair to say the backbone of the Institute’s spiritual leadership has been broken,” the bearded man said smugly. “The Lightwood girl is far too preoccupied weaning herself off the yin fen I provided her to interfere, and without his sister and parabatai, the brother is nothing.”

“And Jonathan and Clarissa?”

The bearded man gave him an irritated look. “Jace Wayland and Clary are both positioned more or less where you’ve said you want them. Jace is back at the Institute, but his credibility is shot. No one’s going to listen to him. And Clary is soon going to find every Downworlder in the city hunting her once rumors about her ability to activate the Soul Sword spread.”

“Excellent. Well done, Jonathan.” The man who promised to help find Nana patted this ‘Jonathan’ on the neck and smiled in the way that made Madzie’s stomach hurt again. “What about relations with the Downworld?”

“In my role as Victor Aldertree, I’ve seen to it personally that the vampires have no love for the Institute’s present leadership, though Clary’s little friend remains unshakably loyal.” Jonathan clasped his hands behind his back so that the two of them stood identically, and they both resumed their stroll between the cages. “The warlocks are too independent to accurately predict what they’ll do en masse. Though they haven’t seen each other except when Alec Lightwood was comatose, the High Warlock appears to have some affection for him, which could be a matter of concern. The Seelies are as practical as ever and will gladly join in on the hunt for Clary. As for the werewolves, Luke Garroway will undermine his own control of the pack if he chooses Clary’s safety over theirs, but I can’t guarantee he won’t still be able to interfere.”

“Leave Lucian to me.” The man who promised to find Nana rapped his knuckles on the bars of a cage. “Once I’ve released these miserable creatures out onto the streets, it will look like a Downworld uprising. Be ready to clear as many Shadowhunters as possible out of the Institute, to minimize casualties. We’ll at least give them a chance to…see reason.”

“Understood, Father. I’ll wait for your signal.” Jonathan turned to leave, but a scuffle near the door stopped him. A sword appeared in his hand so quickly Madzie didn’t have a chance to see where it came from. The sound of the blade being bared sang among the decrepit carnival rides.

“It’s all right. Let him in,” called the man who was going to help find Nana. “I’ve been expecting him. Robert, it’s been a long time. You look well, old friend.” He sniffled and smiled. “The cologne is a nice touch. A clever bit of misdirection, I wonder, or did you finally find the spine to walk away from Maryse?”

The rage that filled Alec as Madzie broke the connection between them was unlike anything he’d ever imagined, even after all the ups and downs of this tumultuous last year. He swallowed the fury with a shudder, because he didn’t want to frighten Madzie with it. His hand shook with the effort it cost him to reach out and stroke her hair gently.

“Thank you for showing me, Madzie.” He heard the rasp in his own voice and cleared his throat, then turned toward his mother and Izzy. “Where’s Dad?”

Izzy looked back behind her into the hallway. “He’s still sitting with Max.”

“Alexander?” Magnus asked as Alec rose abruptly from the bed and brushed past Izzy on the way out the door.

“Just—just give me a minute,” he stammered, waving off the Inquisitor, who came at him with a demand on her lips. He shoved open the door to Max’s room, forcing himself not to see that sheet-covered body on the bed, and found it otherwise empty. “He’s gone.”

“Alec, what is it?” Maryse asked, her voice sounded far away even though he could feel her hand on his arm.

He forced himself not to look at Herondale. If he met her eyes, she’d know he was hiding something. He couldn’t find the equilibrium right now to try to play this off, and he didn’t know what was going to happen to their family when the truth became known.

He couldn’t make this decision alone, and he couldn’t talk to Maryse and Izzy about it with the Inquisitor standing right there.

So instead, he drew his stele and jerked up his sleeve, activated his mnemosyne rune, and reached for his mother’s wrist.

Chapter Text

“...or did you finally find the spine to walk away from Maryse?”

Madzie could see Robert between two carousel horses at the far end of the carnival building. She pulled back farther into the shadows near Dot’s cage, to avoid drawing any attention from this new person. His head was shaved like Valentine’s, but he was dressed in a suit rather than jeans. Unlike most people who wore suits, however, he didn’t seem to be standing tall. His shoulders were hunched, like he didn’t want to be here very much.

He blinked in surprise when he saw Jonathan standing there.

“Valentine.” When Robert clasped his hands behind his back, it didn’t pull him up straight the way it did with other people. It just made it look like he was hiding the nervous twisting of his hands. “My son almost died the other night while you attacked the City of Bones. Again. That’s twice in less than a week! First trying to locate Jace and now with this demon-- His grief over what that demon made him do is eating him alive, and do you know what it would have done to Isabelle if she had actually killed her brother? Look, whatever revenge you want on me and Maryse for renouncing our allegiance to the Circle all those years ago, there’s no need to involve our children in it.”

“This isn’t about revenge, Robert,” Valentine said casually. “Your children, I’m afraid, have gone astray. Honestly, I would have expected better from you and Maryse. They’re keeping questionable company, giving other Shadowhunters dangerous ideas—”

“They’re young and naïve.” Robert shook his head. “That’s all it is. Rebelliousness.”

Valentine’s hand came down on Robert’s shoulder so hard he flinched. “This is war, old friend. The war I told you was coming twenty years ago. It’s no time for misplaced loyalties. If your children are going to stand against me, I can’t guarantee their safety.”

“My children are well-trained and incredibly talented. They’re some of the finest Shadowhunters of their generation. Once they understand, once they see what you’ve accomplished, they will be the fiercest fighters you could ever wish to have on your side,” Robert pleaded. “They deserve that chance. Tell me what I need to do to protect them.”

One side of Valentine’s mouth lifted. “I wish I could believe you, but after the way you and Maryse turned from the Circle, I have no reason to trust that your children will know where their duty should lie.”

“Then give me a chance to prove it. We only renounced the Circle to protect our family. There was never any question you would return someday. It’s why we looked after Jace all these years—”

“See, this is why I can’t trust you,” Valentine said with a chuckle. “You’ll say anything, no matter how transparent, to protect your own. You looked after Jace because you thought he was the son of your dead parabatai, whom you turned your back on so many years ago. It never had anything to do with loyalty to me, except that loyalty to me is why you turned your back on poor Michael. Or, at least, part of the reason. Wasn’t it?”

Robert didn’t seem to have an answer to that. His shoulders hunched a little more, and his eyes were fixed on his feet.

Valentine patted him convivially on the upper arm. “Of course, that’s also why you’re so determined to protect your family. You know all too well what happens now to those who stand against me.”

Robert stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Just tell me what I can do to insure their safety. Please.”

“I would say you need to recruit them to my cause, but that might be asking a bit much. And it might tip my hand if they prove particularly difficult to sway.” Valentine rocked back on his heels, nodding thoughtfully. “Fine. In the name of old friendship, here’s what I’ll do for you. From time to time, it may be useful to have someone advantageously positioned in Idris to…arrange matters for me. Be my man on the inside, and I will do everything in my power to see to it your children are kept out of range of any active operations the Circle engages in. Until such a time as they can be persuaded to join us, of course.”

“And if they can’t?” Robert asked, swallowing audibly.

“One issue at a time, old friend.” Valentine smiled coldly. “Do we have a deal?”

When Robert had agreed and slunk away, Valentine turned back to Jonathan. “See, son? Family may give us strength—but in a pinch, it also provides excellent leverage.”

Maryse pulled her wrist out of Alec’s grasp with a soft cry of dismay and pressed her hand to her mouth. Alec met her gaze and held it, silently asking what they were going to do about this.

She closed her eyes and her shoulders slumped in resignation.

“It’s got to be a trick, Mom. Someone else glamoured as—”

“I should have known.” she said, her voice heavy with defeat. “A couple months ago, I went to see Valentine in the Gard. I tried to convince him I still believed in him, hoping that he’d tell me where to find his followers and the Mortal Cup. He wasn’t convinced. And when he told me to leave, his parting shot was, ‘Give my regards to Robert.’”

Alec closed his eyes for a moment and let acceptance sweep over him. Then he watched Maryse pull herself together, piece by piece, and turn to the Inquisitor with her chin held high.

“Robert has been working with Valentine,” she said before Herondale had a chance to demand any answers. Her eyes shimmered and she dabbed at them quickly. “He struck a deal, apparently, to protect our children from Valentine’s schemes. We’ll need to look into whether or not he aided Valentine’s escape from the Gard, and what other intelligence he may have compromised.”

“That can’t be true!” Izzy said, a hitch in her voice. “Mom, Alec—”

“It’s true, Iz.” The events of the last twelve hours weighed on Alec like no burden he’d ever borne before. He closed the door to the room where Max lay, under some idiotic flight of fancy that he might spare his little brother hearing about their father’s betrayal. Then he sighed in defeat. “He wasn’t cheating on Mom. The affair was a ruse to cover up what he was really doing, which seems to have been meeting with Valentine’s operatives to try to arrange a meeting with Valentine himself. I’m sorry, Izzy. It’s true.”

She pressed a hand to her brow and paced a step in one direction, then pivoted and took a step in the other, almost turning in place, as though she literally didn’t know which way to go.

Alec knew the feeling all too well. Crossing those few feet to her felt like dragging himself through quicksand, but he got an arm around her and drew her in, soaking in the awareness that at least she was still healthy and safe and alive, standing there with him.

“I must call the Consul.” Herondale softened a little, looking from Izzy to Alec to Maryse with genuine sympathy. “You’ve done not just your duty, but the right thing in telling me this, though I know it’s little comfort right now. Maryse—I am truly sorry about your son. And your husband.”

“Thank you, Imogen,” his mom replied rigidly. “I’ll be down in a moment to make a full report on the memory that Madzie shared. Hopefully the lockdown has prevented Robert from leaving the premises and he can be apprehended without any further…disruption.”

“Speaking of Madzie, I assume Catarina can take her home now?” Alec asked, catching a glimpse of Magnus watching from down the corridor. “There was nothing in her memories about the Cup. She’s been through more than enough. Let her go home and heal from this with the people who care for her.”

“Of course. The child is free to go, with the Clave’s thanks for her assistance and…and our apologies for her ordeal.”

Alec gave her a jerky nod as Herondale left. He didn’t trust himself to speak. If he spoke, he might make some biting remark on how easy it must be for her to be gracious, now that their family was in tatters. Which wasn’t fair; whatever sins she might be guilty of, blame for neither Max’s death nor Robert’s betrayal could be laid at Imogen Herondale’s feet.

Alec had almost convinced himself that her rigid adherence to duty and the Law masked an actual human being somewhere deep within when she stopped and turned back to face Magnus. “Mr. Lightwood-Bane, once I’ve finished this call, I expect you in my office with a full accounting of what transpired with the Mirror. Guards, stay with him.”

Only Izzy’s grip on Alec prevented him from lunging for her throat until the elevator doors slid closed.

Izzy hugged him for a moment, then pulled away, casting one last heartbroken glance at the closed door behind which Max lay, and pulled herself upright. “I’m going to go see if Clary and Jace have made any progress on locating Seb—Jonathan.”

“And I’m going to speak with Lydia about organizing the search for Robert,” Maryse said, standing tall and as rigid as a column of ice. “There will be time for us to grieve later. For now, we have our duty.”

Alec brushed a kiss against her cheek as she passed, and once the elevator had carried them away, he was alone with Magnus in the corridor.

“Alexander—” Magnus took a step forward, reaching toward him. Alec flinched before he could stop himself.

“Please don’t,” he whispered. “I mean, it’s not—don’t take it—” He shook his head helplessly as the words failed him. How could he tell Magnus that right now, the thought of his touch terrified Alec?

“It’s not a rejection. I understand,” Magnus said with a sad smile, dropping his hand. “You don’t have the luxury of allowing yourself to be comforted yet. Not when you still have so much you need to do.”

“I don’t.” And yet the fact that Magnus understood made it seem safe enough to allow himself…something. He reached out and clasped Magnus’s hand in his. Laced their fingers. Squeezed so tightly Magnus’s rings bit into his skin.

Magnus didn’t so much as wince. He simply squeezed back, until Alec felt a crack in the dam behind which the reactions to all of this night’s events were welling.

He closed his eyes and let go quickly, wrestling his self-control back into place with both hands. “I can’t. There’s too much.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry about Dot.” Sorry seemed like such a woefully inadequate word. Yet it was all he had right now.

“And I’m sorry about Max.”

Coming from Magnus, the sentiment didn’t seem inadequate at all. Because no words, no matter how beautiful or sincere or eloquent, would ever do justice to the pain ravaging Alec’s heart right now. So perhaps simplicity was the best option after all.

Alec drew a deep breath, and then another, and then pushed all the emotion to the side to be dealt with later.

“We should escort Catarina and Madzie out, let them get home. Then deal with the Inquisitor and the Mirror issue before she decides to make things any more difficult for us.”

Magnus gave him a pained look. “Alec, about the Mirror—” Whatever Magnus was about to say, he stopped himself and swallowed it, gesturing toward the room where Catarina and Madzie waited. “No. We need to see them out first. Cat, are you just about ready?”

Catarina appeared in the doorway, Madzie asleep on her shoulder.

Alec sighed at the sight of her loose-limbed form half-dangling from Catarina’s arms. “Can I carry her outside for you?” he offered.

Catarina shook her head. “Thanks, but I don’t want to disturb her now that she’s finally resting.”

“Catarina I’m—I can’t even say I’m sorry. I-I don’t know what else we could have done without risking Magnus, but I wish we’d never brought her here tonight.”

“I know.” Catarina’s face was set in grim lines. “I can’t say it’s alright because it’s not, but we both had choices and we made them. This is on me as much as it is you.”

Alec’s eyes burned again. “It doesn’t feel that way. Listen, I’ll, um, stay away, until I hear from you that she wants to see me again. Whatever it takes, whatever will help, I’ll do it.”

“Let’s just get her home for now,” Catarina said gravely. “We’ll figure out what else she needs from there.”

They were a sober procession on the elevator ride to the ground floor and out the door. Alec moved stiffly, as if each motion cost him effort, and Magnus wished desperately there were some way to enable Alec to stop and rest and gather himself for a while. But that was never going to happen.

Alec waved the Elite Guard at the door away with a terse explanation that the Inquisitor had given them permission to let Catarina and Madzie leave, despite the lockdown order. The sky was a steely, pre-dawn gray and the air had the still, heavy feel of an impending storm, which stuck Magnus as an absurdly tardy sense of foreboding.

They had to walk almost to the graveyard to get clear of the wards so he could make a portal, and the guards flanked them, keeping an eye on Magnus. He ignored them and simply closed the portal once Catarina had carried Madzie through it, then turned back to the Institute.

They followed the guards back to the front steps, but before they could go inside Luke’s voice rang out across the park, calling Alec’s name. He crossed the lawn with swiftly with Maia hard on his heels, stopping at the bottom of the stairs only because the guards laid their hands on their weapons.

“Stand down,” Alec snapped. “He’s an ally.”

“The Institute is still on lockdown by order of the Inquisitor,” one of them said stiffly, then jerked back as Raphael streaked toward them in a blur and came to a stop beside Luke.

“What’s this about, Garroway?” Raphael gave Luke a sneer that seemed rather pro forma. “I thought we’d decided we’d have the Council meeting at the Dumort later this morning, and then I get an emergency text from you telling me to meet you here with dawn less than an hour away?”

“We’re waiting on the Seelies,” Luke said grimly. With a sinking feeling, Magnus suspected he knew what this was about. From Alec’s sharp inhalation, it seemed he had reached the same conclusion.

“Sir, we have our orders.” The guard behind Alec protested. “No one is allowed in or out.”

Alec gave him a cold glare. “Then I suggest you go inside and ask the Inquisitor if she’d prefer me to spill the Clave’s business out here on the steps where the entire Downworld can hear.”

“And what business would that be?” Meliorn drawled, strolling out of the shadows as the guardsman slipped through the doors. He looked entirely too self-satisfied.

“As if the Seelies don’t already know.” Alec’s challenging look seemed to bounce off Meliorn, who simply lifted a lazy eyebrow.

“The vampires don’t already know. And since we seem to be the only ones, I’d call that a problem.” Raphael appeared ready to bite someone in he dared to unclench his jaw. “I have maybe twenty minutes before I need to get indoors, so let’s move this along.”

“Valentine has escaped Clave custody,” Alec announced with all his customary bluntness. “About a month ago. The Clave has been hiding it. I only found out yesterday.”

“Is this what you were going to tell us last night?” Luke asked.

At the same moment as Raphael demanded, “Why weren’t we informed immediately?”

Magnus held up a hand, getting between Alec and Raphael’s furious advance toward him. “Alec informed me directly after he found out. It was his intention to call a Council meeting as soon as possible, but obviously a number of things went awry last night.” Somehow, after everything that had happened since yesterday evening, Alec’s brief hesitation no longer seemed to matter as much. Of course Alec had needed at least a few hours to consider all the ramifications. In the end, though, he’d done the right thing.

The look Alec gave Raphael was one of naked appeal. “I would have told you last night, if I hadn’t found out about Magnus being wounded. I’m sorry it took me even that long.”

“I’m not talking about you,” Raphael gritted. “I’m talking about the Clave.”

“What about the Clave?” The Inquisitor marched through the doors of the Institute, her head held imperiously high, with Jace and Maryse behind her. They both looked apprehensive.

Alec’s lips whitened. “The leader of the Brooklyn vampire clan would like to know why the Clave didn’t see fit to inform our allies that the greatest threat to their safety the shadow world has ever known escaped custody a month ago.”

“We had a right to know the danger we faced!” Maia said hotly, and Luke had to grab her arm to hold her back. “How can we protect ourselves if you won’t even tell us when we’re at risk?”

Herondale’s eyes narrowed. “That was classified information, Mr. Lightwood-Bane.”

“I don’t care, Madam Inquisitor,” Alec shot back, imitating her cuttingly precise delivery. “You’re playing politics while their safety is at stake.”

“Alec—” Jace said, reaching for his parabatai, but the Inquisitor cut him off.

“You are on very dangerous ground,” she cautioned, her eyes flashing. “This is high treason.”

The eruption her words set off took even Magnus by surprise.

“THE GUARDIANS OF PEACE!” Alec shouted, louder than Magnus ever suspected he knew how to shout, so loud that his voice cracked. Maia and Luke’s eyes flashed green as their wolves responded to the sudden aggression, and Raphael hissed. Every Shadowhunter flinched and reached for their blades, even Jace, who must surely have felt this brewing.

Alec’s fists clenched at his sides as though he were tempted to strike someone. He was glorious and fearsome in his rage.

“Those were the last words my brother spoke this morning before he died defending a warlock child from Valentine’s son! Because he knew his duty! Because he believed in the oath he swore before the Angel!” Alec lowered his voice, his lips curling in disgust as he glared at the Inquisitor. “That half-trained child was twice the Shadowhunter you are.”

Herondale was pale with shock, but before she could recover, Jace stepped forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Alec.

“He’s right, Imogen,” he said softly. “Alec’s right. He’s been right from the beginning. The Clave is on the wrong side of this. We’re all a mix of human, angel, and demon, and if we can’t remember that, we deserve a rebellion. So, effective immediately, I’m stepping down as Head of the Institute and giving the job back to the man who should rightfully have it. And if you want to derune him for treason and insubordination, you can derune me, too.”

Alec glanced at him briefly, then turned his attention back to Herondale. “So be it. As Head of this Institute, I’m informing you that the people here will do our duty to protect the entire shadow world, including Downworlders. We will do it with or without your approval. If the Clave doesn’t like that, the Clave can go to hell.”

The Inquisitor stared at him in astonishment, but as a single unit, Alec and Jace turned their backs to her to face Maia, Luke, Raphael, and Meliorn.

“Your brother?” Maia asked, her voice shaking as she looked at Jace. “That…that little kid who was at the wedding?”

“Yeah,” Jace whispered, sighing.

Luke took a step forward. “Maryse—”

“Now is not the time, Lucian,” Maryse said with a plea in her voice, blinking rapidly.

Raphael murmured a quiet prayer Latin, crossed himself, then met Alec’s eyes. “Is Isabelle alright?”

“As well as can be expected.” Alec pulled himself upright, clasping his hands behind his back. “My mother’s right. We have other things we need to focus on right now. Valentine is free, and my fath—Robert Lightwood has been working for him in Alicante. We don’t know what intelligence he has received, or who else he may have been working with. We do know that he was aligning himself politically with the anti-Downworld faction within the Clave, which was no doubt part of Valentine’s plan to stir up conflict with the Downworld and position himself as a hero by using the Soul Sword to save the day once hostilities broke out. Now, I don’t intend to do Valentine’s work for him by escalating tensions further. Do you?”

He flung the question at them like a gauntlet, but his eyes were on Meliorn.

Magnus stepped forward to stand at Alec’s other side, opposite Jace. “The Seelies knew about this,” he said. “It’s why you were so confident claiming that your queen would sign the treaty if Alec could get Valentine transferred here for trial.”

“Why?” Maia rounded on Meliorn with a snarl. “Why hide this?”

“Because they were hoping I’d shoot myself in the foot,” Alec said before Meliorn had a chance to spin some cleverly evasive reply. “They were waiting for me to lie and help the Clave conceal that Valentine had escaped. Then they could use the information to shred my credibility and ruin any chance of success for the treaty negotiations.”

Raphael studied Meliorn impassively. “The queen was hoping we’d sign on with whatever her proposed alliance might be, once we decided we couldn’t trust the Clave.”

Meliorn dipped his head in acknowledgment. “My queen’s point remains unchallenged. If tonight has demonstrated anything, it is that we cannot, in fact, trust the Clave.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not negotiating with the Clave,” Luke muttered, his jaw flexing. “We’re negotiating with Alec.”

Alec nodded gratefully at him. “The sun will be up soon. We need to take this inside, where we can discuss how we’re going to coordinate our efforts to find Valentine and his son.” He turned back to the Inquisitor, who had been watching him silently with her hands folded in front of her. “Are you planning to stand in our way?”

Herondale blinked slowly, glanced once at her grandson, and then nodded, a careful, regal movement. “No.” Her gaze slid to Magnus. “However, there is still the matter of the Mortal Mirror outstanding.”

Magnus dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I’ll explain inside. There’s no need to let Raphael combust while we discuss it.”

“Thanks for that,” Raphael muttered dryly.

Alec turned a challenging look to Meliorn. “Are you joining us or not?”

Meliorn bowed his head with what Magnus might have almost interpreted as remorse. “I must consult with my queen. I wish you the best in your negotiations.”

Then he was gone, and Alec led them inside. Magnus took the moment for them to file into the Institute to gather himself. Then, once the security doors had slid closed behind them, he swallowed his rising dread, set his jaw and faced not the Inquisitor, but Alec.

“There is no Mirror.”

Chapter Text

It took a moment for Magnus’s words to register. Even then, they didn’t make any sense.

“What?”

The guilt and sorrow in Magnus’s eyes made Alec’s gut twist.

No, no, no, he begged Magnus silently. Please. I can’t take another blow today.

“Dorothea and I planted the rumors about the Mirror.” Magnus gave him a look full of apology and turned to Inquisitor Herondale. “We enlisted the aid of an old friend who had once worked for Jocelyn, Elliot Nourse, to spread the story of Jocelyn hiding a Clave artifact. It was entirely fictional.”

“Why would you do that?” Jace demanded, astounded.

Alec couldn’t work up enough energy to manage astonishment. He was still trying to convince his internal organs that he hadn’t been literally gutted.

“While Dot was held captive, she overheard Valentine talking to some of his people about the legends surrounding the Mortal Instruments, and how they might be used to summon the Angel Raziel. He mentioned that such a method would be preferable to activating the Soul Sword, because then he could eradicate the Nephilim who stood against him as well as all Downworlders, in one clean strike.” He looked at each Downworlder there, one after the other. “Dot knew the rumors we planted would get the attention of any of Valentine’s followers who might want to continue his crusade. Of course, we didn’t know that Valentine had escaped. Not until last night.”

“To what purpose?” Each word that Imogen Herondale spoke was brutally clipped. At any other moment, Alec might have felt some satisfaction that she was furious the Clave had been duped, but right now he was more concerned with the way he’d been betrayed.

“Wiping them out,” Magnus answered, just as succinctly. “I lied, when I said there was nothing I could do for Dot’s condition. With proper care, Catarina and I could have extended her life for months or even years. She was dying, but it didn’t have to be this quickly. She would have wasted away slowly.” He looked down at his hands, swallowing thickly. “Dot chose another option. She made a—well, a magical time-bomb of herself. With a carefully researched combination of potions and spells—and consultation with one of the demons from whom Valentine acquired the toxin that was the base of his mind-control serum—Dot and I infused her blood with magic that would react volatilely to the demon venom in the serum. All she had to do was allow herself to be captured and injected again, and it would set off a reaction that would kill anyone in the vicinity.”

“So Valentine might be dead?” Jace asked, his eyes beginning to gleam.

“Not necessarily.” Alec wrestled his thoughts away from Magnus’s lies of omission and tried to piece together everything that had happened since last night. “Jonathan is the one who captured Dot; he should have been at ground zero when her trap went off, but we know he came back here. But he was—” Alec pressed a hand to his eyes, trying to make sense of the fragments of reality that had intruded while he was preoccupied with Magnus’s condition. “Max. Max said something about him looking bad. Sebastian said it was—it was—irritation. From demon slime, I think.”

Luke nodded gravely. “Valentine did survive. My sister, Cleophas, escaped from him tonight. She saw what happened with Dot’s…trap. Dot told her to get out while she could, and gave her this.”

He drew a child-sized stele out of his pocket. The sight of it in Luke’s palm hit Alec like a punch to the gut. “That’s mine,” he said, taking it. Magnus glanced away from the accusation in Alec voice, his face full of sorrow. “You stole this from me?”

Alec didn’t dare look at the Inquisitor. If she was gloating, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.

“I did.” Magnus’s voice was heavy and soft. “Dorothea remembered Cleophas, and she knew from Downworld gossip that Luke’s sister was still being held by the Circle. She needed some way to free Cleophas if possible. So I…obtained the stele for her.”

Alec didn’t dare look at him again, either.

“Why not tell us what you were doing?” Jace asked, his voice subdued enough that Alec knew he was treading lightly, mostly likely for Alec’s own sake.

“Because it was Dot’s choice.” Magnus’s voice hardened. “She had no confidence whatsoever that the Clave would devote any effort to tracking down the remnants of the Circle. She decided to try to eliminate them herself, to at least give some purpose to her impending death.”

“Can’t exactly blame her,” Maia muttered. “It’s been months since the Clave captured Valentine. Since then, none of us have seen any indication that they were hunting the remaining Circle members.”

“Given what we all learned tonight, I can’t say she was wrong,” Luke agreed grimly.

“Tracking down what was left of the Circle was a matter of internal Clave security,” the Inquisitor said stiffly.

Raphael’s quiet derision cut sharply to the heart of her bluster. “Just like keeping quiet about Valentine’s escape?”

“Maybe the Clave needs to stop defining ‘internal security’ as ‘whatever keeps the Clave from looking bad,’” Magnus snapped. “Valentine is free today because the Clave wanted to save face, now as much as they did twenty years ago. Yes, even you, Imogen Herondale. Until Valentine’s Uprising resulted in the death of your son, you were as willing as the rest of them to gloss over the Circle’s activities and pretend everything was fine, no matter how many Downworlders told you otherwise. Instead of blaming Dot and I for interfering, you should ask yourself why we felt we must.”

Alec felt a hand on his arm and turned to see his mother step up beside him. “Magnus is right,” she said softly. “We had a chance, twenty years ago, to stop Valentine before he ever really got started. The fact that we didn’t is on the conscience of all of us who lied and covered for him, or who simply turned a blind eye. We ignored the truth, and even alienated our friends when they saw what we didn’t want to. We’ve given the Downworld no reason to trust our handling of this matter.”

But none of that was me. I was just a baby then, Alec wanted to say. Except he couldn’t. Because it was apparent now that Magnus felt Alec was as untrustworthy as the rest of the Clave.

To Magnus, he was simply another Shadowhunter.

Alec had thought he was too numb, too overloaded, to feel any more pain.

Clearly he’d been mistaken.

“…Cleophas can tell us what all happened after Dot set off her trap,” Luke was saying when Alec tuned back in. “If you’ll allow us to step outside and portal her here, she wants to turn herself over to the Clave. But first, you need to hear what she has to say.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to get another warlock to the Jade Wolf for that,” Magnus said regretfully. “I’ve already done more magic than I should while I’m still healing from so severe an injury. If another catastrophe comes along in the next day or two, I’d like to keep some reserves in case I need them. I’ll send you the contacts of a few warlocks available for hire on short notice.”

“Fine,” Alec muttered. “Cleophas can enter under escort by the Elite Guard when she arrives. Mother, make sure the guards are outside waiting when the portal opens. Luke, coordinate her transport with Mom. We’ll re-convene this meeting when she arrives.”

“Your husband and his friend misused Clave resources to lay their trap—” Herondale began.

“Since when is planting rumors and not being in possession of a Clave artifact a crime?” Raphael murmured wryly.

Alec’s thinning patience snapped. “I don’t have time for petty misdemeanor nonsense. I’m going to check on Clary and Isabelle’s progress. Unless you have information that can help us track down Valentine, Jonathan, or my father, go back to Idris and stay the hell out of my way.”

He stormed away before anyone could say anything else, because if he stood there across from Magnus for even a moment longer he was going to lose it in front of the entire Institute. Again. Thankfully, no one attempted to stop him.

“What have you got?” he demanded, coming to a halt beside Lydia, who stood next to Clary and Izzy at the main projection display in the Ops Center.

Lydia pointed to one red dot, already halfway across the city and retreating. “That’s Robert. We think he used a Surefooted rune to jump down from the roof access on the infirmary level. He’s not as young as he used to be, though, so he’s limping and his progress is slow. He blocked rune tracking, but his glamour wore off and we were able to catch a glimpse of him on mundane surveillance in a subway station. He’s...meandering. Like he has no idea where he wants to go. Once the lockdown is ended, we should be able to pick up his trail without much trouble.”

“And Jonathan?”

Izzy frowned. “We’ve been looking for ways to track him, but so far we don’t have anything.”

“What about Aldertree’s belongings?” Alec asked. “Do we have anything in storage he left behind?”

“Aldertree?” Lydia gave him a puzzled look.

Alec blew out a frustrated sigh. “It was part of the memory we got from Madzie. Valentine was meeting with Aldertree. He called him Jonathan.”

“Explains why he cleared out my files on the Aldertree investigation,” Lydia murmured.

Izzy’s breath hitched, and Alec hung his head. “Iz—I’m sorry. I’m the one who brought him here, who didn’t vet him carefully enough. I…I exposed you to him again.”

“What?” She wrapped her hand around his. “No, Alec. No. That’s not—You did everything you could. If he slipped past your guard, out of all of us, it just shows how many more steps ahead of us he’s always been. It’s just—first he gave me the yin fen, then he must have arranged that attack on me just for an excuse to get back into the Institute.”

“Why would he do that?” Clary asked.

“There must be something here he still wanted.” Izzy’s eyes were bleak. “Probably you.”

Clary blinked. “Me? Why? He’s never had any interest in me.”

“Of course he has.” Izzy scoffed. “When he was giving me the yin fen, he used it to blackmail me into spying on you when we went to the Adamant Citadel. And since he’s been here as Sebastian, he’s been asking a lot of questions about family, yours and ours. Trying to understand how the Lightwood family works, and how you and Jace fit into the picture.”

“That’s right.” Clary huffed softly. “When we found out Jace was a Herondale, he was all over that, talking about—”

“—Jace transferring his loyalties,” Alec concluded, recalling that day in the greenhouse. “In Madzie’s memory, Valentine said something to him about family, how it’s a source of strength, and also a liability. And when he—when he killed Max, he said it was all about protecting his family.”

Clary sighed tragically. “Growing up with Valentine, I’m sure he has no idea what real family even is, or how it functions.”

“When the time comes, we may be able to use that to our advantage,” Izzy said decisively, pushing back from the display. “I’ll get Aldertree’s things out of storage, see if we can find something to track him with, or some clue as to where he might go.”

“I’ll help you.” Clary jogged to catch up as Izzy strode away. “If that doesn’t work, I’ve got another idea.”

Once they were gone, Alec stood there with his head bowed, his hands braced on the edge of the table.

“You all right?” Lydia asked softly.

“Not even close.” He released a slow breath and looked across at her. “Look, you should know I pretty much broke with the Clave a few minutes ago. I can’t do what we need to do here to stop Valentine and make peace with the Downworld and still answer to the Clave. Jace supported me and the Inquisitor’s backed down for the moment, but I don’t know how long that will last. Am I going to be able to count on you?”

“Wow.” Her eyebrows lifted in astonishment. “I know you talked about seceding from the Clave when you initially proposed the Downworld treaty, but I never thought it would come to that.”

“It still might not. Depends on how willing they are to get out of our way and let us handle this.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “In that case, it’s pretty much a done deal.” She dropped her chin, looking down at the projection display for a long moment. “I can’t promise to renounce my loyalty to the Clave and follow you, Alec. Maybe I should, but I’m not ready to do that yet. But this is a crisis; we don’t have time to let politics to interfere. I’ll see this through with you. Then I’ll figure out what my next step is.”

“Understood. Thank you.” He stared at the image of the Institute, still flashing red with the heightened alert level. “I’m not sure what good the lockdown is, if everyone we were trying to stop from leaving the Institute is already out. Cancel the lockdown command. I want everyone we can spare out there hunting for Jonathan and Robert. I’m going to talk to the werewolves, see if they can help with tracking.”

“Why don’t you let me do that?” she offered. “Alec. Take a few minutes. You look like you’re going to explode and this Institute needs you with your head in the game.”

Alec opened his mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. “Right,” he muttered, and walked away.

He made it halfway to his office before he realized the Inquisitor was probably still set up in there, and changed course for the elevator that would take him to the roof access.

The sun was fully up by the time he emerged into the open air, but on this side of the building he was still mostly in the shade. He leaned on the parapet, staring down at the park below, and tried to comprehend all the ways the world had changed since the sun had set the night before.

His first sunrise without Max in twelve years.

His first sunrise as the son of a traitor.

His first sunrise as—as what? The husband of a man who lied and stole from him?

As if summoned by the thought, Magnus’s voice came quietly from behind him. “Alexander—”

“Don’t,” he snarled, glancing back over his shoulder. Bad idea. He couldn’t look at Magnus right now, with the rage this close to the surface. He gulped it down like a shard of glass, feeling the jagged edges of it slice him up inside, and turned back to watch the skyline.

Magnus came to stand at the parapet beside him, and made no effort to speak again.

“Why did you keep that from me?” Alec finally managed. “I went out on a limb for the entire Downworld this morning, and you couldn’t even be honest with me. You made me look like a fool.”

Magnus sighed softly. “I could pass the buck and say it was Dorothea’s choice. That would be honest, in that we agreed that we wouldn’t let anyone except Cat in on our plan. But it wouldn’t be the whole reason.”

“You didn’t trust me.”

“I didn’t want you involved.”

“Because you didn’t trust me. Why is it my own husband is the member of this Council I have to try hardest to convince that I’m not the Clave?”

“Yes, Alec, you are,” Magnus said bluntly. “Not in your loyalties, perhaps, but that culture, that privilege, that mindset, your entire life has been steeped in it from the moment you were born. You’re trying, I know. You’re trying to rise above that, be better than the Clave, and I see that in you. I admire that in you. But you are and always will be Nephilim, with all that entails.”

Alec shook his head. “You know I would have helped you, if you’d told me you intended to hunt down the rest of Valentine’s followers. Even before we knew Valentine had escaped.”

“This was a personal matter.”

Alec scoffed. “I think ‘personal’ ends at the point where the plan requires seeding rumors throughout the Downworld and the Clave.”

Magnus sighed. “‘Personal’ as in ‘it was a matter of revenge.’”

“That’s what this was about? Payback?”

“Of course it was!” Magnus rounded on him suddenly, glaring. “Do you think Dot really worried that Valentine’s unimaginative lackeys would pose a threat without him masterminding their schemes? Originally we intended to go after Valentine himself. She was going to commit some violation of the Accords, and I was going to dutifully turn her in, to be incarcerated in the Gard. But there were too many variables, too much chance of innocents getting caught in the trap. So we went after Valentine’s followers instead. Even in her final wish she had to compromise.” He bowed his head. “I had hoped Valentine’s escape would at least give her the opportunity to take her revenge directly to him, but it doesn’t seem to have worked out.”

“And you risked everything we’ve been trying to build together for that?”

“For Dorothea! This isn’t about you, Alexander,” he said firmly. “Dot and I laid these plans months ago. We’d been dosing her with the potions to taint her blood for weeks before the night you and I decided to marry. Even if I had involved you, there was nothing you could have done. And in the end, this was about the atrocities visited upon the warlocks. It was a blow for all those who will never see justice.”

Magnus paced away, past the pigeon loft and back, with his fingers twisting together in front of him.

“Don’t you understand?” Magnus’s eyes shimmered with angry tears when he stopped in front of Alec once more. “Dot was supposed to have been immortal! They all were. Elias and Ragnor and Dot and all the warlocks who died in my lair the very night we met, and all the ones who died twenty years ago. All of them one-of-a-kind beings whose flame should have burned forever. They were snuffed out like they meant nothing, by Valentine and by the Clave’s inaction. So when Dot said she wanted retribution, I did everything I could, risked everything else, to help her.”

Alec closed his eyes, trying to make his tired, grief-clouded brain process all that. Because it made too much sense, and yet it did absolutely nothing to ameliorate his feeling of betrayal.

“What did you think I would do, if you’d told me Dot’s plan?” he finally asked.

Magnus shook his head, a decisive, vehement gesture. “I didn’t want you to do anything. If we could have pulled this off without involving you at all, I would have done whatever it took to make that happen. But then Imogen Herondale showed up and I didn’t have a choice.” His lip curled. “We needed her to believe the rumors we planted, needed the Clave and whatever collaborators were still hidden within it to be convinced the Mirror was within their grasp. We needed them to believe because we needed Valentine’s people to believe, and at the end of the day, they’re all the same.”

Alec’s breath left him as though Magnus had punched him square in the chest. “What?”

“Does it surprise you to know how much I resent the Clave?” Magnus asked, acid dripping from each word. His lip curled in a sneer. “Oh, not all the time. Most of the time, I try not to think of them at all. If I did, I’d choke on memories of centuries of wrongs, great and small. Instead, I try to focus on the Nephilim standing before me at the moment, to take them on their own merits.” His shoulders fell. “Sometimes I succeed better than others.”

Magnus turned back to face the park that sprawled beyond the Institute, gripping the edge of the parapet with white-knuckled hands.

“You can’t understand, Alexander. You can try, I know you try, but you can’t. I witnessed Valentine placing silver coins on the eyes of an innocent werewolf girl, a child not much older than Max. I witnessed the Circle murder their fellow Shadowhunters, and then lie to the Clave and blame the werewolves for it all. I told them the truth, and they did nothing.” He bowed his head, his shoulders falling. “The deaths of all those warlocks I mentioned? It’s on all of them. Every last one.”

“Including Jace and Clary?” Alec asked. “If I’m connecting the pieces right, this whole thing was on a countdown to the point of no return when they went out with Dot. They could have been caught in the middle of it. You kept information from us that put my people, my brother, in danger. Which makes all your outrage about the Clave hiding Valentine’s escape just a little hypocritical.”

Magnus hung his head and said nothing. The silence drew out until Alec had to break it again, or lose his mind.

“So, I’m the Clave, and the Clave is the same as the Circle.” Alec blinked back the burning in his eyes as he turned to face Magnus.

“No. No.” Magnus shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“It sounds that way from here. If you really believe that, why did you marry me?”

“Because you give me hope,” he said with a sad smile. “I’ve known good, decent Shadowhunters before, but with you, insanely enough, I saw someone who might really try to change things. You gave me enough hope to risk my heart. But not Dot’s last wish. Not her retribution. I couldn’t risk that, not even for you.”

Before Alec could decide how to respond to that, his phone chimed with Lydia’s ring tone. Sighing wearily, he pulled it from his pocket and looked at the message she’d sent.

“Cleophas has arrived. We’re needed downstairs.”

He turned from Magnus and walked away before Magnus had a chance to say anything else.

Chapter Text

Magnus had only the vaguest recollection of Cleophas Graymark. He could picture her beside a much younger Lucian in one of his encounters with the Circle twenty years ago, resolute even as he wavered.

This older Cleophas who stood before them now had the fierce poise of the Iron Sisters. Her face gave the impression of wisdom, guilt, and sorrow all in equal measure, and her bearing yielded no notice of the runed manacles on her wrists.

“Valentine lives,” she announced without preamble.

Magnus closed his eyes and sighed. “He escaped Dot’s trap?” he asked, just because he’d hoped so hard that Dot would triumph this one final time.

“Barely. He’s badly injured, and he would have died, if not for his son. Jonathan’s demonic nature made him partially immune to the vapor Dorothea unleashed. He was able to get Valentine out in time. The rest of Valentine’s people are dead.”

Raphael tapped his fingers on the conference table. “You saw this?”

Cleophas nodded once, a regal dip of her head. “I did. After Dorothea gave me the means to free myself, I did as she requested and inscribed locking runes on all the doors and windows. It took me long enough that I didn’t have a chance to get away before I heard Jonathan ramming down one of the doors. I went up to the roof to avoid being seen, and listened to their conversation.”

“What did they say?” Alec asked, his face stony. From the unwavering attention he paid to Cleophas, one might have thought him simply absorbed in what she was reporting, but the slight angling of his body and head away from Magnus seemed to speak volumes.

“Since Valentine’s escape from the Gard, he has been focused on trying to force me to repair the Soul Sword. The rune Clary used to deactivate it destroyed the properties that enabled it to be used as a weapon of mass destruction against the Downworld. It can never be turned to such purpose again.” A silent ripple of relief passed through the Council chamber. “Valentine’s next plan was to amass a new army of Shadowhunters to take on the Clave directly, but finding candidates that can survive Ascension by drinking from the Mortal Cup has taken too long. And thanks to Dorothea, the followers he had managed to pull together thus far are now dead.”

Cleophas bowed her head. “But when Jonathan pointed that out, Valentine said, ‘I don’t need an army. I just need an angel.’”

“So he is planning to summon Raziel,” Inquisitor Herondale murmured. “Does he know where the Mirror is, after all?”

“No. Valentine asked me once what I knew about the Mirror, while I was under the effects of his mind-control serum. I told him what everyone knows: that its location has been lost to the Clave, and that few believe it even exists any longer.”

Raphael’s eyes narrowed. “That only passes for an answer if you’re a Seelie.”

Cleophas gave them the slightest hint of a self-satisfied smile. “I am an Iron Sister. Valentine’s serum never worked as well on me as I let him believe it did. I could not lie to him, so I told him nothing less than the truth. However, I also told him nothing more.”

Alec leaned forward, folding his hands together on the table. “You know where it is.”

“The Fair Folk call it the Mirror of Dreams,” Cleophas announced. “We’ve become too literal to imagine the Mirror might not be something we can hold and possess. The Mirror is the waters Raziel first rose from when summoned by Jonathan Shadowhunter.”

“Lake Lyn,” Jace murmured, awe softening his voice. “It’s been under our noses for centuries and no one knew it.”

Cleophas tipped her head in a slight shrug. “The Clave’s ignorance was deliberately fostered by the early Silent Brothers and Iron Sisters. Summoning Raziel again was meant to be a step taken only in dire need. It is a dangerous undertaking, and we Nephilim would do well not to court the wrath of the Angel.”

“We need to get guards on the lake,” Alec said to the Inquisitor. “If Valentine doesn’t know what the Mirror is yet, he’ll be hell-bent on finding out.”

She nodded, pushing back from the conference table. “I’ll return to Alicante immediately and inform the Consul.”

“Is that such a good idea?” Jace asked, frowning. “If Valentine has any more operatives inside the Clave…”

Herondale laid a hand on his arm. “I’ll meet with Malachi personally to arrange the transfer of guards to the shores of the lake. No one else will be informed why.”

She gestured to her guards to bring Cleophas, and Luke shot to his feet, holding out a hand to stop her. “Cleo—”

“I murdered Magdalena, Lucian,” she said serenely. “I betrayed my oaths as an Iron Sister. I will accept my punishment.”

He bowed his head but said nothing more. Though there was no question of Cleophas’s guilt, in that moment it was difficult not to let Luke’s loss stoke the smoldering embers of Magnus’s resentment of the Clave.

Once Herondale and her people were gone, Raphael said, “I’m not reassured by the Inquisitor’s confidence that this information about Lake Lyn won’t go any further than the Consul’s office.”

The resounding unanimity with which that sentiment was met would have been hilarious, had it not highlighted precisely how precarious the whole situation was.

“Agreed,” Alec said grimly. He looked at each of them one by one, finally stopping with Jace. “Until Valentine is captured or killed, I think we need to consider anyone within the Clave a potential leak. Even the Consul and Inquisitor,” he added with an apologetic look at Jace.

“Then we need more guards on that lake.” Luke drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “I used to run with the Brocelind pack, when I was first Turned. They’re feral, so they’re as disconnected from shadow world politics as anyone can get without being mundane. But they know about Valentine and the threat he poses to all of us.”

“You think they’ll be willing to patrol the lake?” Alec asked skeptically.

“Worst they can do is refuse. I’ll send Maia to negotiate with them, if you can get her permission to enter Idris.”

“What?” Maia stared at him incredulously. “I’ve never been to Idris!”

“I’d go myself, but I’m going to be needed here, searching for Valentine,” Luke said.

“I’ll portal with you,” Jace volunteered. “I’ll get you started in the right direction to the forest, then return.”

Luke gave him a nod of gratitude. “Once you hit the forest, follow your nose and the howls. You’ll find the pack.”

“I’ll work on getting approval for the portal,” Alec said. “Best option, though, is to stop Jonathan and Valentine from getting that far.”

“I’ll pull together the local warlocks. We may be able to put up wards to prevent them from leaving the city,” Magnus offered. “It will make portaling out of New York impossible for any Shadowhunter, however, so if Maia and Jace are going to Idris, they need to do it sooner rather than later.”

Alec nodded an acknowledgment, his gaze passing right by Magnus without even stopping. Which hurt more than Magnus cared to acknowledge right now.

“Until the sun goes down, I’ll get my people searching the underground tunnels and sewers,” Raphael offered.

“Thank you,” Alec murmured. They all rose, and Magnus couldn’t help but be impressed with the ease with which they had all integrated their efforts.

They were all working together, these disparate groups, some of whom had hated each other for centuries. It was a testament to Alec’s effort and approach that he hadn’t attempted to issue a single order to any of the Downworlders present. He’d simply identified the problems and made a space where contributing to the solution felt more important than whatever differences lay between them all.

A wave of love so powerful it nearly buckled Magnus’s knees surged through him. He reached for Alec’s arm as everyone began to file out of the room. Alec stopped, his posture rigid, his eyes fixed ahead of him rather than turning to Magnus.

“Alexander. I can’t apologize for what Dot and I did. I had to honor her choice, and if I had to do it over, I’d make the same decision. But I’m deeply sorry that I hurt you.”

“We can’t do this right now, Magnus,” Alec said, a soft edge of desperate pleading to his tone.

“I know. Just promise me that when we get a moment—”

“Why?” Alec finally turned his wounded gaze to Magnus. “Look, I don’t blame you for not trusting Shadowhunters. You’ve got centuries of history with the Clave that I can never grasp, I know. And I’m not going to argue that I should be some special exception to the rule, because the fact is that less than a year ago, I sounded just like the Inquisitor every time I opened my mouth about Downworlders. But I am trying, and I’m going to keep trying, whether or not you and I are together. So don’t—don’t take this as an ultimatum, because it’s not. I’m just saying—I don’t know if I can be married to someone who truly believes he can never trust me.”

“Not never. Alec—” The ache of knowing he might have broken this new, blossoming, fragile thing between them forever was more than Magnus could handle now. He let his hand fall away from Alec’s arm and stepped back. “I don’t think this is a good day for either of us to make any lasting resolutions. Please don’t—don’t give up on us before we’ve had a chance to really talk.”

“Right.” Alec grimaced and looked away. Magnus would have given anything to see the conviction that so often lit Alec’s eyes, but they were just hollow. “We’ll talk.”

He walked away without meeting Magnus’s eyes again.

“What have you found?” Alec demanded, refusing to look back even though he could sense Magnus walking in the other direction, walking away from Alec and out of the Institute. He had to put Magnus out of his mind for now.

“Just this.” Izzy held out a book, her lips pale and pressed into a tense line.

“The Art of War,” Alec said, glancing at the cover. “I’ve seen Aldertree reading this.”

“It’s the only thing that offers a tracking signature, but he’s blocking,” she explained. “I’m guessing everything else we have in storage belonged to the real Victor Aldertree, who’s probably dead.”

“That wasn’t on the recommended reading list when I was growing up,” Jace remarked, folding his arms over his chest. “Valentine was never a big fan of eastern philosophy. He preferred the Greeks and Romans.”

Alec frowned. “So why this book?”

“It’s the book Izzy quoted from to tell me how to get around Aldertree when he first arrived,” Clary said. “We talked about it right under his nose.”

“Apparently he was paying closer attention that we thought.” Izzy closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead. “To know your enemy, you must become your enemy. Everything about Sebastian was tailored for us to find him as relatable as possible. We took him right in.”

“We can all beat ourselves up over that later,” Alec said, pointing at the book. “That particular weapon fits both hands. We’re learning what his fixations are; now we need to figure out how to turn them against him. Keep that in mind, if the opportunity arises. For now, get out there and check the address Jonathan gave us when he first arrived. With any luck, it’s not fake. And be cautious. Valentine is injured, but that’s only going to make him more desperate and dangerous.”

“We’re on it,” Jace acknowledged, and turned to find Izzy was already halfway out the door, her stride quick and purposeful. “Some of us faster than others.”

Alec wished he could be out there with them. Instead, he hunched over the map of the city and watched his mother arming herself.

“You’re heading out with the werewolves?” he asked after a moment, approaching the weapons rack. She had a seraph dagger strapped to her thigh, a broadsword down her back, and a crossbow in her hands. Her hair was scraped back in a severe bun, her face devoid of makeup.

“I’m sure they’re only tolerating me because Lucian spoke on my behalf. Still, apprehending your father is the least I can do,” she said grimly.

Alec nodded, watching her inspect the crossbow meticulously. “Look, Mom…you realize he couldn’t have known what would happen to Max, right? That was Jonathan’s doing.”

“If he hadn’t helped orchestrate Valentine’s escape, Max might still be with us now.” She met his gaze with flinty eyes and a clenched jaw. “But you’re right. He couldn’t have known. Which is why, despite everything, I merely intend to apprehend him.”

“Understood.” Alec stepped back and nodded. “Good hunting.”

She met his nod with her own and strode to the door where Luke awaited. Then she turned back, her spine rigid and her chin held high. “Alec. When you find Valentine’s son, you make him pay. For all of us.”

After everything that had happened since yesterday, Izzy didn’t think anything else could give her pause, but somehow the sight of Sebastian—the real Sebastian—Verlac’s ravaged body did so.

It wasn’t the death that got to her. It was the desecration. Letting a demon possess the body, leaving it behind like a booby trap. It was obscene. Sebastian Verlac had been a Shadowhunter once, and a good one from what Aline had told Alec. He hadn’t deserved this.

“Ave atque vale,” Jace said softly.

Izzy closed her eyes and let herself be comforted by the familiar ritual. It wasn’t a religious observance, but it was still deeply grounding, a call-and-response so traditional that it pulled to something deep inside her, brought her back to who she was. She hadn’t managed to say those words yet for Max, couldn’t bear to bring herself to bid him farewell, but she could do it here.

“Hail and farewell,” she whispered devoutly, dimly aware of Clary echoing her.

After that, they turned their attention to searching through the meagre belongings in the dingy studio apartment.

“Do you think any of this stuff belonged to Jonathan?” Clary asked.

Izzy rifled through the closet, past the nondescript, oversized sweaters that had given Jonathan such a disarmingly humble look. “I doubt it.”

“He was trained by Valentine,” Jace added with a shake of his head. “He knows better than to leave anything behind, even if he is blocking tracking.”

Yet they continued searching. As she handled everything she could hold to see if it would offer a tracking signature, she wondered about this man they were hunting now, the utterly amoral killer described in Valentine’s journals, the hideous monstrosity Clary and Jace had encountered the night before.

To know your enemy, you must become your enemy.

Who was Jonathan Morgenstern? And how true had his recounting of ‘Sebastian’s’ history been? Fairly, no doubt, because the best lies were always buried in a field of truth. They’d never really know exactly how all the pieces fit together, but Izzy thought she had a good idea.

Most likely, the real Aldertree actually had gotten the real Sebastian addicted to yin fen to further his own political ambitions, and then tried to kill Sebastian to hide the evidence. Had Sebastian Verlac ever recovered? They’d never know, would they?

Victor Aldertree, bigot that he was, probably had tried to ally himself with Valentine; his torture of Raphael and efforts to estrange their Downworld allies reeked of Valentine’s schemes.

But during Valentine’s attack on the City of Bones—or perhaps even earlier than that—Jonathan Morgenstern had killed Aldertree and taken his identity, as well as borrowing a few tricks from his book. From that vantage, he’d have access to the Clave and he’d be close enough to keep an eye on his sister. He’d also have enough authority to nullify the resistance of the family who had run the Institute before him.

It hadn’t worked out the way he’d intended, though; he’d fractured the Lightwoods’ unified front but not shattered it, and he’d never managed to make the connection he sought with Clary. So he’d ditched his stolen identity in favor of Aldertree’s only surviving victim, and tried again. He’d accurately assessed that the Lightwoods wouldn’t yield before heavy-handed authority. No, their weakness was their willingness to take in the lost and wounded.

“This is useless,” Clary declared, slamming a dresser drawer shut. “Jace, it’s time for Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?” Izzy glanced back and forth between them, Clary at one end of the apartment with her stubborn face on, and Jace at the other end looking skeptical.

“Clary thinks she can use her Morgenstern blood to track Jonathan,” Jace said, shaking his head. He led the way out the door, giving Sebastian Verlac’s body one last look. They had no way to take the remains back to the Institute with them now; they would have to call the Silent Brothers to come collect them. “Problem is, she can’t track worth a damn.”

Clary gave him a narrow look as she followed him down the stairs, and Jace shrugged. “Sorry, but it’s true.”

“It really is,” Izzy agreed.

Clary rolled her eyes and sighed. “Okay, fine. It is. Which is why I need Jace.”

“So, he’ll use your blood to track Jonathan.” Izzy asked as they filed through the door and out onto the street. “It’s a long shot.”

“I wasn’t thinking he’d use my blood so much as he’d use…me. Or, we would. We know he can sort of channel his rune abilities into me, if we’re close to each other—”

“Wait, what? Since—how—?” Clary and Jace exchanged a look and Izzy quickly shut her mouth. “Ah. That’s how. So…?”

“So, Jace could use his tracking skills to enhance mine. Sort of like parabatai tracking, but calling on the angel-blood connection,” Clary explained.

“I don’t really buy it.” Jace shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe it we were still—together like that—but not now.”

“What, it requires sex?” Izzy asked in confusion.

“No,” Clary said decisively, overriding Jace’s much less emphatic, “Maybe.”

“We discovered it when we were having sex,” Clary continued, ignoring him. “But we’ve done it under other circumstances since then. Jace healed me by activating his own iratze when I took a bad fall during training a couple months back.”

“Yeah, but we were still together,” Jace said. “We’re not anymore.”

“Wait.” Izzy held up a hand. “Clary may be onto something.”

Jace shot an irritated glance her way. “Seriously, Iz?”

“Hear me out. Clary isn’t wrong, comparing it to the parabatai bond. It’s not the same, but this connection the two of you share is angelic in nature. And angels don’t necessarily…commune…with each other the way we do,” she said, looking back and forth between them. “The reason your relationship didn’t work is because you were trying to force that connection into a human template. Some context you could comprehend; romantic, sexual, fraternal, whatever. But it’s not any of those things. It’s beyond that. Just because it requires physical and emotional closeness doesn’t mean it’s going to take the shape of a connection we as humans understand.”

“So really you think this could work?” Jace asked dubiously.

Izzy nodded. “I think if you’re willing to let go of human expectations and allow the connection to just be what it is—power and love, in a form we can never comprehend—then it stands a chance of success. And Valentine and Jonathan will never see it coming.”

Jace gave her a perplexed look. “What makes you so sure?”

“What’s the first lesson Valentine ever taught you?”

“To love is to destroy.”

“Exactly.” The savage satisfaction of being on the brink of triumph began to build inside her chest, and she grinned fiercely. “They don’t comprehend love, not really. They only know how to use it as a weapon. The whole time Jonathan was among us, both as Aldertree and as Sebastian, he kept trying to understand it, but he just couldn’t. To know your enemy you must become your enemy. But he can’t become this.” She swept her hand back and forth between Jace and Clary. “He can’t.”

“Fine. I’m sold.” Jace nodded, his eyes gleaming. “Let’s just get back to the Institute before we try it. If we’re going to be unleashing undefined angelic power, I want to be somewhere people can deal with it if we call down something we weren’t expecting.”

Chapter Text

Alec found Maia in the training room, inspecting the dummies like she wanted to take a swing at them, but wasn’t sure if Shadowhunters were going to pounce on her if she did anything remotely aggressive. Given the way the Inquisitor had arrested her not long ago, Alec really couldn’t blame her.

“If you need to blow off some steam, go ahead,” he said leaning against the archway as he gestured to the dummy. “I’ve got your portal to Idris approved. Once Jace gets back, you’re good to go.”

She grimaced, shaking her head. “Sending me somewhere I’ve never been to talk to feral werewolves I’ve never met. Sure. Great plan.”

Alec conceded the point with a shrug. “Don’t blame you for being antsy. Well, with any luck, we’ll catch Valentine before he finds out Lake Lyn is the Mirror, so sending you to ask the Brocelind pack to help guard the lake won’t be necessary.”

“Since when has luck been on our side?” She scoffed. “If it were, Valentine would have died in that trap Magnus and Dot set for him.”

Alec clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw tightening as he muttered, “Fair point.”

Maia gave him a knowing look and folded her arms over her chest, leaning against one of the stonework pillars. “Right. Probably not a favorite subject for you right now, judging from how chilly that Council meeting was.”

Alec grimaced. It was tempting to dump it all out, which was weird because he didn’t do that.

“That’s what happens when you find out your husband’s been lying to you,” he blurted despite himself. Maybe it had something to do with Maia being a bartender. Didn’t people always spill their guts to bartenders? “Did he think I wouldn’t have helped, if I’d known?”

“He didn’t need your help.” Maia frowned. “Look, I don’t want to be harsh, because I know this is a truly terrible day for you, and I’m so sorry about your brother. But Magnus had it handled. Maybe this issue you’ve got with it is mostly just all the other stuff you’re dealing today creeping in, and that’s understandable, but honestly?” She took a deep breath and gentled her tone, which looked like it cost her some effort. “He needed you to stay out of it, and from the way you’re reacting, it sounds like maybe he was right to not trust that you would.”

“What, are you saying he was protecting me?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I’m saying it wasn’t about you. You know, when you were hyping your treaty at that first summit meeting, you said the Downworld factions would have autonomy to deal with their own affairs. But here you are upset because the High Warlock of Brooklyn didn’t consult you on a warlock matter.”

“It wasn’t just a warlock matter. It involved the Circle.”

“It involved cleaning up the remnants of the Circle, which the Clave couldn’t be bothered with.” She arched her eyebrows at him. “Once they had Valentine in custody, they stopped giving a damn that there was a small army of Nephilim supremacists out there, and that they were still a danger to us. I mean, let’s be real. How many of Valentine’s followers has this Institute tried to hunt down since he was captured?”

Alec sighed. “I’ll give you that. We didn’t have enough people for it, and we’d assessed they weren’t as much of a threat without Valentine leading them. Of course, we didn’t know he’d escaped.”

“Fine. Let’s deal with what you knew before you learned he’d escaped. The rest of the Circle was out there, they just weren’t a priority for you.” She jabbed a finger at him. “But you’re not a Downworlder who had been captured, mind-controlled, and made terminally ill by them. You’re not a Downworlder who has seen your entire pack, clan, or people you’ve known for literal centuries wiped out by them. You’re not a Downworlder whose race is being threatened with actual genocide. So maybe your priorities aren’t the ones that matter here. Look, sometimes your job is just to keep out of our way. If this Council is ever going to work, you need to figure that out.”

Alec wanted to argue with that but he couldn’t. Because she was making a good point, damn it. Alec rubbed his forehead, sighing. “I guess when I proposed the treaty, I always had it in mind that eventually, things would stop being warlock business or werewolf business or Shadowhunter business and it’d all just be shadow world business. We’d all concern ourselves with each other and work together on it.”

“And who decides what gets to be shadow world business? You?” She shook her head, her curls springing as they bumped against the pillar. “You Shadowhunters think you’ve got to be at the center of it all, and if it doesn’t concern you, it’s not important enough for any of us to be bothering with anyway. You taking over everything, is that your idea of peace? Because I’m not seeing much of an improvement over the Clave if it is.”

“That’s not what I want. I don’t think that.” He squeezed his eyes closed, sighing. “Do I?”

“Honestly, yeah, you probably do,” she said with a shrug. “You’ve been taught your whole life to believe it’s all about you. And I get it. You’re trying harder than most of us ever expected a Shadowhunter to try. I give you credit for that. But it’s not just about calling the meetings and making big gestures and yelling at stuffed shirts from the Clave. That’s important, but you gotta live the small things every day if you want to make real change happen. Sometimes it’s about recognizing that your input isn’t necessary and not getting involved. I guess what I’m saying is, if you don’t want to be treated like a typical Shadowhunter, don’t be one.”

“That’s your idea of not being harsh, huh?” Alec asked, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling.

She chuckled wryly. “Well, if you’d been Jace I probably would have just punched you in the face, so let’s keep it in perspective.”

On this day of all days, it should have been impossible to laugh even the smallest bit. But Alec found himself chuckling anyway, before looking intently at Maia. Her eyes were everywhere but on his, as though she’d been caught out.

The question was out before he even had a chance to consider it. “You know it’s been killing Jace that he activated the Soul Sword, right?”

She grimaced, meeting his gaze reluctantly. “Yeah, I know.” The fingers of one of her hands drummed against the biceps of her other arm. “When word gets around about what he said out there in front of the Institute, to his own grandmother even, the rest of the Downworld will start to catch on. Might make getting people on board with the treaty a little easier once they really believe you’re not sheltering a guy who deliberately tricked us into that massacre.”

Alec sighed. “People still think that?”

“A little more outreach might be necessary,” she said, her lips twitching. “Good thing you know a bartender. We—”

She broke off as voices approached the archway. Clary, Jace, and Izzy hurried in, bickering among themselves.

“Please tell me you found something that will keep me from having to portal to Idris with Jace,” Maia begged them.

Jace blinked with an exaggerated jerk of surprise. “I offer to play tour guide and you’re looking for a way to get out of it? I think I’m wounded.”

“Not yet, but we can fix that,” she retorted, narrowing her eyes.

“Despite rumors to the contrary, I really don’t like it that rough.”

“Can you flirt later?” Clary interrupted. “Let’s do this.”

Alec raised an eyebrow. “Someone planning to make a report sometime today?”

“The apartment was a bust,” Izzy said succinctly. “All we found was the body of the real Sebastian Verlac, booby-trapped with a demon. Clary and Jace are going to try to track Jonathan using Clary’s Morgenstern blood.”

Alec blinked slowly, shaking his head. No need to guess who came up with that idea.

“That’s…novel.”

Izzy shrugged. “It makes more sense when I’m not doing a fly-by. Clary, Jace, get ready. Remember, it doesn’t matter that you’re not together anymore. Don’t try to force the connection into a human context. Let it transcend that.”

Maia sidled over to Alec as Clary produced a stele and she and Jace began arguing over rune placement and finally Jace stripped off his shirt. “Should I…find somewhere else to be?”

Alec sighed. “Hell if I know.”

Izzy backed away, still coaching them. “You have the grace of the angels in your blood. Use it.”

Once she fell silent, Clary etched a bridging rune on Jace’s chest with a steady hand, then laid her palm over it, looking up into Jace’s eyes.

“It’s okay. We’ve got this,” she murmured with a reassuring smile.

Jace’s dubious expression relaxed into the dopey adoring grin he often wore around Clary. Seeing it, Alec found a new sympathy for the two of them not knowing how to categorize the connection they shared through Ithuriel’s blood. It was easy—even logical—to read it as another form of intimacy entirely. And it was intimate; Alec knew all too well that moment of intense awareness of one another from the times he and Jace had tracked together.

Alec assumed the incandescence that started to slowly rise was the tracking energy infusing Clary, since it was her very blood they were using as a focus. But then Jace’s runes ignited, all of them at once, blazing on his skin like fire, and Clary’s did the same. Her posture softened and she leaned into Jace, laying her cheek over his heart, and he wrapped his arms around her tenderly.

Alec didn’t need to know they weren’t dating anymore to understand that it wasn’t romantic or sexual. It was simply…love. There was a purity to the moment that was simply breathtaking. Angelic grace literally shone through their skin.

The glow spread. It flooded the room, so bright it seemed like it should have blinded them all, except it wasn’t that sort of light. It wasn’t harsh or cruel. Even a vampire could stand in this light without ever fearing it as they would the sun’s punishing rays. It was warm. Gentle. Approachable.

It felt like golden dawn in the bedroom in Magnus’s loft, a bedroom that was increasingly becoming theirs rather than just Magnus’s. It felt like waking up beside his husband, like quiet conversations mumbled with their faces still pressed into the pillows, and welcoming, good morning touches that transitioned into tender, sleepy lovemaking.

It felt…it felt like the adoring smile Max used to tip up at Alec when he was just a toddler, or the mischievous grin he’d adopted as he grew older.

Alec could look into that light without pain. It suffused them all, seeping through their skin to heal the wounds on their hearts. It wasn’t joy, exactly, but peace and love and something that was simply…holy. Religion wasn’t really a part of Alec’s worldview, but that caress on his soul felt like it came from somewhere entirely divine.

In that glow, the pain of losing Max, of his father’s betrayal, of Magnus’s deception, receded to a dull ache rather than something so intense and immediate it made him want to die. He heard a gasp beside him and knew without looking that tears streamed down Izzy’s face. He wiped his own cheeks as the glow started to fade.

On his other side, Maia looked awestruck.

“Okay,” she murmured. “Wow. Guess all the angel stuff isn’t just hype after all.”

Izzy chuckled softly. “Not this part at least.”

It took Alec a moment to drag his mind back from that peaceful, shining place to all the urgent matters at hand. “Did it work? Did you get anything we can use?”

Clary nodded firmly. “I can feel the directional pull, just like with normal tracking. Maybe not as strong or precise, but I don’t think he can block it.”

“Good. Jace, the warlock the werewolves have on retainer today is standing by to portal you and Maia to Idris. Once she’s on the scent of the Brocelind pack, get back here immediately. Magnus is waiting for the go-ahead to put wards up around the city that will vaporize any Shadowhunter trying to pass in or out.”

Maia looked like she wanted to protest this scheme one last time, but she nodded grimly and took off for the door with Jace on her heels.

Clary folded her arms over her chest, watching them go. “Well, that didn’t take long.”

“Bothered?” Izzy asked, arching a brow at her.

“Not even a little.” Clary shook her head decisively. “I’m just surprised I didn’t pick up on it before.”

“Seriously, you two?” Alec huffed, giving them a dubious look. “Did you pick up on the part where she likes to punch him in the face?”

Clary shrugged. “That’s a inclination shared by many, many women.”

“Whatever.” Alec threw his hands in the air and turned away. “Be ready. We leave in five. Jace can catch up when he's back.”

Magnus loft was already full of warlocks by the time he arrived home. Madzie sat on the sofa beside Catarina, still and very quiet, but looking nowhere near as terrified as she had when in the Institute.

Still, she was a far cry from the smiling girl who jumped gleefully run into his arms when she had arrived to attend his wedding just a week ago.

Mouse was wedged between Madzie’s legs and the back of the sofa, her chin on Madzie’s thigh, and Magnus could hear the purr halfway across the room, as if the cat, too, was trying to reassure Madzie.

Catarina took one look at his face and shook her head. “Hmph. Alec took the news about the Mirror that well, huh?”

“Go ahead, say you told me so,” Magnus said with sigh, dropping down onto the arm of the sofa beside her. “You were never in favor of Dorothea’s scheme.”

“True, I would have liked to have given it more time, seen if we could have found a way to cure her, but it was Dot’s choice. And I did warn you that Shadowhunter of yours wasn’t gonna like it.” She shrugged. “But that’s not on you. It was a warlock matter. Warlocks handled it. He didn’t need to be involved.”

Magnus reached over and began rubbing her shoulders, frowning down at the top of her head. “Alexander doesn’t see it that way.”

“Of course he doesn’t.” Catarina snorted. “Shadowhunters think they need to be mixed up in everything. Figure the world’ll stop turning if they’re not the ones giving it a push.”

“True,” he conceded with a reluctant laugh, then laid a hand on Madzie’s shoulder. “How are you, Madzie?”

Catarina stroked Madzie’s hair. “She got a few hours of sleep. I think sharing those memories helped. We talked when she woke up. Seeing Robert Lightwood at the wedding was what shook her. She wanted to warn you and Alec, but then she realized he was Alec’s father and she thought everyone might be upset with her if she told.”

“Oh, sweet pea,” Magnus sighed, his eyes burning. Madzie turned to look at him soberly. “You don’t ever need to be afraid of telling Alec the truth, I promise,” he vowed. “Alec is your friend and he’ll be your friend no matter what.”

Catarina arched an eyebrow at him. “You be sure to remember that, Magnus,” she said with a small smirk.

Madzie merely nodded. “There’s so many warlocks,” she said, glancing around the loft.

“True, there are.” Magnus smiled warmly. “We need to work a very important spell together.”

“A spell?” her eyes brightened and Catarina chuckled.

“Yes. You know the Valentine escaped, right?” Madzie nodded, some of the light leaving her eyes. “Well, we’re going to help catch him again—and the man who hurt Max—so they can’t harm anyone else. We have to put up wards so they can’t leave the city, and it’s going to take a lot of warlocks.”

“Can I do the spell?” she asked, her voice soft.

Affection and wonder blossomed warm in Magnus’s chest. “You want to help catch them?”

Madzie nodded emphatically, her face sober and her eyes determined.

“I don’t see any problem with you helping lend your power, kiddo, as long as you let me know before you get too tired,” Catarina said, and met Magnus’s gaze with a look of fierce pride.

There was a time to soothe Madzie in her fear and pain, and they would be there to comfort her whenever she needed it. But if they had a chance to teach her about her power and what she could do it with—and if she was ready to learn—neither of them would do anything to stand in the way of her learning to be strong.

The notes of Alec’s ringtone sounded in Magnus’s pocket as he watched the warlocks filing up the spiral staircase to the roof. He drew it from his pocket with a heavy heart, unready for whatever fresh pain speaking to Alec would bring this time.

“Hello, Alexander,” he greeted softly.

“Um, hi. I just wanted to let you know, Jace is on his way to Idris. He’ll be back shortly.”

Straight to business, then. Which made sense, but it still hurt. Magnus swallowed and pulled in a slow breath. “My warlocks are beginning their preparations. He’ll have hurry; once we get to a certain point in the spell, there’s no turning back without starting all over again.”

“Understood.” Silence hissed between them, and then Alec muttered, “I need to go.”

“Of course.” Magnus closed his eyes as disappointment washed over him. They didn’t have time for the conversation they needed to have, and yet he’d hoped… “Call me once you’ve found Valentine. We’ll be working in shifts to avoid anyone becoming dangerously depleted, but it will still be draining.”

“Be careful,” Alec said abruptly. “Please? You were just wounded.”

It was ridiculous, how even that tiny gesture, that bit of concern, thawed the chill that had been creeping into Magnus’s soul. He smiled. “I’m the High Warlock of Brooklyn,” he said confidently. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Me, either,” Alec murmured, but he had disconnected before Magnus could force a reply past the sudden knot of emotion in his throat.

Chapter Text

As the afternoon aged, they chased Clary’s sense of Jonathan through the city on a twisting, constantly-changing path. He didn’t seem to be moving very fast, but they were never quite able to close the distance before they realized he’d veered off in an entirely different direction. Clary’s frustration at her inability to get an accurate fix on him after her confidence that her plan would work might have been amusing in other circumstances.

Finally, Jace had looked down at a sewer grate and cursed. “He’s underground. Using the sewers or the subway and steam tunnels.”

“Without a more accurate signal, tracking him down there will be impossible; even if we can find the right tunnel, he’ll have turned into another one by the time we pick up his trail.” Alec said. “We’ll never catch up to him. Our best bet is to try not to let him get too far away and wait for him to surface.”

Izzy pulled her phone from her pocket. “I’ll call Raphael, have him give his people a heads-up.”

“Why underground?” Clary asked, scowling over the fact that her tracking scheme was only somewhat successful.

Jace shrugged. “Valentine is injured. Could be he can’t handle a glamour rune right now, so Jonathan may be trying to keep him out of sight. They wouldn’t want to draw attention.”

Once the sun set, the winding course stabilized into something more direct, leading them directly to the gates of an historic cemetery.

“A graveyard?” Clary asked skeptically. “What could they be looking for here?”

Jace regarded the wrought-iron fence-work with a grimace. “Is it too much to hope that Valentine saved us the trouble and died?”

“Don’t I wish?” she muttered, then glanced sideways at Jace. “So, Maia huh?”

It was too dark to be certain, but Alec could have sworn Jace blushed. “Well, we do have a history of passionate face-punching.”

She raised her hands and took a step back. “I’m not here to kinkshame.”

“Anything on Jonathan?” Izzy asked, and there was a grimness in her face that quelled Clary and Jace’s banter. Since that moment in the training room earlier, the burden of the grief they carried today had been…lighter, somehow. As though the pain of losing Max and learning about their father’s betrayal was weeks or months old, rather than fresh, jagged-edged anguish they’d felt that morning. But now that they were drawing close to Max’s killer, that wound was starting to ache more intensely, accompanied by a smoldering rage.

If Alec had any say in the matter, Jonathan would pay for all he’d done in blood.

Clary closed her eyes, focusing on whatever pull she was feeling in the blood she shared with her brother. “Only that he’s close. Sorry.”

“We’ll split up,” Alec announced, pulling his bow off his shoulder. “Jace and I will work our way toward the wooded section at the southern perimeter. You two check the mausoleums and the banks of the creek to the west.”

Once Izzy and Clary had acknowledged with brisk nods, Alec pulled out his phone. “Lydia, we’ve tracked them down to a cemetery in Highland Park. Can you dispatch reinforcements to my location? We’re not letting them get away again.”

“That might be a bit difficult,” Lydia said, her voice carrying the echoey quality that told Alec she had him on speaker. “Since the sun went down, our monitors have picked up a spike in demon activity. The demons appear to be moving in the area near you, which suggests Valentine is using the Mortal Cup to create a diversion.”

“Damn. He’s lost his army thanks to Dot, so now he’s reverted back to using demons as cannon fodder. Okay. Get people here if you can, but keeping the demons off the mundanes has to be the priority.”

“We’re on it.” She disconnected before Alec could reply.

Jace didn’t need Alec to explain that they were on their own. “Valentine’s injured, so we have that going for us, but I’ve fought Jonathan. He’s the one we need to worry about. Demon strength and speed, and he was trained by Valentine.”

Alec quirked an eyebrow at him. “Better than you?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Jace smirked. “Don’t underestimate him is what I’m saying.”

“Just hope for his sake that we find him before Izzy does,” Alec said darkly.

“None of us are going to let him walk away after what he did to Max,” Jace vowed, tightening his grip on his seraph blade.

Alec looked down at the carefully manicured lawn passing under his feet. “I almost wish you and Clary hadn’t done what you did earlier.”

“The tracking? Why?”

“Not the tracking. What came with it. The angelic power you called up. It makes things…easier. Doesn’t it?”

Beside him, Jace swallowed audibly. “Yeah.”

“This shouldn’t be easier. Not Max. Not yet.” Alec shifted the strap of his quiver on his shoulder. “When we kill Sebastian—Jonathan—that’s when it’s supposed to stop hurting so damned much.”

“I—It still will,” Jace said, sounding flustered. Alec glanced up at him to find him grimacing. “I think. I don’t know how this works, and I’m not used to being the one doing the reassuring. But emotions cloud judgment, right? If we go at Jonathan furious and hungry for blood, he can use that against us. So we take him down tonight level-headed and clear of purpose. For Max.”

Alec could almost wonder at Jace’s calm. Then again, Jace had plenty of experience with personal betrayals, didn’t he? Max’s death aside, what was hitting Alec and Izzy so hard about Jonathan’s duplicity was the way they had been played, the way they’d had their best intentions—the best parts of their natures, really—used against them.

But that was just a day in the life of anyone who’d had the misfortune to be raised by Valentine Morgenstern, wasn’t it?

“What about you and Magnus?” Jace asked. “Did it make that easier, too?”

Alec shook his head and sighed. “There’s nothing to make better there. We’ll get past it. We just…need to work through it. I mean, that’s what’s supposed to happen, isn’t it?”

“How should I know?” Jace scoffed, then frowned. “You really had no idea what he was up to with Dot?”

“I knew something was going on, but he said it wasn’t his secret to share, so I didn’t push.” He skirted an old headstone that slanted precariously into the space between the graves. “He had his reasons, but still. He did all that because he wasn’t sure he could trust me. So that’s all something we need to deal with, but mostly it was just—”

“—one hit too many,” Jace finished for him.

“Yeah,” Alec agreed with a grimace. Something on a nearby gravestone glistened in the moonlight and he nudged Jace’s arm, pointing to it. “Look.”

“Blood. Valentine’s?”

“That, or something he’s planning to throw at us got a piece of someone. Either way, we’re on the right track.” Alec took his bow off his shoulder and quickened his pace toward the treeline.

Something was definitely moving within the trees as they approached the wooded copse. Jace raised his sword as Alec nocked an arrow, and a prickle of…something...raised the hairs on the back of Alec’s neck.

“Pay attention to where you’re walking,” he murmured. “I think there might be an entrance to Faerie ahead.”

Jace shook his head. “If that’s how Valentine thinks he’s going to get around the warlocks’ wards, he’s really desperate. The Seelies will tear him apart. He—”

Jace’s words were driven from his throat by a blast of magic that crashed into them like a speeding truck. It tossed them into the air, them slammed them to the ground.

“He’s got a warlock with him!” Jace wheezed.

Alec struggled to his feet, ribs and lungs aching. “Not just any warlock. I know that spell.”

He should have considered before who else might have been imprisoned in the Gard with Valentine. The question was, how willingly was she working with Valentine now?

A figure was limping quickly away from them as they charged into the woods.

“Valentine, stop!” Jace shouted, his blade high and ready.

Alec was too busy scanning the perimeter for any trace of Iris Rouse to get a good look at Valentine, but what he saw was…horrific. Deep, bleeding lesions ran down his face, as though his skin had been melted away in places. His normally erect bearing was hunched and pain twisted his features, edging the calculating madness in his eyes with desperation.

“Hello, son,” Valentine rasped. “Here to stop your old man from seeking healing for his wounds?”

“Don’t call me that,” Jace gritted between clenched teeth, but he lowered his sword. “I’ve seen your real son. Gotta say, I’m noticing a certain family resemblance,” he added, gesturing to Valentine’s ruined face.

Alec clenched his jaw. Jace would literally stand at the gates of hell and sass the very devil, but they didn’t have time for that right now.

“Don’t engage with him. We’re here to kill him, and his son,” he reminded Jace tersely.

Remember Max, he wanted to add, but he didn’t. Bringing up Max would only give Valentine more insight to use against them. He wouldn’t take this kill from Jace; Jace deserved it for all he’d suffered at Valentine’s hands, but they needed to do this and move on.

Jace nodded and brought his sword up again. “Where’s Jonathan?”

“Ah, Jonathan.” Valentine’s face twisted into gruesome smirk. Alec had no idea how he could pull off insouciance looking as wrecked as he did, but somehow he managed it. “He’s a good boy. A bit headstrong, perhaps, but then that’s a trait shared by all my children. Must mean I’ve done something right.”

“Never once in your life,” Alec muttered, scanning the perimeter again. “Iris! I know you’re out there! Show yourself!”

“She’s probably gone ahead to open the way into the Seelie realm,” Valentine said, chucking a thumb over his shoulder. “Normally it’s something I’d do myself, but I’m a bit under the weather. She’s quite eager to lend her assistance. See, I promised her this is the last favor I’ll require before releasing her to reunite with her sweet little goddaughter.”

That’s never going to happen. Alec managed to bite his tongue before the words left his mouth. Of course Valentine would know of Alec’s protectiveness toward Madzie. Jonathan would have reported it to him.

“What, so they can have a touching reunion before you use Raziel’s wish to obliterate them?” Jace asked snidely.

“Knock it off, Jace,” Alec snapped. “Kill him, or I will.”

“You think that’s what I want Raziel’s wish for now?” Valentine asked, scoffing. “Look at me, son. Even if I destroyed the Downworlders and the Shadowhunters who coddle them, what joy could I find in the peace the I created, when I look like this?”

Jace nodded slowly. “The Clave will never hail you as a hero if your face reminds them every day that you’re a monster.”

“You’d think they’d manage to overlook my wounds, considering they were acquired defending all humanity from demon-kind, but human nature being what it is…”

“Enough of this.” Alec drew back his bowstring and released the arrow. It flew straight for Valentine’s heart…and vaporized before it ever reached him.

“What the—?” He and Jace exchanged a look.

“Disgusting as they may be, warlocks come in quite handy, don’t they? Well, you would know.” Valentine’s face contorted into a sneer in Alec’s direction. “See, the problem with my mind-control serum was that it was difficult to be certain when it had worn off, and it offered severely diminishing returns as far as loyalty was concerned. But Iris’s dealings with Clarissa gave me an idea. When I promised to reunite her with Madzie, she was only too happy to give me her blood oath to defend and aid me until my work was done. As long as she lives, the protective spells she’s placed around me will hold.”

“Find her,” Jace growled, advancing until he had Valentine backed against a tree. “I’ll deal with him when you’re done.”

Alec nodded, then grabbed Jace by the shoulder, squeezing hard. “Don’t hesitate,” he hissed in his ear. “For Max.”

Jace met his eyes, his face set with steely resolve, and nodded once. “For Max,” he murmured.

“Now, where is Clarissa?” Alec heard Valentine taunt as he raced off into the trees. “Searching for her brother, perhaps? I worry for her, you know. Jonathan was quite distraught to find she wouldn’t be the adoring little sister he’d imagined…”

Alec clenched his jaw and forced himself not to turn back. He had to trust that Jace wouldn’t hesitate this time.

The prickling strangeness of being on the edge of the faerie lands mounted the deeper he went into the trees. Someone with sufficient sensitivity might wander unwittingly across the divide between the realms, if the Fair Folk wished it—and for the sake of the mischief they loved so much, they frequently did. If the Fair Folk didn’t wish it, only someone of sufficient physical and mental fortitude could pass the barrier between realms, and while Valentine’s mental fortitude wasn’t in question, his physical injuries might pose an obstacle.

Unless Iris managed to pierce the veil for him.

The glow of her magic drew Alec through the thicket until finally she stood with her back to him, her hands radiating power as the barrier between worlds shimmered.

“Iris, stop!” he barked, drawing his bowstring back. “I will kill you.”

“You don’t understand!” Her face was twisted with torment as she looked over her shoulder. “It’s the only way he’ll let me have Madzie back!”

“He doesn’t have her. He’s been in Clave custody for months.”

“His people do!”

“If that’s what he told you, he lied.” He softened his tone, but kept his bow ready. “Madzie’s safe. Catarina Loss has been taking care of her. Iris. She okay. She’s happy. She has a good home now.”

The power around Iris’s hands faded abruptly, though the barrier to Faerie still…rippled. She turned to face Alec, a far cry from the tidily dressed and groomed woman he’d encountered when helping Clary all those months ago. Her clothes were threadbare, stained and wrinkled, her hair unbound and unkempt. “I told her I’d come back for her. She misses me.”

“Yes. She does,” Alec said sympathetically. “It took her a long time to be happy again, especially after what Valentine made her do. Did you know he made her kill people? She still has nightmares, and days where she can’t speak to anyone. He used the promise of you to force her cooperation, and now he’s doing the same thing to you. But Iris…you can’t have her back.”

Iris’s eyes filled with fury, her hands starting to glow again. “You can’t keep me from her. I’m the only mother she’s ever known!”

“You’re a fugitive from the Clave. You were tricking mundane women into being impregnated by demons. That’s not going to go away, no matter what happens here tonight. And Catarina and Magnus will never let Madzie go with you again.” Iris’s eyes began darting from one direction to the next, as though the walls of her cell in the Gard were closing around her again. “Besides, even if you could have Madzie back, if you help Valentine get away tonight, sooner or later he’s going to figure out the location of the Mortal Mirror, and when he does, he’s going to use Raziel’s wish to kill all of you. Every warlock, every Downworlder in existence. Even Madzie.”

Iris closed her eyes, a wave of despair washing across her features. Her entire body slumped in surrender. “He already knows. He has a contact within the Clave who called a few hours ago. He’s trying to get to Idris.”

Panic gripped Alec’s heart in an iron grasp, chilling him from the inside out. “Help me stop him,” he pleaded. “Help me protect her.”

“I can’t.” She shook her head wildly. “I gave a blood oath to aid and defend him until he releases me. It’s binding unto death.”

Power enveloped her hands and Alec drew back his bowstring once more. “Don’t, Iris. Don’t make me do it.”

“I have to. I can’t do it myself. Suicide violates my oath, even passively failing to protect myself.” The shimmer around her hands erupted into a massive wall of energy that Alec barely managed to dodge, throwing himself aside and hitting the ground with a painful thud. He shot at her a split second before impact.

Iris blocked the first arrow he released with another spell, sending it flying wide into the trees.

“Do it!” she shouted.

He rolled out of the way of a ball of magic, reaching for another arrow as he moved. He let it fly in that vulnerable instant while Iris pulled more power into herself.

This one didn’t miss. It pierced her chest dead center, driving the wind from her with an almost surprised gasp. A bloody bubble burst upon her lips as her knees buckled under her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, falling to her side. A tear glimmered in her eye and rolled down her cheek. “Tell Madzie her Nana loved her.”

“I will,” Alec promised, but she was beyond hearing. And surely it must be all the horror and grief of the day that made his eyes burn for this woman whose actions had filled him with so much revulsion.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it. He rolled to his feet and slung his bow over his shoulder, turning back to where he’d left Jace with Valentine.

Something was hurtling through the woods toward him, crashing against trees and stumbling through the undergrowth. It barreled into Alec before he had a chance to pull his bow off his shoulder, knocking him into a tree, and charged through the weakened veil to Faerie.

A moment later, Jace came limping along, clutching his side where his shirt was stuck to him and glistening red-black in the faint moonlight.

“You okay?” Alec asked, reaching for his stele. He lifted Jace’s shirt and activated his iratze.

Jace made disgruntled sound. “Yeah. Caught me by surprise. He must have felt the moment Iris’s protections faded, and stabbed me before I realized he was vulnerable. I’m lucky Valentine’s in such bad condition; I think he was actually going for my heart.” Jace strode purposefully toward the threshold Valentine had just crossed. “Come on, let’s go.”

Nothing happened as he stepped over the spot where Valentine had disappeared. The shimmer in the air was gone, the passage sealed.

“Dammit. The Seelies must have felt Valentine pass through and reinforced the barrier,” he muttered.

“Doesn’t matter. If we crossed into the Seelie realm without petitioning the queen for passage, we’d be in violation of the Accords,” Alec said. “Given the tensions right now, I doubt the Seelie Queen is feeling very lenient, either. I’ll call Magnus, see if he can arrange a meeting with her as soon as possible, maybe he and Luke can get through to her. Besides, Jonathan’s still out there, and it sounds like he’s after Clary.”

“Izzy’s with her,” Jace said confidently, pivoting to head in the other direction. “Let’s just hope by the time we get there, she’ll have left us a piece of him to take a swing at.”

“As long as it ends up with Jonathan dead, I don’t care who gets the last blow in.” Alec said as he followed, but he broke into a jog all the same.

“I’m sorry,” Clary said, apropos of nothing, as they emerged from the third mausoleum they’d searched.

Izzy gave her a confused look. “For what?”

“For teasing Jace about Maia and acting like this is just another day, when you’ve just lost Max. Everything your family has gone through today…”

The mention of Max was like a knife through her heart, about the millionth knife today, despite the soothing balm of the angelic light they’d all been bathed in earlier. She forced the feeling aside. “If you didn’t notice, Jace was teasing back. It’s okay.”

“I don’t want to be disrespectful. If someone had cracked a joke after my mom died…”

“There will be a time for mourning later,” Izzy said firmly. “We’re Shadowhunters. We’re soldiers. We don’t always have the luxury of putting everything on hold when we lose someone we love. We have to keep moving forward, stay focused on the mission. The banter is part of what we’ve always done, and right now we need things to feel normal.”

Clary nodded soberly, then grabbed Izzy’s wrist. “Over there. By the edge of the creek.”

The pale moonlight showed mounds of loose dirt rising up from the ground, separate from the neatly laid out rows of the modern parts of the cemetery. “Fresh graves.”

“Too fresh,” Clary said with a nod. “There’s three of them, all clustered together. They’re not tidy enough to have been dug by the cemetery’s groundskeepers.”

“Vampires.” Izzy closed her eyes against a painful wave of longing. The bliss of vampire venom would be so good right now. It would make that hollow space in her heart that had once been occupied by Max feel less empty.

The accompanying sense of fear was nearly as strong, as Alec’s warnings about the dangers of being bitten again came back to her.

And anger, at the way Sebastian—Jonathan—had used her addiction to gain access to her and her family.

“No way it’s coincidence that someone is raising vampires in the same cemetery we tracked Jonathan to,” she muttered, her whip slithering off her wrist. “Valentine’s lost his army, and he’s always been more than happy to use demons and Downworlders to do his dirty work.”

“Think these vamps will be the same as the ones who ambushed you and your mom?”

“Trained to fight?” Izzy shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know if he and Camille have had that sort of time. Still, be prepared.”

Clary pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll call Alec and Jace—”

Izzy caught her hand. “No. I’ve got this.”

“Iz—”

The vampire swept into Clary in a blur of speed. It drove her to the ground, snarling. The dirt of the grave still clung to his clothing, and if he’d fed yet, it hadn’t been nearly enough to assuage his newly-risen bloodlust. Izzy wrapped her whip around his neck, dragging him off Clary far enough for Clary to drive her seraph blade through his heart.

Sheer instinct had Izzy spinning where she stood. A snap of her wrist converted the whip into a bladed staff, which she drove through the heart of an oncoming vamp before she even consciously sensed its approach.

The third vampire was still struggling to rise from her grave. She lunged for Clary and Izzy before she had even fully emerged, and Izzy dispatched her just as quickly as the other two, but while her attention was on it, another blur slammed into Clary, bashing her head against the trunk of a tree on the bank of the creek.

“Clary!” Izzy spun, rushing to Clary who lay unmoving on the ground. The vampire who had tackled Clary had disappeared so quickly Izzy couldn’t even track where it had gone, moving faster than anything she’d ever encountered. “Clary, get up!”

Clary moaned and tried to move, but couldn’t seem to push herself up off the ground. Scanning their surroundings for the final vampire, Izzy cautiously crouched to check on Clary.

Which was when the vampire sped back in. It had her in a headlock before she could even react.

A cloud of vaguely familiar perfume enveloped Izzy, and the skin against her neck felt silken. This was no newly-risen vamp still gritty with grave dirt.

“Camille,” she spat, trying for bravado despite the surge of yearning that swept through her, being so close to a vampire.

“I can smell Raphael all over you,” Camille said merrily. “What a naughty boy he’s been.”

Izzy gritted her teeth. “Not anymore.”

“It doesn’t work that way, sweetie.” Camille’s nose brushed Izzy’s neck along the artery, her cool breath making Izzy’s skin ripple. She could have sworn she felt the points of Camille’s fangs and she wanted it, with a desperation that paralyzed her, made it impossible to move, to struggle. “The older the vampire, the more powerful the venom, you know. Raphael’s practically still a baby. Now me, on the other hand…”

“I wouldn’t be bragging about your age, if I were you,” Izzy snapped. She wished her body would obey, but it longed for the bite Camille kept taunting her with, even as her mind quailed in fear.

“Release her, Camille,” came Sebastian’s clipped command from the shadows. No. Jonathan. He had none of Sebastian’s unassuming humility or gentleness. He seemed so cold and arrogant that Izzy couldn’t grasp how she’d ever once found him warm or kind.

“I don’t think so,” Camille purred. “I’ve never had a Nephilim subjugate before. We could have a lovely time together.”

“Find another Shadowhunter, then. You’ve fulfilled your purpose. Leave, before I forget to uphold my end of our bargain.”

Camille hissed at him, thrusting Izzy away from her. The paralysis of will that had kept her still in Camille’s grasp broke once Izzy had some distance. She rolled to her feet and dropped into a crouch, her whip slithering down her side, as she, Jonathan and Camille all stood against each other in a three-way face off.

Camille’s eyes darted between Jonathan and Izzy, and then she hissed again and sped away in a blur of motion.

Jonathan took a step toward Izzy and she drove him back with a crack of her whip, toward the edge of the creek. She chanced a glance behind him at Clary, who was finally stirring, trying to get to her feet. Blood darkened her pale brow.

Izzy refocused on Jonathan, lashing out with her whip again, forcing him back another step.

“I trusted you,” she snarled. “I trusted you and you betrayed me. You gave me the yin fen. You made me an addict. You murdered my brother!”

If her words truly penetrated, he gave no indication of it. His head cocked to the side, almost studiously. “Yes, Max’s death was…regrettable. I tried to explain to him that I just needed to deal with the warlock girl, but he insisted on defending her. She threatened my family. You of all people should understand why I did what I had to do.”

The end of her whip wrapped around his arm the next time she swung it. He gripped it in his hands, dragging her toward him on the dewy sod. The sound of his skin sizzling and the smell of burning flesh wafted on the night breeze.

Jonathan glanced down, showing no alarm at the way the whip was searing his skin. “Ah. Electrum. When one has demon blood, one tends to have a sensitivity to such things. Luckily my time in Edom taught me to withstand such petty torments.” His smile was chillingly sweet. “Sometimes I even rather enjoy them.”

Izzy planted her feet on the slippery turf, leaning against his pull on the whip. “Why do all this? For Valentine? He banished you!”

“That was an unfortunate incident, I admit,” Jonathan said casually, as though Valentine had done nothing more than step on his toe. “But when he summoned me back, I realized it had all been a misunderstanding. And in the end, well, he’s family. Family stands together.” His eyes narrowed and he looked back briefly over his shoulder at Clary. “A lesson our mother never taught my sister. Valentine tried to warn me that Clary would hate me, but I had hoped… Yet, with our mother dead, she still turns to others rather than choosing to take her place with her family. You wouldn’t do such a thing to your brothers, would you, Isabelle?”

His gaze focused on her with alarming intensity, and the pressure on the whip increased. Her feet slid, the distance between them narrowing an inch and a time.

“My brothers aren’t deranged,” Izzy gritted, pulling away harder as he dragged her inexorably forward.

“Even if they were, you wouldn’t turn on them. I think I finally understand you.” His brow furrowed, as though working out a puzzle. “It’s taken me a while, I confess. So many things about you contradict what my father taught me. When Aldertree made you choose between Alec and Jace, you chose Alec. But eventually, I realized you simply chose the best of an array of bad options to try to save them both. You protected Jace as well as your brother.”

“Jace is my brother.”

“Precisely my point. You stand by him the same as you would your real family. That unshakeable loyalty, that is what Jocelyn failed to teach Clary. She turns against her father and brother for werewolves and vampires and warlocks whom she calls her family, but then she disregards them when she no longer needs them. She spoke of trying to save me, then so quickly decided I was unsalvageable.” His gaze softened as he looked at Izzy beseechingly. “You would never do that. You would never give up or turn away. You, Isabelle, are the sister I should have had.”

Astonishment made her forget to resist the pull on the whip, until they were almost toe to toe, mere inches apart. The scent of his burning skin was pungent between them, and the way his eyes pleaded with her was almost...innocent. As though he had no idea why what he was saying was insane.

That, more than anything, that detached lack of comprehension, was more frightening than anything else she’d seen from him. She tried to jerk away, the whip falling to the ground between them, but Jonathan caught her arm and his eyes held her like a cobra’s mesmerizing stare.

“I could be your brother,” he said, almost smiling at the idea. His voice lilted sweetly, entreating. “You and I could stand together the way family is meant to. The way even my father doesn’t comprehend. He betrayed me. I forgave him when he called me back from Edom, but he betrayed me and he used me and he’d do it again in a heartbeat, I know that. Just like Clarissa and Jace and even Alec would do to you, if you weren’t always available whenever they beckoned, asking for so little in return.”

“You’re wrong. That would never happen.”

“It already has! How many times have you been there for them, but did even one of them see when you were struggling through yin fen withdrawal? You were all alone in it.” His hand came up and cupped her cheek. “I wanted to help you. It’s why I gave you the yin fen, to heal you. And why I came back, to help you overcome it when I realized how destructive it actually was for you.”

Izzy quivered with revulsion. “What was in that tincture you gave me?”

His lips curved softly and for a moment, he was the disarmingly gentle Sebastian who had come to her rescue that day in the infirmary. “Probably nothing. I found it in one of the mundanes’ organic markets. It’s supposed to enhance energy and focus.” He chuckled as if it was all a joke. “You were too glorious to be brought so low. Sometimes knowing someone else can do something remarkable makes it possible to do it yourself, don’t you think? Sebastian Verlac—he wasn’t so fortunate. He was still very much struggling when I located him, the last of Victor Aldertree’s victims. His addiction made it easy to keep him complacent in captivity, at least. Which is why I needed Camille.”

The dismissal of her struggle, and of someone who by all reports had once been a fine Shadowhunter, was infuriating. “I was doing fine until you laid your trap for me and got me bitten again! Why couldn’t you have just left us alone?”

“Because I had to become someone you would respond to. Not an adversary, like Aldertree. Someone who understood you. I had to show you; I can be there for you the way none of them ever have been. And if the tincture hadn’t worked for you, I found a way to make yin fen that doesn’t have the toxicity of so many of the warlock salves and powders with their enhancing agents. You could have bliss with far less danger.”

“You’re insane,” she breathed raggedly, but it was as if he didn’t even hear her.

“I know you miss Max. But I could be your brother. I could replace what I took from you.”

Bile rose in her throat. A flicker of shadow moved behind him and Izzy planted her hands on his shoulders.

“You could never replace Max,” she growled and thrust away with all her strength, pushing herself back so hard she slipped on the wet grass and fell. The force of her shove drove him into Clary’s blade. The glowing point emerged through the center of his chest. Clary wrenched her blade out of his back and he twisted to grab her by the throat.

“Always the traitor,” he hissed, lifting her off the ground and cutting off her air. Izzy rolled to her feet and caught the whip up off the ground, but before she could move in, Jace streaked past her, knocking Jonathan away and breaking his grip on Clary. The momentum of Jace’s charge sent them both flying down the bank. Izzy lashed out with the whip, catching Jace around the ankle where it was protected by his boot, stopping his fall while Jonathan plummeted into the creek.

He floated motionless as the water carried him away, no thrashing or flailing. His eyes stared blindly up into the night sky.

“Hail and farewell,” Izzy muttered, turning the hallowed words into a curse with her disdain.

Alec ran up to the edge of the steep bank and helped Jace scramble up.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing over at Izzy as Jace brushed himself off.

She found she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Yeah.”

Clary frowned. “You sure? That was…creepy. Finding out that Jonathan’s been fixated on you this whole time.”

“What?” Alec snapped, alarm sharpening his tone.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. He was crazy. We got justice for Max. That what’s important.”

He looked at the water in irritation. “Damn. In half an hour he’s going to be in the East River and we don’t have time to fish him out and make sure he’s really dead. Come on. We’ve got to go, right now.”

“Why, what happened?” Clary asked, trotting to catch up as he pivoted and strode away.

“Valentine escaped into the faerie realms,” Jace explained, fast on Alec’s heels.

“And he has another spy in Idris who told him what the Mortal Mirror is,” Alec added grimly. “Which means if we don’t stop him, my husband and every other Downworlder in existence could be dead by this time tomorrow, and that’s not going to happen.”

Jace clapped him on the shoulder. “It won’t, Alec.”

Alec already had his phone out. “Luke, Valentine got around the warlocks’ wards by passing into Faerie. He knows where the Mirror is. Did you find Robert?” He listened for a moment, then nodded. “Good. Is my mother alright? Okay. Listen, the Seelie Queen isn’t going to want to hear any petitions from me asking her to detain Valentine, but maybe she’ll listen to you, Raphael, and Magnus…”

Clary caught Izzy’s elbow gently, drawing her attention away from Alec’s conversation. “Izzy…Hey, what he said to you, about us not appreciating you. You know he was wrong, don’t you?”

“Of course.” It took a little too much effort to pull her mouth into a confident smile as she recalled those days of withdrawal the first time, alone in her room.

Did even one of them see when you were struggling?

“Nothing he was saying made any sort of sense,” Izzy continued, keeping her tone light. “I wouldn’t take it too seriously.”

It took effort to keep her face neutral, but finally Jace called Clary’s attention to something and she moved on, allowing Izzy to sag with relief.

She wanted a vampire bite so badly she thought she might burst into tears.

Chapter Text

Magnus always thought there was a hint of something rotten under the fragrance of flora grown amok that pervaded the Seelie Court.

Not that he’d been there often. His and the Seelie Queen’s relationship could best be described as coldly antipathetic. She couldn’t comprehend why he didn’t fawn over her the way she was accustomed to, while Magnus was convinced that at least 90% of the myths that Downworlders didn’t have souls could be traced back to events that had transpired solely for her amusement.

“So, the Clave has betrayed us and allowed Valentine to escape,” she said in a bored tone. “Is anyone surprised?”

“Some of us are less shocked than others,” Luke said grimly. “You knew about this.”

“I did.”

Magnus kept his tone as silky and negligent as her own. “And yet you didn’t warn us.”

She smiled innocently. “You were so happily making love to the Nephilim—figuratively speaking, of course, at least in Lucian’s case—I felt you needed to see their duplicity for yourselves.”

Magnus bit his tongue against the urge to defend Alec, because she was trying to goad him into doing exactly that.

Beside him, Luke made an irritated sound. “Funny, because the Shadowhunters whose duplicity you wanted us to see are the only ones who have been forthcoming about Valentine’s escape.”

“I admit, the Head of the New York Institute has surprised me. First with regard to his marriage and then by his defiance of the Clave.” The Seelie Queen gave a breezy shrug. “But the inadequate gestures of one Nephilim aren’t enough.”

“That wasn’t what you said when you demanded Alec marry a Downworlder,” Magnus said. “You specifically wanted a gesture, nothing more, to prove goodwill and fair intent.”

“I wanted him to refuse, or to fail to meet my stipulations,” she retorted tartly and directly enough to make it clear that Alec’s constant exceeding of her expectations irritated her. “I wanted you to understand that the Shadowhunters will always choose their own kind, and so must we.”

“Except that isn’t what’s been happening,” said Simon, who was attending in Raphael’s place, since the Seelie Queen had demanded the meeting take place well after dawn. “From what Raphael says, the New York Institute as good as broke with the Clave yesterday to stand with us. And Alec’s not an outlier. Jace, Clary, Isabelle, they all backed him. Probably others, too.”

“Daylighter, you’ve been in this world for mere seconds compared to me. I’ve watched the Nephilim rise from the moment Jonathan Shadowhunter accepted the Mortal Cup from the hand of his angel. Do not let their apparent affections fool you. They will do as they have always done.”

Magnus held up a hand before Simon allowed the queen to lead him into a debate that would take them nowhere. “The intentions of the Shadowhunters of the New York Institute aren’t the issue here. Valentine Morgenstern entered your realm a few hours ago, m’lady. He’s heading for Idris, and once he’s on the shores of Lake Lyn, he’ll summon the angel Raziel. Under the Shadowhunters’ Covenant with the angel, doing so entitles him to make one request of Raziel. Does anyone doubt what the gist of that request will be?”

The Seelie Queen rolled her eyes as though Magnus was being tedious. “Yes, we know all this. Why should it be any concern of mine? The power of the angels has no sway over the faerie realms. My people are perfectly safe.”

Magnus flexed his fingers to keep from balling his fists at his sides and giving away just how cheerfully he’d throttle her, given half an opportunity. “But ours are not, Your Majesty,” he said with careful courtesy. “Nor are the Fair Folk who dwell outside your realm in the mundane world.”

“Why such alarm? Surely your gallant mate and Nephilim friends will defend you?” she needled.

Luke shook his head. “They’re trying their best, but Valentine has a head start, the Brocelind Forest is a lot of ground to cover, and he has operatives in Idris who might interfere with any attempt to stop him.”

“However, nothing passes through your realm without you knowing about it,” Magnus pressed. “We have an opportunity to prevent Valentine from ever reaching Idris.”

The queen all but studied her nails. “And then what?” she asked with a sigh so heavy Magnus thought she might actually yawn at him. “Would you turn him over to the Clave so that they might resume their charade?”

Luke answered quickly and decisively. “No. We execute him ourselves, immediately,”

She smiled lazily. “As amusing as the Clave’s reaction to that would be, it’s going to be up to the Shadowhunters to stop Valentine. He has already passed through my lands and has no doubt been received by his followers in Idris.”

“You let him through?” The dangerous edge of a growl crept into Luke’s voice. “Why would you do that?”

“He poses no threat to me nor anyone within my realm, so my only reason to detain him would have been to keep him as a plaything for the Courts.” She shrugged. “As entertaining as that would have been, this is far more fun.”

“This is revenge, for rebuffing your suggestion of a Downworld alliance against the Shadowhunters,” Magnus said slowly.

“I’d call it amusement. You were so eager to ally yourselves with them, why should you fear? Can they not protect you after all?”

Luke exhaled heavily. “You want something.”

“Merely to offer you and your people the shelter of my realm,” she said, beaming magnanimously.

“At what cost?” he asked, rubbing his face.

“Simply that we agree this silly treaty with the New York Institute was never a viable plan.” Each word she spoke felt like a weight on Magnus’s diaphragm, making it harder to breathe. Abandon the treaty Alec had sacrificed so much for? “They will always look out for themselves. So must we.”

“And we’d be welcome here as, what? Your subjects?” Derision dripped from each word Luke spoke.

“My loyal allies. And henceforth, if the Shadowhunters seek our aid, I will decide how we respond, and what the terms of our cooperation will be.”

Simon scoffed. “Jeez, not much of a deal. At least Alec was offering us a full and equal vote.”

“But can he offer your people a safe harbor from Raziel’s power?” she asked, insouciance personified as she reclined on her divan.

Magnus frowned. “And after the crisis has passed? Then what?”

“Your people will, of course, be able to resume their lives safely in among the humans. I doubt even Valentine can summon Raziel a second time. The terms of our agreement regarding the Nephilim will still apply.”

“Refusing to aid the Shadowhunters when they request it is a breach of the Accords,” Luke pointed out. “The last thing we need to do is provoke conflict with the Clave.”

She shrugged negligently. “Why should we aid them when they do so little to aid us? Valentine Morgenstern is a symptom, not the disease.”

“You want a war,” Simon said, his eyes widening.

“I want change.” All pretense of nonchalance disappeared from her face and voice and she stood, her posture straight and her chin arrogantly high. “For too long we have played by the Shadowhunters’ rules. It’s time we made our own.”

Magnus swallowed, certain the vines dangling from the walls of this flower-strewn bower were wrapping around his throat. “This is a grave decision. May we have time to discuss it with our people?”

“Of course.” She smiled beneficently. “Injured as he is, it will take Valentine a while to reach the shores of Lake Lyn, even with the assistance of his allies in Idris. I do believe there are some werewolves hunting him as well. But do not delay too long.” She plucked a rose and offered it to Magnus. “When the last petal has wilted, I seal my borders, and I will not open them again until Valentine Morgenstern is dead. Anyone who has not sought my protection by then will simply have to take their chances with Raziel.”

Thanks to the strange passage of time in Faerie, the sun was already high in the sky by the time Magnus portaled them into the Hotel Dumort to fill Raphael in on the Seelie Queen’s ultimatum.

“We’re not going to do it, right?” Simon asked, when they finished making their report.

“We might not have a choice,” Luke said darkly. “It’s one thing to want to stand by Alec after the way he stood up for us, but there are cubs in my pack. They need somewhere safe to go, and unfortunately the queen has a point. The Shadowhunters can’t offer us that.”

Magnus closed his eyes, Madzie’s sweet face clear in his mind. He dropped his head back against the wall of Raphael’s tastefully decorated suite and sighed. “Alec is my husband. If I abandon him now, after everything that has happened… But Luke is right. There are children to consider.”

Raphael frowned. “The Night Children have no little ones. We have some who were Turned when they were very young, but they’re centuries old. Aside from some of the rogue fledglings Camille may have sired, Simon is the youngest of us. He would clearly choose the Shadowhunters, but then he’s never grasped the fact that he’s not actually one of them himself.”

“You going somewhere with this?” Simon snapped.

Raphael rolled his eyes. “Alec Lightwood and I had a debt of honor between us. I nearly killed his sister, so I stood by him and his treaty when it became obvious the Seelies would try to divide us. Then he defied the Clave to inform us about Valentine’s escape. After all that, we could consider the debt settled, but it’s not so easy. Camille’s example notwithstanding, honor is no small matter for a vampire. Many of our kind are centuries old, and they hold to ancient codes where a person’s word, once given, is an absolute bond. That shapes our culture.” He sighed heavily. “I’ll speak to the other clan leaders, but I suspect they’ll feel the same. We gave our word to sign the treaty. The Brooklyn Clan, at least, will hold to that.”

“The Seelie Queen won’t take rejection gracefully.” Luke gave him a grave look. “You realize that you’ll be caught in the middle, right? Valentine on one side, the Seelies on another, and maybe even the Clave wading into the mess?”

“Only an idiot fights a war on two fronts. Only the heir to the throne of the kingdom of idiots fights a war on twelve,” Simon chirped up in a muddled accent featuring lots of rolled Rs, then looked startled when Magnus, Luke, and Raphael all stared at him blankly. “Londo Mollari? Babylon 5? Nevermind. Vague, inappropriately timed sci-fi reference. I’ll shut up now.”

Luke smiled fondly. Raphael looked like he wanted to smack Simon upside the head, and for once Magnus shared his impatience. He shoved away from the wall. “I need to see Alexander,” he said tersely, and threw a portal into the doorway before him, stepping through it.

His relationship with the New York Institute had always been a complicated one. When the Whitelaws had run it, it had never been a place that mattered to him. Simply another building he sometimes had dealings in. When Maryse and Robert Lightwood had taken over, however, it had become someplace to avoid unless he was being handsomely compensated.

But then Alec had come into his life, and the sight of that building had begun to thrill Magnus.

Alec’s in there. I get to see him.

Or, later: My husband’s in there. I’m going to be with him again.

That feeling, that tingly, giddy sense of anticipation, had quickly become the brightest thing in his life. It had made the once-dreary task of calling upon the Institute into a thing of joy.

Never had Magnus felt such complete dread when approaching the Institute. Even when he and Dot had entered earlier this week, knowing what they had put in motion and what the outcome would be, it hadn’t felt like this. The heaviness in his heart made his footsteps slow, as though it were a physical weight he had to drag up those steps.

Had it truly been only two mornings ago that they’d awoken together, in Alec’s tidy, tasteful room, and lain wrapped up in each other and filled with the joy of being together, even with all the challenges facing them?

Within the Institute, there was no place for a slow, reluctant shuffle. Chiefly because if he’d dawdled there in the main corridor, any number of frantically scurrying Shadowhunters would have simply run him down. The place was filled with a sense of urgency. Or emergency.

“Magnus!” Lydia called from across the Ops Center as he entered. She appeared to be snapping orders to three different Shadowhunters at once, each of whom rushed off in a different direction when she was done with them. “I was just about to call you. We need a demonology consult ASAP. Something has just appeared over Manhattan. We can’t identify it, and I doubt it’s a harbinger of anything good.”

The Seelie Queen probably wouldn’t approve of him doing an on-the-spot consultation for the Institute, but then he hadn’t yet agreed to the Seelie Queen’s terms. Sheer obstinance hardened his jaw, and he nodded briskly, stepping up to the display beside her.

“What have you got?”

“This.” She zoomed in with a camera perched atop one of the downtown Manhattan skyscrapers. Something that had appeared to be a large bird suddenly became a massive beast soaring over the heads of the oblivious mundanes.

“Oh dear,” he murmured. “You definitely have a problem.”

“Tell me about it.” The camera panned down to the street, where four tiny figures in black were running through standstill traffic. As the picture zoomed in, he could make out the fiery hair on one, and the scarlet fletching on the arrows bouncing on the back of the tallest. The others sprinted to keep pace with his ground-eating strides.

Lydia handed Magnus a wireless headset and donned another, adjusting the mic before speaking. “Alec? I’ve got Magnus here, he was about to tell me everything he knows about the demon.”

“It’s not dragonidae?” Alec asked, his voice crackling a little on the headset. The video on the display got in close enough that Magnus could see he had an earpiece in. Then Magnus heard him mutter, “Told you they were extinct.”

“Hey!” Jace squawked.

“No, the horn configuration is all wrong for dragonidae,” Magnus said, ignoring…whatever that was. “If I’m not mistaken, it’s a rare subspecies of edomei.”

“Edomei as in Edom?” Jace asked.

“Edom, as in the place Valentine banished Jonathan to and called him back from?” Clary asked incredulously.

Isabelle’s voice was tight. “Could this be related to his death?”

“How?” Jace’s voice was full of confusion.

“We can theorize on how and why it got here after we kill it,” Alec cut in. “Magnus, anything you can tell us about its weaknesses?”

Magnus felt someone step up on his other side and glanced over to see Maryse had joined them, donning another headset.

“I’m no expert on demon physiology, but if it’s similar to other species of edomei I’ve studied, those horns are actually protuberances from a particularly bony brow-plate. Consider the entire face to be heavily armored. A between-the-eyes shot won’t penetrate.”

On the video feed, Alec stopped between cars and raised his bow. “What about under the chin? Or is the brain not even where we’d assume it is?”

“No, that should work,” Magnus replied. “Careful of the ichor; edomei are exceptionally noxious.”

“Noted.” It was impressive even just watching on camera, the cool concentration with which Alec sighted down on the flying monstrosity as it swooped over their heads, the strength and endurance with which he held his draw. The beast wove between buildings, trying to come at them from a different angle each time, but Alec was ready for it. It dove straight at them, shrieking, but Alec never flinched. He held steady until it was nearly atop them, then loosed his arrow.

The demon plummeted to the ground mere yards from them. For a moment, thought its crashing descent would topple it right onto them, but somehow it crushed neither them nor the nearby cars honking at each other, the drivers completely unaware of what was happening right before them, before dissolving into a massive pool of ichor. Magnus released his breath, and opened the hand he hadn’t even realized had been clutching his chest.

Lydia glanced at him sideways but said nothing. “Good shot, but—what the hell?”

She muttered the words in unison with at least two of the Shadowhunters on Magnus’s headset. On the display, the steaming ichor that had splattered the street had begun to…coalesce, dividing into three amorphous blobs that quickly reshaped themselves into small draconid demons, immature versions of the beast Alec had just slain. Each one was easily the size of a large human. In a blur of motion, two of them quickly scattered, leaping onto cars and scrambling up the sides of buildings.

The third went straight for Jace’s throat, sacrificing itself to distract the Shadowhunters and enable the other two to escape. Isabelle’s whip caught it mid-leap and jerked it to the ground, where Jace’s sword dispatched it, but by then the other two were gone.

“Lydia, look,” Maryse said, pointing to the corner of the display where an aerial map of the five boroughs was tucked away.

“I see it.” Lydia swiped her hand along the monitor, moving the video feed to the corner and blowing up the map. Three more red dots were now speeding across lower Manhattan. “Alec, we have a problem,” she said into her headpiece. “More of those things just appeared on our tracking.”

“This has to be Valentine,” Jace said. “He’s controlling them with the Mortal Cup, trying to keep us stuck here fighting them instead of chasing after him.”

“How’s he summoning them here when he’s in Faerie?” Alec asked.

Magnus sighed. “He’s not in Faerie. I need to tell you what I learned in the Seelie Court, Alexander. I’m going to make a portal for you to return. We have to talk. Immediately.”

“Now? We need to stop these demons.”

“There have been no reports of attacks, so taking a moment to regroup back here might not be a bad idea,” Lydia said. “These things are coming from somewhere. We need to figure out where, stop them at the source.”

“Any rift large enough to allow multiple demons this size to pass through would need to be considerable,” Magnus added. “Our best bet is to locate it and deal with the problem there.”

There was silence for a moment, except for the sound of traffic around Alec. “Fine. Send us the portal. Let’s find that rift.”

Magnus paced before the fireplace of Alec’s office, grateful that at least it wasn’t the corridor outside the infirmary. After the last few days, he’d be particularly glad never to see that part of the Institute ever again.

Still, he wished he were waiting for Alec under better circumstances, with the joyous anticipation of reunion, rather than dread of a conversation that might very well spell the end of their short marriage and all its beautiful, unrealized potential.

He heard Alec’s brisk footfalls in the hallway outside and his stomach twisted. His fingers tangled in front of him as he stood with his back to the fire, watching the doorway until Alec turned the corner and came to an abrupt halt.

Alec’s eyes, huge and dark and filled with so much wary hope, broke Magnus’s heart. He swallowed twice before he spoke. “A gift from an admirer?” he asked, gesturing at Magnus’s lapel. His attempt at a teasing smile faltered.

Magnus blinked and looked down. He’d forgotten about the wilting rose the Seelie Queen had given him. Already, half the petals had turned black and begun to shrivel.

“Not exactly. Alexander, the See—”

“Wait.” Alec held up a hand, reaching behind with the other to close the door. “Just wait. Once you tell me what happened in the Seelie Court, we’re going to have to deal with that. I need to deal with this—us—now. Before we lose the chance.”

“Of course,” Magnus murmured, fighting to swallow past the knot in his throat. He laced his fingers together and squeezed so tightly his rings bit into his skin.

“Look, I can handle being told not to get involved. I can handle being told that something’s a warlock matter and I need to stay out of it,” Alec said decisively, crossing the room with a determined stride to stand before him. “But I can’t handle not knowing if I’ll be lied to, or—or stolen from. That’s crossing a line, Magnus. It can’t happen again. Can—can we agree on that?”

For a moment, Magnus was tempted to reject those terms. If he and Alec could fail to get past this issue, if they could declare their marriage unsalvageable, it would make his choice so much easier.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do that to Alec. Not after everything they’d both suffered to reach this point. If he had to choose to abandon Alec in favor of the Seelie Queen’s treaty, at least Alec would know he did so only under exceptional duress.

“Yes.” Magnus sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry, Alexander. Not for helping Dot, but for the way I treated you. Dot’s death brought so much of my anger and frustration at the Circle and the Clave to the forefront. And helping a friend to die—even though it was the path she chose, I feel a great deal of remorse and doubt about that decision. I took it out on you, and you don’t deserve that. I do trust you. I know these past few days have been the worst of your life, and I haven’t been the comfort to you that I should have been, as your husband. That I want to be.”

Something flitted across Alec’s features, something raw and full of yearning. Magnus’s throat tightened. He began to pace slowly before the fire again, his hands fluttering in an effort to keep from simply reaching out to try to make this all better with a touch.

It couldn’t be done. It wasn’t that simple.

“Someone I cared about—someone I even loved, once, a long time ago—asked me to help her give purpose her otherwise senseless death,” he said, trying for an openness he hadn’t managed the last time he’d explained. “She asked me to help her strike back at the people who had hurt her. There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done to fulfill that request. But then this marriage happened, and I…defaulted…to viewing you as an impediment to what I needed to do. When it came to this, I saw you as a Shadowhunter I needed to work around, rather than a partner who would respect my decisions even if he didn’t understand or agree with them.”

Alec chuffed softly. “Well, I don’t think we ever kidded ourselves that making this marriage work would be easy. We’ll keep trying, right?”

His sweet, bashful smile was somehow heavy, and tired, as though the weight of the world hung from the corners of his mouth. That final word carried so much weary hope that Magnus’s vision blurred.

Whatever his expression gave away, Alec picked up on it immediately. “Magnus, what’s wrong?” he asked, reaching out to cup Magnus’s cheek, allowing himself the comfort of touch even while Magnus was trying to deny his own need for it.

“I don’t know if we can,” Magnus said, his voice hitching. He laid his hand over Alec’s, pressing firmly, leaning into the touch for a moment before drawing Alec’s hand away from his face. He held it still clasped in his, though, unwilling to let go entirely. “The Seelie Queen has allowed Valentine passage through her realm. He’s reached Idris. We don’t know how long it will take him to reach Lake Lyn, but the time we have left can likely be counted in hours.”

Alec’s breath gusted as though he’d been punched in the chest. “Why would she do that?”

“To coerce us into complying with her so-called Downworld alliance. Her realm can protect our people, even from Raziel’s power.”

“But only if you agree to her terms,” Alec said hollowly, pulling his hand out of Magnus’s and starting to turn away.

Magnus stopped him, grasping his biceps. “Alec, please. If it were just me, you know that I’d tell her precisely what she could do with her terms. But I have the safety of children to consider.”

Alec sighed heavily. “Madzie.”

“Among others, yes.”

“You have to take her deal.” Alec closed his eyes and flinched as he spoke, as though the words pained him. But his voice was resolute. “Max died to save Madzie. If Valentine uses Raziel’s wish to kill her, that sacrifice will be wasted.”

“Alexander, taking the Seelie Queen’s offer won’t just mean giving up on your treaty. With the possible exception of the vampires, she’ll be the de facto leader of the entire Downworld in New York, and who knows what other cities where she’s extended her offer? She’ll be the only one with the authority to negotiate with the Shadowhunters, and I suspect that will entail far more stonewalling than negotiation. And if she abandons the armistice, if hostilities resume—”

“—We’ll be on opposite sides.” Alec pulled his hands out of Magnus’s and reached for the arm of the sofa, fumbling his way toward it by touch, as though navigating a pitch-black room. He dropped down onto the cushions, propping his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands “How can we—how can our marriage—survive that, Magnus?”

“I don’t know.” Hopelessness washed over Magnus. He sank down beside Alec, laying a hand on his knee, but he could offer no promises, because the future was far too unknown. Assuming they survived Valentine’s machinations, whatever the Seelie Queen had planned might be far more destructive, at least where their budding love was concerned.

Miserable silence filled the space between them.

At length, Alec sniffed and rubbed his face. “I told you on our wedding day that no matter what happened, it wasn’t all for nothing. But I’ve got to be honest, Magnus, it doesn’t feel like that today.”

“It hasn’t been for nothing,” Magnus vowed, squeezing his knee harder. “Alexander, we’ve come to this point because you have defied every expectation, not just from me, or the Clave, but from the Seelie Queen herself. Ooh, is she frustrated with you! She’s lived for thousands of years, but you stymied her at every turn.”

Alec gave him a dubious frown, and Magnus managed a gentle smile despite the ache in his heart. “She’s knows that reluctant allies are almost worse than enemies, and so she didn’t want to strong-arm us into this alliance. She knows we’ll never forget that the only reason we have to rely on her now is because she allowed Valentine to escape. While she may not be able to lie, I think she’s lost any real understanding of what sincerity is, and that, Alexander Lightwood-Bane, is your stock in trade. She forced opportunities for you to show you couldn’t be relied upon, again and again, only for you to prove the opposite. She gambled on you failing, and she lost. You’ve even made Raphael admire you, and I didn’t know that was humanly possible.”

“Only because you stopped me from beating him to a pulp,” Alec said with a watery chuckle. He met Magnus’s gaze with large, bleak eyes. “I’ve lost Max. My dad’s going to be deruned or imprisoned for the rest of his life. The treaty’s not worth the paper it’s printed on. Magnus, we barely had a few weeks together, but they’ve been the best weeks of my life. If I lose you, too—”

Magnus laid a hand alongside Alec’s jaw, and Alec turned his face to kiss the palm.

“I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.” The words felt like ground glass in his throat. “She can’t command me to end our marriage, but that doesn’t mean she won’t make it so difficult for us to trust or cooperate with each other that our relationship might just…crack under the strain. We’re leaders. We both have so many people to protect, we can’t be selfish. We don’t have the luxury of always putting each other first. We thought this marriage could work because we believed we could lead together in the same direction, unifying the people who look to us. We thought there would be no conflict of duty. Now…I simply don’t know what either of us is going to be called upon to do from here on out.”

Alec nodded glumly and sighed. He tried to turn pull his face away but Magnus refused to let him withdraw.

“But I promise to try, Alec. You said it yourself: we never assumed this would be easy. If you’re willing to take the chance with me that it could all crash and burn, that it could get ugly and immensely painful, and that we have no assurance of success, I promise to do everything I can to keep us together.”

Alec gave him a tremulous smile. “The night you proposed that, you told me marriage never comes with a guarantee, but for some reason, people still find it worth the risk.”

“I remember,” Magnus murmured, stroking Alec’s cheek with his thumb. “Now I understand the reason.”

Alec’s thick lashes swept down as he closed his eyes. “So do I.”

Alec’s lips were soft and a little salty under his, his face roughened by the stubble of several grueling, endless days fueled solely by coffee and stamina runes.

Magnus didn’t care. Alec’s hair was still soft as silk when his fingers threaded through it, his rings catching on strands as Alec angled his body and his arms snapped around Magnus with fierce, desperate strength. He kissed Magnus as though his embrace alone could keep the forces pulling on them from wrenching them apart.

If he could have, Magnus would have dwelt in that kiss forever. There were too many reasons why it could be their last, and that was unacceptable. Not now. Not after all they’d done and overcome, not after they’d had too short a time together.

It wasn’t passion that drove the kiss, and yet it became passionate, because the alternative was to pull away and face the reality of parting. He couldn’t bear that, so he opened to the sweep of Alec’s tongue, dug his fingertips more firmly into Alec’s scalp, nipped that tender bottom lip in the way that made Alec moan.

He might have made love to Alec right there on the sofa if the press of Alec’s body hadn’t crushed the rose in Magnus’s lapel. A thorn gouged him even though the layers of his clothing and he drew back with a hiss.

“What is it?” Alec rasped, his eyes glassy and his lips swollen.

“The world’s worst metaphor, I think.” Magnus sighed and opened the collar of his shirt to reveal a pinprick spot of blood directly above his heart. “Though perhaps not an inaccurate one.”

“We have to go.” Magnus could see the weight of duty and resignation settle on Alec’s shoulders once more. “I have to inform the Clave that Valentine has reached Idris, and track down the source of these demons—”

“—And I have to get my people to safety.” Magnus sighed and leaning in, pressing his brow to Alec’s. “I love you, Alexander. Whatever we have to do to survive from here on out, please don’t ever doubt that.”

“I love you too,” Alec whispered. He shot up off the sofa and crossed the room, standing far away from Magnus. His arms wrapped tightly over his own chest and he seemed somehow smaller than Magnus could ever remember seeing him, folded in on himself. “Go. Please. Before I can’t let you.”

Magnus nodded. “Goodbye, Alexander.”

Both words felt like daggers in his heart as he spoke them, but he turned on his heel and walked from the office quickly, sweeping the door open with a flick of his fingers so he wouldn’t have to fumble with it. He felt, rather than heard, Alec trailing him at a distance, watching him leave but doing nothing to stop him.

“Magnus!” Lydia called as he passed through the Ops Center. “I was hoping you were still here. We think we’ve located the rift the demons—”

“I—I’m sorry, my dear,” he stammered, unable to meet her eyes. He stopped for only a moment, then kept walking. “You’ll have to take it up with the Seelie Queen.”

Magnus Lightwood-Bane didn’t scurry away from anyone. And yet it felt like that was exactly what he was doing, as he picked up his pace toward the doors. Behind him, he heard Alec’s carry as he addressed the Shadowhunters in the Ops Center.

“Valentine has made it to Idris. It could only be a matter of hours before he reaches Lake Lyn. The Seelie Queen has offered the Downworlders the protection of her realm, in the event that Valentine manages to raise Raziel. The offer comes with some conditions, however, so from now on any requests for Downworld aid will now go through me, and I’ll decide which ones to take to the Seelie Queen—”

The doors closed behind Magnus before he could hear any more. Only once he was on the steps of the Institute did he stop his determined march away from Alec. He clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the urge to turn around and go back in, to stand beside his husband where he wanted to be.

But the rose in his lapel was still wilting. Miserably, he pulled it out and studied the stem.

No matter how closely he inspected it, he couldn’t find the thorn.

Alec made himself look at his people and not at Magnus’s retreating back as he addressed the Ops Center.

“—I’ll decide which ones to take to the Seelie Queen, who will be negotiating on the warlocks’ and werewolves’ behalf from this point forward.”

“What about the vampires?” Izzy asked, frowning.

“There’s a chance they may still stand with us. They don’t have children to protect, so they can take risks the other factions can’t afford,” Alec answered grimly.

Clary looked fretful. “So Simon’s still in danger?”

“We’re all in danger. You know what Dot overheard from Valentine. Using Raziel’s wish, Valentine can not only eradicate the Downworld but also any opposition from Shadowhunters who won’t sign on with his agenda, all in one fell swoop.” He glanced at Jace. “Unless you believe what he said in the cemetery last night about wanting to use the wish to heal himself?”

Jace shook his head. “No way. He was playing for sympathy. As badly injured as he is, he’ll be more determined than ever to fulfill his ‘mission’ because he’s vulnerable now and the chances of someone stopping him are greater.”

“Agreed.” Alec nodded brusquely and looked at Lydia and Maryse, who were hunched over the projection display with its 3D map of New York. “What do we have on the edomei?”

“Nothing good.” Lydia pointed to a pinned location on the map. “There are at least fifty of them now, and more seem to be arriving pretty steadily. And the rift is large enough that we’re going to need a warlock’s help sealing it, so you’ll be negotiating with the Seelie Queen sooner rather than later.”

“They’re still not attacking,” Maryse added. “Which likely means they’re waiting for something, which in turn suggests they’re being controlled by something or someone.”

Lydia frowned. “So we’re back to Valentine and the Cup.”

“Can he control them all the way from Idris?” Clary asked.

Alec shook his head. “No one else could. Even a warlock as powerful as Magnus wouldn’t have the reserves of energy to hold open a rift that size and maintain control of so many demons for long. For now let’s assume this is Valentine’s way of preventing us from chasing him to Idris.”

“Or his way of making himself seem like a hero once he destroys the demons with Raziel’s wish,” Izzy muttered. “You know, since he never succeeded in stirring up a Downworld revolt.”

“It could certainly be either. Or both.” Maryse straightened from leaning over the table. “While you were debriefing Magnus on developments in the Seelie Court, we received a call from Imogen. As far as she’s been able to discern, there have been no orders issued to guard the shores of Lake Lyn. And the Consul appears to have left Alicante, taking a corps of Elite Guard with him.”

Alec pushed back from the display, spitting a curse. “He’s working with Valentine.”

Jace’s eyes widened in alarm. “Alec, Maia and the Brocelind werewolves—”

“I know. We asked them to protect the lake and now they have a cadre of Elite Guard hunting them. They’ll be slaughtered, and the lake will be standing wide open.”

“We’ve got to get to Idris,” Jace said urgently.

Alec scoffed. “How? We can’t take the standing portal into Alicante or any other traitors still in the city will be alerted and try to stop us, but we’ve lost portal privileges with the warlocks indefinitely.”

Clary gnawed her lip. “I…may be able to help. I think.”

“What?” Jace frowned at her. “How?”

“The other night, just before Dot used Magnus’s magic to make a portal for us, I saw a new rune, like Ithuriel was trying to help us get out of there. I think it might be a portal rune.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Alec asked. “We all end up in limbo, or worse.”

She shrugged. “We’re Shadowhunters. Do we trust the angels or not?”

Jace puffed his cheeks, blowing out a sharp breath. “She’s got a point.”

“The demons—” Alec pointed at the display, trying to prioritize all the concurrent crises and unable to quite manage it. Thoughts of Magnus, and how they would cope with the separation they were facing, kept wanting to intrude. It was all he could do to keep them at bay.

“Go,” Izzy said firmly. “Stop Valentine. If the demons begin to attack, Lydia can dispatch patrols to deal with them, now that we know their vulnerable points. Otherwise we’ll wait and see. Meanwhile, out of all of us, I’m the most qualified to negotiate with the Seelies. I’ll try to catch up to Magnus and if need be, petition the queen for warlock aid closing the rift.”

“Good plan.” Alec said with a sigh. “Fine. Fray, grab your stele. Let’s do this.”

Chapter Text

“Where’s Alec?” Madzie asked softly as Magnus held her, watching as all the warlocks he could muster on short notice file one by one down the hidden path in Central Park that would lead to an entrance to the Seelie realm. Through the leafy canopy overhead, the shadow of one of the enormous edomei swooped. It was…disconcerting…to know they were up there and also know he was going to do nothing about it.

“Alec can’t be here, sweet pea,” Magnus replied, meeting Catarina’s eyes over Madzie’s head. “The Seelie Queen only invited the warlocks and werewolves, so Alec stayed at the Institute. He’s still working to keep everyone safe from Valentine and the demons.”

“Then why do we need to go see the faeries?”

“Because we all want to make sure you’re extra safe, in case it takes them too long to catch Valentine.” He kissed her temple set her down as the stream of warlock refugees crossing the border into Faerie dwindled. “I think that’s everyone who’s going to make it, Cat. You and Madzie had better go, I’ll wait out here a little longer to make sure there are no more stragglers.”

“Don’t wait too long,” she said darkly, glancing at the rose in his lapel. It was entirely black now, except for one petal. Another shadow passed overhead and she peered up through the trees. “You sure about this?”

He stroked a hand over Madzie’s hair, casting a conflicted look between her and the sky. “I don’t know what else to do,” he said helplessly.

Madzie tugged at Catarina’s hand. “I wanna help Alec.”

“Oh, no, kiddo,” Cat said gently, though her eyes were worried when they met Magnus’s again. “We can’t keep the Seelie Queen waiting.”

Rubbing at the ache beneath his sternum that wouldn’t subside, Magnus followed them as they started down the hidden path. Madzie—who, as far as he knew, had never thrown a tantrum the entire time she’d been with Catarina—was growing increasingly querulous in her insistence that someone needed to help Alec fight the demons. Each strident word only made the pain more intense.

“Magnus!” He turned at the sound of his own name being shouted to see Isabelle sprinting up the path toward him. “Has the Seelie Queen closed the border yet?” she asked, halting before him.

“No, but soon.” He glanced down at the rose again anxiously. “Isabelle, you can’t be here—”

“We’ve found the rift the demons are coming from. I’m here to petition her for warlock aid in closing it.”

“She’s not going to want to hear the petition, and if she does, you’re not going to able to pay her price,” he cautioned.

“Why won’t the queen let us help?” Madzie demanded.

Magnus clenched his jaw. “Take Madzie through, please?” he pleaded with Catarina.

Madzie, quiet Madzie, let out a howl of protest. “Nooo! I wanna help Alec!” she wailed.

“We’d better go before the border’s sealed,” Isabelle said, raising her voice to be heard over Madzie as she tried to brush past him.

Magnus held out a hand. “Isabelle, she’s not going to let us help you. She intends to challenge the Accords on every front she possibly can, force a confrontation that the Clave can’t possibly win against all of us united. She’ll use their hopeless position to strongarm the Nephilim into scrapping the existing Accords and giving the Downworld, and especially her, carte blanche upon renegotiation.”

“And you agreed to those terms?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. Behind him, Catarina spoke quietly yet firmly, trying to shush Madzie.

“To protect my people, yes.” He sighed. “Believe me, it’s not what I would have chosen if I’d had another option.”

“The bargain was heard and witnessed?” She drummed her nails silently on her sleeve.

Magnus nodded. It was easy to forget that out of all the Shadowhunters, Isabelle was the one who understood best how the Fair Folk operated. “She made sure of it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “But she can’t compel you to violate an existing compact.”

“No, of course not. Her terms were that we cease all consideration of Alexander’s treaty and allow her to conduct future negotiations with the Clave on our behalf. As for the Accords, we’re all bound by them until they expire and are renegotiated at the usual interval. So the Shadowhunters may still ask us for aid, and we’re still allowed the right to set a price for our cooperation.” Magnus shook his head helplessly. “But the wording of the Accords is loose enough that she can make operating within those strictures impossible. She’ll make the price unreasonably high, try to provoke the Clave into a breach, which then would give her grounds to declare them null and void.”

Isabelle rolled her eyes as though he were being intolerably stupid. “I’m not talking about the Accords. I’m talking about your marriage.”

Magnus heartbeat stuttered. “An existing compact,” he breathed.

“Exactly. I witnessed your vows. You promised Alec unconditional comfort, aid, and support. So what are we waiting for?”

He spun quickly and dropped to one knee, holding a hand out to Madzie, who was still arguing with Catarina. “Sweet pea, it’s okay. Hush now. I’m going to go help Alec. But I need you to continue on to Faerie without me. You’ll be safe there, all right?”

Madzie sniffled and wiped her face. “Promise?”

“I promise.” He looked up to see Catarina watching him with grave eyes.

“The queen’s not gonna like this,” she warned.

Magnus grimaced. “She shouldn’t have insisted on Alec marrying a Downworlder, then. She has no one but herself to blame.” He blew out a slow breath and sobered. “I know you won’t take the job yourself, Cat, but if Valentine manages to raise Raziel, try to steer our people into choosing my replacement wisely.”

He looked at the pair of them for a long moment, then pressed a fervent kiss to Madzie’s cheek and surged back to his feet. As he and Isabelle hurried away, he heard Madzie questioning Catarina, her soft voice fading and eventually gone as they disappeared into Faerie.

Magnus glanced at Isabelle out of the corner of his eye as she walked briskly beside him. She had her phone to her ear, telling Lydia to have a team of their best Shadowhunters meet them at the rift site to keep any demons off Magnus as he closed it.

“What?” she asked casually after she hung up.

“Just confirming what I already suspected. You never needed me to defend you at your trial.” Indeed, she might just be the cleverest of all the Lightwoods. How did no one realize that fact?

Isabelle shrugged. “All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable.”

“Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak,” he murmured in reply.

“You’ve read Sun Tzu.”

Magnus smirked, and conjured a portal for them. “Who hasn’t?”

It was well past nightfall in Idris when Clary’s portal rune—thankfully—deposited them where Jace had parted ways with Maia, rather than in limbo.

“She said the howls of the pack were coming from west of here, closer to the lake, so that’s where she was heading,” Jace told them, moving swiftly into the forest.

“Got it.” Alec etched a quick fire message to his mother in the air and jogged to catch up. Maryse had taken the standing portal from the Institute into Alicante to meet with the Inquisitor and muster her allies and whatever forces she could get her hands on to help locate and engage the Consul’s corps of Elite Guard. Assuming, of course, that Alicante wasn’t packed to the brim with Valentine sympathizers and they actually had enough allies to pull together an effective force.

Which meant it was probably best to assume he, Clary, and Jace were on their own out here.

They’d been moving west for over an hour when they came across a half-dozen wolf corpses scattered down the side of a hill, along with two bodies dressed in the heavy gear of the Elite Guard.

“We’re too late,” Alec muttered, squatting next to a body. The furred forms were still warm, but none of them were breathing. Drying blood glistened on their pelts in the moonlight.

Clary’s hand hovered over one, as though she wanted to close its eyes. “Can you tell…are any of these Maia?”

Jace shook his head, his expression tight. “No. Her coat has more brown in it when she’s in wolf form. These are all too gray.”

“Besides, when they die, werewolves will revert to human form if that’s how they spent most of their time while alive. None of these have done that,” Alec added. “Which means they’re all feral.”

“So Maia could still be out here, in a forest she isn’t familiar with, all alone against the Consul’s forces?” Clary’s voice sharpened.

“Yeah.” Jace looking anxiously around the moonlit forest, and then at the scattered werewolf bodies on the ground.

Alec rose, putting himself directly in Jace’s line of sight. “She was heading in the direction of the lake, so our best bet is to keep moving that way. If she ran into the Malachi’s forces, that’s where they’ll be.”

Jace’s eyes were getting that twitchy look he got when he was in danger of doing something erratic. Alec couldn’t necessarily blame him; their progress was swift and steady, but each step was accompanied by a heavy sense of dread, as though he were easing one foot out onto a flimsy, unstable surface, certain it was going to collapse beneath him.

Would they know if and when Valentine managed to summon Raziel? Would it be fearsome or beautiful? Would they have any warning before the Angel’s apocalyptic might wiped all of Valentine’s enemies out of existence?

Not all of them. At least Magnus is safe.

Jace’s hand on his arm jerked Alec out of his grim thoughts. “Alec, wait. Do you smell that?”

Alec sniffed the air. “Wood smoke. Malachi’s people made camp?”

“Then there’s no way Valentine’s with them.” Jace shook his head decisively. “He wouldn’t halt this close to the lake.”

“Unless they’ve set up a perimeter to stop anyone who might interfere with him,” Alec suggested. “This could just be a base camp.”

Jace activated his Soundless and Sure-Footed runes. “Let’s see if we can get a better look at what they’re up to.”

The encampment was sizable, but not heavily populated, supporting Alec’s theory that it was the base of operations in an effort to form a perimeter and cordon off access to the lake. As they watched from the slope of a nearby rise, Consul Malachi Dieudonné ducked under the flap of a tent at one end of the camp and marched toward one at the other end, flanked by his three personal guards.

“Bring out the werewolf,” he called, audible at this distance only by virtue of hearing runes.

Jace groaned a split second before Maia was dragged from the tent, her arms bound behind her. The ill-fitting clothing she wore suggested she’d been captured in wolf form—or close to the moment of transition from one shape to the other—and they’d handed her whatever scraps of clothing they had on hand to cover herself. She was glaring at the consul as though she could burn him to a cinder with her eyes.

“I’m going to ask you one last time, beast.” Dieudonné sneered at her. “How many reinforcements did you illegally bring into Idris with you to stop Valentine’s mission?”

Maia bared her teeth. “I already told you, I came here alone, to recruit the local pack to guard the lake. I didn’t even know Valentine had made it this far until you said so!”

Clary nudged them. “Check out his neck.”

Jace grunted in acknowledgment. When the Consul turned his head, Alec caught the flash of red of a fresh Circle rune.

“Has there been any indication that anyone accompanied the werewolf?” the Consul asked one of his men.

“Some tracks from where it seems to have portaled in, but nothing more.”

“Tell everyone to stay alert,” Dieudonné said. “There’s been a fire message out of Alicante that Imogen Herondale is mustering reinforcements. We need only delay them for another hour or two, and Valentine’s holy mission will be completed. Take the beast into the forest and dispose of it.”

“Alec,” Jace whispered urgently.

“I know,” He nodded grimly. “But we’re running out of time. Save Maia. Use the opportunity to create a diversion to pull Malachi’s forces off the cordon and back into the camp. Clary and I will slip through the gap in the perimeter and head straight for the lake. Catch up as quickly as you can.”

Jace clapped him on the shoulder. “On it. Good hunting.”

As distractions went, setting several tents on fire certainly did the trick. Alec and Clary carefully skirted the encampment, taking advantage of unguarded stretches where the Elite Guard had rushed back to fight the flames and whatever had caused them. Maia snarled, then howled, and a shriek that sounded like Dieudonné echoed through the night, but then they were too far away to hear anything more.

Once they were well past the camp, Alec and Clary sprinted the rest of the way, leaves and twigs lashing their faces and roots attempting to trip them with every step. They broke through the tree line onto the empty shore of the lake directly uphill from the cairn that marked the spot where Jonathan Shadowhunter had supposedly first summoned Raziel a thousand years ago.

“We made it,” Clary panted, pressing a hand to her chest. She had a scrape on one cheekbone and another on her brow. They were both lucky they hadn’t lost an eye. “He’s nowhere to be seen. Did the werewolves intercept him after all?”

Alec’s scalp prickled. “Except for Maia, have you heard a single wolf howl since we got past the encampment?” he asked, clutching his bow and ready to draw at the slightest hint of movement. “Keep an eye out. Either he hasn’t made it yet, or he’s watching from concealment, waiting to see if there’s—”

It didn’t make sense at first, the way the sound of his own voice just stopped mid-speech. A fierce burning in his chest accompanied the tang of iron on his tongue. He staggered into Clary then slid to the ground, Alec glanced down to see the barbed, crimson tip of a crossbow bolt protruding out from his chest.

“Alec!” As he fell over, he heard Clary’s cry of alarm as though from a great distance, though she hovered directly over him.

“—Waiting to see if there’s someone coming to stop me?” Valentine’s rasping voice completed his thought for him. “Yes, that is something I would do, isn’t it?”

Valentine swam into view slowly; Alec’s eyes seemed to be having trouble focusing as he lay on his side on the cold, stony ground. His hand fumbled for the tip of the bolt but he couldn’t find the strength to pull on it.

“Hang on, Alec. Hang on, hang on, hang on,” Clary babbled desperately, fumbling to lift his shirt and expose the iratze on his ribs. “You’ve got to hang on. Jace and Izzy need you. You can’t leave them now, not after Max—”

“Thank you, Clarissa, for not bringing Jace with you,” Valentine said with something approaching his usual arrogance. Now that he was closer, Alec could see his skin was still terribly scarred, like runnels of melted wax, but he’d been healing. Perhaps faerie magic, or perhaps the Consul’s medics had been treating him, but the lesions no longer had the raw, seeping appearance they’d had the night before. “I cannot say how terribly it would have pained me to have to kill that boy.”

Clary ran her stele over Alec’s iratze again but it did nothing.

“Come on,” she pleaded tearfully, trying again. “Please, you can’t die. Who’s going to tell me off when I’m being an idiot or—or doing things no decent Shadowhunter would do?”

“Mag—Magnus—” he gasped, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. This wasn’t acceptable, that he would die without getting to see Magnus one last time.

She nodded maniacally, her voice hitching and squeaking. “I know, right? You just got married, like, a week ago. It’d be way too pathetic to—Alec—Alec—!”

“Sorry,” he whispered, and saw no more.

Chapter Text

This close to the rift, Magnus’s power felt wrong; unreliable, like lights dimming and brightening during a brown-out. It didn’t help that he was still recovering from his wound, or that he’d spent so much magic on the futile wards he and his warlocks had created to keep Valentine from escaping to city. He was pushing his limits even without the strangeness of such proximity to the rift.

He was surrounded by Shadowhunters he really didn’t know, most of them armed with bows or crossbows since blades were useless against flying menaces. Magnus would have traded all of them for Alec at his back. It was hard enough to wrestle his magic into obedience standing next to the rift without worrying if the Shadowhunters there to keep the edomei off him were up to the job.

But Alec was in Idris, confronting Valentine without Magnus at his back, and that fact also felt incredibly wrong. How had he ever imagined he could abide the sort of separation he’d envisioned when he walked away from Alec?

He gritted his teeth and focused on pouring his power into sealing the rift. It was like trying to harness untamed horses; he hadn’t felt this disconnected from his magic since he’d first learned to use it.

“Magnus, look out!” Isabelle called, and he glanced over his shoulder to see one of the edomei soaring straight toward him, moving so swiftly it dodged the Shadowhunters’ arrows, dipping and weaving side to side. It spat a fireball that erupted at the feet of one of the Shadowhunters, knocking him and the two flanking him back with screams of pain and alarm, and blasting a hole in the defensive wall they formed.

Magnus gritted his teeth and reached deep for more power, the reserves he usually never tapped because it took too much out of him. It was dangerous, especially with his grip on his power feeling this erratic, but he hurled the magic at the demon anyway. It came crashing to the ground in a massive hulk that sent Shadowhunters diving to get out of it’s way, dividing into three separate spawn almost before the plume of sand it sent into the air hit the ground again.

Magnus turned back to the rift and thrust the rest of his power into sealing it while Isabelle and her comrades cleaned up the demon’s hideous offspring. He dropped to his hands and knees, panting.

Isabelle rushed over to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yes. Let’s get you to Idris before my magic fails me entirely,” he said, brushing himself off.

“Are you sure? We could return to the Institute, take the standing portal—”

Magnus waved the offer off. “No time. I’d rather Alec have you reinforcing him without delay. And best to do it now before the magical hangover sets in.”

It took Magnus two tries to summon the damned portal, his magic guttering like an oil lamp in high wind. While he worked on it, Isabelle instructed the other Shadowhunters to report to Lydia and get started on cleaning up the edomei still remaining in their realm.

The portal deposited them in a clearing in the Brocelind forest that Magnus remembered from a picnic he, Ragnor, and Catarina had had back when Ragnor had still been teaching at the Shadowhunter academy. It wasn’t far from Lake Lyn and the cairn that had been erected to commemorate the first summoning of Raziel. Once the portal had closed behind them, he rubbed at his temples, where a headache was starting to blossom.

“Magical hangover?” Isabelle asked.

“It’s nothing,” he said with a dismissive shake of his head. “Though, I have to admit, getting us back home may be a bit of a challenge.”

She shrugged and set off through the trees. “No problem. Clary can use her portal rune.”

“I beg your pardon? Clary can use her what now?” She met his eyes with a wry nod and Magnus sighed. “Well, there goes half the warlock economy.”

Isabelle stopped in her tracks, lifting her face and sniffing the air. “I smell smoke.”

Magnus drew a deep breath and frowned. The scent had a heavy, pungent note to it. “That’s not just campfire smoke. Something other than wood has been burning.”

Her whip slithered down from her wrist and she held it coiled in her hand. “Let’s check it out.”

It turned out to be the smoldering remnants of what had been some sort of encampment. The canvas of the tents had burned away, leaving only embers and refuse beneath the charred tentpoles. Bodies were scattered along the ground, most wearing the heavy black gear of the Shadowhunters’ Elite Guard.

Isabelle inspected them quickly. “Pretty sure this is Jace’s doing. I recognize his sword work.”

“I saw a few with their throats ripped out or slashed by werewolf claws,” Magnus replied, pointing the corpses out.

“Guess they found Maia, or maybe some of the Brocelind wolves.” She rolled another body over, revealing a gaping wound where the man’s heart had been, and hung her head. “Consul Malachi.”

“With a Circle rune, no less.” Magnus scanned the area again. “There aren’t any arrows in the bodies.”

Isabelle nodded grimly. “They would have split up. Jace dealt with Malachi’s forces while Clary and Alec continued on to the lake.” She rose, brushing her knees off. “Come on, we may still catch up.”

They quickened their pace, putting the burned-out encampment behind them. Isabelle held a witchlight in her hand, sparing Magnus the need to attempt magic to light their way. Perhaps it was the dark, or perhaps their course wasn’t as direct as they’d thought it was, but it seemed much farther to the lake than Magnus remembered from that picnic two decades ago. He was about to remark on that fact when a breathless scream of pain tore through the trees.

“That’s Jace!” Isabelle’s voice was sharp with alarm and she took off, sprinting through the trees in the direction the cry had come from.

A moment later, there came another cry, this one closer and far more distinct. One word. A name:

“Alec!”

They practically fell over Jace when they burst through the trees nearly on top of him. He was hunched over at the base of a tree, clutching it for support, his face twisted in agony.

“What is it? What’s happening to him?” Maia asked frantically. She was dressed in what appeared to be scavenged gear from the dead Shadowhunters back at the encampment, and she had twigs and leaves caught in her hair. “He just keeled over!”

“Oh, by the Angel, no!” Isabelle pushed away Jace’s hand, which was clutching his abdomen just above his left hip, where Magnus knew his parabatai rune was etched. She shoved the shirt out of the way just in time to see it fading. “No. No no no…”

Magnus staggered to a halt. “Alexander!”

He would never and could never experience the pain of a parabatai bond breaking, but certainly the agony that had taken root dead center in his chest was an easy match for it. He wanted to curl up there on the ground beside Jace, hopelessness washing over him. If the rune was already fading, they were too late.

“Izzy…Izzy…I can’t feel him.” Jace’s voice cracked, and tears began to stream down his face. “I can’t feel him, Iz!”

“No,” she whispered, and shot to her feet. “No!”

She tore through the trees at a sprint, Magnus hard on her heels. Even though there was nothing he could do, he was helpless not to try to find Alec, to try—something. Anything. Even if it was only to be with Alec for one last instant.

Branches and roots tried to snare them with every step, whipping their faces. Tears blurred his vision; he followed Isabelle more by the sound of her crashing progress through woods than by sight. And then suddenly a glow lit the sky, brilliant and golden as the dawn.

“We’re too late,” Isabelle said, and it took Magnus a moment to comprehend that she wasn’t talking about Alec now. “Valentine’s raised Raziel. Magnus, you need to get to safety.”

“I need to get to Alexander,” he said grimly, plunging ahead.

Isabelle caught his arm. He spun to face her, taking in her face covered in tears and streaks of dirt. “Alec would want you to live!”

Magnus wasn’t certain he wanted that, just now.

“If Alec’s dead, Clary is alone with Valentine, and she may be no match for him, even if he’s injured,” he replied, then added bitterly, “Besides, I have no magic left. I couldn’t portal out even if I was willing to do so.”

And frankly, if he was going to be wiped out of existence, he’d rather it happen at Alec’s side.

Isabelle didn’t argue again. They emerged from the woods at the top of a long, steep slope leading down to the lake and there, high above the water, was the heavenly glow of an angel. Valentine stood before it, a minute figure at this distance, hunched as though in pain. They wouldn’t be able to reach him in time to stop him from making his wish, nor to help the two motionless figures on the rocky shore behind him.

No. Not motionless. One of them was squirming, reaching toward the other to take something from him before struggling to get to her feet.

In Raziel’s golden glow Clary’s hair seemed like a crown of copper fire as she charged Valentine where he stood beside the cairn and flung him to the ground. She followed, pressing her attack, but Valentine grabbed a rock off the ground and struck her a glancing blow on the side of her head with it when she got close enough. Clary staggered, giving Valentine room to get to his feet again.

Magnus and Isabelle sprinted down the slope, slipping and nearly toppling over on the rocky, uneven hillside. They were helpless witnesses to the gruelling, brutal, inelegant struggle taking place between Clary and her father below. Valentine was clearly still injured, and that was the only thing that tipped the odds in Clary’s favor. But prowess wasn’t the deciding factor in this battle; desperation was, and that Clary had in abundance. Despite the blood streaming from her scalp, she kept pressing Valentine. Every time she got knocked down she sprang back up and charged again.

They had almost reached the lakeshore when Clary managed to slash the seraph dagger she’d taken from Alec’s thigh holster across her father’s throat, then drove it into his chest. That thrust opened the floodgates of all the grief and fear and turmoil Clary had known since Valentine Morgenstern had torn her life and family apart. She stabbed him again, and again, driving the blade into him over and over in bloodthirsty rage. They sank down together, staring into each other’s eyes, and when Valentine collapsed, so did Clary.

Isabelle rushed to Clary’s side and checked her pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when she found it. But Magnus’s eyes were only for the other body on the ground.

He dropped to his knees beside Alec, hot, hopeless tears trickling down his face. No breath stirred Alec’s chest. And yet Magnus couldn’t help but try. He called what weak, flickering healing magic he could manage to his hands and tried to feed it into Alec, even knowing it was futile. The bolt piercing his chest dissolved and faded away, but that was all Magnus managed to accomplish. There was no spark of life left to facilitate healing. Alec’s soft, gorgeous eyes remained sightless.

Magnus passed his hand over those eyes to close them and hung his head in defeat. Someday this paralyzing emptiness spreading outward from where his heart used to be would fade. Someday he wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the need to lie down beside Alec and die as well, but right now he didn’t know how he was going to survive this pain, or if he even wanted to.

And then he heard a voice. Strong and fierce and full of determination.

“…the very best of your Nephilim…Please, don’t let…”

Magnus’s eyes flew open and he turned in horror to see a figure standing before Raziel, who still hovered in all his golden glory over the water.

“Isabelle, stop!”

It was wrong. Izzy knew that the moment the idea entered her mind. It wasn’t just wrong, it was complete and utter sacrilege. To subvert Raziel’s purpose for such a selfish, mortal desire was an unspeakable sin.

She knew this. And yet she didn’t care. Clary’s pulse was strong under her fingers, and Magnus was preoccupied trying to heal Alec with the tiny flicker of magic he had available to him. And the Angel…the Angel…was still waiting for the wish for which he’d been summoned.

She approached the cairn with steady steps, and with a snap of her wrist her whip became a staff. She sliced the pointed end of it across her palm and let her blood drip into the waters of Lake Lyn.

“Speak, Nephilim.” His voice was beautiful and terrible at the same time. It was not a voice meant for mortal ears. “You may compel me to one action.”

“Hear me, Raziel.” Her first words came out as a quavering whisper, because to stand in front of the Angel’s glory was truly an awesome and intimidating thing. And yet she could not cower, not now. “Hear me, Raziel! My brother, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, lies fallen on this shore. He’s brave, and strong, and remembers his duty to you even when others falter and forget. He will lead the Shadowhunters away from the evil and madness of men like Valentine Morgenstern, and back to the purpose for which you intended us. But to do that, he must live. Please.” Her voice broke on a sob, tears flowing down her cheeks. “He is the truest champion of your will, the very best of your Nephilim. Please, don’t let death take him from the people who love and need him.”

Over the buffeting sound of Raziel’s wings she heard Magnus’s shout, as though from a great distance, demanding she stop. She ignored him and spoke her wish. If there was a price to be paid for this blasphemous act, then she would pay it, but she wouldn’t back down now.

An instant later, Raziel’s light simply vanished, leaving the night so dark Izzy had to stumble blindly back to the shore until her eyes adjusted once more. Clary was just beginning to stir, and she thought she heard Jace and Maia approaching in the forest up the slope, but she couldn’t be bothered with any of them right now. She rushed to Alec’s side, trying not to feel the weight of Magnus’s appalled stare.

“Isabelle, what have you done?” he rasped.

“What I had to,” she answered, lifting her chin. “I’m not losing another brother.”

Magnus made a pained sound. “You can’t—You don’t simply—There are consequences when…”

Between them, Alec sucked in a sharp breath and began coughing, and anything Magnus had intended to say was lost.

“Alec?” Izzy asked desperately.

Magnus laid a hand alongside Alec’s face. “Alexander?”

Alec’s eyes flew open. “Magnus? Izzy? How—? I was dead.”

“No.” Izzy shook her head quickly, ignoring Magnus’s sharp stare. “No, it was close, but we got here in time. Magnus was able to heal you.”

“Magnus, you—” Alec looked at him in confusion and Magnus dropped a fervent kiss onto his brow and clutched him tightly.

“It’s all right, Alexander. You’ll be fine.” He rocked Alec, peppering him tearful kisses, before his accusing eyes met Izzy’s over the top of Alec’s head. “You’ll be alright, my love.”

She glanced away. Fortunately Clary chose that moment to stagger over to them, and Jace and Maia trudged down the slope as Alec sat up.

“Alec? I thought you were dead,” Clary said in astonishment. Jace, meanwhile, was staring at Alec in disbelief.

“I felt you die,” he whispered, his eyes still rimmed with red. “Our parabatai rune—”

He lifted his shirt, where the rune was still missing.

“With the arrow through his chest, it’s possible Alec’s heart stopped for a moment or two,” Izzy suggested, deftly slipping the explanation in with the same quick wit that allowed her to navigate among her Seelie acquaintances without falling into their conversational traps. “Just enough to break the parabatai bond, but there was still—”

“—There was still the faintest spark of life.” Magnus took over, committing himself as her ally in this secret, whatever his misgivings. “Alexander’s soul, if you will, hadn’t departed his body yet. It was just barely enough for my healing magic to work with, but thankfully it was just a very near miss. We’ll, er, need to keep an eye on him for a while to make sure there are no adverse effects.”

“What happened to Raziel?” Clary asked, glancing around.

“I dismissed him while Magnus was healing Alec,” Izzy answered quickly. Each lie came easier than the last. Someday, maybe she and Magnus would forget they were even lying and believe it all themselves. Once they knew Alec would be all right.

Which he had to be. This wasn’t dark magic nor necromancy, which brought back abominations in the place of lost loved ones. This was a blessing from the Angel himself, so all the usual wisdom about bringing people back from the dead didn’t apply.

Surely Magnus was wrong about consequences this time. He had to be.

Jace was giving Magnus a troubled look, as though he doubted their story of last-minute healing.

“We really should get back to the Institute,” Izzy said. “I’m sure the medics will want to look Alec over. And this is the second time in two days someone’s tried to bash Clary’s skull in. She needs healing.”

That did the trick. Jace’s attention snapped to Clary as though he were just noticing the blood coating the side of her face. He whipped out his stele to activate the iratze rune on her neck, then looked at the corpse lying near the water.

“Someone needs to stay here to wait for Maryse and Imogen to arrive with their reinforcements,” he said. “And call me superstitious but I’m not willing to leave Valentine’s body unattended.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Maia offered, then shuffled self-consciously. “Someone should. I mean, he sucked but he was still sort of your dad, right?”

Jace shrugged, sighing.

“Well, once you’ve said goodbye, if you’re still feeling it you could always cut off his head,” she suggested, sounding a little more sure of herself. “You know, just to be certain.”

He glanced down at the hilt of his sword and clenched his fists as he stalked down the shore toward Valentine’s corpse. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Clary, are you okay to make a portal rune for us?” Isabelle asked once they were gone. “Magnus used all his magic healing Alec.”

Magnus glowered, his jaw flexing, but said nothing. Instead, he solicitously helped Alec to his feet. Nonetheless, as Clary’s portal took shape before them, his eyes met Izzy’s once more, his gaze full of worry and censure. Then they stepped through the portal and were gone, and Clary after them. For a moment, Izzy was left there alone with all her doubts and second-guesses.

“I did what I had to do,” she whispered again, and entered the portal.

Chapter Text

Max’s body lay wrapped in a gauzy shroud on a bier in the ceremonial hall, awaiting the Rite of Mourning. Alec stared down at him, waiting for the sight to hurt. So much had happened in the last few days that it felt like ages ago that Max had died, and now that Alec finally had a chance to stop and sit with his grief, he…couldn’t. It was numb, barely there, as though some barrier had been erected between him and the pain he should be feeling.

He’d been feeling like that a lot since they’re portaled back to the Institute.

“Trauma,” Liz Velez had said succinctly when he’d confided the strangeness to her as she examined him. “You’ve taken a lot of hits in the last few days, and haven’t had time to process it all. The brain protects us in situations like this, seals us off from the things that would shut us down, so we can keep going and do what we need to do. It’ll catch up once you’ve felt safe enough, long enough, to let it.”

“Right,” he muttered, distantly concerned that he wasn’t more concerned. “And physically?”

“Physically, you’re fine.” She shrugged. “I’m going to insist on limited hours and restricted physical duty for you for at least a week, preferably two, to be sure you’re healed as well as you seem to be. But your husband must have poured everything he had into that healing spell, because except for a faint scar on either side, there’s no hint of injury.”

“No wonder he passed out as soon as we got back,” Alec remarked. Passed out was only a slight overstatement. Magnus had tried to hover after he’d escorted Alec to the Infirmary, but he’d been swaying on his feet, his eyes bulging with a headache. He’d refused to leave until Liz had threatened to ensconce him in an infirmary bed to sleep off the effects of his overexertion. Once he knew she meant it, he’d staggered off toward Alec’s room and—according to Izzy—was sprawled atop the covers of Alec’s bed, fully clothed and sleeping like the dead. He hadn’t even gotten his shoes off.

Part of Alec yearned to join him, but he hadn’t. Because even that desire to be with his husband, after all they’d gone through and the misery they’d felt at their last parting, was oddly muted. Like the emotion was wrapped in thick layers of cotton batting. So Alec had gone to the ceremonial hall instead, to be with Max, because surely there he’d feel the full impact of his emotions. Surely that pain of losing Max would be sharp enough to pierce this odd sense of detachment and wrongness.

But it wasn’t.

“Alec?” Izzy said softly behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder. She stepped up beside him, gently passing her hand over the shroud at the top of Max’s head, as though she were stroking his hair. “You needed to be with him, too?”

“Yeah.” He sighed heavily, but didn’t trouble her with…whatever this was. “We’ll hold the Rite of Mourning this evening. That’ll give Jace time to get back from Idris; he’s overseeing Valentine’s burial at the crossroads today.”

“Okay,” she whispered, continuing to caress Max’s head. There was something heavy, almost guilty, in the way she stared down at him. “By the Angel, he would have been an amazing Shadowhunter.”

“He was an amazing Shadowhunter. I meant what I said to Inquisitor Herondale the other day. Max knew more about what his vows and duty truly meant than most Shadowhunters ever will.”

Her voice cracked. “He should have had a chance to fulfill that potential.”

“I know.” Alec wrapped an arm around her, and then the other when she turned and clung to him. He buried his face in her hair and willed himself to connect with the moment, to truly feel the grief and consolation he was pantomiming. But it eluded him, a faint whisper of emotion that should have been a shout.

Izzy didn’t seem to notice. She shook in his arms for a long moment, then slowly pulled away, frowning when she caught a look at his face.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think?” He shrugged. “I feel a little strange. Near-death backlash, or something, I guess.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Strange how?”

“Just a little…unreal. Like nothing feels the way I know it should. Disconnected, I guess?” He rubbed a finger along the edge of Max’s bier. “Izzy, you don’t think—”

“What?” she asked, swallowing.

“Magnus didn’t—I mean, he wouldn’t… I was so sure I was dying. And my bond with Jace was severed. But…he just healed me, right? He didn’t do anything more. Not, like, necromancy?”

“What? By the Angel, Alec, no!” Her vehemence was reassuring. “No. Magnus would never do such a thing. And even if been willing to, he couldn’t have. Rituals like that require time to prepare and elaborate spell components have to be gathered. He didn’t have any of that. Also, he was totally tapped out, magically speaking. He couldn’t have drawn that sort of power.”

“But he drew enough to heal me so completely it’s like I was never injured?” Alec asked, rubbing his chest.

“He must have found some reserves somewhere,” she said with a helpless shrug. “People can do amazing things when they’re desperate enough. But Alec, I was there the entire time and saw the whole thing. I swear to you on the name of the Angel, Magnus did not raise you from the dead.”

“Right.” He managed a facsimile of a smile, nodding. “That was a stupid question. Of course he wouldn’t do that. I should, um, I should go get some rest. You should too.”

“I will,” she promised, patting him on the arm with a smile that looked as insincere as his own felt. Sighing, Alec left her there at Max’s side.

Magnus was facedown on Alec’s bed, exactly where Izzy had said he was when she’d checked on him hours ago. It took some wrangling, but Alec got Magnus’s shoes off and nudged him over enough to squeeze in beside him. Magnus snuffled and sprouted about four more arms, all of which he wound tightly around Alec, and continued sleeping.

After this many days of being on duty nonstop, Alec wondered if he’d be too exhausted to find sleep easily. But he quickly dropped off into a slumber filled with dreams of darkness and something horrific within it. He heard his mother’s voice murmuring, “I’m here, my son”—except it wasn’t Maryse’s voice he heard.

He woke with a gasp to find the bedclothes drenched with sweat and Magnus sitting up in bed, watching Alec with a concerned frown.

“Are you alright, Alexander?” he asked gently.

“Yeah.” Alec nodded and sat up, blinking at the sunlight flooding the room. They must have slept at least twelve hours. He wiped his damp brow. “I always have crazy dreams when I finally get some sleep after I’ve been running on stamina runes for days. These were just a little crazier than usual.”

Magnus sighed. “No surprise there, with everything that’s happened.”

“True.” He glanced at the clock and sighed. “It’s afternoon already. I need to get ready for the Rite of Mourning.”

Remembering that today was Max’s Rite sent a fresh burst of grief lancing through his heart, so sharp Alec winced with it. He rubbed his chest as it if were a physical ache he could soothe, before he realized he actually felt the loss again, in all its excruciating agony.

He slumped in relief, welcoming the pain. Perhaps it had simply been weariness that had left him feeling so shut off from everything last night.

“What is it?” Magnus asked.

“Just feeling more myself now that I’ve had some sleep. How’re you doing? If you’re still drained, you can stay here and rest—”

Magnus shook his head, smiling softly. “Don’t be absurd. Of course I’m going to be there with you. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got a ritual for recovering from severe magic depletion that I can indulge at home later.”

Alec sighed and flopped down onto his back. “I can’t wait to spend a night at home. Mouse is going to be all over me after being gone this many days—”

His eyes flew open when he realized what he’d said, seeking Magnus’s face. Magnus smiled and blinked slowly, then leaned over to kiss him and oh, thank the Angel, there was nothing numb at all about that feeling. “I heard a rumor that my new absolute favorite Shadowhunter medic is taking you off active duty for a couple weeks.”

“Restricted physical duty, actually,” Alec said. “Why?”

“Weren’t you saying you wanted to have a real honeymoon once things calmed down? Surely with Valentine and his son dead, things are as calm as they’re going to get.”

“Unless the Seelie Queen decides to push the détente with the the Clave into something more confrontational,” Alec said heavily.

Magnus held up a hand. “Let’s not borrow trouble. What do you say? Now that the crisis is over, I can arrange for Catarina and Madzie to look after Mouse. We could start off with a couple days at my flat in Paris and then decide where we want to go from there?”

The crisis is over.

It was the first time Alec had allowed himself that thought, and was a revelation. After nearly six months of nonstop emergencies, he didn’t remember what it was like not to live in a state of constant crisis.

Joy spread through him and he found himself laughing incredulously. He dragged Magnus down on top of him, unable to quit grinning until Magnus gave his lips something far, far better to do. They giggled between kisses until Alec broke off, panting.

“Yeah. A real honeymoon. Let’s do that.”

Magnus beamed at him. “Wonderful. I need to go check in with my warlocks, let them know it’s safe to return to their lives, and I should probably explain myself to the Seelie Queen. But I’ll be here tonight for Max’s Rite of Mourning. We can go home afterward and proceed from there.”

Another long, breathless kiss later, Magnus rolled reluctantly off Alec and out of the bed, frowning at his rumpled clothing. He snapped his fingers, scowled, and snapped them again, nodding with satisfaction when his outfit changed.

“Still drained?” Alec asked, propping himself up on an elbow.

“I may need a day or two to recover fully. Not to worry, I’ll be fit to portal us to Paris by tomorrow. In the meantime, it looks like I’m taking the subway home.”

Alec nodded, frowning as a question occurred to him that hadn’t before. “How—how did you end up in Idris last night? Why weren’t you in the Seelie Court with your people? Did the queen consent to let you help us?”

“Not exactly.” Magnus laughed, though he didn’t sound terribly amused. “Let us just say that it turns out your sister has a terrifyingly quick and subtle mind.”

“Ah. You’ve discovered the Lightwood secret weapon.” Alec smirked. “She thinks none of us knows.”

“Yes, well. Let’s hope nothing unfortunate comes of it,” Magnus said, fiddling with his earcuff.

“You mean with the Seelie Queen? Now who’s borrowing trouble?”

“Good point.” Magnus leaned over the bed, kissing Alec firmly. “I’ll see you this evening.”

He was gone before Alec could inquire further.

Izzy nodded to the guard and he punched a code into the keypad beside the door to the detention cell. Robert Lightwood appeared to have aged ten years in just the past two days, his head bowed and his shoulders slumped. He blinked in surprise as she laid his white mourning suit and two sets of runed manacles on the bunk beside him.

“The Inquisitor has granted permission for you to attend Max’s Rite of Mourning before you’re transferred to Idris for trial,” she explained, fighting to keep her voice steady. “You’ll be shackled and under guard, but at least you’ll be there.”

“I understand.” His voice was raw and raspy. “I’m grateful you went to trouble of arranging it.”

“It wasn’t any trouble. I don’t hate you, Dad.”

He shook his head firmly. “You should. If I hadn’t helped arrange for Jonathan Morgenstern to break Valentine out of the Gard, Max might still be alive.”

“Maybe. Or maybe Consul Malachi or one of the other Circle sympathizers in Alicante would have helped Valentine escape instead.” She shook her head, her eyes burning. “I was furious with you when I thought you were cheating on Mom. And when I learned what you’d really done...I wanted to hate you, but I can’t.”

He lifted his head, his eyes searching hers.

“You didn’t have to tell Alec about Valentine’s escape.” She hadn’t meant to discuss that part, but it slipped out all the same. “Your excuse that he was courting the wrong sort of scrutiny doesn’t wash. If he’d kept pushing for Valentine’s trial to be held here, it would have strengthened the impression that we were all ignorant of Valentine’s escape, which would have bolstered your cover.”

Robert sighed and nodded slowly.

“You were having second thoughts about aiding Valentine,” she concluded. “You told Alec about his escape knowing he’d do the right thing, no matter what the cost, and pass the news on to Magnus and the Downworld leaders. You tried to help, in the end.”

“It was too little, too late.”

“It was.” She nodded. “But it matters. So, no, I don’t hate you. You did a terribly wrong thing for the sake of the people you love. I can relate.”

“Thank you, Isabelle. That’s more than I deserve.”

“The guards will escort you up to the ceremonial hall in an hour. I’ll see you then,” she murmured, and left the cell with a heavy heart.

Outside, she found Maryse watching through the transparent wall, her arms folded over her chest. She wasn’t wearing white yet, but she’d clearly taken pains with her hair and makeup today. They both had, for the first time since Max had died. It was from her mother that Isabelle had learned that an immaculate appearance was sometimes a better defense than the heaviest armor.

“I’m sure Imogen was trying to be merciful, allowing Robert to attend,” Maryse said after a long moment.

“Dad probably assumes Jace is the one who pulled the strings there.” Izzy slid her a sideways look. “But we know better, don’t we, Mom?”

“It wasn’t kindness,” Maryse said coldly. Her voice quivered with rage. “I want him to be there, to see what he’s done to this family.”

Izzy sighed and bowed her head. “That’s fair too. Just because I get why he did what he did doesn’t mean I expect you to forgive him.”

Maryse didn’t answer for a long moment. When she turned toward the elevators, Izzy followed. “There was a price for Imogen’s permission. A surprisingly tolerable one.”

“Yeah?”

“Rumor has it that the Clave will choose Jia Penhallow as the next Consul. But after Robert’s trial is concluded, Imogen intends to step down as Inquisitor, and she wants to recommend me as her successor. She says I have, quote, a capacity for self-examination, that she’s lost somewhere along the way.”

Izzy gasped. “Mom, that’s amazing! You said yes, of course.”

“I did.” Maryse smiled tightly. “We have a unique opportunity within the Clave right now. The political tide has turned. Some people are still voicing support for what Valentine did, but most are so appalled at his blasphemy in raising Raziel that we have a rush of overnight converts to the leftist platform I’ve been working on establishing with the Penhallows and the Branwells. As Consul and Inquisitor, Jia and I will be ideally positioned to make the most of that political capital before complacency sets in again.”

“You’re going to be perfect for the job.” As they waited for the elevator, Izzy hugged her quickly, genuine joy overriding the grief and worry that had been devouring her for days.

Maybe, just maybe, they’d all be fine after all.

Inside the elevator, Maryse cleared her throat and said, “I admit, until Imogen made her offer, I was hoping to spend more time here in New York. I feel like I should be with you and your brothers until we’ve all had more time to heal from Max’s death. We should be together as a family now.”

“I’m sure you’ll make time to visit,” Izzy said, ignoring the stab of grief that Max’s name always sent into her heart. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how friendly you and Luke have been getting.”

Maryse blushed and stammered. “Don’t be silly, Isabelle. He’s simply—we were friends long ago and he helped me track down your father, but it’s not—it’s too soon to even think…” She shook herself, patting her pink cheeks. “Anyway, when I go, I’ll be taking Lydia to Idris with me. I intend to put her in charge of my investigations bureau. It’ll be an excellent use of her talents, and a way to thank the Branwells for their support for my initiatives within the Clave recently.”

Izzy sighed. “Well, there goes my idea of asking her out for drinks sometime. Just tell me you won’t be taking her within the next couple weeks. Since the medics have him on restricted duty anyway, Alec said he and Magnus are planning to go on a real honeymoon for a week or two, now that the emergency is over.”

Maryse smiled and reached out, cupping Izzy’s face with one hand. “Don’t worry. If I need Lydia in Idris before he gets back, Alec has an immensely capable deputy right here.”

The praise was foreign and unexpected. Not something she ever imagined hearing from her mother at all. It brought a flush to Izzy’s cheeks and put her on shaky, unfamiliar ground. Without intending to, she blurted, “Mom, I’m a yin fen addict.”

Maryse recoiled, her mouth dropping open in shock. Izzy closed her stinging eyes, preparing herself for the familiar censure. When it didn’t come, she stammered, “Aldertree—Jonathan—gave it to me. I didn’t know it at first, but he was trying to get me under his thumb, turn me against my brothers by making me dependent on him. It didn’t work, so the vampire trap we walked into was his doing also, so he could insinuate himself into the Institute by pretending to help me through the withdrawal. But those are excuses. It’s not entirely his fault. It’s mine. I accepted it from him to begin with.”

“Oh, Isabelle!” Maryse’s voice cracked and she pulled Izzy into another tight hug. Shock made Izzy go rigid before she wrapped her arms around her mother, sniffling into Maryse’s shoulder. “You poor girl. It’s alright. It’s not just your fault. It’s mine as well, for all the criticism and the pressure I’ve put on you and the unreasonable demands I’ve made. Of course you needed a release. But it doesn’t matter how, or why, or who’s to blame. We’ll get through this, and we’ll be there to help with whatever you need. All of us.”

They only parted when the elevator doors did, depositing them in the central corridor leading to the Ops Center.

“I should go get dressed for the ceremony,” Izzy said, squeezing her mother’s hand. “Thanks, Mom.”

An hour later found Izzy walking into a ceremonial hall filling with people all dressed in pristine white. They’d all attended too many of these ceremonies in the last year. Jocelyn and the Silent Brothers had been the first. The Shadowhunters killed in Valentine’s attack on the Institute. The people who had been lost during Kaelie Whitewillow’s murder spree.

Of all those events, only Jocelyn’s death had touched Izzy in any personal way, and then only because she’d been concerned for Alec and Clary. But that concern had been muted by the first few days of her yin fen addiction. Now, Izzy felt like she’d give anything for that rapturous escape again.

“Isabelle.”

The gentle way Raphael said her name, like it was spoken in prayer, was the last thing she needed in that moment, and the one thing she craved more than her next breath.

She clenched her fists and turned to face him as he stepped out of a secluded corner amid the milling Shadowhunters. He looked as stunning in white as he did in everything.

“Raphael.” It took effort to keep her smile from trembling. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

He looked toward the dais at the front of the hall—which had, after all, once been the sanctuary of a church—and crossed himself. “Your little brother died protecting a Downworlder child. Even though vampires don’t have children, that’s still a powerful sacrifice. The clan leaders decided one of us should be here to show our respect. I’m...sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I appreciate it.”

“How are you doing?” he asked, clasping her fingers.

In the face of that tender concern, suddenly she could no longer maintain her brave front. For whatever reason, it was with Raphael, even more than with her family, that she felt safe letting her weakness show.

“Honestly? I don’t think I’ve ever needed a vampire bite more in my life than I have the past couple days,” she confessed, her voice shaking.

“Isabelle—” He hung his head, grief and guilt and even yearning written in every line of his posture.

“Don’t worry. I’m not actually asking for a bite.” She sniffled and dabbed her eyes. It was like trying to dam a flood, however. More poured down her cheeks. “I think I’m asking for help. I can’t be strong anymore, Raphael. I just can’t.”

Raphael looked across the hall, at where Simon was talking with Clary. “I think I know who you need to talk to,” he said, wrapping both his hands around both of hers and holding them securely between them. “Get through the ceremony and see me after, all right?”

Izzy nodded jerkily and wiped her face. A moment later, a Silent Brother’s voice filled her mind, intoning that the Rite of Mourning was about to begin. She looked to the door to see her father being escorted in, his hands and feet shackled and his head bowed. Her heart ached for him, but his fate was out of her hands and she needed to let go of any notion that she could change it.

Instead, she offered him a nod and a gentle smile when he looked up and met her eyes, then turned away and joined her mother and Alec and Jace.

They were all red-eyed, their faces strained, Jace and Alec slipped their arms around her. She leaned her head against Alec’s shoulder and she told herself again that Sebastian—Jonathan—had been wrong. They didn’t just use her. Their love and support wasn’t only conditional upon her constantly being there for them.

They were Lightwoods. They would always stand united, no matter what.

Of course, they didn’t know she had let them down.

They didn’t know she’d had the chance to bring Max back to them and passed on it.

In that moment, she hadn’t had time to think of a way to word her wish to bring both Max and Alec back. She hadn’t been clever enough.

She’d had to choose. And she’d chosen Alec, not because she loved him more, but because with Magnus there she had a plausible explanation of timely healing available.

Bringing Max back meant she would have had to confess her sacrilege.

Lydia was leading the ceremony so that Alec could stand with his family. They took their place beside Max’s bier, and after a moment, the Silent Brother invited them to speak the name of the fallen Shadowhunter.

“Maxwell Joseph Lightwood,” they said in unison, and Izzy staggered against Alec, sobbing.

I’m sorry, baby brother. I’m so sorry!

They all wrapped her in their arms, and didn’t let go.

Alec was quiet on the subway trip from the Institute to Magnus’s loft. Magnus probably could have managed a portal by the time the Rite of Mourning had concluded, but it seemed appropriate to allow Alec some time to process everything before they arrived home, despite what the dingy train would do to their immaculate white suits.

“I started the steaks marinating before I left for the ceremony,” Magnus explained as they came through the door, keeping up the innocuous stream of chatter he’d been maintaining for Alec since they’d left the Institute. “It shouldn’t take long to grill them up. I’m having a martini, but there’s also a bottle of excellent merlot if you’d rather. Though…I’d change out of the white suit before opening it.”

“I’ll do that now,” Alec said with a tired sigh. His eyes were red and puffy; the Rite of Mourning hadn’t just been a formality. These Shadowhunters didn’t have the luxury of indulging their grief for their fallen loved ones in an ongoing process the way a mundane family might. Instead, they kept it in reserve, for the time and place where it was safe to unleash it. Tonight’s ceremony had been that moment for Alec.

Before Alec could turn and walk away, Magnus reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “Alexander, we don’t need to leave for Paris first thing tomorrow. If you need a day—or several—to simply work through things, we can delay our trip.”

“No, I’m fine.” Alec mustered a wobbly smile and dropped a kiss on Magnus’s forehead. “Getting away for awhile is exactly what I need. I’ll go change and say hi to Mouse.”

With a snap of his fingers, Magnus swapped his suit for jeans and a Henley and busied himself grilling the steaks and a heap of marinated mushrooms and caramelized onions to go on top of them, humming softly to himself. He quelled the voice of worry that had been constantly nagging at him since he and Alec had returned from Idris last night. Between Alec’s grief and obvious exhaustion, it was impossible to really discern whether or not he was in any way altered by Isabelle’s wish and would be for quite some time.

Would the departure from their normal environs make it harder or easier to tell? Magnus didn’t know, and wasn’t sure if he was overthinking the whole matter. Borrowing trouble, as he’d said earlier. Perhaps for now he should simply take this as the miracle Isabelle had intended and deal with any fallout when and if it arose.

Of course, there was still the matter of Isabelle’s lie. He’d gone along with it at the time because revealing the truth to Jace, Clary, and Maia had been unthinkable. He didn’t trust what the Clave would do to Alec or Isabelle if they found of the way Raziel’s purpose had been subverted for what they’d consider selfish ends.

But now it was just the two of them. He needed to say something, but Alec already had so much else he was dealing with. How many more shocks could he take before he simply broke? And what would he think of Isabelle, once he knew. His sister was Alec’s rock, sometimes even more so than his actual parabatai. To do anything that would drive a wedge between them now, when they needed what family they had left so badly...

The steaks were done and Magnus was no closer to working himself up to telling the truth by the time Alec came back into the kitchen in an old sweater and jeans, frowning.

“Something wrong?” Magnus asked, shunting his worries to the side.

“No.” Alec shook his head and scoffed. “I think Mouse has decided to transfer her loyalties. I tried to give her some attention, but she wants nothing to do with me now.”

“Ah, the perfidy of cats.” Magnus smirked. “Well, you did neglect her for several days. Obviously you must be shunned and denied her glorious presence.”

“I didn’t think she was that sort of cat,” Alec grumbled, plucking a sautéed mushroom off the platter Magnus was laying the steaks on and popping it into his mouth.

“All cats are that sort of cat.” Magnus brushed a kiss across Alec’s lips. “Grab the wine, will you? We’ll take this up to the roof.”

Mouse nearly tripped Alec by darting under his feet as he approached the spiral staircase, then hissed and streaked away with a ill-tempered yowl.

“Oh dear. She is going to punish you, isn’t she?” Magnus chuckled. “Well, try not to let her break your neck.”

Alec harrumphed. “I guess so.”

It was the first intimate dinner they’d had a chance to indulge together since their 24-hour respite the day after their wedding. Gradually, some of the weight of sadness and constant stress Alec had been carrying for days eased away and he was able to smile that beautiful, shy smile that had captivated Magnus from the start. The more Magnus recovered from his magical overexertion, the less inclined he was to fret, also. Whatever might come of Isabelle’s wish, or the Seelie Queen’s displeasure with Magnus, they would deal with it, together, the way they were meant to.

Once Magnus had banished the dirty dishes to the sink downstairs with a wave of his hand, they took their drinks to the chaise where they’d made love—well, the first round—on their wedding night. Though light pollution didn’t let them see many stars, it was still a made-to-order evening for lying under the sky, as though the climate itself had conspired to give them a well-deserved break.

“You never said how things went in the Seelie Court earlier,” Alec remarked, nuzzling Magnus’s temple. Neither of them appeared to feel particularly amorous tonight. There was too much to decompress from, too much to process still. But being free to touch one another, to be together like this, was a gift beyond measure after the way they’d parted in Alec’s office.

“Let’s not discuss that,” Magnus requested. “She wasn’t happy that I found a loophole in our agreement about rendering assistance to the Shadowhunters, but it was one of her own making. Still, I have no doubt at some point she’s going to find a way to make me pay.”

“Whatever happens, I’ll have your back,” Alec promised with a drowsy sigh.

“And hopefully more than that,” Magnus proposed with a playful leer. He might not have any designs on Alec’s body at this exact instant, but the opportunity to flirt, just to try to get their vibe back to something approaching normalcy, was too important to pass up. “Though perhaps not tonight. We’re both too exhausted, I think.”

Alec sighed “True.”

They fell silent, the usual cacophony of the Brooklyn street below the only sound as they lounged together. Then Magnus sat up with a gasp. “Oh, I nearly forgot!”

“What?” Alec blinked, as if he’d been on the verge of sleep, and with a wave of his hand, Magnus summoned a small mahogany box from the bureau in the bedroom.

“I—Well, that is, you—Hm.” Magnus grimaced and cleared his throat, astonished at his own stammering. His cheeks felt flushed and he could swear he hadn’t blushed in over a century.

“I never gave you a wedding present, Alexander,” he said, recovering some of his aplomb. “So, after we discussed rings, I decided to go ahead and commission these from a very talented charm-crafter and jewelsmith I know. I hope you won’t be too disappointed that I chose them without consulting you?”

“What? Magnus, of course not!” Alec’s genuine surprise and the pleased smile he gave Magnus were entirely worth the lapse into uncharacteristic babbling.

Magnus opened the box to reveal the wide-banded, signet-style rings nestled on the claret velvet within. They were gold, as Alec had suggested when they’d spoken about it—had it only been a week or so ago? The center of each ring was set with an obsidian disk inlaid by a gold Wedded Union rune, topped with a shallow, iridescent dome of translucent opal. Faintly etched into the opal, overlaying the Wedded Union rune, was the warlock emblem of a pentagram-inscribed spellbook.

“Magnus, they’re amazing,” Alec said, his delight so naked in his eyes that Magnus couldn’t help but surge into Alec’s space to kiss him.

A short, breathless moment later, Alec pulled back to offer Magnus his hand. He could have sworn a charge jolted him when he slid the ring onto Alec’s finger, the same way it had the night they’d met when they’d clasped hands to form a circle of power.

Alec blinked when the ring he eased onto Magnus’s finger came to rest in its proper spot, and Magnus realized Alec felt the jolt, too.

He couldn’t begin to say what it meant.

Their next kiss was anything but short and far beyond breathless. When they finally broke apart, Alec cupped Magnus’s face with his hand, the gold of his ring cool against Magnus’s skin, and sighed, staring intently into Magnus’s eyes as his thumb swept across Magnus’s cheekbone, below his eye.

“I love this,” he whispered.

“What?”

“The way the glamour on your eyes falls away when we’re together.”

Magnus swallowed thickly. “Does it?”

“Not all the time, but when things start getting...intense. That’s when.”

“I don’t think that’s ever happened before. Usually I have better control,” Magnus murmured, pulling back self-consciously, but Alec wouldn’t permit him to go far. “You’ve never mentioned it.”

“Why would I?”

The innocent simplicity of Alec’s question made Magnus’s heart clench so hard in his chest that he thought it might stop beating entirely. Of course Alec had never mentioned it, because to him, Magnus’s warlock mark wasn’t particularly noteworthy. He simply had accepted it as a part of Magnus and continued on.

“I love it,” Alec said again, his face so sweet and open, full of adoration. “It’s like there’s this part of you that you hardly let anyone else see, except for me, and it’s beautiful.”

Magnus couldn’t speak around the lump in his throat. He wanted to tell Alec that the reason Magnus lost control around him and no one else was because the love he felt for Alec was unlike anything he’d ever felt for another person, but speech was just too far beyond him.

Thank you, Isabelle. Thank you so much for bringing this amazing man back to me.

He kissed Alec, instead, and relinquished any notion he had of rocking the boat—for tonight, at least—by telling Alec what his sister had done. For now, in this moment, it was enough that he was with his husband, whom he loved and needed more with each passing day.

“Didn’t you say something about a hot bath being part of your recovery ritual?” Alec asked in a throaty murmur when they parted again.

“I did, though that would mean going indoors, which seems like a pity on a gorgeous night like this.” Magnus pouted. “I really must put a hot tub up here someday.”

“A hot tub, huh?” Alec's tone dropped still further. "You, wet and naked. You know, maybe I’m not as exhausted as I thought.”

It took a couple tries to make his voice work. “Oh, well, why didn’t you just say so?” Magnus asked with a breathless chuckle. “I can—”

Alec caught his hands before he could conjure the proposed hot tub. “No more magic tonight. We’ll save the hot tub for another time.”

“I may already have one in my flat in Paris,” he admitted.

“Then I’ll look forward to seeing you in it—tomorrow,” Alec growled, and rolled them until he lay on top of Magnus.

Out of the corner of his eye, a movement caught Magnus’s attention. Mouse had somehow slipped onto the rooftop with them and was watching from a distance. When Alec flipped them, her spine arched, the fur on her back stood on end, and she sidled away, glaring.

But then Alec’s lips were on his throat, and Magnus forgot to care about the cat.

THE END