The Red Scrolls of Magic

by Cassandra Clare

  Magnus ordered a bottle of Barolo and swished the drink as they admired the scenery rolling by outside their window. Dinner was Noirmoutier lobster, oven-baked with a drizzle of butter and lemon juice. There was a plate of caviar-laden potatoes served on the side.

  Alec was dubious of the caviar. Then he looked embarrassed about being dubious of the caviar. “I just always assumed people ate it because it was expensive.”

  “No,” said Magnus, “they eat it because it’s expensive and delicious. But it’s complicated. You have to eat it slowly, really experience the subtlety and the complexity.” He took a piece of potato, topped it with sour cream and a healthy dollop of caviar, and popped it into his mouth. He chewed slowly and deliberately, eyes closed.

  When he opened his eyes again, Alec was gazing intently at him, nodding thoughtfully. Then his expression broke into laughter.

  “It’s not funny,” said Magnus. “Here, I’ll make you one.” He assembled another potato and fed it to Alec from his fork.

  Alec copied Magnus’s performance, chewing with great exaggerated movements and rolling his eyes back in his head in mock ecstasy. Magnus waited.

  Finally, Alec swallowed and opened his eyes. “It really is good, actually.”

  “See?”

  “Do I have to do the eye-rolling every time?”

  “It’s better with the eye-rolling. Wait—look.”

  Alec gave a gratifying, wondering, “Oh,” as the train emerged around a bend into the heart of the French countryside. Dense, dark green forest framed mirrored lakes, and in the distance, white snowcapped mountains watched over the landscape. Closer, a rocky promontory rose like the prow of a ship from the distinctive tidy grid of bright vineyards below.

  Magnus watched the landscape, then Alec’s face, then the landscape again. Seeing this with him was like seeing the world made new. Magnus had been through the Parc du Morvan before, but for the first time in a long while, he felt wonder too.

  “At some point,” said Alec, “we’ll cross the Idris wards, and the whole train will jump from the near border to the far border in an instant. I wonder if we’ll be able to tell.”

  There was a yearning note to his voice, though Alec had not lived in Idris since he was small. The Nephilim always had someplace they could return to, no matter what, a country of enchanted forests and rolling fields, and in its center, a city of shining glass towers. Given by the Angel. Magnus was a man with no homeland, and had been for longer than he could remember. Odd, to see the compass of Alec’s soul swing around surely and point home. The compass of Magnus’s soul spun freely within him, and he’d long been used to that.

  Their hands lingered together, Magnus’s fingers curling around Alec’s as they looked out at heavy clouds rolling in from the east.

  Magnus pointed at one of the clusters of storm clouds. “That long one looks like a serpent that tied itself into a knot. That looks like the croissant I had this morning. That one . . . a llama, I guess? Or possibly my dad? Bye, Dad! Hope not to see you soon!” He blew a sarcastic kiss.

  “Is this like the thing with the stars?” said Alec. “It’s romantic to name the stuff you see in the sky?”

  Magnus was silent.

  “You can talk about him if you want,” said Alec.

  “My father the demon, or my stepfather who tried to kill me?” Magnus asked.

  “Either.”

  “I don’t want to put us off our lobster,” said Magnus. “I try not to think about either of them.” He seldom mentioned his father, but after Johnny Rook’s information, Magnus couldn’t get him off his mind. He kept considering what it might mean for his father to be the demon worshipped by the Crimson Hand.

  “I was thinking about my dad yesterday,” Alec offered hesitantly. “He told me I should stay in New York and pretend I was straight. That’s what he meant, anyway.”

  Magnus remembered one long, cold night, in which he had to stand between a family of terrified werewolves and a group of Shadowhunters, Alec’s father and mother among them. There was so much hate and fear in the world, even among those chosen by the Angel. He looked into Alec’s face and saw the doubt and fear Alec’s father had put there.

  “You don’t talk about your parents much,” said Magnus.

  Alec hesitated. “I don’t want you to think badly of my dad. I know he’s done things in the past . . . that he was involved in stuff he’s not proud of.”

  “I’ve done things I’m not proud of myself,” Magnus murmured, not trusting himself to say more. In truth, Magnus did not like Robert Lightwood, and never had. In any other universe, he would have thought it was impossible to start.

  But in this universe, they both loved Alec. Sometimes, love worked, past any hope of change, when no other force in this world could. Without love, the miracle never came.

  Magnus lifted Alec’s hand to his mouth and kissed it.

  Robert couldn’t be a complete monster. He’d raised this man as his son, after all.

  They finished their dinner in companionable silence, pausing to watch the sun set the mountains in the distance on fire as it dipped below their peaks. The first of the stars began to pierce the darkening sky.

  The server came and asked if they wanted dessert, or perhaps a digestif.

  Magnus was about to ask about the options available when Alec, a small gleam in his eye, gave the man a bright smile.

  “Actually,” he said, “I think we’re going to have some of the champagne waiting in our stateroom. Shall we, Magnus?”

  Magnus had actually frozen with his mouth hanging a little open. He was used to two very distinct Alecs: the confident Shadowhunter, and the shy, uncertain boyfriend. He wasn’t sure about the Alec with the gleam in his eye.

  Alec stood and held out his hand to draw Magnus out of his chair. He gave Magnus a little peck on the cheek and kept his hand.

  The server gave a sideways polite nod and a small understanding smile. “Indeed. I bid you both bonne nuit, then.”

  As soon as they reached their cabin, Alec shucked off his jacket and headed for the bed. Magnus felt a flutter deep in his chest—there wasn’t much sexier than a man in a tuxedo shirt, and Alec filled his out exceptionally well.

  Silently thanking the Angel Raziel for all the cardio Shadowhunters had to do, Magnus conjured up a chilled bottle of Pol Roger and placed it on the counter. He raised two glasses and smiled as they filled on their own, leaving the cork intact in the bottle even as the level of champagne lowered. He joined Alec on the bed, offering him a glass. Alec accepted.

  “To being together,” said Magnus. “Anywhere we want.”

  “I like being together,” said Alec. “Anywhere we want.”

  “Santé,” said Magnus. They clinked and sipped, Alec looking at Magnus over the rim of the glass with that gleam in his eye. Magnus could no more resist Alec with that look than he could resist mischief, adventure, or a beautifully cut coat. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Alec’s, which were full and soft. A deep shiver went through Magnus. He could taste the crisp, tart wine in Alec’s mouth as he swept his tongue over Alec’s lower lip. Alec gasped and opened his mouth to Magnus’s exploration. He looped his arm around Magnus’s neck, his hand still gripping the champagne glass, arching his body up so the stiff pleats of their tuxedo shirts scratched together.

  Blue fire sparked, and the champagne glasses were suddenly on the nightstand next to the bed. “Oh, thank the Angel,” said Alec, and pulled Magnus down on top of him.

  It was bliss. Alec’s lean arms were around Magnus, his kisses firm and deep and bone-melting. Alec’s strong body held Magnus’s weight with no effort at all.

  Magnus relaxed, sinking deeper into the long, slow kisses, into the feel of Alec’s hands in his hair. They were still kissing as the train’s smooth glide hitched, and the carriage jerked, hard. Magnus tumbled aside and found himself on his back. The champagne flutes had flown off the nightstand onto the bed, spilling sparkling wine over both of them. He glanced ov
er and found Alec blinking champagne out of his eyelashes.

  “Be careful,” said Alec, grasping Magnus’s arms and hauling him out of bed.

  The sheet was soaked, and Magnus had fallen onto a glass, crushing it. Magnus realized that Alec had been concerned Magnus might be cut. He hesitated, caught more off guard by the concern than by broken glass.

  “I should call to have the sheets changed,” said Magnus. “We could go to the viewing car to wait . . . ?”

  “I don’t care,” Alec said, uncharacteristically sharp. After a moment he calmed. “I mean—yes. That would be fine. Nice.”

  Magnus reviewed the situation, and decided that as often happened, the solution was magic. He waved his fingers and the bed changed itself, sheets fluttering in the air amid a shower of blue sparks, then settling down so the bed was again a smooth stretch of snowy white.

  Alec was taken aback by the sheets and pillows suddenly becoming a disarray of linen flying around in the air, and Magnus took the opportunity to shrug out of his jacket completely and undo his bow tie. He stepped toward Alec and whispered, “I think we can do better than fine.”

  They kissed, and instead of guiding him toward the bed, Magnus pulled his boyfriend toward the shower by the loops of his trousers. Surprise touched Alec’s face, but he followed easily.

  “Your shirt’s covered in champagne,” Magnus explained.

  Alec’s eyes flickered down to Magnus’s shirt, which had gone translucent. Alec flushed slightly as he murmured, “So’s yours.”

  Magnus smiled, pressing the curve of his mouth against Alec’s. “Excellent point.”

  He made a small gesture and hot water began to spray from the shower, drenching them both. Magnus could see the faint dark curves of runes beneath the thin, soaked material of Alec’s shirt. Silver points of light and water glittered in the tiny space between them. Magnus put his hands on Alec, peeling Alec’s shirt and undershirt off his body and over his head. Streams of water sparkled on the surface of Alec’s bare chest, tracing along the grooves of his muscles.

  Magnus drew Alec closer to him and kissed him as he undid the studs of his own shirt with his free hand. He felt Alec’s strong hands on his back, the thin and thoroughly wet shirt almost no barrier at all, and yet far too much of a barrier. Magnus dipped his head and ran his mouth down the wet line of Alec’s neck to his bare shoulder.

  Alec shuddered and pinned Magnus up against the glass wall. Magnus was having real trouble getting his shirt undone.

  Alec caught his mouth, swallowing Magnus’s moan. The kiss was deep and urgent, their mouths sliding together, as hungry as their wet hands. As Magnus tried to concentrate on fine motor control, he noticed a strange shimmer in the air outside the shower, near the ceiling.

  He felt Alec freeze when he noticed the new, different tension in Magnus’s body. Alec followed Magnus’s line of sight. A pair of sinister, glowing eyes blinked at them through the steam.

  “Not now,” Alec whispered against Magnus’s mouth. “You have to be kidding me.”

  Magnus murmured a spell against Alec’s lips. Steam fountained out of the top of the shower and gathered around the shimmer. Through the haze emerged the outline of a giant centipede-shaped creature. The Drevak demon lunged.

  Magnus snapped several more sharp words, these in demonic Cthonian. The shower walls immediately frosted and hardened just as the Drevak demon let loose a jet of corrosive acid in their direction.

  Alec pulled Magnus to the ground and dove out of the shower, sliding along the wet floor and slamming into the wooden closet doors on the other side of the wall. Awkwardly, he grabbed at the bottom of one of the doors and wrenched it open.

  Magnus had no idea why until he saw Alec rise to his feet, seraph blade in hand. “Muriel.”

  Before the Drevak could attack again, Alec launched himself toward the ceiling and executed a long forward slice. The two pieces of the demon dropped to the floor behind him and vanished.

  “It’s so weird that there’s an angel Muriel,” Magnus commented. “Muriel sounds like a disapproving piano teacher.” He held up an imaginary seraph blade and intoned at it. “My great-aunt Muriel.”

  Alec turned back to Magnus, shirtless in wet trousers, lit by starshine and the glow of his seraph blade, and Magnus was briefly rendered speechless by pure physical attraction. Alec said, “The Drevak won’t be alone.”

  “Demons,” Magnus said bitterly. “They do know how to kill the mood.”

  The window to their cabin exploded inward, showering glass and debris into the room. Magnus momentarily lost sight of Alec in a cloud of dust. He took a step forward and was met by a creature with a long black body, spindly legs, and a domed head extending to an elongated snout. It landed in front of him and hissed, exposing rows of sharp serrated teeth.

  Magnus gestured, and a pool of water on the floor surged up to engulf the demon in a large translucent bubble. The demon became disoriented as the sphere rotated upside down. Then Magnus made a batting motion and flung the ball of water out the window.

  Instantly another demon took its place. This insect tried to ambush him from the side, nearly taking a chunk of his leg off with its snapping jaws. Magnus stumbled back toward the bed, flicking his fingers as he retreated, causing the closet doors to swing open and smash into the giant bug as it advanced.

  The distraction barely slowed the demon down. It hissed and, with a crushing bite, broke the wooden doors into pieces. Just as it was about to leap, the harsh white glow of Alec’s seraph blade cut down between its two clusters of eyes, splitting its domed head in half.

  Alec drew his blade from the body and said, “We need to move.”

  He scooped up his bow, signaling for Magnus to follow, and they escaped out of the wreckage of their cabin and into an otherwise undisturbed sleeper car. After the mayhem of a moment ago, the hallway’s peaceful quietude was strange. All was still, save for the rhythmic clicking of the tracks and the soft classical music playing through hidden speakers in the ceiling. Soft yellow lights swayed the shadows gently in a waltz measured to the train’s rhythm.

  Alec pivoted back and forth, bow at the ready, waiting for the next attack. The eerie quiet held for several more seconds until they heard it. A faint tapping, nearly imperceptible at first, like light rain on a roof. It was soon followed by more of its kind, rattling and thumps growing in frequency and number.

  Alec aimed his bow upward as the noise grew louder and louder, a hundred clicks of nails or claws on metal, as if the train were passing under a thunderstorm. “They’re all around us. Get to the next car. Hurry.” Magnus headed to the near door, but Alec called out sharply, “That’s the way toward the other sleeper cars. There are mundanes there.”

  Magnus changed directions and ran toward the far door, with Alec close on his heels. They moved along the corridor leading to the end car, with the bar full of Downworlders. A young werewolf in a beaded dress was making her way down the corridor. She stopped short at the sight of them.

  Five hulking Raum demons barreled through the windows on either side, and she screamed. Alec threw himself onto her, shielding her with his own body and stabbing the demon trying to crush them. Another demon’s tentacles wrapped around them both, and Alec rolled with the werewolf girl in his arms, scything away the tentacles with his seraph blade.

  One of the remaining Raums lumbered toward the sounds emanating from the bar. Magnus sent a blast of scorching light in its direction.

  “Is that a demon?” he heard someone yell. “Who invited them?”

  Someone else said, “Read the sign, demon!”

  “Is everyone all right?” called Magnus, and a demon seized this split second of distraction and went for him.

  A nightmare of tentacles and teeth loomed before Magnus; then the demon exploded into nothing, an arrow in its back. Magnus looked through the haze and the flash to Alec, crouched on the floor with his bow in his hands.

  The werewolf girl was regarding Alec with some awe. The
dark dust of slain demons and a faint sheen of sweat gleamed on Alec’s rune-marked bare skin.

  “I had Shadowhunters all wrong. From now on, you can ask me to do anything for your fight against demons,” the werewolf girl announced with conviction. “And I will do it.”

  Alec turned his head to look at her. “Anything?”

  “Gladly,” said the girl.

  “What’s your name?” Alec asked.

  “Juliette.”

  “Are you from Paris?” asked Alec. “Do you go to the Paris Shadow Market? Do you know a faerie child called Rose?”

  “I am,” said the werewolf girl. “I do. Is she really a child? I thought it was just faerie trickiness.”

  “Next time you see her,” said Alec, “can you feed her?”

  The werewolf girl blinked, her expression softening. “Yes,” she said. “I can do that.”

  “What’s going on out there?” asked the goblin they’d spoken to earlier, barging out of the party and into the corridor. His eyes widened. “There’s demon gunk all over the place and a lot of Shadowhunter skin out here!” he called over his shoulder.

  Alec rose to his feet and went to Magnus, who snapped his fingers and made Alec’s still-wet undershirt appear in his hand. Alec grabbed for it with obvious relief. Magnus and the werewolf girl watched a little sadly as he put it on.

  Once his shirt was on, Alec took Magnus’s hand. “Stay close to—”

  Magnus didn’t hear the rest. Before he could utter a cry, something looped around his waist, wrenched him off his feet, and tore him out of Alec’s grasp. A bone-jarring pain stunned him, forcing the breath from his body. He heard the sound of shattering glass and felt hundreds of tiny shards cutting into his skin.

  The world blinked, and consciousness returned a moment later to the sound of wind howling in his ears and freezing air slapping him in the face. Dazed and disoriented, Magnus looked up and saw the full white moon hovering above the jagged mountaintops. Beneath him, the train was speeding along a bridge.