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There’s a horn sitting on Magnus Bane’s bookshelf. It’s about a foot long — variegated black and white with a simple leather strap around the center. Upon closer inspection, it’s covered in etched drawings of fantastical scenes of hounds and stags and horses running through the night sky. To anyone else, it was another trinket — something Magnus must have picked up on his various travels and chose to display in his home. Alec, however, knew the truth of the artifact, even if Magnus didn’t himself.
To the warlock, it was simply a magical item that had belonged to his stepfather when he was still a child — something he used to sneak into the study and play with when no one was looking. Of course, the child that Magnus had been hadn’t been aware of the magic that was dripping off it at the time but once he learned of his true parentage and escaped to the streets, the horn, despite belonging to the man who tried to kill him, simply followed suit. Even if he tried to rid himself of the artifact, and as he would explain he’d tried many ways over the years (including throwing it into the Marianas trench on one memorable occasion,) it merely turned back up like a lost puppy waiting patiently for its master. To Magnus, it was an unwanted reminder of his past. To Alec, it was so much more.
It was a well-known fact among Nephilim that the old bloodlines were especially blessed by the angels, with a few rare individuals possessing special gifts that were unique to each family. The Lightwoods, for instance, had an affinity for fire — a trait that had passed both Robert and his two eldest children but had appeared in the youngest son, Max. Alec, however, took after Maryse’s side of the family and the Trueblood gift had made itself known to him when Alec was a mere six years old.
In actuality, it wasn’t so much of a ‘gift’ for the unlucky Truebloods who possessed it as it was a curse and it was the reason that any of his relatives who had shown even a hint of being ‘blessed’ were hunted by the Clave and either killed on sight or locked away in the deepest, darkest cells in the City of Bones. They were considered bad omens and despite their heritage and being one of the founding Nephilim families, they were often considered more akin to Downworlders than their angelic brethren.
Gabriel Hounds, the Clave had called them back when they still thought they could control them for their own means, named after the Archangel Gabriel who was said to be the messenger of God. The Truebloods, as it turned out, had one of the strongest angelic gifts running through their veins. Strongest but most hated, they’d learn. They could take the form of large ghostly hounds. With anyone’s true name, they could track them to the ends of the earth. They could sense someone’s impending death for they were meant to be farriers of the souls of the dead.
Alec Lightwood was six years old when he first noticed a grey shimmer in the air around a man named Gavin Whitehall. He was the oldest Shadowhunter at the Institute — injured in the line of duty many years ago and now the caretaker of the New York Institute’s library and collection of relics. Alec liked Gavin in a way that he could never say he liked his parents or most of the other grown-ups in his life (outside of his teacher Hodge, of course.) Gavin humored Alec, answering the boy’s million and a half questions and letting him help in the library despite not being able to see over the counter.
As the week passed, he started to notice the man getting weaker and the shimmer around him grew more and more apparent. Alec wanted to ask about what he was seeing but he knew his parents wouldn’t entertain anything that didn’t pertain to his training or his future in leading the institute. The only one who would have sat down and explained the strange phenomena was Gavin himself and even at Alec’s young age, he could tell that right now wasn’t a good time to ask. He’d bother the older Shadowhunter when he was feeling a little bit better.
Except…Gavin Whitehall never got better and he soon began to get even worse. His time in the library was now spent lying in bed and Alec could hear the whispered words of the adults that he didn’t have much time left. Even though the man spent most of his time sleeping these days, Alec found himself drawn to him. Insisting, almost to the point of tantrum, that he had to stay by the elder Shadowhunter’s side. His parents punished him for his insolence but Alec didn’t care. He knew that this was important.
When Gavin did pass, it was just barely sunrise. The night patrols had returned shortly and the day teams had yet to depart. The Institute was mostly quiet as the older man drew his final breath. Alec found himself breaking down into tears even though his parents had repeatedly drilled into him that Shadowhunters didn’t cry. He’d been around death all of his life but somehow this time it was different. The tears didn’t stop and eventually, the sound of his sobs turned into something louder and inhuman. His mother came running into the room, a panicked expression on her face. She took one look at Alec, wrapped him in her arms and grabbed a blanket to throw over them.
“Shh, my baby,” she whispered in a gentle voice that was very unlike a tone his mother had ever used. “A little longer. We have to get out of here first. Just hold on. Show me how strong you can be.”
Even in his distress, Alec could tell his mother’s request was serious but something was happening to him and he didn’t understand what. He dug his sharp nails into the palm of his small hands and tried to focus on his mother’s breathing and her hurried pace. Eventually they stopped in what he would later learn were the long-forgotten crypts below the Institute. She lay the blanket on the cleanest part of the ground that she could find and set him down gently. “There’s a good boy. We’re safe now. Let it out, Alec. Go ahead and let it out.”
The change happened suddenly and while the little boy didn’t understand it, he knew that the itching that had been under his skin since he’d first noticed that Shimmer around Gavin was finally gone. The world looked different now - crisper and greyer with silver threads spun through the air like endless knots. Alec could feel people, he could feel the elder Shadowhunter in a way that he couldn’t entirely pinpoint though he did know without a doubt that the thread currently twisting around him and through the open door belonged to the man who had once been the Institute’s Librarian.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed but eventually his mother would coax him back into a human shape and Alec would finally learn the truth of what had happened to him. She told him all about the Trueblood family gift and how the Clave had tried to control it and failed. If they ever learned of his existence, his life and that of his family would be in danger. This, Maryse impressed on him, was something he needed to keep to himself. No one, not even his own siblings or his father, could know about what had just happened and if he found himself starting to stumble while he still was learning to control the beast inside, he needed to seek out his mother and the two of them would make sure he was in a place he could release the hound safely.
From that point on, Alec Lightwood had a special connection with death but it was through old accounts from his ancestors that his mother had hidden away that he learned what it truly meant to be a Gabriel Hound and how he could use his newfound abilities to bolster his natural skill. Names had power and he could use those names to find the life thread belonging to a specific person and use it to track them. When Jace came into their lives and the two of them became parabatai, he learned to hide this ability behind the guise of the parabatai bond. Alec let Jace lead the tracking but he always knew if they were heading slightly off course and he could gently nudge them back in line. The extra speed and strength that his mother’s bloodline brought him, he passed off as the extra practice his parents had imposed upon him and the use of runes.
There was no single person in the world who knew what truly lurked beneath Alec’s skin outside of his own mother…that is, until Magnus Bane was dragged to Edom by a Prince of Hell.
Alec had first met Magnus when Clary had come into their lives with a whirlwind of demands and a penchant for trouble that attracted Jace like a moth to a flame. They’d found themselves at Pandemonium about to make a trade for the redhead’s memories when he’d first laid eyes on the warlock. He was drawn to the man the same way he was to those he knew were about to die but even shooting the Circle member behind him and saving his life, that connection didn’t seem to go away. In fact, it got stronger.
Magnus’ life thread seemed to glow silver where the others were all various shades of grey. It wrapped around the man like a spiral before swirling through the air and doing the same around Alec. He’d never seen anything like it before and even though Alec had poured over each journal from his ancestors that his mother had in her possesion dozens of times, he couldn’t quite remember any of the Truebloods describing what he was seeing and feeling now. He couldn’t wait to get home and do some further research.
But of course, he never got the time to hide away and read because as Alec would soon learn, nothing was ever easy when Clary Fray was around. The demon activity skyrocketed, a mass murder returned to life, and tensions between the Downworld and the Nephilim were higher than ever but the one silver lining to all of it was that Alec Lightwood got to know Magnus Bane as more than just the High Warlock of Brooklyn.
Magnus had come to their aid one evening when the wave of demons had been too much for a team of four from an Institute whose resources were already stretch too thin and Alec had called the warlock out of desperation. He brought his siblings out on this hunt and he’d be damned if he let them meet their deaths because of him. Magnus had come as soon as he’d explained the situation, dragging the demons back to Edom with bright whips of magic that had no mercy. By the time they finally had cleaned up the street and the fighting had stopped, Jace sported a few new gashes, Isabelle had a dislocated shoulder, and Clary had an impressive street rash that even an iratze would struggle to heal. Magnus cleaned them all up and twisted a portal into existence that would send them to the New York Institute.
It was clear that the warlock had expended much of his magic during the fight. Alec could see how he was struggling to stay upright and how exhaustion was written in every line of his body. Magnus had weakened himself for them, the least Alec could do was to make sure he got home safely in return. Jace grabbed Clary’s hand and was guiding her to the portal but Alec shook his head. “You healed them and they’re fine. A run will do some good to work out the remaining adrenaline. You, on the other hand,” Alec said, wrapping an arm around the warlock to help support his weight. “You need some rest. Jace,” he said, turning his attention to his brother, and slipping into a tone that he knew his brother would read as ‘this is not up for debate.’ “Take everyone home safely. Iz, if you’re feeling up to it, I’d appreciate if you start the report. I’m going to make sure Magnus gets home without passing out. I’ll be back when I can.”
He ignored the warlock’s weak protests as he guided him into the portal and into Magnus’ loft.
Behind the safety of his wards, the rest of Magnus’ strength seemed to leave him as he collapsed on the couch in a barely conscious state. “Apothecary. Green bottle on the table. Restoration potion,” he muttered, the words barely audible but the request had Alec moving instantly. He found the bottle easy enough and returned to help the warlock down the contents. Shortly after that, the man drifted into an easy sleep and Alec knew with some time and rest, he’d be okay. There was no grey shimmer around Magnus like those close to death tended to have. If anything, that silver thread that wrapped around them both almost seemed to glow brighter.
Alec knew that Magnus’ wards would keep him safe while he recovered or that he could easily send a fire message to one of the warlock’s friends and have them wait by his side but there was some instinct telling him that he needed to be here. He wasn’t sure how the man would feel when he woke up to find a Shadowhunter waiting in his loft while he’d been at his weakest, even if the two of them had become friends with the possibility of becoming something more. He was willing to risk Magnus’ ire, however, if it meant that Alec could be here until he woke to make sure nothing happened to him and to thank him personally for coming to their aid.
As Magnus slept, Alec let himself explore the sitting room of Magnus’ loft though he was careful that he didn’t encroach on the man’s privacy more than he already was. There were dozens of books in languages he didn’t understand or even recognize and the walls were filled with paintings from various eras that he somehow knew weren’t simple reproductions. Even the carpet was a work of art and he couldn’t even begin to guess how much something like this would cost but it was a bookshelf filled with various treasures tucked away in a corner that really captured Alec’s attention because sitting on the center of the second shelf, was an item that he could easily recognize in his sleep.
The Horn of Gabriel.
According to the Trueblood accounts, the horn did not belong to any specific family line and was instead supposed to choose who it’s next bearer would be. If the horn chose someone, they became the next Huntsman — the one Shadowhunter who could truly call on and control the Gabriel Hounds in all their glory. The Clave had tried to take the artifact for themselves and when they realized they couldn’t make the horn work the same way as the Hunter could, they tried to turn him to their side. When that failed, they decided to eliminate the hounds and their master altogether and the horn was lost to time, never to be seen again.
How had the Horn of Gabriel, something so important to his family’s existence, found it’s way into the possession of the High Warlock of Brooklyn? Did Magnus even know what it was sitting on his bookshelf? Did he know who Alec was? Is that why Magnus’ life thread wrapped around them both? If Magnus owned the horn, did that also make him the Huntsman? Alec had so many questions but until the warlock recovered and woke, he knew that he would get no answers. All he could do was wait.
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When Magnus did wake, it became clear that the item in question was nothing special to him. Alec learned how it had belonged to a man that the warlock would very much like to forget but as so many magical artifacts, it seemed to have a mind of it’s own and wouldn’t leave Magnus be. His best theory, he told Alec, was that it had spent a significant time inside of another warlock’s lair and had become steeped in so much residual magic that it had become somewhat sentient and had unfortunately taken a liking to Magnus. As long as he didn’t pay it that much attention, it seemed fairly settled on the bookshelf in the corner so he tried to let it be.
Alec accepted that answer and changed the subject, finally agreeing to the drinks Magnus kept asking about and offering to take him out to dinner. Magnus seemed thrilled at the prospect and one night of dinner and drinks turned into multiple. Their friendship turned into a relationship and that relationship eventually turned into a future and both Magnus and Alec couldn’t be happier.
And then Magnus’ father came.
Alec hadn’t been there — he’d been at the Institute trying to finish up the last of his paperwork when he felt a sharp tug in his chest and his vision went gray and sharp in the way that it did when he was the hound. The sensation had him on his feet and bolting out the door, ignoring the sound of his siblings yelling his name as he activated his runes and followed the tugging through the streets of New York to Magnus’ loft in Brooklyn. He heard the sound of footsteps behind him and he could only guess that Jace, at the very least, had followed him but he wasn’t focused on that.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
He ignored any weird stares the mundanes on the sidewalk gave him, realizing that he had forgotten to put up a glamor in his hasty departure and took the stairs three at a time. When he finally reached the top, he wasn’t prepared for what he found. The loft looked like a tornado had whipped through it. Furniture was broken and glass and priceless relics were shattered. There was what appeared to be scorch marks on the wall and blood staining the floor. A board creaked behind him and Alec turned, his bow raised and ready to fire. Catarina stood in the doorway, her hands raised in surrender. “I mean no harm, Alec. He had an SOS built into his wards. When they went down, I was instantly alerted. What happened?”
Alec shook his head, trying to push his panic back enough to slide into the mindset of the Head of the Institute. He couldn’t let his emotions get the best of him. Yes, this was Magnus, yes this was his boyfriend but if he wanted to find him, his people would need direction. Alec had to pretend that the High Warlock of Brooklyn had gone missing and it was the Institute’s job to launch an investigation and to find him.
At least for now. If it came down to it, there was always another way.
“I don’t know. Something told me there was trouble and that I had to be here,” he replied, carefully picking his way through the wreckage looking for any sign of Magnus.
“He sprinted across the city,” Jace huffed from the door, obviously out of breath despite his slightly glowing runes. “Told no one where he was going, just took off like a bat out of hell.”
Alec ignored his brother and instead turned his attention to Catarina. “Can you track him? Whatever happened here, it isn’t good. How did someone get through his wards? Magnus isn’t weak, whoever did this…I’d hate to see what kind of power they can throw around.”
Without being asked twice, Catarina threw her hands out, a spell settling across the room as her magic rebuilt the past few minutes. Alec could only watch in horror as a man appeared effortlessly in Magnus’ loft, surprising the warlock and apparently taunting him. Magnus through some magic around and the two fought but it was clear that the warlock was no match for the Greater Demon in front of him. A coil of dark red fire around Magnus’ neck and Alec’s boyfriend dropped to the ground unconscious. He was dragged through a portal and Catarina’s memory replay ended.
“If Asmodeus has him, we won’t be able to find him,” she said grimly, a touch of a growl in her voice. “He won’t want us to find Magnus, so we won’t be able to. He’s no doubt taken Magnus to Edom and his magic will be stronger there. None of us stand any sort of a chance even if Nephilim could survive in a realm of hell.”
He could hear Jace start to argue with Catarina and Isabelle joined in — she and Clary must have arrived some time during the show. Alec’s mind was already two steps ahead, scanning the room as he processed it like a crime scene, looking for even the smallest clue that would give them the edge. His eyes finally landed on the bookshelf in the corner and what was surprisingly missing from the center of the second shelf. “Does anyone see a horn around? Black and white, leather strap, carvings of animals?” He asked, as he bent to began moving around the rubble trying to see if it has simply been jostled and fell.
“A horn, Alec?” Clary asked in that manner that she had that was both curious and a bit rude. “Magnus is missing and you are looking for a horn?”
“Yes,” he snapped, completely aware that his tone was rude and dismissive and unable to muster the energy to care. “If that horn isn’t here then we have the chance to find him.”
“You aren’t making any sense, Alec,” he heard Catarina say. “I know Magnus tends to collect a lot of powerful artifacts, but if warlock magic can’t track them, how can something without a mind of it’s own?”
“If the horn isn’t here, I’ll explain but right now we’re wasting time. It was on that bookshelf, if it’s not missing, it’s probably still in this room - spread out.”
They turned over the room for another few minutes and when the Horn of Gabriel didn’t present itself, Alec felt an instant relief wash over him. Asmodeus may be trying to purposefully block their efforts of finding his son but no spell that the Greater Demon could cast could stop the secret that Alec kept close to his chest. Even the air of Edom posed no threat to him despite his Nephilim blood because the hounds were Messengers meant to traverse every realm — there was nothing that could keep him out.
“I have the Trueblood gift,” he said suddenly, knowing that his sister and his Parabatai would understand him well enough that they could explain it to the others when Alec had taken off. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but it’s not something I could really share with others without taking the risk that the Clave would find out and drag me away. I’m not entirely where Magnus acquired the Horn of Gabriel, how it left the hands of the Clave, or why it chose him to be the next Huntsman but because it did, the Horn follows him. Because I have the Trueblood gift that makes me a Gabriel Hound, I’m also connected to the Horn because that’s how the Huntsman calls the pack. Even Edom can’t stop me from following that connection because the Hounds are indomitable.”
He started to loosen his restraint on the power he kept locked away and felt his body start to change to accommodate his magic. He heard Clary gasp as his fingers started to crack and reshape. He glanced at his brother, well aware that his eyes were now the vibrant inhuman green that belonged to the Hound. “I will find him,” he growled, his voice rough with the change. “I will bring him back. Nothing is going to stand in my way.” With that final message, he let go of the last of his control, his body rapidly reforming until the large red and white canine was standing in his place. He searched for that thread that connected a Hound to its Hunter and when he felt the sizzle of the bond snap into place, he let out a howl and slashed open a hole between realms and disappeared inside, the stunned voices of his siblings fading into the distance behind him.
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Everything about Magnus’ day hadn’t been going to plan. Alec had been called into work early and had then been pulled into the sort of Shadowhunter business that meant he wouldn’t be home at a decent time either. One of his appointments for the day had cancelled on him out of nowhere and the other was with one of the most frustrating people who Magnus had the misfortune of sharing the planet with. He’d been making himself a martini to push back the migraine caused by having spent the last hour dealing with a moron when the wards around his loft erupted.
He’d been caught entirely unaware so his battle with his father had been short-lived. He’d been dragged back to Edom, thrown into a cell, and abandoned for what felt like days. Time passed differently in a realm of hell, he quickly lost sight of how long he’d been there or how long he’d possibly been missing from the mortal realm. He heard something shift at his side and he glanced down, expecting to find one of the small demons sizing him up. He was shocked to find the Horn from his living room shelf sitting there like it was meant to be.
“You chose a bad time and a bad place to follow me to,” he muttered to object, picking it up and nearly jumping at the electric shock that he got when he did. Something in his core pulsed low and steady but he didn’t have time to linger on that phenomenon as footsteps from farther down the hall started heading his way. He tucked it under the hem of his jacket and hopefully out of sight. “This is not a safe place for you to be. If I were a magical horn, I’d return back to the safety of my Loft.” He continued though the artifact remained warm and heavy where he had it hidden.
“My son,” Asmodeus said as one of his lesser demons unlocked the door and let it’s master inside. “It’s so nice to see you back home where you belong.”
Magnus snorted in displease. “Remarkably, I can’t say the same thing. Release me — I’ve made my stance on ruling by your side abundantly clear. There’s no reason to keep me here.”
The Greater Demon chuckled. “Alas, those were merely the words of a contrite child. I insist on showing you just how powerful you can be. You’re the heir to Edom’s throne. You need to be prepared.”
“I will never rule Edom,” Magnus growled between clenched teeth. He was about to throw more spitting words in his father’s direction when a howl sounded in the distance. He watched the shock cross Asmodeus’ at the sound.
The Greater Demon slowly turned toward the door as the eerie noise came again. “No,” he whispered to himself, Magnus apparently forgotten. “It can’t be.”
The demons that had been milling about in the hallway quickly ran for cover as a giant hound came bounding down the hall, snarling and snapping at any that were unfortunate enough to move slowly. It was mostly white with red points at its ears, muzzle, and legs and had glowing green eyes. When the creature reached the door of the cell, it moved through the bars like it was made of smoke and stalked across the room until it was between Magnus and his father. The canine lowered his head, fixing the Greater Demon with an icy stare as it continued to growl with it’s hackles raised.
Asmodeus’ eyes went wide and he backed himself against the wall. “No…you shouldn’t be here. Your kind no longer exists. Your own people eradicated you because they saw you as abominations. Why are you here? Why now?”
Magnus had no idea what his father was talking about but before he could ask any questions, an all too familiar voice rang out in his head. “Not all of us they didn’t…and you took something that belongs to me. I came to get it back.”
“Alexander?” He couldn’t help but ask because even if the voice was unmistakable, the form his boyfriend was currently wearing was anything but.
The hound glanced back at Magnus slightly, making sure to keep Asmodeus in his field of vision. “Hey honey, sorry I’m late. Traffic was hell.”
He had to bite back a snort at Alec’s words, knowing that the Shadowhunter was trying to get a rise out of the Greater Demon. “It’s alright, my love, I understand. I’m sorry I made you come so far but I’m afraid it wasn’t exactly my decision. Might I say, you are looking rather alluring today. You’ve been keeping secrets.”
“I hope you’ll forgive me,” Alec responded and there was a slight chuckle to his voice. “We can talk about it later.”
“Now is not the time to be flirting,” Asmodeus growled, fire practically flickering in his eyes. “This does not concern you, mutt, nor will it will end well if you do not leave now. I am a Greater Demon and you are alone and without your pack. I greatly overpower you.”
Alec’s voice came again - must softer this time and Magnus figured that he was whispering. “Mags —the horn…blow it and summon the others. If you call them, they will come.”
“I thought my father said that the others were killed?” Magnus whispered, trying not to move his lips too much to key Asmodeus into their conversation.
“Edom is a realm of the dead,” Alec whispered again like that explained everything that Magnus needed to know.
Magnus removed the horn from its hiding spot and raised it to his lips. He could see the very moment recognition and fear washed over his father’s face though the man remained frozen in place. The sound that came out of the horn was louder than expected and rumbled through the ground and the walls and straight through to Magnus’ very core. “What have you done?” Asmodeus hissed as the braying of more hounds began to get closer and closer.
Like Alec, they arrived snarling and snapping and drifted through the bars like they were phantoms. The pack circled the Greater Demon, sneaking close enough to try and nip every few seconds. Asmodeus hurled magic at them, trying to get them to retreat but the spells that he was slinging went right through their spectral forms. “Who said I was alone?” Alec asked the man in a mocking tone. “You hurt the Huntsman and the pack protects its own.”
That was the order the other hounds had been waiting for. They lunged toward the Greater Demon and Asmodeus didn’t stand a chance. Magnus had to shield his eyes as his father was torn limb from limb by the pack of angry dogs. Alec remained out of fray, shifting his body to shield Magnus from the brunt of the image in front of him and making him close enough to touch. The warlock reached out and grabbed a fistful of the fur around his boyfriend’s neck and waited for the sounds to stop.
When the room quieted, Magnus opened his eyes to find himself now surrounded by Alec and what were apparently the ghosts of others like him. “Is he dead?” He asked, as one of the creatures bit through his manacles with powerful jaws.
“No, but he won’t be a problem anymore,” a feminine voice responded in a sing-song voice. “It will take a long time for him to reform himself. There were so many little pieces.”
Magnus’ stomach practically curdled at the thought. He wasn’t upset about his father’s death but it still had been far more gruesome than anything that he’d wanted to see.
“Let’s go home, Magnus,” Alec replied softly, licking gently at tears on Magnus’ cheek that he hadn’t realized he’d shed.
“I can’t exactly portal out of here,” he replied, pushing himself to his feet and steadying himself against his boyfriend as the feeling returned rapidly to his feet. “How do suppose we do that?”
“You are the Huntsman,” a third voice answered in an accent that reminded Magnus of Ragnor. “You are meant to run with us. Blow the horn again.”
Alec nudged his hand and Magnus did as he was instructed. This time it was the sound of galloping hooves that echoed down the hallway as a white horse with the same markings as the hounds that appeared. The horse was wearing a black saddle and bridle that seemed made of shadows. It came to a stop in front of him and stamped its feet impatiently, waiting for its rider to mount. “Just remember, Huntsman, if you need us, you simply need to call. The Clave tried to stop us once but they have failed — the Hunt will ride again. You are proof enough of that.” The female voice stated as the others yipped in agreement.
Magnus pulled himself into the saddle and took a moment to steady himself on the beast before the pack and its rider took off at ungodly speeds, passing through obstacles as though they simply weren’t there. The sights and sounds of Edom faded and the other hounds disappeared back to wherever it was they had been summoned from until it was only Alec running by his side. He wasn’t sure if it was minutes or seconds but when they finally came to a stop, it was in the middle of his loft in front of the shocked faces of his closest friend and three familiar Shadowhunters.
He slid off the horse’s back and his steed gave him a sort before it took off as they’d arrived and disappeared into the shadows. Magnus’ eyes were drawn to Alec as his canine form twisted and warped and the familiar more human shape of his boyfriend stood where the hound had once been. Alec simply opened his arms without a word and Magnus dove in for a hug. “You have so much explaining to do,” he muttered against Alec’s chest when he was certain the other man wouldn’t disappear.
Alec chuckled and hugged him tighter. “I know,” he replied softly. He kissed the top of Magnus’ head gently. “And I promise I’ll tell you all of it but for now, let’s just enjoy the fact that you’re home and safe.”