Chapter one

For the majority of his life, Magnus Bane had regarded shadowhunters—all of Raziel’s blessed, come to think of it, not just the warriors—with disfavour.

While there were some good ones here and there, on the whole, the few decent specimens of humanity weren’t enough to make up for the arrogance, entitlement, and stupidity so often exhibited by the majority.

Since meeting his darling Alexander, Magnus’ opinions had changed somewhat. It wasn’t only Alexander; there were other shadowhunters in this current generation that gave him great hope as to the future of the shadow world.

Looking at the signs of rampant stupidity arrayed before him, Magnus wondered if his change of heart regarding nephilim wasn’t a little premature.

“What in the angel’s name were they hoping to achieve?” yelled Alec, his voice barely audible over the thunderous sound emanated by the rift hanging in the sky.

It appeared almost alive, throwing writhing filaments of energy out seemingly at random. They ricocheted off the magical barrier Magnus had thrown around the disturbance to reduce the area of impact, dissipating on collision with the sand at their feet. Dealing with this should have been a relatively simple task, but the unpredictability of those stray bolts was playing havoc with his attempts to shut down the magic at the rift’s centre.

“We can talk discuss that later,” Magnus called back. “Something in this is resisting my magic. Part of the problem is that the angelic magic that fuelled the original ritual is resisting me. If you let me access your power, the combined magic should be enough to balance the chaos.”

Even before Magnus had finished speaking, Alec had extended his hand. When Magnus took hold of it, Alec’s strength immediately began to pour into him; nothing held back.

The addition of angelic energy had an immediate effect. The rift began to shrink rapidly, and the bolts flying out of it started coming faster, almost as though it was growing desperate. Dodging them was difficult, given the need to remain connected.

The sound of a portal opening behind them distracted Alec at just the wrong moment. Time seemed to slow down as a bolt of energy bounced off the external shield directly towards his husband, a bolt that Alec wouldn’t see in time to dodge.

As Magnus threw the fullness of their combined power at the rift in one final great shove—hoping against hope that it would be enough—he stepped into the energy’s path, bracing himself for the shock.

The sudden movement caused Alec’s hand to slip from Magnus’ shoulder a microsecond before the bolt was upon him.

Instead of being shocked to within an inch of his life, Magnus felt the magic of the rift beginning to pour into him. Time continued to pass in slow motion as Magnus realised what that meant. There was no way to break free; he’d already thrown everything not tied up in the boundary directly at the rift.

Magnus had read about situations like this. The influx of power would quickly overload his magical channels and then rip him to shreds at a subatomic level scattering his component pieces past any hope of recall. He wasn’t going to survive, so his focus turned to ensuring that the inevitable explosion wouldn’t hurt Alec.

Trying to put as much distance between him and the greatest love of his life as possible, Magnus stepped closer to the rift. As he felt the magic inside him reach critical levels, he turned to look at his husband one last time.

Alec was already reaching towards him, eyes drenched with terror. “Magnus!”

His husband’s panicked voice shouting his name was the last thing Magnus heard before his entire body exploded.

v^v^v^v

Magnus and the rift exploded into nothingness even as Alec tried desperately to reach him. Along with the explosion came a blinding light and a concussive force that threw Alec to the ground.

Alec blinked rapidly, trying to focus. In the wake of the closed rift, the silence was deafening.

“Magnus?” Even as he opened his mouth, Alec knew calling out was futile. He’d seen Magnus come apart. The chances of anyone surviving something like that…

When his vision finally returned, all evidence of the ritual was erased; there were no signs of the rift that Alec and Magnus had discovered or the shadowhunters that had created it. Just a lot of messed up, slightly scorched sand.

A glint of metal caught his eye. Magnus’ wedding ring lay half-buried in the sand where he’d been standing, the lone proof that he’d even been there. Alec scooped it up, holding it tightly as he turned to look at the newcomers whose arrival had distracted him with such devastating consequences.

Lorenzo Rey looked horrified. “Mr Lightwood,” he said, eyes still wide. “Alec. I came to investigate reports of a rift opening in this area. I didn’t expect to find you and Magnus already here.”

“It’s Lightwood-Bane,” Alec corrected automatically. “Lorenzo…” He trailed off. He turned back to the empty beach where the rift had been. With an effort, he pulled himself together. “I need to know what happened here. What can you tell me? What happened to Magnus? Where did he go?”

Lorenzo opened his mouth, then closed it again. “You have my condolences.”

v^v^v^v

Nine hours later, Alec sat alone in his office, gently tracing his fingers over Magnus’ wedding ring.

The information he’d been able to gather was sketchy at best. Part of the problem was that there weren’t many warlocks with the same level of experience and knowledge of rifts as Magnus. At least, not many who’d made their presence known to the shadow world at large.

Lorenzo was not one of those experts, and when he’d come to give Alec his report, he’d explained that he wasn’t on good terms with those that were. He vaguely referred to some residual bad feeling regarding other matters that Alec wasn’t inclined to pursue. Lorenzo’s history of antagonising powerful warlocks was well known. “What it amounts to is that I won’t be of much use to you in persuading them to investigate the issue, not with the rift already closed.”

“Are there any who would do it for Magnus?”

Lorenzo pursed his lips. “Perhaps. You would do better to speak to Ms Loss about that. She would have a better idea on who in our community Mr Bane was friendly with.”

“Lightwood-Bane,” Alec snapped. “He’s not here to react to your petty word games, so please do me the respect of referring to him by the correct name.” He took a deep breath to calm himself. There was no point in getting angry with Lorenzo. It wasn’t rogue warlocks opening rifts in his jurisdiction, after all. The investigation into the nephilim involved had been stymied by the unfortunate lack of remains by which to identify them. “Catarina is spending this week at the Spiral Labyrinth; I would be grateful if you would inform her of these events and ask her to contact me.”

Lorenzo inclined his head in assent with no sign that he’d taken offence at Alec’s outburst. “Of course.” He hesitated. “Do let me know if I can assist you, Mr Lightwood-Bane.”

Alec had agreed, barely waiting for him to leave before diving back into researching what he could remember of the ritual he’d seen.

Jace and Izzy were out, having taken Maia and Simon with them on a quick tour of the nearest Institutes. Ostensibly, it was a spot check to test individual wards, but they were really there to casually ask about missing shadowhunters and wheedle copies of recent assignment rosters. Luke was nosing around in Alicante.

That was early in the afternoon, they had yet to return, and Alec was at a standstill. He did not like that feeling at all.

“Alec. Alec, have you eaten? Can I get you anything?”

Alec looked up from his introspection to see his mother hovering in the doorway, looking at him with concern. “I’m not hungry.”

Maryse frowned at him. “What does that matter? You know better than to neglect your needs, Alec. Stay there; I’ll bring you something.”

There was no point in arguing with her when she spoke in that tone. Alec ran his fingers over the ring again.

He ate the food she brought him with mechanical efficiency, his mind circling back to that moment when Magnus stepped between him and the rift energy. If he’d been quicker, if Lorenzo hadn’t opened a portal right at that moment, it would never have happened. They’d been mere seconds away from walking away with nothing more worrying than a little magical strain.

The plate was soon empty. Alec had no idea what he’d been eating; he just pushed the plate away and went back to looking over the report he’d written on the incident, trying to remember some detail that would make this whole thing make sense. That would let him bring Magnus back.

When the door opened again, Alec expected it to be his mother, returning with further demands that he take care of himself, but it was Catarina. He rose to greet her and then led her to the group of chairs set around a low table he used for informal meetings.

“Oh, Alec,” said Catarina, sinking into the chair Magnus usually sat in. She glanced around. “I’m surprised Izzy and Jace aren’t hovering around you.”

“They know not to crowd me at times like this,” replied Alec, taking the seat next to her. “If I want to find out where Magnus went, the first step is discovering who was involved and what they were trying to do.”

Catarina sighed. “Alec, Lorenzo told me that Magnus was disintegrated after being struck by an aberrant energy rupture. Is that true?”

Alec blinked. Lorenzo hadn’t put it quite in those words. “He told me that the energy overloaded Magnus’ atoms, causing them to disintegrate. But he’s been wrong before, and I’m not willing to trust Magnus’ safety on the assumption that this time he’s right.”

Catarina leaned forward. “Will you allow me to look through your eyes at the memory?” She grimaced. “I did ask Lorenzo, but he unhelpfully had his eyes closed at the critical moment. I need to see exactly what happened.” She hesitated. “It will mean you have to watch it again too.”

“Of course,” agreed Alec. “Whatever you need. I’ve been replaying that moment in my head constantly anyway; we might as well get some use from it.”

Catarina’s fingers were gentle as they rested against his brow. Alec went through the now-familiar memory, reliving every second of the battle against the rift, including the part where his distraction led Magnus to take the strike meant for him. He went through it twice before Catarina lowered her hands.

When Alec opened his eyes, he saw that tears had already begun to trail down her face. She looked devastated.

Alec’s stomach twisted unpleasantly. “It’s not good news.”

Catarina’s breath started to hitch. She didn’t say anything, just shook her head.

v^v^v^v

Half an hour later, Catarina had composed herself enough to be able to talk.

In the interim, Maryse had been in and out, bringing them both a hot chocolate. She hugged Alec, told him he should call her if she could help in any way, and then left them alone.

Catarina cradled her warm mug between her hands as she sat in front of Alec and explained what she’d seen. “There have been events like this documented, although only rarely; the necessary conditions don’t often occur. It has to do with magical resonance; most warlocks struck by that energy would have been knocked cold rather than disintegrated.”

Alec held onto his calm with iron control. “What was different about Magnus, then?”

Catarina sighed, body slumping. “Each warlock’s magic operates on a slightly different wavelength to the rest. The most obvious sign of this is the colour our raw magic takes.” She lifted a hand wreathed in blue fire. “My magic is superficially similar to Magnus’, but a close examination shows differences in shade and density.”

Alec leaned over and extended his hand toward her. “May I touch it?”

Catarina raised startled eyebrows. “Of course, if you wish.”

Alec gently ran his fingers through the flame. “It feels different, too. It’s cooler; softer. It reminds me of water.” He sat back again.

Catarina took a deep breath. “That’s amazing, Alec! I’ve never known a shadowhunter with so much perception of magic. How long have you been able to do that? My magic trends towards water spells; it’s one of the reasons I’m so good at healing.”

“And Magnus’ trends towards fire,” said Alec, shrugging. “Magnus’ magic is a huge part of him; it’s a constant feature in our life. It’s only natural to be familiar with how it feels.”

“You’d be surprised,” Catarina murmured. She let the flames die. “Magnus’ magic and mine have enough commonalities that his body will accept my magic better than it would many another warlock. Remember when he went to Lorenzo for a magical transfusion? There was almost no chance that it would work. Magnus knew it, Lorenzo knew it. As soon as I realised what he’d done, I knew it too. It’s a testimony to Magnus’ skill that it lasted as long as it did.”

Alec winced. He still felt his failures of that time keenly. He should never have agreed to Magnus going to Edom in the first place. Then, once the deal had been struck, he’d been secretly happy that he and Magnus would have the chance to grow old together. He was so busy trying to hide that from Magnus that he missed the increasing desperation and despair.

It had all worked out in the end, with some valuable lessons learned, but it had driven home to Alec just how selfish he could be, how much he’d taken Magnus for granted. Watching as the love of his life hovered near death, realising that he was facing the possibility that Magnus might predecease him instead of the other way around, as he’d always expected, opened Alec’s eyes further to the depth of Magnus’ bravery.

“The issue is alignment of resonance,” Catarina continued. “With both parties working hard, a superficial alignment can be achieved, as we saw. When it comes to a sudden influx of magical energy such as Magnus experienced earlier today, the alignment must either be exact, or so close to exact as to be virtually indistinguishable.”

Alec began to understand what she meant. “Which is incredibly unlikely.” He put his still full mug down on the table.

“As likely as being struck by lightning while standing under a clear blue sky,” agreed Catarina, eyeing the mug but not saying anything about it. “Not impossible, but so improbable that it’s not something you ever think will happen to you. Or anyone you know. That Magnus’ magic resonated with the rift enough for the link to form was a stroke of terrible luck.”

Alec twisted his wedding ring on his finger. Magnus had laid spells on it, and when Alec ran his fingers over the metal, he could feel the comforting warmth of his husband’s protective magic. “If something like this is so rare, then the warlocks won’t have a lot of data on what really happened. How certain are you that he’s dead?”

Catarina sighed. “As certain as I can be. I know of three cases from history where a similar thing happened, and those warlocks were gone forever.” She wrinkled her nose. “Or, for accuracy’s sake, are gone to this day.”

“So there’s a chance that he’s still out there somewhere,” suggested Alec, grabbing onto the thin thread of hope her words had presented.

Catarina sighed as if she was tired beyond imagining. “Alec, he’s gone.”

“He was one of your oldest friends,” said Alec, wanting to kick himself. Here he was, making it all about him again, when Catarina had loved him for longer than Alec had been alive. “I know this is hard for you too.”

Catarina’s eyes grew distant. “We were an unlikely trio, Magnus, Ragnor, and me. We were all so different; our hobbies, how we approached conflict, our views on life. But we were so similar in other ways.” She sighed again. “It’s hard, when you live as long as we do, to find friends who don’t eventually get on your last nerve. To have two at once…” She shrugged. “It could never last.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Alec, talking around the lump in his throat. His tenuous control of his own anguish was starting to waver in the face of Catarina’s sorrow.

Catarina laughed, a bitter sound. “I was the least powerful of the three of us, did you know? I always expected that I would go first. I don’t know if this is fate playing a cruel joke on me for the name I chose; I can’t even try to escape it. I have Madzie to think of now.”

Madzie, another person who would be devastated at Magnus’ loss.

With a visible effort, Catarina pulled herself together. “Speaking of Madzie, I need to find some way to break the news. Magnus won’t be officially declared dead by the Spiral Labyrinth until the wards he anchored and was maintaining have faded. Given his strength and how in tune he was with his magic, you’ll have at least a week before the loft’s wards start to fray. Let me know if you want me to raise new ones.” She offered him a half-hearted smile. “No charge.”

Alec nodded. “I’ll let you know. How long before the Institute wards need to be redone?”

“The Institute wards are anchored on the angelic core,” Catarina reminded him. “So long as you follow the usual maintenance cycle, they should remain strong. Although Magnus undoubtedly added some personal tweaks that will fade when whomever Lorenzo sends eventually floods them.”

“Thank you,” said Alec, not knowing what to say. “And for coming so quickly. I hate to ask more of you, but…”

“Regardless of Magnus’ state of existence, you’re still family,” said Catarina firmly. “What do you need?”

“If there are resources that the Spiral Labyrinth has on this type of thing, I’d like to read through them; if that’s permitted, that is. You said that it’d happened before? There must be written accounts, right?” Alec rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “I know I could make a formal request as an Institute Head, but—”

“But you don’t want to take the chance that the person dealing with your request is unsympathetic towards shadowhunters,” said Catarina, with an understanding nod. “I know what it’s like dealing with librarians who’re trying to be unhelpful. I’ll see what’s available and get copies of anything relevant sent to you.”

“Thank you,” repeated Alec. “I promise I’ll take good care of anything you pass my way.”

Catarina hesitated. “I feel terrible having to ask you this, but some of the Labyrinth resources aren’t supposed to be shared with non-warlocks.” She winced. “I need your word that you won’t allow anyone else to see them.”

Alec had no problem agreeing. “Magnus and I had a deal; I would be allowed access to everything in his private library so long as I understood that it was as his husband, not as a Clave official. Send anything you find directly to Magnus’ private office; it’s a protected space that will keep out anyone he didn’t trust with his rarest books. I’ll treat everything there with the same discretion.”

“I’ll do that,” said Catarina. She rose to her feet. “It’s getting late. Shall I make you a portal back to the loft?”

Alec’s first instinct was to say no, that he had too much to do. It would have been a lie, though, and the look in Catarina’s eyes told him that she knew it. It was the same look Izzy had whenever she was getting ready to call him out on his crap. “Thank you,” he said. “Let me just…” He reached over and picked up Magnus’ wedding ring. “I need to inform someone that I’m leaving. Make sure people know where to find me.”

“You can text them,” said Catarina firmly. “Come on, Alec. If I let you, you’ll stay most of the night, distracting yourself with busy work.” She raised her eyebrows. “There’s Chairman Meow to think of now, or had you forgotten?”

Alec had forgotten. The Chairman had only been with them for two weeks, just long enough to get comfortable enough not to run for cover whenever Alec was still wearing his boots on arrival. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am.” Catarina made a gesture, and a portal appeared in his office.

Alec stared at it. “Huh. I expected to exit the primary wards first. I thought they didn’t allow portals in or out for anyone but Magnus?”

“I can’t portal in,” Catarina assured him, “but this is one of those tweaks I mentioned. Magnus always leaves…left…an exception in his wards for Ragnor and me.” She shrugged unapologetically. “He once told me that no wards of his would ever be used to imprison his family.”

As the Institute Head, Alec knew he should probably care more about Magnus’ contract violation than he did. But, given the Clave’s history of treating Downworlders as though they were guilty until proven innocent, he couldn’t blame Magnus for putting a failsafe like that in place. “I appreciate you trusting me with this knowledge.”

Catarina smiled gently at him. “I’m sure Magnus would have told you sooner or later. Go. Home. And Alec? Don’t be a stranger.”

Alec smiled tightly in return and walked through the portal to the loft.

The familiar feel of Magnus’ wards surrounded him, and the portal winked out behind him.

v^v^v^v

One moment Magnus was expecting to be blown to smithereens by rift magic; the next, the loud sound of gulls squabbling over something brought him to consciousness. His head throbbed with pain, but other than that, he felt fine.

He opened his eyes to blue. Blue sky above him, blue sand that he was lying on, blue-tinted seagulls having what looked like a territory argument. A glowing blue sphere hung in the air where the rift had been. The sphere was an oddity, but it wasn’t moving and gave off no radiating energy, so it was something to look at later.

Aside from the strange blue filter over everything, the most concerning thing was the lack of concerned shadowhunter hovering over him. Lack of anyone in the vicinity, period. Magnus knew his husband; for Alec to leave him unconscious on a beach was distinctly out of character. Alec wouldn’t leave anyone in that position, let alone one of the people he was so fiercely dedicated to.

Any insecurities Magnus might have had about his place in Alec’s life had disappeared when Alec led his family into Edom to save him before standing with him in front of the entire shadow world and binding their lives together.

This meant that either Alec had been removed from the scene against his will, or he’d believed that Magnus himself was no longer present. The sand showed fading signs of activity, nothing like what there would be if Alec had been attacked by something other than the rift they’d been trying to close.

Therefore, the problem was with Magnus; a conclusion backed up by the wardrobe change he was only now noticing. When he and Alec had gone to investigate the magic anomaly, Magnus had been wearing a new outfit, chosen to remind everyone who saw it that he was a powerful badass warlock. Now, he was wearing his ‘work’ outfit, a combination of items he’d often worn during his tenure as High Warlock of Brooklyn. He’d retired it when the title had gone to Lorenzo.

Magnus’ fingers went to smooth over the surface of his wedding ring, a habit he’d formed since his marriage. He might have felt embarrassed or tried to stop doing it so much, except that Alec had picked up the same habit.

After getting his husband’s approval, Magnus had placed some basic but strong notification charms on both rings. All he or Alec had to do was touch the ring with intent to get a general feeling about the well-being and location of the other, providing the other was also wearing his ring.

When Magnus’ fingers reached for that familiar comfort, he got another shock. His ring was no longer there. That made no sense; if his magic could bring forth replicas of his most familiar clothes, why hadn’t it also made a copy of his ring? No matter. A copy of his ring would never be an adequate substitute for the real thing, and Magnus had foreseen the possibility that he might want to get his hands on their rings quickly. With a snap of his fingers, he activated the tiny piece of magic that would drop his ring into a pocket dimension, ready for him to pluck out again.

Nothing happened.

Magnus stared at his fingers in consternation. He could still feel his magic, unlike when he’d traded it to Asmodeus, so that wasn’t the problem. But although it was there, he couldn’t seem to connect with it. He tried something simple, just a snap of the fingers to produce a flame. Nothing.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” said Magnus aloud, more to check that he still could say things out loud than because he felt the need to talk.

He certainly heard his own voice, although the seagulls ignored him. But then seagulls were arrogant bastards at the best of times, and maybe they didn’t find a lone human threatening.

“Rah!” growled Magnus, rushing at the nearest stationary seagull. It continued to ignore him completely; there wasn’t so much as a swivel of an eye to acknowledge his presence.

“Stupid bird,” muttered Magnus, nudging it with one foot. His foot went right through the bird, which gave itself a quick shake, fluffing its feathers up and letting them settle again. “Incorporeal as well as invisible. Of course I am.” He sighed. “Alec probably thinks I died here. If I’d been watching it happen to anyone else, it’s what I would have thought.”

Magnus turned in a slow circle. “I wonder if I am dead? This could be the afterlife, I suppose. Or I could be a ghost.” He snapped his fingers again, but his magic still didn’t respond. “I wonder if that blue thing hanging in the air has anything to do with this?”

Unfortunately, it was high enough to be out of reach, and without his magic, Magnus had no way to get to it. “Well, this just keeps getting better. If I can’t use magic, then I can’t portal anywhere. Am I going to be stuck on this beach for the rest of eternity? Talking to myself like some insane video game villain?”

The sound of the ocean was the only answer.

“I could walk back to Brooklyn,” mused Magnus. He glanced at his shoes. “Hopefully, being incorporeal means I won’t get blisters; these boots were definitely not made for walking.” Not that there was anything he could do about that.

“No time like the present, I suppose.” Magnus took quick stock of the sky and moved off in the general direction he thought New York would be. “I wonder if I can hitch a ride on moving vehicles? It’s not like anyone can see me, and I don’t imagine I weigh anything.”

Feeling a little more cheerful, Magnus picked up the pace.

An hour later, he was back where he’d started, staring in frustration at the glowing blue sphere hanging just out of reach. “It has to be something to do with that. There must be a connection between how everything looks blue, that blue anomaly, and my inability to walk more than a quarter mile in any direction.”

The blue sphere continued to hang there.

Magnus jumped as high as he could and still couldn’t lay a finger on it. “It’s located where the central point of the rift would have been, which has to mean something.” Feeling fed up with the whole business, he sat down on the sand—it’s not like he had to worry about his clothes getting dirty—and stared up at the glowing sphere. “Come on, Magnus. There has to be a way out of here. Think. Think!”

v^v^v^v

The sunset had been beautiful, even done in shades of blue. The stars had come out, and the moon was now bathing the beach in all its reflective glory.

Magnus had moved past anger and frustration and was settled firmly into feeling morose. Nothing he’d tried had achieved anything. The only thing that had distracted him for a time was working through his katas. The familiar feel of his muscles working was absent, but the soothing repetition helped calm his troubled mind.

He was facing the unwelcome prospect that he might experience the rest of eternity on this stupid beach.

The rising and ebbing tide had already smoothed over the sandy evidence of the rift that had been opened here. If it weren’t for the strange way the glowing blue sphere remained, hanging just high enough to be well out of reach but just low enough that he thought that jumping a little higher might allow him to touch it, he would think nothing strange had happened here at all.

Magnus lay on his back, staring into the void of space. The stars were far enough away that the blue filter that hung over everything wasn’t discernible. All Magnus had to do was avoid looking at the moon, and he could pretend it was any other night.

Right. Because spending hours at a time lying on lonely beaches staring at the stars was a regular pastime. Somewhere along the road—probably since he’d met Alexander, actually—Magnus had lost the skill of lying to himself believably.

“The very worst part about it,” Magnus said to himself, “is that Alec is no doubt working himself into an early grave, all the while blaming himself. I bet he’s not eating properly, either. He always neglects himself at times like these. Hopefully, either Jace or Izzy had the sense to confiscate his bow.”

Thinking about Alec soothed Magnus slightly. Their time together was far too short, but Magnus still wouldn’t trade it for anything. If living out eternity in this half-life was the price he had to pay for saving Alexander’s life, fine. If he was put back in that position, he would do exactly the same thing.

Just as he was thinking that, he felt an odd sort of tug in his chest. He rubbed his hand over it thoughtfully; then it came again.

Something was happening.

Between one blink and the next, Magnus went from the beach where he and Alec had fought the rift that morning, to the comfort and familiarity of his loft in Brooklyn, just in time to see a portal wink closed behind Alec.

Magnus was overjoyed. “Darling!” he gushed, hurrying forward.

Alec ignored him, just stood there looking miserable.

Magnus stopped, feeling foolish. “Oh, right. You can’t see me; I’m still incorporeal. Still, this view is significantly better than the last one.” He frowned as he examined Alec’s face. “Oh, Alec…it’s all right, dearest. I’m not gone, gone; I’m only a little bit gone.”

Alec sighed and walked right through Magnus like he wasn’t there.

Magnus blinked. That had been…strange. Not unpleasant in a physical way, but very…existential.

Alec stopped at their bedroom door, staring inside as though he expected a monster to leap out and savage him. Magnus came up behind him and stood on tiptoe to peer over his shoulder.

“Mrow?” said Chairman Meow from his comfortable spot on their bed. He yawned and stretched his front legs forward before rising leisurely to his feet and picking his way towards Alec.

“Right,” said Alec, “you want to be fed.” He turned and walked back through Magnus again.

Chairman Meow dropped to the floor with a quiet thump, then walked up to Magnus. He stopped at Magnus’ feet and looked up at him expectantly. “Mrow?”

Magnus gaped. “You can see me? Alec, did you know…blast.” Thankfully, the only witness to that piece of stupidity was the Chairman, and he wasn’t about to tell anyone. It was still marvellous that someone could see him. “Oh, but who’s a clever little dictator? Who is?” Magnus dropped to his knees and reached out his hands the way he always did the first time he saw the Chairman after coming home.

His hands sank into Chairman Meow’s face.

The Chairman drew back, ears flat. His fur puffed up, and his tail rose behind him, fluffed out to three times its normal circumference. There was a hiss, then a low, threatening growl.

Magnus sat back on his heels. “You felt that. Some part of you can feel me, which means—” He sighed. “I don’t know what it means. Something, though.”

The sound of the cat bowl being placed on the floor caught the Chairman’s attention. Tail held high; he ignored Magnus as he trotted past, making a beeline to where his dinner had just been served.

Magnus rose to his feet and ambled after him.

v^v^v^v

What remained of the night was an exercise in frustration. After feeding the Chairman, Alec went straight into Magnus’ private office, opened the hidden door that led to the even more private library and began a systematic search of the volumes within.

The attention and focus Alec gave to the books he was consulting was almost scary. The last time he’d looked anywhere near this distressed was when they were researching the Owl, when he’d been desperate to find a way to free Jace. At least back then Magnus had been able to assist and comfort. Watching Alec deal with this alone was much harder.

It went on for hours.

Alec only emerged from his books when he received a text—from Izzy, going by the notification noise—but Magnus didn’t make it to Alec’s side quickly enough to get a glance at what it said before Alec put his phone face down. With his elbows on the desk, he rested his face in his hands and sighed wearily.

“Oh, sayang,” said Magnus, hating how helpless he felt. “I’m still here.”

After several moments, Alec lifted his head again. The wetness on his face and his damp, spiky lashes nearly broke Magnus’ heart all over again.

“I already miss you so much,” Alec whispered. He shook his head as though to clear it. “Aside from anything else, this research would be significantly easier with you here to help.”

Magnus sniffed. “Isn’t that just like a shadowhunter, wanting the downworlder to do the work to solve their own disappearance.” The joke fell flat without anyone to hear it.

Alec’s fingers crept towards his wedding band, twisting it around his finger in a familiar gesture. Something about it must have triggered his memory because he reached into his pocket and pulled out a matching band.

Magnus’ ring.

“That’s where it is!” exclaimed Magnus. “Wait. How is it that I’m incorporeal, but a ring I was wearing is not?”

Alec held the ring in his hand and closed his eyes. “Come on, Magnus. I know you’re out there somewhere. I promise I’m doing everything I can to get you back.”

Magnus’ was flooded with warmth and power. At first, he thought it was just the heartwarming feels he got whenever Alec openly expressed his love, but then he realised that it was more real than that.

His view of the loft brightened slightly as if a tiny tinge of the blue that had overlaid everything was removed.

Alec sighed, putting Magnus’ ring down on the desk. The flow of warmth stopped.

“The ring,” breathed Magnus. “I’m still connected to the ring somehow. Why…none of the other cases I read about left physical objects behind, I don’t think. Drat! I wish I could pop over to the Labyrinth and check the records myself.”

The next time Alec’s phone dinged, Magnus didn’t even try to read it. Whatever Izzy sent had Alec shaking his head and pushing back from the desk with a yawn.

Ten minutes later, Alec was lying in their bed. He’d placed Magnus’ ring, which he’d still been holding, onto the bedside table with his phone, and then just stared at the ceiling. “I wish you were here.”

Magnus sat unseen at his side, running ghostly fingers over his husband’s forehead. “I wish you could see me.”

They remained like that for some time.

Just as the first light of dawn started to find its way through the darkness and into the loft, Alec finally dropped into sleep.

Chapter two

Alec woke to his phone chiming with an incoming text. He blinked open his eyes in confusion; usually, his alarm woke him before daybreak unless he and Magnus were having a rare day to themselves.

Magnus lay next to him, fully dressed and staring at the ceiling. The Chairman was curled up in the space between them like some kind of furry chaperone, which was odd; Magnus didn’t typically let the cat into the bedroom until they were both up for the day. When Alec had asked him about it, he’d said something about voyeuristic cats and then changed the subject.

“Why’re you up?” Alec mumbled. As his mind continued its journey towards wakefulness, he noticed the blue tinge covering his husband. “You doin’ some magic thing?”

Magnus had already turned towards him, looking startled. “Alexander? You can see me?”

“Of course I can see you,” said Alec, smiling at the ridiculousness of the man. “Why, is that blue stuff supposed to be an invisibility spell or something?”

Magnus’ eyes glimmered with sudden tears. “Oh, sayang, if only it were anything so boring.” He reached out with a hesitant hand to touch Alec’s face.

Alec closed his eyes and savoured the contact before opening them again. “What’s wrong? What’s upset you?” Something nagged at his memory, but when he tried to focus on it, it was gone. Alec made a note to figure out what it was once he’d worked out what was bothering his husband.

Magnus didn’t answer, just leaned forwards to kiss him gently.

The ‘incoming text’ notification noise sounded again, distracting Alec. “I should probably get that,” he murmured regretfully. “It might be important.”

The text notification sounded again.

Alec woke up.

He remembered the events of the day before. Magnus wasn’t there, had never been there. It was just a dream, a trick played by his mind. Chairman Meow was curled beside him, but that was because Alec had left the bedroom door open the night before, not because Magnus had let him in.

Alec stared at the empty spot that dream-Magnus had occupied only moments before. The dream had felt so real.

The text notification that had woken him pinged again, startling him from his introspection. Alec picked up his phone to see what it was. It was a message from Underhill’s second that there was a confidential communication directly from Jia Penhallow, the Consul, waiting for him in his office.

That had Alec cursing under his breath. What on earth could the woman want with him at a time like this? It was never a good idea to ignore her, though.

Alec had a quick shower and changed into his running gear. There wouldn’t be any handy portals to work anymore; he would have to get used to a more standard commute.

He didn’t want to think about that, about the prospect of losing Magnus long-term, so while he dressed, he focused on making a plan for the day.

Hopefully, Izzy’s vague message meant that she and Jace had found some information for him, some clue on where to start looking. Magnus wasn’t gone forever; Alec refused to accept it. Just because no one had ever returned from what happened to Magnus the previous day didn’t mean that Magnus couldn’t come back.

No one had ever killed a Greater Demon before Alec’s group had stormed Edom, either. In fact, all of their information said that nephilim wouldn’t last a minute in the toxic demonic atmosphere, and that hadn’t stopped them.

Alec just needed to work hard, find the answers, and soon Magnus would be home.

A glint of light on metal caught his attention. Magnus’ ring was still sitting on the bedside table. He wanted to keep it with him, but it wouldn’t fit on his fingers and carrying it in his hand all day was impractical. He could put it in his pocket, but he wanted to keep it against his skin. He needed a necklace, something heavy that wouldn’t run the risk of breaking.

Magnus’ jewellery had a dedicated space in their closet—which Alec had noticed was significantly more spacious inside than the outside dimensions allowed for—and he kept it all neatly arranged according to a system that Alec hadn’t even tried to understand.

The necklace that caught Alec’s eye looked like a twisted rope made from different coloured strands. It looked strong and durable, and something about the beauty of the metals twining together appealed to the romantic side of Alec, the part of him that he’d only ever really felt able to show to Magnus.

When Alec left the loft, he wore Magnus’ ring around his neck.

v^v^v^v

When Alec left the wards, Magnus was involuntarily transported back to the beach. It didn’t take a genius intellect to make the connection.

“It’s either Alec or the ring,” mused Magnus, his earlier elation at being able to communicate with Alec, even if it was only for a few moments, finally fading. He was feeling energetic, so decided to wander up the beach to see if his range had extended or shrunk overnight. “Or maybe Alec and the ring. And something about the loft, probably the wards.” He reached the point where the barrier stopped him from continuing and looked around. “It looks about the same. It’s hard to be sure without a specific marker.”

There wasn’t anything else to do, so Magnus slowly walked along the edge, trying to mark specific details in his mind. He took his time, since he had time aplenty. Even then, it couldn’t have taken him an hour.

That done, he was at a loss. There was nothing to read, nothing to do; he couldn’t even play with his magic. It was nearly a day since the whole thing had gone down, and while he remained hopeful that there was a way out of this mess, Magnus was growing concerned that he’d go insane from the boredom.

The glowing blue sphere looked no different than it had the day before. Not to the naked eye, at least, and Magnus didn’t exactly have access to other measuring tools at present.

“Maybe meditation?” he asked himself out loud. “I’ve always wanted more time for it.” He frowned at his hands. “Although it’s not as if I can use it in conjunction with my magic, which largely defeats the point of the exercise. I suppose I could use this opportunity to train my mind, then when I finally figure out a way to restore myself, all of this spare time won’t have been completely wasted.”

Magnus deliberately ignored the possibility that he wouldn’t be restored to his corporeal self. If he wasn’t, then none of this mattered anyway. He had confidence in Alec and in his own ability to seize any possibility that presented itself; he just needed to be ready and waiting when it did.

Settling himself as comfortably as he could, Magnus closed his eyes and began regulating his breathing. Meditation was said to free the mind from the constraints of the body; at present, he had a head start.

The same feeling of warmth and energy that he’d had the previous night rushed through him, and he smiled.

v^v^v^v

Alec hadn’t taken two steps inside the Institute when Izzy descended upon him.

She smiled brilliantly at him as she thrust a tablet into his hand. “Sorry to bother you so soon on your arrival, but since you’re not technically ‘at work’ yet, I thought I’d get your opinion on which style of boot would look better with the new patrol uniforms.”

Alec took the tablet without argument. He, Izzy and Jace had long set up a simple code that would allow them to warn each other without making it evident that they were doing so. Izzy would ask their opinion on fashion, and Jace would tell them that their primary weapons skills were getting rusty. Alec would tell them he wanted to review their latest reports one last time before submitting them.

In reality, Izzy had no interest in Alec or Jace’s fashion critique, Izzy and Alec were dedicated to their primary weapons and kept in peak physical form with them, and Alec had long ago ensured that Jace and Izzy wrote immaculate reports.

The tablet that Izzy handed him had a simple message on it:

We found patrol irregularities at Cardiff Institute. Institute head, Isaac Keytower, has a younger brother, Luke, who is married to Jia Penhallow’s older sister, Mei. Keytower deliberately passed us falsified patrol records, and we discovered that he has at least five missing shadowhunters.

We also came across a symbol being used, a single circle with a centrally placed dot. At first, I thought it might be an evolution of Valentine’s Circle, but Simon said it reminded him of a Mundane symbol he’d seen. We were being watched too closely for me to photograph it, but I’ve recreated it here.

Keytower was openly suspicious of our visit; I’m almost positive he knew our true purpose there. He also made an offhand comment about Magnus that leads me to believe he has an informant here. Given Jia’s unexpected contact, it’s possible that he complained directly to her.

We have no indication at present that the Consul is involved. When I asked Aline if she knew why her mother would be sending a sealed communication, she said that Jia has been working hard on getting the Accords revised and has barely enough time to eat and sleep, which makes her intrusion at this time extremely odd.

Also, I got you a spare phone, so we don’t need to go through these shenanigans next time I want to give you info, and Magnus isn’t available. I stashed it inside the packet of black shirts delivered to your room this morning. Start carrying it around with you.

Say out loud, “I choose the black ones.”

“I choose the black ones,” said Alec obediently, handing the tablet back.

Izzy rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I even bothered asking. Jace and I are working on the reports you asked for yesterday, but the short version is that we didn’t find anything we didn’t expect to find. Also, we absolutely have the best warded Institute.”

“Of course we do,” agreed Alec, mind racing. The level of security that Izzy was using meant that she suspected whatever it was that he and Magnus had interrupted to go higher than just the head of Cardiff Institute. Someone in the Clave with high enough authority to be given access to the Institute’s servers and who might have planted trackers to alert them to conversations containing specific words. “Tell Jace I want to go over both of your reports before you hand them in. The last thing we want to do is offend an Institute head right now.”

“We can write our own reports, Alec,” said Izzy, sounding long-suffering. “But fine. I’ll let Jace know.” Her voice softened. “How are you? Did you get any sleep?”

“There’s a lot to do,” Alec deflected. “I’ll see you and Jace later.” He pretended not to notice how everyone in earshot slowed their actions to listen better. Someone less aware of the normal activity levels in the Institute might not have noticed, so at least his people were discreet in their eavesdropping.

He had a quick shower and was dressed in his ‘Institute Head’ outfit—put together by Izzy and Magnus to make him look imposing and assertive while still allowing him to fight if the need arose—with Magnus’ ring resting against his bare skin and settled into his office in under ten minutes.

After Izzy’s warning, he’d expected Jia’s message to be something along the lines of ‘stop bothering the other Institutes.’ Instead, it was a command to meet her in London, at Clos Maggiore, in Covent Gardens, table for Penny. There was a time, along with the corresponding time in New York, and an instruction not to use the standard Institute portals to get there.

That gave Alec less than an hour to prepare and organise this alternate transportation. It was the sort of cloak and dagger thing that Magnus would love, but for Alec, it meant more hassle at a time when his patience was running thin.

Luckily, Lorenzo would probably be accommodating right now. Since their time connected by Clary’s Alliance Rune, Alec and Lorenzo’s communication was much smoother. Alec left Magnus and Lorenzo to their preferred overt dislike and grudging respect, and Lorenzo left his contentious relationship with Magnus out of his dealings with Alec.

As expected, Lorenzo arrived promptly when Alec asked for his assistance.

“You can’t want me to look at the wards so soon,” said Lorenzo when Underhill had shown him in. “What do you really want?”

Alec sighed. “This information is confidential, even more so than normal,” he warned, waiting for Lorenzo to nod in understanding before continuing. “Izzy and Jace went on a fishing mission, trying to discover where the shadowhunters who created the portal came from. We think they got a bite, but it’s someone connected to the Consul. When I arrived this morning, she’d already sent me a sealed communication asking me to meet with her in London without using Institute resources to get there. That means the portal I’m about to ask you for won’t be covered by the standard agreement.”

“Don’t concern yourself about that,” said Lorenzo, waving a hand. “I think I can spare you a portal or two under the circumstances.” For a moment, he seemed genuinely regretful before his face returned to its usual arrogant expression. “It seems you’ve kicked over an anthill. Either she’ll read you into something extremely hush-hush, or she will ambush you and have you removed.”

Alec shook his head. “Jia’s not the type to play underhanded games. If she wanted me to stop, she’d give me a direct order and then send someone to watch me. If she’s organising a clandestine meeting, we’ve probably intruded on another operation. She’s going to read me in; the only thing I’m not sure about is whether she wants me to investigate whatever those shadowhunters were up to, or help them.”

Lorenzo was watching him with shrewd eyes. “Will you accept being told to help them?”

Alec shrugged. “If she makes it an order, I’ll say yes, like the good shadowhunter I am. It’s probably the quickest way to find out what they were doing; might even help me to get my hands on information that could lead to getting Magnus back. It’s unlikely, though. I can’t think of anything they might have been trying to achieve that Jia would want to support.”

Lorenzo sat back in his chair. “You certainly have the acting skills to pull that deception off.”

Alec recognised that for the backhanded compliment it was. “An advantage of having two overdramatic siblings is that I learned early how to play the straight man.” His mouth quirked in a smile. “So to speak. Jace and Izzy shine so brightly; I can quietly get things done while people are still blinking their eyes in shock.”

“The downworld is lucky that you’re inclined to equality then,” murmured Lorenzo, steepling his fingers under his lower lip. “You’re one of the most ruthlessly efficient men I’ve ever met. I would hate to find myself in true opposition to you.”

Alec was self-aware enough to know that the downworld had dodged a figurative bullet when Alec met Magnus. If it weren’t for Magnus, Alec would have ended up married to Lydia. While he liked her a great deal, and they might have managed marital calm, the knowledge that he was living a lie, would always live a lie, would have eventually turned Alec cold and focused him solely on duty.

Izzy had been right to worry for him. While Alec had never been deliberately cruel, a passionless life of duty would have turned him into the kind of rigid, law-abiding Institute Head who followed the letter of the law, always.

In the climate surrounding Valentine’s second rise, it would only have meant further alienation from the downworld, and unless someone else had stepped up to do the integration work Alec had begun, a full-on war between Idris and the rest of the shadow world would only have been a matter of time.

Magnus turning up at his wedding had shown Alec the two paths in front of him. In that single moment, in the options presented to him—to either go forward with the marriage or to abandon it and out himself in front of some of the highest-ranking officials in the Clave—his choice had affected the fates of more than just those present.

It set Alec on a path that could lead to peace. Even if Magnus’ loss were permanent, Alec would never be the unbending authoritarian figure he might once so easily have become.

Lorenzo watched him work through his thoughts without comment. He didn’t speak until Alec met his gaze again. “Where in London are you meeting the Consul? It’s a big place; we should ensure you have time to get where you need to be. I’ve not spent enough time in London to be able to portal you all over the city.”

“She wants to meet at a place called ‘Clos Maggiore,’ in Covent Gardens,” said Alec, grateful that Lorenzo wasn’t going to push things.

Lorenzo’s left eyebrow lifted. “Really? What an odd location to choose for a surreptitious consultation.” His eyes sharpened. “Although, given that the Clos is booked solid for several weeks in advance, no one who’s ever heard of it will consider it a likely option for a hastily held, secretive meeting.” He paused. “The food there is delightful; I recommend that you do your best to enjoy it. The ambience will no doubt be lost on you at present.”

“I take it that you can open a portal close by?”

“Naturally, I’ve dined there many times.” Lorenzo tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair. “I’d intended to wait a couple of days before passing this message on, but perhaps now is the correct time after all.?”

“Oh?”

Lorenzo cleared his throat. “The Spiral Council met in emergency session last night. After their deliberations, they tasked me with giving you an unofficial warning: the Council will be treating the loss of Magnus Bane with utmost seriousness. They’re particularly concerned about the report of shadowhunters instigating the situation.”

Alec nodded, holding onto his calm with a little effort. “What do you expect their official response to be?”

“They’ll want to be read into all aspects of the investigation and will probably send a representative member to liaise directly with the Clave on this matter.” Lorenzo’s expression soured. “Apparently, ‘losing the most well-known and well-loved Warlock in the current political climate could have a devastating effect on current treaty processes.’”

Alec kept his face blank, suppressing the urge to smile. For Lorenzo, being forced to admit that the Spiral Labyrinth held Magnus in more esteem than him, even after Lorenzo had taken his position as High Warlock of Brooklyn, would be hard enough. No point in getting his back up unnecessarily.

Lorenzo’s sniff conveyed his disdain for the Council’s response. “I wasn’t part of the meeting, so I don’t know all the details, but I imagine they’ll be making an official demand for answers within a week.”

Alec nodded slowly. “Do you have any idea who they’ll appoint as liaison?” Hopefully, it would be someone who didn’t start out hating shadowhunters. Not that warlocks didn’t have every reason to be wary, but it would make an investigation so much harder.

“I’m afraid I don’t. There are several people with expertise in rift magic, and it could be any one of them. They might also use this incident as a political springboard and send one of the more ambitious Council members.”

“We’ll have to wait and see then,” said Alec, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair. “Thanks for the head’s up, anyway. Depending on what the Consul has to say this afternoon, I might even give her a bit of warning too.”

Lorenzo got to his feet. “Then, if that’s all, I’ll take the opportunity to stop by and have a word with Andrew. Since you don’t want to advertise your movements, I’ll meet you outside in twenty minutes. That gives us a few minutes to find a quiet spot for the portal.” He left, closing the door softly behind him.

Alec waited until Lorenzo left before fishing Magnus’ ring from under his shirt. He could still feel Magnus’ power woven into it. “I’m going to solve this,” he promised. It might have been his imagination, but he would have sworn that the strength of Magnus’ magic on the ring flickered before growing stronger.

Alec closed his eyes and sent a quick prayer to the Angel, then tucked the ring back under his shirt. He needed to get caught up with Izzy before meeting with the Consul, and he didn’t have much time to do it.

v^v^v^v

Izzy didn’t have any info besides what she’d already managed to communicate to him except for an idea about the numbers involved.

“I don’t have any evidence for this,” she warned him, “but I think most of the Cardiff Institute is aligned with Keytower. There was something in the way they looked at Simon…”

Alec frowned. “Did it remind you of Valentine and the Circle?”

“No,” said Izzy thoughtfully. “Circle members looked at downworlders, and those of us that ‘cavort’ with them, with disgust and hatred. The shadowhunters at the Cardiff Institute looked…indifferent. And unless Simon asked them a direct question, they ignored him. It was almost like Simon wasn’t even a person.”

Alec sat back. “Huh.” Alec’s instincts told him this was important, but he didn’t have enough information to figure out why. At least if Keytower’s group weren’t interested in going on killing and torturing sprees, then they had to be easier to deal with than Valentine’s group, if they even needed to be dealt with at all.

But something about the way Izzy had described it made him uneasy.

Izzy cocked her head to one side. “What have you seen that I’ve missed?”

“Nothing,” said Alec with a shake of his head. “I was just wondering if that’s better or worse than the Circle.”

Izzy scowled at him. “I think non-engagement is much better than abduction and torture.”

“Yes, that was my first thought,” agreed Alec. “I feel like it’s not going to be that simple, though. Although, if they’re organised enough to have a symbol, I doubt Keytower would ask the Consul to reign us in. Not for something so simple, not if they wanted to keep it under wraps. It would be like painting a target on their organisation and shouting, “We have secrets we don’t want you to see!” Unless Jia is involved, but you said that you had no suspicions to that effect.”

“You think her wanting to talk to you privately is just a coincidence?”

Alec shrugged. “It’s possible. Not probable, I agree, but it’s better not to have any preconceptions. There’s no point in making an enemy out of her unless it becomes necessary.”

“Remember when I said that life before Clary was too boring? Hunt the demon, kill the demon, rinse repeat?” asked Izzy. “I take it back. Let’s have some more of that boring demon hunting.”

Alec couldn’t help but smile. “You’d take it back within a month.”

“Pot, kettle.” She scrutinised him. “How are you really, big brother? You know you can lean on us, right?”

“I know,” replied Alec. “I promise that I’ll take you up on it. Getting Magnus back will take a lot of effort, and we can’t afford to step back in our efforts to unite the downworld.” He paused. “It might be useful as a combined project. Something we can all rally behind.”

Izzy’s concerned expression didn’t fade; it got worse. “Alec, Magnus is gone. All the information we can find on situations like this says that he’s never coming back.”

Alec shook his head. “And nephilim can’t survive in Edom, and dead people can’t come back to life. Just because it’s never been done before doesn’t mean it’s impossible. There’s a way, Izzy, and I intend to find it.”

Izzy didn’t look convinced but stopped arguing with him. “I’ve started a deep search into that symbol. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Be very careful,” warned Alec. “Try to be as discreet as possible, at least until after I’ve met with Jia.”

Izzy sighed. “It’s like you think I’m an idiot or something. Of course I’ll be discreet.”

Alec chose not to point out all the times her lack of discretion had landed her in trouble. One thing that Clary’s explosive entry into the shadow world had achieved was forcing Jace and Izzy to grow up and finally start taking responsibility for their actions. “Speaking of which, I need to meet Lorenzo outside in five minutes, and I’ve still got to pick up the phone you left in my bedroom. Come and see me when I get back.”

v^v^v^v

Alec found the Clos Maggiore without trouble and immediately understood Lorenzo’s raised eyebrows. This place was fancy and very…romantic. It was a place he could picture Jace taking Clary to propose to her, not the sort of venue for a covert meeting.

Jia was waiting for him, which was another surprise. Given the politics of the situation, he’d expected to be made to wait for her. That she would get here early enough to wait for him—and he was precisely on time—was concerning.

Either Jia was trying to flatter him into complying with something she knew he wouldn’t like, or she was so concerned about the matter she’d called him here to discuss that she didn’t want to waste a second.

Alec dismissed the possibility that Jia didn’t have the political nous to play the game like everyone else in Alicante did. His mother had taught him too well that every shadowhunter played the game on some level and that those that didn’t never rose above the rank of patrol team leader.

It was also odd to see her without any guards. It was unusual enough to make Alec wonder if it was really Jia Penhallow that he was talking to. There was more than one way to impersonate another person, and Jonathon Morgenstern had tricked him more than once. If he couldn’t find a way to determine her identity, then everything she said here would need to be independently verified.

Jia’s bland expression didn’t so much as flicker at his approach. “There you are. Glad you could make it.”

Alec nodded in greeting. Their table was tucked into one of the few corners without windows, and Jia was already sitting with her back to one wall. Alec was pleased that the other place setting allowed him to sit with his back to the other.

“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering for us both to save time,” Jia said briskly. “I trust you have no objection to fish?”

“That’s fine,” replied Alec, taking note of the visible entry and exit points. Once he had everything down, he turned his attention to his table companion.

Jia signalled one of the servers, who hurried over with a bottle of wine. He was followed by another server, who carried two plates of beautifully presented food.

As soon as both servers had departed, Jia placed a glowing stone on the table.

“That should allow us to talk without being overheard,” Jia said. “Now. I’ve been informed that you’ve stumbled over an ongoing operation. Tell me everything you’ve discovered.”

Alec blinked. “Please elaborate. While investigating an incident my husband and I were involved in yesterday, my people uncovered some discrepancies in the running of the Cardiff Institute. At this point, we have nothing other than coincidence to link these two matters.” He deliberately didn’t mention that Jia’s swift response only increased their curiosity and determination to discover what was happening. She wasn’t stupid; she could figure that out for herself.

Jia picked up her knife and fork and started to delicately dismantle the elaborately styled food on her plate. “My daughter has assured me that you and your siblings are dedicated to the work Raziel created us for. Having seen your achievements in New York—in particular, the level of co-operation you currently receive from the downworld leadership there—I’m inclined to believe you know what you’re doing.”

That…was not what Alec had been expecting. “Thank you,” he said cautiously, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“The actions of the last two generations of the Morgenstern family have made it abundantly clear that the old way of doing things cannot continue. Valentine himself—by forcing them to work together in opposition to him or perish—taught the downworld how to use their collective voice.”

Alec felt some of his uncertainty slip away. That sounded more like the pragmatism that he expected from Jia Penhallow. The idea that she’d suddenly decided equality was the answer hadn’t been convincing.

This bald acceptance of the facts of the situation was something that he’d planned to work towards. People couldn’t be made to change the way they felt, after all. For the older generations, Alec would settle for a change in action—or at least a lack of reaction—to a more equal world; education for the young was how to build a lasting change that would continue when he was gone.

“You will be unsurprised to learn that many in the older generation don’t agree,” Jia continued, echoing his thoughts. “Much of my daily work involves a delicate balancing act. I must move us forward while appearing to wish to move backwards. It’s time-consuming and exhausting. Eat up.”

Alec poked at his fish. It was beautifully presented and smelled amazing, but it was so small. Surely this wasn’t supposed to be the entire main course? Maybe this was a starter? A glance at a nearby table—who had been presented even smaller portions than Alec—squashed that idea. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me all this.”

Jia sighed. “If it were seen that I was working with you under anything less than sufferance, my work would be made exponentially harder. My previous experience with your…unique approach to problem-solving…leads me to believe that merely informing you to desist your investigations would be fruitless.” She picked up her glass and swirled the liquid slightly. “And I can’t find it in me to condemn you for it. Clave leadership has failed you so often that a lack of trust is to be expected at this point.”

Alec was halfway through his delicious fish. If only there were more of it. His mouth was full, so he just raised his eyebrows. Why was Jia taking so long to get to the point? If one of his patrol teams talked around the subject like this, he’d have them on ichor duty until they learned better.

“The Clave has known about the Chosen—the name of the group affiliated with and operating out of the Cardiff Institute—for some time. I believe Valentine knew of them too; he’d no doubt factored them into his plans somewhere.”

“I wondered if they were an offshoot of the Circle,” murmured Alec. “The symbols resemble each other.”

“What I know I learned in my days as Head of Idris Security,” Jia shook her head. “Some of Consul Dieudonné’s documentation indicates that the Chosen hated the Circle. Valentine’s methods—his inclination towards violence and his experimentation, his desire to include demon blood in his new world order—disgusted the Chosen. Their doctrine emphasises the importance of the angelic part of our nature to the exclusion of all else.”

Alec pushed his now empty plate away. “I think I’m starting to see where this is going.”

“For the last few years, they’ve been focused on discussion and prayer,” said Jia. “While any form of extremism can be worrying, they hadn’t done anything that warranted more than observation. However, recently they’ve been more active.”

Alec thought of how Jace and Clary had been the recipient of Ithuriel’s blood while in utero. “You think they learned of Valentine’s experiments? Are Jace and Clary in danger?”

Jia hesitated. “I understand that the Chosen know the unusual circumstances surrounding Jace Herondale and Clarissa Fairchild’s birth. Instead of viewing their increased levels of angelic blood as a boon, the two young people have been deemed…unsuitable.” She flicked a glance Alec’s way before focusing on her plate again. “Tainted, I think was the word used. A result of their injudicious liaisons with the unworthy.”

“They’ll be devastated when they hear,” said Alec, voice flat. “If the Chosen aren’t running experiments, and they’re not inclined towards violence, what are they doing?”

“I didn’t say they weren’t running experiments,” Jia reproved, “just not ones utilising demonic blood.”

Alec blinked. “They’re running experiments on themselves? With angelic blood? Where are they getting it?”

“Valentine had some leftover,” said Jia. “It was confiscated when we raided his Chernobyl base. At some point, the Chosen removed it from Clave custody. There wasn’t much, though, about five millilitres. It can’t have gone far.”

Alec resisted the urge to swear. “They need more.”

“Which brings us to yesterday’s rift,” said Jia. “My sources tell me that the Chosen spent a great deal of time and effort reworking a demonic summoning ritual—they wanted to dispense with the need for a warlock’s aid—and attempted to summon one of the archangels.”

Alec scrubbed his hand over his face. “By the angel, that’s ridiculous. You can’t just rework rituals like that! Magnus would—” Magnus’ absence hit him again. “Magnus would have a fit if he heard such stupidity.”

Jia’s expression softened. “I’m sorry for your loss, Alec. I know that it’s asking a lot of you, at a time like this, to investigate the situation that—”

“It’s not,” Alec broke in. “I mean, if this group, these ‘Chosen,’ had anything to do with what happened to Magnus, then I want them shut down as soon as possible. Even without that…are they insane? The details of summoning circles that can hold greater demons have been worked and reworked for centuries; the runes themselves, the placement, the magic required when inscribing it… Clary Fairchild was a skilled artist, the summoning circle she drew only worked because she drew it in the dedicated ritual space of the warlock who was going to perform the magic. And the shortcuts available to Magnus, the sole remaining son of a Prince of Hell, are not available to most other warlocks!”

Jia tilted her head slightly. “You know more about it than I expected you to.”

“Magnus likes to talk as part of his problem-solving,” replied Alec. “And his work is fascinating, especially since he’s no longer bogged down by the bureaucracy involved with High Warlock duties.”

“We were surprised that he wasn’t returned to his post once everything had settled,” said Jia. She looked politely interested, but Alec wasn’t fooled. Many people had asked him why Magnus hadn’t ousted Lorenzo and taken his title back.

Alec had no intention of sharing Magnus’ private thoughts on the matter. “Lorenzo won the position fair and square.” He redirected the conversation. “But back to these Chosen; what were they planning to do with an Archangel once they had it? Just say, “Hey there, we’d like your blood so that we can elevate ourselves to our rightful place above all these substandard nephilim.” and expect the Archangel to just…go along with it?”

“Something along those lines, yes.” Jia sighed. “They appear to have convinced themselves that the angels will see ‘the purity of their purpose’ and fall all over themselves to help.”

Alec sat back in his chair and considered everything Jia had told him. “How, exactly, do you think I’ll be able to help you?”

Jia smiled wryly. “The New York Institute, under your leadership, has gained a reputation for doing whatever you believe necessary. No one will be surprised at you poking your noses into strange happenings. I’m in a somewhat difficult position, as Isaac Keytower, one of the higher placed Chosen that we’ve been able to uncover, is related to me by marriage.”

Alec nodded. “We considered the possibility that he’d asked you to tell us to butt out of his business, but I thought it was unlikely. It would only draw more attention to what they were doing.”

“I expect to be asked to leverage my clout at some point or another,” admitted Jia. “They’ll no doubt have excellent reasons why I should do so. The difficulty, at present, is that I only have a vague idea of their inner workings and no concrete numbers around membership. They may even have subverted one or more of my staff. I hoped that by initiating contact with you early, we could begin a secure system of communication.”

“Such as?”

Jia pulled a phone out of her pocket. “This is a prepaid phone, one of two that I recently picked up. I’ve loaded several documents on it outlining what I’ve learned, along with copies of the info my source sent me. If I discover anything else I think you should know, I’ll contact you. If you need anything from me—within reason, of course—let me know. I’d also like you to check in regularly, and my time alone outside Idris is minimal.”

“I’d wondered why you had no guards,” said Alec, tucking the phone away. “I’m surprised they allowed you out of their sight without them.”

Jia raised a single eyebrow. “I might say the same of you.” She settled back in her chair. “It’s not commonly known for obvious reasons, but my guards have become accustomed to allowing me my privacy occasionally. Naturally, they followed me the first few times, but we eventually came to an accord. I always wear a tracker that allows them to find me in an emergency, and they try to remember that I am a trained shadowhunter and perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

Alec sighed. He knew what that was like. “We should bring the downworld leadership in on this,” he suggested. Jia frowned and opened her mouth, but Alec raised a hand to forestall her objections. “After everything that happened with Valentine, I think it’s important to show that we want to do things differently.”

“This doesn’t affect them,” argued Jia. “Magnus Bane’s death was an anomaly, not something that had been intended. This is a shadowhunter matter; there is no need to advertise our weakness to others.”

“Magnus Lightwood-Bane,” insisted Alec. It was tedious, but it was important to remind people that downworld and nephilim relationships could succeed. “The downworld already knows something’s up. If Magnus and I hadn’t already arrived to investigate the magical upheaval, then Lorenzo and his people would have been first on the scene. Don’t you think it’s better to co-operate for once? To tell our allies about situations that are bound to impact them? I’ve already heard rumours that the Spiral Labyrinth intends to send a representative to discover what’s happening; why not meet them halfway?”

Jia stared at her plate, nostrils flared. “My instinct is to say that this is none of their business.” She took a sip of wine, and her shoulders slowly lost some of the tension they’d acquired in the last few minutes. “Perhaps you’re right. It might be that I’m still too tied to past ways to know the best way to navigate the way forward for something like this.”

Hearing an acknowledgement like that from Jia Penhallow was shocking. Alec took a sip of wine to give himself something to do.

Jia looked him straight in the eye. “I’ve had you under investigation too, Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane. Your leadership abilities and dedication—to your people and those in your jurisdiction that you were charged to protect—have shown you to be what the Clave needs. You’ve been strong without being brittle; you’ve shown that you’re not afraid to stand up to anyone for what you think is right. You bring out the best in those around you, and your people love and respect you. I hadn’t intended to tell you this so soon—”

Hearing he’d been investigated wasn’t a surprise. Given everything that had happened in New York over those tumultuous months when Clary Fairchild had been among them, it would have been odd had there not been an investigation. To hear such an endorsement from the Consul, especially given their fractious interactions in the past, was surprising.

He wished he could share this with his husband. The dull ache of Magnus’ absence sharpened briefly into a sharp pain. He ignored it as best he could and focused on Jia, who looked to be having an inner debate.

“After Imogen Herondale’s death, an interim Inquisitor was appointed for a year, after which the Clave will have a replacement ready to take the reins.”

Alec held his breath. She couldn’t be about to say what he thought she was going to say.

“Our investigations are not yet complete, but… you’re on the shortlist for consideration for the position of Inquisitor of the Clave.”

Chapter three

When Alec arrived back at the New York Institute, it was to find that Izzy had been busy in his absence.

“What am I looking at?” he asked, glancing over the graphs she had ready for him. He’d already decided not to tell anyone what Jia had said about him being in the running for Inquisitor; the only relevance it had for the situation at hand was that it explained Jia’s inclination to place trust in his judgement right now.

“I took some of the data Aline was able to send me from the London Institute and cross-referenced it against what the Cardiff reports say,” replied Izzy. “I focused on demonic activity; that’s something each Institute has hardwired into their systems. It can’t be removed, although it can be altered.”

Alec nodded. He already knew this.

“Like ours, London’s systems are always cutting edge and survey an area much larger than their Institute is formally responsible for. London’s levels of demonic activity are also comparable to ours—not surprising, given the similar population count—and while the London-based shadowhunters historically only use data collected for their sector, their source records are pulled from the entirety of the United Kingdom.” Izzy sent him a significant look. “They just don’t analyse anything from outside their jurisdiction.”

Alec looked at the graphs again. “This is solid proof the Cardiff Institute is falsifying their data?” He increased the magnification. “Huh. How far did you go back with this?”

“Six months,” said Izzy, tapping another button. The open graph shrank and then arrayed itself beside five others. “You see the trend? I asked Aline for earlier records, but they’ve been archived; if she accesses them for me, it will leave an access trail that can’t be hidden.”

The disparity between the Cardiff and London logs gradually increased over time, but even the oldest graphs showed a discernible difference.

“Can you extrapolate this data to estimate when the discrepancy began?” asked Alec. “I know it won’t be exact, but it should indicate the time frame we’re looking at.”

“It’s not a straight-line increase,” said Izzy, frowning at her tablet. “The increments are too variable.”

“What about the personnel transfer records? The finalised Clave ones?”

“You think they’re related?” asked Izzy. “If I put an urgent request in, I’ll get the information in under an hour, but it might cause a stir in the records department. Or I can be sneaky. Being sneaky could take up to a week, depending on what the authorisation roster looks like.”

Alec nodded. “Or I can ask Jia for an access code that will allow you to access whatever information you want.”

Izzy narrowed her eyes. “That would be useful. I take it our Consul isn’t happy with what her brother-in-law is doing?”

“It certainly seemed that way,” replied Alec. He handed her the phone Jia had given him. “She gave me this to use for covert communication. I’m still not convinced it was Jia I was talking with. How likely is it for the Consul to dine in London without a guard?”

Izzy put down the tablet so she could examine the phone. “I can check that with Aline, too, if you like. She’s the best placed to confirm her mother isn’t an imposter, and we’ve always kept in touch, so there’s nothing unusual in our contact. I’ll ask her to be discreet, but she can also confirm with Jia that she met with you.”

“I would feel more comfortable,” admitted Alec. “I know it’s a bit paranoid, but…”

“It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you,” finished Izzy. “I’m with you all the way, big brother. Speaking of which, Jace has taken Simon with him and is continuing the ‘inspections.”

Alec nodded. “It’s better for him to be moving around unpredictably right now. Jia said that the Chosen weren’t interested in Clary or Jace, but I’d prefer to err on the safe side until we know more about it. There’s information on the phone, but I want to confirm Jia’s identity before I read it.”

“I’ll talk to Aline right away,” Izzy promised, already texting. “What are we going to do about Clary?”

Alec ran his hands through his hair. “I want to increase security on her, but I’m worried that it would make our knowledge of the Chosen obvious. I’m going to have to ask for Lorenzo’s help.” He grimaced. “Again. And I won’t be able to funnel his payment through the Institute.”

“You can if he agrees to call it something else,” suggested Izzy, still texting. “What with Magnus’—” her glance at him was so swift that if he hadn’t been looking at her, he would have missed it, “—disappearance, it’s not unreasonable for you to consult him about the wards.”

“The wards won’t need attention until the next scheduled maintenance,” replied Alec. “Although someone less familiar with how Magnus set them up probably won’t realise that. Good idea.”

“I do occasionally have them.”

“Most Institute wards are sensitive and finicky,” continued Alec, “especially ones drawing their electric and magical power from a living core. We could conceivably present this as an ongoing problem.”

Izzy tapped her lip with her phone thoughtfully. “If we could arrange for a surge, maybe a series of flickers, it would be even more believable.”

Alec nodded. “I check the angelic core as part of my daily rounds; while I’m there, I’ll set up a ‘surge’ for later. That will provide an excuse to call in Lorenzo. Meanwhile, you can find out from Aline whether that was really Jia; if we get positive confirmation, then transfer the information on that phone to an isolated system and unpack it so we can see what we’ve got.”

v^v^v^v

After Magnus and Alec needed to use the angelic core to flush the ley-lines Lilith had contaminated with demonic energy and Raj managed to revoke Alec’s authority at the critical moment, Alec had taken steps to ensure that it would never happen again. He knew why the fail-safes were there, even agreed with them, in principle. He just wasn’t willing to ever be in the same situation again.

With Magnus’ help, Alec had created a personal bypass of the Institute’s control system. It was locked to his living blood and required no password to activate, no secondary authorisation.

Going through the process of setting it up had been fascinating. Alec and Magnus had learned much about the core, including the astonishing discovery that it was at least semi-sentient. Just walking into the control room the day after flooding the ley-lines had resulted in the crackling ball of blue light brightening perceptibly.

By the time their task was finished, Alec had begun to be able to feel the core in the same way that he did Magnus’ magic. Instead of fire, like Magnus’ magic, or water, like Catarina’s, the angelic core felt like lightning. A crackle of crisp energy woven through the adamas in the Institute’s walls, supporting and enhancing the wards.

Magnus had taken the opportunity to rework the wards completely, integrating the core more closely than before. As he did so, he’d explained that most warlocks tried to use the angelic cores sparingly, unfamiliar with the magic and unwilling to overexpose themselves in case it proved hostile to their demonic blood.

Whether that was the case with other cores, Alec didn’t know, nor did he much care. This core welcomed them both, and that was all that mattered.

As a result, walking into the control centre was nearly as comforting as walking into the loft. More, at present, because the loft was so suffused with Magnus’ presence, Alec could almost feel him next to him. With Magnus’ continued existence in question, it was a combination of pain and comfort, whereas the core held no such dichotomy.

The core brightened at his approach, as it usually did.

“Things have gone kind of crazy since I last saw you,” Alec said, placing his left hand on the adamas lined wall. “Something’s happened to Magnus, and I…” he took a deep breath, the control he’d held himself in all day suddenly shaky. His hand tingled, indicating that the connection had been established.

The core pulsed briefly, and Alec felt a wave of comfort wash over him.

Alec blinked. “Was that you?” The core pulsed again, quicker this time. To Alec, it seemed as if there was a question there. “You’re…communicating with me. I’m not sure what you want. You want to know why I’m here?” No response. “About Magnus?” A brief pulse.

“If Izzy saw me talking to you, she’d have me laid up in the infirmary in no time.” The core dimmed slightly. “No, it’s okay. She’s not here, anyway. You wanted to know what happened to Magnus?” It brightened again.

What followed was possibly the strangest debriefing Alec had ever been a part of. He began to verbally describe the rift he and Magnus had encountered, only to have his control of the playback of the memory removed. The core fast-forwarded through the events to the moment when Alec entered the control room. There was a light touch on his mind, the same as when Catarina was viewing his memories, only with the distinctive feel of the core’s energy overlaying it.

The memory played through three times before the energy released him. “You know, asking would have been polite.”

The core pulsed in response.

Alec waited for further communication, but nothing seemed to be happening. “You saw my conversation with Izzy, our plan to have Lorenzo Rey called in; are you okay with that?”

The next pulse was affirmative, although Alec had no idea how he knew that.

“I’d planned to work out a way to get a flushing surge set to a timer—”

A negative pulse.

“You have a better idea?”

The lights in the control room flickered around him. When they returned to normal, the core pulsed again; this time, it seemed smug.

“Fine,” sighed Alec, wondering why everyone in his life was so dramatic. “I’ll just leave it to you, shall I?”

An affirmative pulse.

Alec removed his hand from the wall and stepped back.

The core pulsed again; Alec could almost taste the farewell. “I’ll visit more often,” he promised. “And Magnus is going to be fascinated when I tell him.”

The core just sat there, radiating power.

Alec shook his head. “I don’t have time to go nuts. I’ll be back with Lorenzo for an ‘inspection.’”

v^v^v^v

It had taken a while, but Magnus eventually achieved something like peaceful meditation. The lack of a working body was more challenging than he’d expected; he hadn’t realised until he concentrated inwards just how different it was not to be able to hear his heartbeat and how breathing grounded him.

Eventually, he learned to block out the sounds of the ocean, the water as it moved against the sand, the cry of seabirds as they went about their day, the wind as it moved through the sparse vegetation, scattering the sand in its wake.

There was no sense of hot or cold; behind closed lids, the passage of time went unmarked.

It might have gone on much longer, but an unexpected rush of electricity running through him had Magnus jolting back to himself. He opened his eyes to find that hours had passed; the sun was in a completely different place in the sky.

Magnus got to his feet. “One advantage about meditating without a body, there are no stiff muscles to worry about,” he said aloud, just to hear a human voice. “I do feel more at peace, which is good, given that there might be a lot of mediation in my future.”

More to have something to do than because he expected anything to have changed, Magnus walked the perimeter again. This time he allowed himself to properly take in the beauty of the beach.

When Magnus had created the portal that brought them here, he’d been focused on the swelling magical signature of someone attempting to summon something big, rather than the location. It was a risky way to portal people around, and had anyone else suggested doing such a thing, he would have advised them not to attempt it.

Magnus, with his exhaustive knowledge of portals, didn’t follow the rules that those with a lesser innate understanding had to. He’d opened portals with far less information about what was on the other end than any other warlock, at least that had been recorded.

The downside was that he had no idea where he was. He knew it was an eastern beach; the sun rising over water in the morning told him that much. He knew it was comparatively near New York—Lorenzo’s appearance on the scene was significant—however that didn’t help Magnus pinpoint a location.

Not that it really mattered; Magnus just liked to know these things.

As far as he could tell, the border remained where it had been when he’d arrived that morning. It wasn’t until he returned to the spot he’d chosen for his mediation that he noticed something that had changed.

“Footprints,” Magnus said aloud. “I’ve started leaving glowing footprints.”

The footprints were barely discernible, a faint brightening of the blue that overlaid everything Magnus could see.

Magnus didn’t know what it meant, but it was exciting nonetheless. It was reassuring that the change leaned towards him having more presence rather than less. The prospect that he might slowly fade into nothingness had crossed his mind and been promptly dismissed as too depressing for further contemplation.

Another surge of electricity began, and Magnus tilted his head back and spread his arms, welcoming it through every aspect of his non-corporeal being.

v^v^v^v

Two hours after leaving the angelic core—locking the control room behind him—the Institute’s power began behaving erratically. When it started, Alec was in the Ops area, looking over one of the patrol teams’ plans to surround and wipe out a Morax nest in the upper sewers. The first surge was subtle, barely a flicker of the lights. Not everyone noticed, and most dismissed it after several moments when nothing else happened.

“That’s odd,” said Alec aloud, moving to one of the displays and bringing up the core’s diagnostic program. As expected, there was nothing to be found. “Everything was fine when I did my routine check earlier.”

“I can’t find anything to explain it,” called one of the security staff, Mania Alatini, from across the room where she was performing the same checks. “It might be a warding issue.”

Alec met Izzy’s raised eyebrows and called Lorenzo, asking for his presence at his earliest convenience. Over the next hour, the power was increasingly erratic. When Lorenzo arrived, Alec immediately took him to the core control room, ostensibly to make him familiar with the system but in reality to brief him on their plan to get him paid without alerting anyone snooping.

v^v^v^v

The discovery that he was having an impact on the world, even if it were one that only he could see, was enough to invigorate Magnus into action. At least now he could write things down, and it was possible that runes—or other magic that relied on writing—could be applied like this.

He still couldn’t move anything, but he soon discovered that if he wrote large enough letters with two fingers on the sand, it was readable.

The necessity of standing in front of where he was writing limited his text to no more than two lines at a time, but it was streets ahead of his previous situation. Magnus indulged himself in a dance of joy—there was nobody here to see how undignified it was—and then got down to work.

v^v^v^v

Magnus’ plans to use his new ability to write on the sand to solve the situation he’d found himself in hit an immediate snag. The truth was, he didn’t know much about it. Alec’s research the night before had focused on rift magic, but Magnus had already read everything in his library.

Poor Alec was in the unfortunate position of trying to educate himself up to the level that Magnus was already at, which was very much going over old material for Magnus. Some of the information in those books had even been subsequently disproven, but Alec had no way of knowing that, which was frustrating on a whole other level.

Magnus was left with nothing new to work into his calculations. All he’d managed to ascertain to this point was that it was a summoning of some kind, but that opened a plethora of possibilities that he didn’t have the tools to narrow down.

“I hope Alexander is getting on better with his research,” muttered Magnus, stepping away from the area he’d designated as his ‘work area.’ “Surely he must be.” He knew Alec well enough to know he didn’t give up on people, not even when it might be more sensible to concede defeat.

Their interaction this morning had been typical of Alec’s care for him, his concern that Magnus was all right and his lack of consternation at any weirdness Magnus might display. He’d probably only mentioned the blue thing because of Magnus’ surprise at Alec being able to see him.

Perhaps it was a by-product of being the eldest child, brought up in a demanding environment. Magnus hadn’t grown up with siblings, so he found it difficult to relate, but he attributed Alec’s almost obsessive need to take care of his loved ones to those early years.

Alec once told him that he’d loved Izzy from the moment he’d first seen her, small, wrinkled face topped with tufts of black hair and a piercing wail. Maryse had given him a speech about his duty to care for his new sister, and young Alec had taken that instruction to heart.

These days Alec had expanded the range of his care to include his whole Institute and what seemed to be the entirety of the shadow world residing in New York.

It was great news for the denizens of that large city but not so great for the state of Alec’s blood pressure. The darling man had definite ideas about what his duty to his people comprised and would run himself into the ground to achieve them. Thankfully, he had people around him who loved him enough to step in and ensure that he was taken care of, too.

Alec’s dedication was one of the reasons that Magnus hadn’t been interested in retaking the position of High Warlock. As much as he’d loved being able to take care of his fellow warlocks, he was honest enough to admit that the situation hadn’t been ideal for some time.

Warlocks were like cats; they often didn’t get on with each other and didn’t like being told what to do. To achieve anything, the High Warlock needed to be powerful enough that the other warlocks wouldn’t be inclined to fight him over every little matter and bossy enough to insist on having their way.

While Valentine and his Circle had been directly threatening the warlocks under his responsibility, Magnus had no compunction about pressing his wishes on his constituents.

In peacetime… The truth was that Magnus was too powerful. He was always aware that the pure scope of the power available to him made him an intimidating prospect for the average warlock, so had softened his approach so that they would feel able to approach him with their daily needs.

He’d perhaps softened too much, and his warlocks had begun to take his assistance for granted. Before Valentine had raised his head again, Magnus had fallen into something of a rut, helping his fellow warlocks with their daily problems without argument but not truly engaging with them.

When Magnus told Alec he’d unlocked something inside him, it was more than just a desire to pursue a meaningful romantic relationship.

It was only now that Magnus had taken a step back from the High Warlock position that he realised just how much he’d been phoning it in these last few years. Alec’s dedication, even in times of peace, showed Magnus what a true leader should be.

Realising that such a position wasn’t one that Magnus particularly cared for was freeing, it allowed Magnus to decline the penitent requests of his former constituents to retake his old post without regret.

It helped that Lorenzo had discovered that being High Warlock of Brooklyn wasn’t nearly as easy as he’d expected it to be. They’d mended many fences in the last few months, but Magnus and Lorenzo enjoyed sniping at each other far too much to give it up, even if their verbal swords were blunted these days.

For instance, Lorenzo hadn’t said a single word about how green with envy Magnus must be about the Alliance Rune deal. Not that being connected to Isabelle was a hardship—if there was a shadowhunter in this generation other than Alexander that he had to be connected to, he would choose her—but the thought of Lorenzo sharing a part of Alexander that Magnus never could sometimes ate away at him.

“This is getting me nowhere,” said Magnus when he realised that he’d been thinking about Alec for so long that the sun had gone down. “I need to come up with something.”

Inspiration continued to elude him, and he became distracted by drawing some basic representations of Alec and himself, undertaking rather more enjoyable activities.

He was leaning back to admire one that depicted Alec discovering that he liked it when Magnus held his wrists down with his magic when he was transported into the loft just as Alec closed the foyer door behind him.

v^v^v^v

Lorenzo agreed to go along with the deception Alec and Izzy had cooked up and had some additional thoughts on keeping Clary safe without disrupting her routine. “The truth is, without posting actual guards—which she would eventually notice, regardless of glamours—there is no certain way to make her safe from abduction. It would be better to focus our efforts so that if she is abducted, we’re notified immediately and can track her through wards.”

“There are ways to ensure people can be tracked through wards?” asked Alec, dumbfounded. Why hadn’t he ever heard about this before?

“There are,” Lorenzo admitted. “The downside is complete lack of privacy for the individual being tracked. Also, once such a tracker is activated, it can never be deactivated. That’s the whole point.”

Alec could see the dilemma. He’d certainly never agree to something like that for himself, danger or no danger. And choosing that for someone who couldn’t make their opinion known was out of the question too. “I’m just surprised. I’ve never heard of it before.”

Lorenzo cleared his throat. “The existence of such a thing has been kept from the Clave. The Spiral Labyrinth has long felt the Clave would abuse the knowledge of such a spell.”

Alec couldn’t disagree with that. Not just the Clave, but Valentine too. He shuddered at the thought of someone like Valentine with the capability to place an unblockable tracker on people.

“I won’t mention it, ever,” promised Alec. “Is there any other way to make her easy to find? From what Jia said, the Chosen are so sure of nephilim superiority they’re not going to avail themselves of downworld advantages.”

Lorenzo considered that, head tilted slightly to one side. “Let me discuss it with some of my colleagues. I feel the seelies would know of a way, but getting them to admit it will prove…difficult.”

Alec grimaced. “Until a new Queen rises, the seelie refuse to do nothing but maintain the status quo. Meliorn privately told Izzy that the Unseelie King is…unhappy…at some of the decisions the Queen made in the weeks before her murder, and is making his displeasure known.”

“She did rather enjoy poking her fingers into various pies,” agreed Lorenzo. “I imagine that having to stop whatever it is the unseelie spend all their time doing to oversee the seelie is inconvenient for him. I’m surprised he hasn’t launched an offensive on Idris, to be honest. Now would be the time to do it.”

“Magnus said that the Unseelie King will wait until the worst anxiety about an attack has died to make his move.”

Lorenzo wrinkled his nose. “Not everyone is as dramatic as Magnus Bane.” He sent a swift glance at Alec. “Magnus Lightwood-Bane, that is.” He paused, and when Alec didn’t say anything, he went on. “I’m surprised you have yet to call a Downworld Cabinet meeting.”

“I’d like to,” admitted Alec. “I’m not sure that this situation affects the downworld, though, and I didn’t want to come across as trying to strongarm the Cabinet into acting on something that might turn out to be a purely shadowhunter matter. Normally I would talk it over with Magnus, get his recommendation, but—” He shrugged. “What do you think?”

“My advice would be to allow the Cabinet to decide for ourselves,” suggested Lorenzo. “Whether you wish our aid or not, this matter has already touched the downworld. Transparency would be appreciated.”

Alec nodded. “That’s what I told the Consul when I discussed my view that the downworld should be notified.”

Lorenzo winced. “I can imagine how well that went.”

“It went better than I expected,” replied Alec. “I’ve been permitted to work the investigation as I see fit, with the proviso that I fall on my sword if it backfires on us.” He faced the angelic core, which had been ignoring his presence. He suspected it was because Lorenzo was with him and approved. His connection with the core might be an ace up his sleeve at a later date, so he preferred it to be kept as secret as possible. “I’ll call a meeting for tomorrow night. Would it be an imposition to ask you to host it? I’d prefer not to hold it here in the Institute, and I’m not ready to have people in the loft.”

“Of course,” Lorenzo agreed. “If you like, I can be the one to call the meeting officially?”

Alec smiled. Lorenzo really could be thoughtful, as long as Magnus wasn’t around to witness it. “That would be great. By then, I’ll have had the chance to read through the information Jia sent me. We can also raise the matter of Clary’s safety with them.”

v^v^v^v

The only reason Alec made it home before was to have privacy while he went through Jia’s information.

After Izzy had received confirmation from Aline that it was Jia Alec had met with, she offered to come home with him to work through the info and just be there, but Alec didn’t want company. His weird desire to keep people out of the loft extended even to his sister and his parabatai.

This time, Alec was more prepared for the feeling of Magnus’ wards washing over him. He welcomed it, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy it better. To his admittedly inexpert senses, the wards seemed undiminished. Maybe it was only because he was concentrating on them more than he usually did, but they almost felt stronger, not weaker.

“I miss you so much,” Alec said to the empty room. “I didn’t tell you enough how you made every aspect of my life better by being in it.”

Chairman Meow came to greet him.

“You miss him too, don’t you?” murmured Alec, rubbing under the furry chin to the Chairman’s purring approval. “I don’t spend nearly as much time doting on you as he does.”

Having had enough attention for the moment, the Chairman moved purposefully towards his food bowl, pausing to look over his shoulder at Alec in clear command.

“Fine, I know my place.” Alec put the cat food out and checked the litter box. Whatever magic Magnus had set up to remove waste and smells was still in effect.

Feeling hungry but not wanting to go out and buy food, Alec wandered into the kitchen to see if there was anything worth eating.

To his surprise, two containers had appeared on the counter. One held a delicious smelling chicken alfredo; the other had fresh garlic bread.

When this had happened on prior occasions, Alec had thought it was Magnus being his usual thoughtful self. Magnus had always denied it, attributing it to the apartment playing favourites, but Alec had never given that idea much credence. How could an apartment organise his dinner?

But then, this was Magnus’ apartment. Perhaps one day, Alec would stop being surprised at the things Magnus could create with his magic.

He patted the wall next to him. “Thank you for taking care of me.” Late appreciation was better than none, after all. A glass of white wine appeared on the counter beside the garlic bread.

Dinner was excellent, although Alec was more interested in reading up on the Chosen than in savouring the flavours.

On the surface, the Chosen were a bunch of nutters who thought the best way forward for the nephilim was to become actual angels. It had started when the previous Head of the Cardiff Institute, Soren Mayhew, had received an unusual head injury while fighting an Elapid demon. Once the fangs had been removed from his skull and the venom purged from his system, he’d begun preaching to the shadowhunters in his Institute about the final destiny of the shadowhunters and Raziel’s true message.

Since parts of that message included confirmation that the Chosen were the true nephilim, Chosen by Raziel to raise the nephilim from their earthly bodies and into the angelic ones that were their final form, his words fell on fertile ground. Some shadowhunters liked feeling extra special, it seemed.

As Jia said, it stayed mainly in the realm of discussion and prayer until Isaac Keytower transferred in from the Athens Institute to be Mayhew’s second, training to be his successor.

From then, the Chosen had stopped focusing on theory and started looking at practical ways to get closer to angel-dom. That focus had only increased when Isaac took his place as Head, gaining urgency when Valentine erupted back on the scene.

Going by some of the intercepted communications t on file, the Chosen had begun to see Isaac Keytower as Valentine’s opposite and anticipated an epic battle between the evil shadowhunter and the righteous one. Naturally, Isaac was expected to win this battle, which would signify that they were on the right path.

Then Valentine had been killed. Then resurrected and killed again. Then Jonathon, Valentine’s son, had torn open a rift between Idris and Edom, dooming the earth to be overrun by demons. Isaac had been gearing up to go into glorious battle when that had been solved; by a warlock no less.

After some discussion, the ‘Idris having an open rift into Edom’ thing had been dismissed as a trick, and the Chosen had remained confident that they would eventually be called on to defend the holy land.

Meanwhile, they were moving forward with their plans to ‘invite’ an Archangel to witness their devotion.

After reading several intercepted communications on that subject, Alec finally put the tablet down. He could see why Jia didn’t want the downworld leadership to be privy to this group’s inner workings. It was an embarrassment. Their ability to re-write any event to fit their expectations and hopes was the antithesis of what their training was supposed to teach them.

He could also see why Jia hadn’t thought the information was actionable. Until they actually went through with one of their crazy rituals, there was nothing they could be charged with. And even with the previous day’s debacle, the lack of physical evidence made prosecution unfavourable.

On the other hand, they couldn’t be allowed to open rifts all over the place in an attempt to trap an Archangel.

Alec got up and stretched, feeling the muscles in his back protest the lack of activity.

Over on the couch, Chairman Meow was sitting with his paws tucked neatly under his chest, purring smugly.

Alec took a moment to stroke the cat’s soft fur. “I wonder what goes on in your head, sometimes. What in the angel’s name are you sitting there purring for, you ridiculous thing?”

The Chairman didn’t answer, just ramped up his purring in response to being stroked.

“I need to get my hands on a copy of the summoning ritual they used,” Alec mused aloud. “Without that, figuring out what happened to Magnus and how to reverse it is only speculation. The problem is that the Chosen aren’t all that likely just to hand it over. Maybe I could ask Jia to have her contact concentrate on that?”

Still thinking about rifts and summoning rituals, Alec went into the private library to see if Magnus had anything on angelic summonings. He was surprised to see three stacks of books on the table beside his chair that hadn’t been there when he went to bed earlier that morning.

A closer look showed them to be research volumes from the Spiral Labyrinth. “Huh, Catarina really came through.”

Running his eyes down the spines, his gaze was snagged by one titled, ‘Failed Summonings.’ He pulled it out. The cover had a tagline: ‘On the Various Unsuccessful Summonings of Greater Demon’s—Methods and Mistakes.’

That one might come in handy.

He’d just settled into his chair when the pile he’d just taken the book from—probably unsettled from the recent extraction—fell over, two of the no doubt priceless tomes landing badly. Alec sighed and got up to restack them.

Several other books also looked promising; before Alec knew it, several hours had passed. He broke himself out of his research spiral with a giant yawn; checking the time showed that it was nearly midnight.

Alec and Magnus had talked about his habit of working through the night on more than one occasion. He could almost hear Magnus’ voice reprimanding him, telling him off for not taking care of himself and pointing out that he’d be more efficient if he had some sleep.

Magnus would want him to be rested. And Alec had looked up those studies, and Magnus did have a point; rest would allow him to work better. It wasn’t like anyone was in imminent peril; exhausting himself right now wouldn’t do anything but hinder him.

“Fine,” said Alec, talking to the Magnus in his head that was chiding him to take care of himself. He rose out of his chair. “How about a compromise? I’ll take a book to bed; if I fall asleep, I’ll be comfortable and get some proper rest.”

He carefully chose one of Magnus’ publicly displayed books on the intricacies of magical rituals and made his way to bed.