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Long, brown fingers flicked an oversized card onto the coffee table. "There," said an incredibly bored warlock. "King me."
Curious blue eyes shifted to the ornate card. A king certainly stood front and center, a shining pentacle hovering near his mussed head. It looked at once both ancient and brand new, an old Tarot deck that was never used. Maybe a gift from one of Magnus' endless list of past friendly acquaintances? Alec couldn't help but think on what sort of person this relic of the past was attached to. Who would give a warlock who, though graced with incredible magic abilities, had no powers of precognition?
Alec's gaze drifted up his boyfriend's lank, lounging body on the couch to his face. He realized with a quiet start that he could ask Magnus, and he might actually get an answer. Then he could decide if he should be jealous of whoever gifted this man--the immortal man Alec was dating--Tarot cards.
"What." Magnus had one thin eyebrow arched into his messy black hair. He had been staring back for quite some time. Alec flushed.
"I, um . . . Where did you get that deck?"
A wrist slid off Magnus' forehead as if shedding a second skin, and silk-clothed legs slowly swung to the floor. Long lashes hooded feline eyes, the usual gold flecks now a sheen over a green base. They stared at the kindly inventor on the stained wood. Alec could see him piecing together each word carefully, crafting a combination that would cut into Magnus least.
"A friend got these for me, as a joke. She doesn't believe in them--the spirituality of Tarot--but she asserted they could help a person look into themselves and find an answer. Or an avoided question." Magnus turned an exasperated look to Alec. "Of which, Catarina cruelly claimed, I have plenty."
Alec's flat stare held no sympathy for Catarina Loss' cruelty. "Yeah, I definitely like her."
A tortured sigh floated passed Magnus' glossed lips. Alec, with practiced grace, ignored it.
The last time he had seen Tarot, he had been sitting in a witch's living room with Jace, a red-headed girl he thought was a mundane, and a very human all-memories-in-perfect-order Simon. It felt like ages since any of that had been true. Except Jace, of course. Jace was always true.
Then Alec nearly died, and Magnus stayed with him all night.
"Can you do readings?" Alec asked. "Like, do you know what the cards mean?"
"Yes, unfortunately."
"Could you do one now?"
Magnus' lips slid into a teasing grin. "Why, Alexander Lightwood, are you attempting a secret, sneaky plan to learn some dark secret of mine?"
"Not sneaky. I literally want you to tell me about yourself with a Tarot reading." A small, mischievous smile uncertainly twitched to life. "Think of them as self-help cards."
"I do not need self-help cards."
Alec reasserted his flat stare.
"Oh, fine." Magnus waved a flippant hand. "I suppose it would be easier than writing down every little happening in my long life. Too many people are publishing books these days. It's become mainstream. Let's see . . ."
He reached for the card, momentarily lingering on the shining image like it were an old friend before replacing it. Fingers flipped through the deck as he expertly shuffled it. An arc of paper sailed from one palm to the other, blue sparks trailing along their path like stardust behind a comet. The very second they stacked together, Magnus planted them on the table and smoothed them out in an arch in one fluid movement.
Brow raised, Alec blinked slowly at the display. Honestly, it was much less dramatic than he had expected. Magnus had been toying with fire lately, writing intricate flaming tendrils of script in the air to spell out elegant love messages. Every time, Alec couldn't ignore the too-tight feeling of his heart as warmth spread out to his toes as if the blue fire had toasted him. Still, he had pictured the apartment going up in smoke because of a love letter to him, and he wouldn't have been able to survive the embarrassment. As Magnus chose a card with exaggerated poise, Alec reflected how happy he was that his boyfriend had decided to spare his life tonight.
Magnus' palm drifted over the spread for a second time. He seemed to be searching for something--a warmth that would radiate from the backs, a feeling of rightness. One by one, he laid them face-down until the cherry wood was covered in a Celtic Cross spread. Magnus deftly upturned them in a random scatter pattern as if there was no correct order to flip them, and, if there was, Magnus didn't care for it. He spoke as he chose them.
"This card," Magnus intoned, "means that Herondales are annoying, Jem Carstairs deserved better, biscuits are suicidal, and . . . Oh, a warlock in Brooklyn will design a beautiful new spring on-some-bleh~"
Ensemble. He pronounced the final word with a perfect French accent. What a dork. A question-dodging dork.
Alec said pointedly, "Magnus."
"Oh, alright." He drew another card with no preamble and threw it down face up.
Magnus' face darkened. A lone figure stood in the foreground as he faced a black and white and red battlefield of destruction and death. Fallen painted soldiers littered the ground in an all-too-familiar shape. The figure's back was to the viewer. His reaction to the carnage was unknowable.
"The Five of Swords? What does that mean?" Alec asked.
"Reversed." It wasn't an answer. Instead, Magnus jerked another from the arch and tossed it to the wood like a hated knife.
"The Tower," Alec read. Beauty and a sense of drastic change clashed in the image, and it struck him. He leaned forward on his knees to get a closer look. His position on the carpet gave him a good view. A girl kneeled on the ground, her hands wrist-deep in a puddle of blood that dripped from her wet chest and spread down the card, forming a foreboding pyramid. The blood shone as blue as her hair. Her skin was stark white.
Magnus' skin would never be as pale--nor would he want it to be--but it sure seemed to try to match her pallor. He knew where this was going, and he was dreading the final card.
Vehemently, Magnus drew again. Burnt gold eyes scanned over the paper. His sharp shoulders fell, and he carefully, reverently placed it on the table.
Alec didn't bother to read it aloud this time. It was the Page of Pentacles. A young boy graced the center, rough and worked hands held anxiously before him. He had an honest face and cautious eyes. Hovering before his heart was a glowing encircled star to match its suit.
A worried brow rose into Alec's dark hair. "Magnus?"
The warlock sighed, defeated. A hand gripped the nape of his neck as if it were a life line that would pull him from awkward circumstances. "The Five of Swords symbolizes an impossible, unwinnable situation. When it's upside down like this, it signifies you won't accept defeat gracefully. You're only making it worse for yourself and everyone around you."
Magnus tentatively lifted the Tower and presented it to Alec. "This means a great change. Usually from tragedy and, in this case, by one's own doing. It can be a pivotal moment in one's life. It's not always a bad card, but it's not a nice card. Picture the tower of Babylon falling to pieces."
Alec frowned.
"Then," fingers drifted fondly, carefully over the cautious boy, "the Page of Pentacles is an honest, hard-worker. He is blunt, true, and puts the whole of his heart into his ambitions. Even if he doesn't quite know what those ambitions are."
Magnus set his eyes to Alec's, smelting gold to befuddled blue. "You are the Page of Pentacles. In this case."
Realization lit behind Alec's eyes. Oh. That.
Magnus continued, "Would you say we've thoroughly discussed how I treated you after I dumped you?"
"Yes."
"Good." Magnus swiped the cards into his palm and re-shuffled as if it could clear the uncomfortable knot in Alec's stomach. "Let's try something more fun. I'll pick my card. The card that best symbolizes and describes my magnificent self. We'll work from there."
Alec nodded mutely. Magnus swept the deck across the table and flipped a card into the air with one sparkling finger, which made the card flop onto its back.
"The Moon." Magnus frowned. "That's your card."
"Uh, why?"
"Next."
"But--"
A graceful hand fluttered through the air, and a second card back-flipped like the soldiers of the Queen of Hearts at a game of croquet. It settled beside the Moon.
"The Lovers," Alec said, smiling. When he saw the couple on the face was a straight pair, the edges of his lips became strained. Even in something as stupid as a deck of cards, people thought gay people didn't belong. Straight couples were the norm. Magnus, too, made a face.
"Well, it's a very old deck. But honestly, Alec. Will you stop being so present in my every draw? It's almost as if you're central to my life."
Magnus' tone was mock-frustrated, joking, and it eased the tension to Alec's face. If only a little.
"Right. Sixteenth time's the charm." Magnus drew yet another card.
"Six of Swords," Alec read dryly.
Magnus tossed the deck into the air. The cards collapsed onto the floor in a beautiful arterial spatter pattern.
"I move that we never, ever use Tarot cards to look deeper within ourselves in order to facilitate healthy communication," Magnus said with finality.
Alec wilted. His suggestion was turning out to be another huge mistake. Good job, Alec. "Was it that bad?"
Magnus fixed sharp, green eyes on Alec and wagged a finger in his face, seemingly unaware of his obvious despondence. "It refers to dealing with the effects of the past. Such as trauma. Everything that has ever been bad."
A remembered line from a year past echoed in Alec's head. Warlocks, as they get older, they calcify. They stop being able to feel things. To care, to be excited or surprised. I always told myself that would never happen to me. That I'd try to be like Peter Pan, never grow up, always retain a sense of wonder. Always fall in love, be surprised, be open to being hurt as much as I was open to being happy. But over the last twenty years or so I've felt it creeping up on me anyway.
Alec grimaced. "So, very bad."
"My motion?"
"Passed."
"Thank you." A smile flashed upon Magnus' face like a child's firecracker. "Let's play Charades."
In the end, Magnus told Alec a small bit about his and Catarina's friendship, and the story of how she and Ragnor Fell decided to buy a Tarot deck from a Downworlder shop in Indonesia.
When he was finished, Alec felt a little better about his hand in the Tarot disaster. They found solace in each other's arms that night, chattering about inane nothings. Before bed, Magnus returned the deck to a high shelf, a place of respect for two old friends. There, behind 101 Ways My Cat Has Tried to Kill Me, it would not remind him too often of the loss of Ragnor Fell.