Having his dad believe that Alec could do it. Alec knew his dad loved him, but that wasn’t the same as his dad believing in him. He hadn’t known that before.
“I’m not saying it would be easy,” said Robert. “But several members of the Clave have mentioned it as a possibility. You know how popular you are with Downworlders.”
“Not really,” mumbled Alec.
“A few more people in the Clave are coming around,” said Robert. “I have that tapestry up of you, and I take care to mention your name often.”
“Here I thought it was up because you love me.”
Robert blinked at him, as if he was wounded by the joke. “Alec. It—it is. But I want this for you too. That’s what I came here to ask. Do you want it for yourself?”
Alec thought of the power to change the Law from a sword that hurt people into a shield to defend them.
“Yeah,” said Alec. “But you have to be sure you want me to have it, Dad. People won’t be happy with me taking it, and once I have it, I’m going to split the Clave apart.”
“You are?” Robert asked, his voice faint.
“Because I have to,” said Alec. “Because everything has to change. For everybody’s sake. And for Magnus and our kids.”
Robert blinked. “Your what?”
“Oh, by the Angel,” said Alec. “Please don’t ask me any questions! I have to go! I have to talk to Magnus right away.”
Robert said, “I am very confused.”
“I really have to go,” said Alec. “Thanks, Dad. I mean it. Come for dinner again soon, all right? We’ll talk more about the Inquisitor thing then.”
“All right,” said Robert. “I’d like that. When I had dinner with you three a few weeks ago? I don’t remember the last time I had such a happy day.”
Alec remembered how difficult it had been during Robert’s visit to keep the conversation going, how only Max prattling at his grandpa’s knee had broken the frequent silences. It broke Alec’s heart to think Robert had thought of that strained awkward dinner as happiness.
“Come over anytime,” said Alec. “Max loves seeing his grandpa. And—thank you, Dad. Thanks for believing in me. Sorry if I caused you a lot of paperwork tonight.”
“You saved lives tonight, Alec,” said Robert.
He took an awkward step toward Alec, and his hand lifted, as if he was going to pat Alec on the shoulder. Then his hand dropped. He looked into Alec’s face, and his eyes were so sad.
“You’re a good man, Alec,” he said at last. “You’re a better man than I am.”
Alec loved his father and would never be cruel to him. So he didn’t say: I had to be. Instead he reached out and pulled his father into an awkward hug, patting him on the shoulder before he stepped back.
“We’ll talk later.”
“Whenever you like,” said Robert. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”
Alec waved to his dad, then ran up the steps of his building. He opened the door and bounded up his stairs to find Lily alone. The door of his loft was open a crack, light filtering through, but Lily was standing in the shadows and appeared to be filing her nails.
“Lily,” Alec said dangerously, “where is Rafael?”
“Oh, him.” Lily shrugged. “He heard Magnus singing some Indonesian lullaby, and he bolted inside. Nothing I could do. Shadowhunters. They’re speedy.”
Neither of them mentioned Magnus’s wards, which couldn’t be forced by any magic or any strength Alec knew of. Magnus didn’t have wards up for anyone defenseless, anyone who might need his help. Of course a child could go through.
Alec fixed her with a reproachful glare but was distracted by the deep, lovely murmur of Magnus’s voice through the open door. His tone was warm and, as it often was, amused. Alec thought of Jem telling Tessa, Your voice is the music I love best in all the world.
“Ah, there’s that smile,” said Lily. “It’s been two days, and I missed it.”
Alec stopped smiling and made a face at her, but when he looked at her properly, she was fiddling with the zipper of her leather jacket. There was something about the set of her mouth, as if she’d set it determinedly so it wouldn’t tremble.
“Thanks for coming with me,” Alec said. “Also, you’re the worst.”
That made her smile. Lily wiggled her fingers in farewell. “Don’t you forget it.”
She slipped away like a shadow, and Alec opened the door and stepped inside his apartment at last. His coffee machine was on the counter; his cat was sleeping on the sofa.
There was a door standing open to a room he’d never seen before, which happened sometimes at his place. The room inside had golden-brown floorboards and whitewashed walls. Magnus was standing in the room, with Rafe beside him. Magnus was wearing a red-and-gold silk robe, and Rafe’s face was tipped up to watch him as he produced a low, soothing stream of Spanish. It was a beautiful room.
Alec realized Magnus knew he was there because Magnus started translating what he was saying into rapid English, switching between languages with fluid ease so everybody knew what was going on.
“Let’s put away the cross for now, and talk about organized religion later,” said Magnus, snapping his fingers at the crucifix on the wall. “And let’s have a window and let the light in. Do you like this one?”
He gestured easily to the wall, and a circular window opened up onto their street, showing a tree catching the moon. Then he gestured again and the window was red-and-gold stained glass.
“Or this one?” Magnus waved a third time and the window was arched and tall as a church window. “Or this one?”
Rafe was nodding and nodding, his face wreathed in eager smiles.
Magnus smiled down at him. “Want me to just keep doing magic?”
Rafe nodded again, even more vehemently. Magnus laughed and set a hand on Rafe’s curly head: Alec was about to warn that Rafael was shy at first and would duck away, but Rafe didn’t. He let Magnus stroke his hair, the rings on Magnus’s hand catching the light through their new window. Magnus’s smile went from gleaming to glowing. He met Alec’s eyes over Rafe’s head.
“I’ve been getting to know Rafe,” said Magnus. “He told me that was what he liked to be called. We’ve been doing up a bedroom for him. See?”
“I do,” said Alec.
“Rafe,” said Magnus. “Rafael. Do you have a last name?”
Rafe shook his head.
“That’s all right. We have two. How would you feel about a middle name? Would you like one?”
Rafe broke into a stream of Spanish. From all the nodding, Alec was fairly sure he was agreeing.
“Um,” Alec said. “We probably need to talk.”
Magnus laughed. “Oh, do you think so? Excuse us for a minute, Rafe.” He moved toward Alec, then stopped short. Rafe’s hands were clenched hard on the edge of Magnus’s robe. Magnus looked startled.
Rafe burst out crying. Magnus cast Alec a wild glance, then ran his hands distractedly through his own hair. Between torrential sobs, Rafael began to eke out words.
Alec couldn’t speak Rafael’s language, but he understood nonetheless. Don’t let me see you, and then have to go away into the loneliness that is the world without you. Please, please, keep me. I’ll be good, if you would just keep me.
Alec started forward, but before he was even in the room, Magnus dropped to his knees and touched the child’s face with tender hands. All trace of tears disappeared with a shimmer of magic.
“Hush,” said Magnus. “Don’t cry. Yes, of course we will, my darling.”
Rafe put his face down onto Magnus’s shoulder and sobbed his heart out. Magnus patted his shaking back until he was quiet.
“I’m sorry,” Magnus said at last, and rocked Rafe in the curve of one red-silk arm. “I really do need to talk to Alec. I’ll be right back. I promise you.”
He stood and tried to move forward, then cast a rueful glance downward. Rafe was still holding on to his robe.
“He’s very determ
ined,” Alec explained.
“So, completely unlike any other Shadowhunters of my acquaintance, then,” said Magnus, and swept off his robe.
Underneath he was wearing a tunic shirt shimmering with gold thread, and loose ratty gray sweatpants.
“Are those sweatpants mine?”
“Yes,” said Magnus. “I missed you.”
“Oh,” said Alec.
Magnus settled the robe around Rafe’s shoulders, wrapping him up so he was a red silk cocoon with a startled face on top. Then he knelt down by Rafe again and lifted Rafael’s hands in his, holding them together. Inside Rafe’s cupped palms, a tiny fountain of glitter leaped in a shining loop. Rafe gave a hiccuping laugh, full of surprised delight.
“There, you like magic, don’t you? Keep your hands together and it will keep going,” Magnus murmured, then made his escape while Rafe was watching the fountain.
Alec took Magnus’s hand, pulling him out of the new room into the main loft and through into their bedroom. He shut the door and said, “I can explain.”
“I think I might understand already, Alexander,” said Magnus. “You were away a day and half and you adopted us another kid. What happens if you go away for a week?”
“I didn’t mean to,” said Alec. “I wasn’t going to do anything without asking you. Only he was there, and he’s a Shadowhunter, and nobody was looking after him, so I thought I could take him to the Institute here. Or to Alicante.”
Magnus had been smiling, but now he stopped. Alec felt even more alarmed.
“We’re not adopting him?” Magnus asked. “But . . . can’t we?”
Alec blinked.
“I thought we were,” Magnus said. “Alec, I promised him. Do you not want to?”
Alec stared at him for another instant. Magnus’s face was tense, intent but confused at the same time, as if he was baffled by his own vehemence. Suddenly Alec was laughing. He’d thought he was waiting to be sure, yet this was better, as all the best things in his life were better than any dream that had come before. Not Alec knowing right away, but seeing Magnus know right away. It was so sweet, and so obvious that this was exactly the way things should be: seeing Magnus experience the instant instinctive love as Alec had with Max, as Alec learned with Rafael the slow, sweet, and conscious way of love that Magnus had learned with Max. Opening a new door in their familiar beloved home, as if it had always been there.
“Yes,” Alec said, breathless with laughter and love. “Yes, I want to.”
Magnus’s smile returned. Alec pulled him into his arms, then turned so Magnus had his back to the wall. Alec cupped Magnus’s face in both hands.
“Give me a minute,” Alec said. “Let me look at you. God, I missed home.”
Magnus’s fascinating eyes were narrowed slightly, watching Alec back, and his smiling mouth was a little startled, as it often was, though what surprised him Alec didn’t know. Alec couldn’t just look at him. He kissed him, and that mouth was against his own, the kiss making every tired muscle in Alec’s body turn to liquid sweetness. To Alec, love always meant this: his shining city of eternal light. The land of lost dreams reclaimed, his first kiss and his last.
Magnus’s arms went around him.
“My Alec,” Magnus murmured. “Welcome home.”
Now when Alec asked himself Is this how you want to live your whole life? he could answer yes, and yes, and yes. Every kiss was the answer yes, and the question he would get to ask Magnus someday. They kissed up against the bedroom wall for long bright moments, then both stepped away from the other with a wrench.
“The—” Alec began.
“—kids,” Magnus finished. “Later.”
“Wait, the kids plural?” asked Alec, and became aware of what Magnus had heard: the stealthy sound of tiny feet exiting Max’s room.
“That hellborn brat,” Magnus muttered. “I read him eight stories.”
“Magnus!”
“What, I can call him that. It’s you who can’t call him that, because it’s infernally insensitive.” Magnus grinned, then squinted at his own stained hand. “Alec, I know you don’t really care about your clothes, but you don’t usually come home covered in soot.”
“Better see to the kids,” said Alec, ducking out of the bedroom and the conversation.
In the main room was Max, in his triceratops footie pajamas and dragging his fuzzy blankie, regarding Rafe with wide eyes. Rafe stood on the woven rug before the fireplace, wrapped in Magnus’s red silk robe. His eyes narrowed into the death stare that had frightened the other kids at the Shadow Market.
Max, who had never felt threatened by anything in his life, smiled guilelessly up at him. Rafe’s scowl faltered.
Max turned at the opening of the door. He padded swiftly over to Alec, and Alec knelt down to embrace him.
“Daddy, Daddy!” Max caroled. “This the brother orra sister?”
Rafael’s eyebrows went up. He said something quickly in Spanish.
“Not a sister,” Magnus translated from the door. “Max, this is Rafe. Say hi.”
Max clearly took this as confirmation. He patted Alec’s shoulder as if to say: great job, Dad, finally you deliver the goods. Then he turned back to Rafe.
“What are you? Werewolf?” Max guessed.
Rafe glanced at Magnus, who translated. “He says he’s a Shadowhunter.”
Max beamed. “Daddy’s a Shadowhunter. I’m a Shadowhunter too!”
Rafe regarded Max’s horns with an air suggesting: Can you believe this guy? He shook his head firmly and attempted to explain the situation.
“He says you’re a warlock,” Magnus translated faithfully. “And that this is a very good thing to be, because it means you can do magic, and magic is cool and pretty.” Magnus paused. “Which is so true.”
Max’s face screwed up in rage. “I’m a Shadowhunter!”
Rafe waved a hand, his attitude one of deep impatience.
“All right, my blue-ringed octopus,” Magnus interposed hastily. “Let’s continue this debate tomorrow, shall we? Everybody needs sleep. Rafe has had a long day, and it is incredibly past your bedtime.”
“I’ll read you a story,” Alec promised.
Max dropped his fury as swiftly as he’d assumed it. His blue brows knit. He seemed to be thinking deeply. “No bed!” he argued. “Stay up. Be with Rafe.” He sidled up to a stunned-looking Rafael and gave him a big hug. “I’m love him.”
Rafe hesitated, then hugged Max shyly back. The sight of them made Alec’s chest hurt.
He cast a glance back at Magnus, who had an equally smitten expression.
“It’s a special occasion,” Alec pointed out.
“I was never very good at discipline anyway,” said Magnus, and threw himself down beside the kids on the rug. Rafe edged closer, and Magnus looped an arm around him. Rafe cuddled up. “How about you tell us all a bedtime story about what happened in Buenos Aires?”
“It wasn’t that exciting,” Alec said. “Other than: I found Rafe. I missed you. I came home. That’s it. We’ll have to go back and forth to Buenos Aires a few times to finalize the adoption, before we can make it official and tell everyone. Maybe we can all go together sometime.”
Rafe said several swift sentences in Spanish.
“Is that so?” asked Magnus. “How extremely interesting.”
“What are you saying?” Alec asked Rafe anxiously.
“You aren’t getting away with this one, Alec Lightwood.” Magnus pointed at him. “Not this time. I have a spy!”
Alec went over to the rug, knelt down, and made earnest eye contact with Rafe.
“Rafe,” he said. “Please don’t be a spy.”
Rafe gave Alec a look of firm incomprehension and burst into a torrent of Spanish for Magnus. Alec was certain at least some of it was Rafe promising to be a spy anytime Magnus wanted.
“Sounds like you did some pretty impressive things in Buenos Aires,” said Magnus at last. “A lot of people would have given up. What were you thinking
?”
Alec picked Max up, tipped him upside down, then sideways, then returned him to the rug, grinning when Max crowed with laughter.
“All I did was think about being worthy of coming home to you,” said Alec. “It was nothing much.”
There was a silence. Alec turned, a little concerned, to find Magnus staring at him. That surprised look was on his face again, and there was a softness along with it that was rare for Magnus.
“What?” said Alec.
“Nothing, you stealth romance attacker,” Magnus said. “How do you always know what to say?”
He leaned forward easily, keeping Rafe held comfortably against him, to give Alec a kiss on the jaw. Alec smiled.
Rafe was studying Max, who seemed gratified Rafe was taking an interest.
“If you want to be a Shadowhunter,” said Rafael, in careful English, “you have to train.”
“No, Rafe,” said Alec. “Max doesn’t need to train.”
“I train!” said Max.
Alec shook his head. His baby was a warlock. Alec would train Rafe, but Max didn’t need to learn any of that. He looked to Magnus for backup, but Magnus was hesitating, his lip caught between his teeth.
“Magnus!”
“Max wants to be just like you,” Magnus said. “I can understand that. Are we going to tell him he can’t be whatever he wants to be?”
“He’s not—” Alec began, and stopped.
“There’s nothing to say a warlock couldn’t physically fight,” said Magnus. “Using magic to substitute for Shadowhunter attributes. It might keep him safe, because people don’t expect a warlock to be trained that way. It wouldn’t hurt to try. Besides . . . we found Max on the steps of Shadowhunter Academy. Someone might have wanted him to have Shadowhunter training.”
Alec hated the idea. But he’d thought, hadn’t he, that he wished he could train a kid? He’d promised himself that he would never be the kind of father who made the walls of home feel like a trap.
If you loved somebody, you trusted them.
“All right,” said Alec. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to show them a few ways to stand and fall. Might get them tired enough for bedtime.”
Ghosts of the Shadow Market Page 37
