The Red Scrolls of Magic

by Cassandra Clare

  “Oh, hooray! Consider it found then,” Malcolm said.

  Alec nudged Magnus. “Who is that?”

  Magnus leaned in. “Barnabas Hale. He runs the Shadow Market in Los Angeles. I believe he was a contender for High Warlock before Malcolm got it. Bit of a rivalry there.”

  “Oh,” Alec said. “Great.”

  Barnabas swept a menacing finger across the room. “I was going to be the one who celebrated our amazing Downworlder victory! I purchased this venue for my Barnabas Bash. Or I might have called it my Barnabash. I hadn’t decided yet! Now we’ll never know.”

  “Well, someone has definitely had a few drinks tonight,” Magnus muttered. “Barnabash? Really?”

  Barnabas’s rant was not over.

  “You swoop in like the thief you are and undermine me, just like you stole my rightful position as High Warlock of L.A. Well, this party is canceled! You’ve made me look a fool.” Barnabas’s hands began to hiss and smoke.

  The crowd melted back, giving them more space in the middle of the dance floor. More and more people were collecting behind Alec.

  “You really don’t need my help for that, Barnabas,” Malcolm observed. His hands began to glow, and two glasses of champagne appeared at the tips of his fingers. He sipped from one and floated the other to Barnabas. “Relax. Enjoy the party.”

  “This is what I think of your party.” Barnabas flipped his hand, and the glass tumbled back toward Malcolm, spilling on Malcolm’s lavender jacket.

  A gasp passed through the crowd, but Malcolm didn’t miss a beat. He looked down at his ruined outfit, pulled out a handkerchief, and began dabbing his face with it.

  There was a feverish glitter in Malcolm’s eyes, as if he was enjoying himself. Once, Magnus knew, Malcolm had wanted a calm, quiet life. That had been a long time ago.

  “I did you a favor,” Malcolm declared. “We all know your party-throwing abilities are subpar. I saved you the embarrassment of throwing a party and having nobody come.”

  “How dare you?” It seemed as if vapor was rising from Barnabas’s head. The warlock knelt and slammed his palm to the floor, sending a white line of jagged ice racing toward Malcolm.

  Alec stepped forward, as if to intervene, but Magnus gripped his elbow tightly and shook his head.

  Malcolm waved dismissively and melted the ice into a hiss of steam. Then the constellation Orion leaped down from the grand ballroom’s ceiling and took a position next to him. The other constellations, forming vaguely human outlines, drifted down from the ceiling to join the fight on Malcolm’s side. Malcolm pointed lazily at Barnabas, and Orion loosed a roar and charged the short warlock, waving his musical instrument like a club. Barnabas froze the constellation before it reached him, then shattered it into a cloud of stardust.

  “That was my first cello!” snapped Malcolm. “Do you know how hard they are to replace?” The constellations flanking Malcolm, their bodies transparent with hundreds of blinking specks of stardust and veins of light, charged Barnabas. They were halfway across the floor when the giant chandelier in the middle of the room came alive and began to use its many arms like an octopus, grabbing at any of the constellations within reach. The marble floor crumbled away near Malcolm, allowing metal pipes to emerge from the dust, snaking toward Malcolm. Before they could reach him, the ceiling exploded.

  Most of the crowd scattered through the open arches of the room out into the night, terrified. Others, either braver or more stupid, remained frozen, unable to look away. The two warlocks flung ice, fire, lightning, and green globs of goo at each other. The mansion groaned as windows shattered, bolts of ice punched holes into walls, and jets of flame sprayed across the floor.

  An ice bolt struck the wall a few feet away, raining a hail of debris on a group of nymphs. Alec leaped for them, grabbing up a shard of piano and lifting it over their heads as a shield.

  “We should do something!” he shouted to Magnus.

  “Or,” said Magnus, “we could recognize this has nothing to do with us, and get out of here.”

  “They’re going to bring down the entire mansion. Someone is going to get hurt!”

  Magnus threw his hands out and blocks of marble ripped loose from the floor, forming a short wall shielding the nymphs from a second ice bolt. “Someone is definitely going to get hurt, very probably us.” But Alec was in hero mode, and there wasn’t much Magnus could do to stop him. “And yet, I’ll try to mitigate the damage,” he added.

  The room moaned and shook, and one of the walls buckled. Raphael pushed Elliott out of the way of falling masonry, then brushed white marble dust impatiently out of the other vampire’s dreadlocks.

  “I am not feeling well,” said Elliott. “Is the building falling down or did I drink way too much?”

  “Both,” said Lily.

  “I am feeling fairly sick myself,” Raphael contributed, “of you being an idiot, Elliott.”

  “Hello, Raphael,” said Magnus. “Maybe you’d like to follow Alec outside?”

  He pointed to the place where Alec had been. He did not see Alec there. Instead he saw the railing on the balcony break loose. It tumbled in pieces toward Catarina’s oblivious head as she ministered to several injured werewolves.

  Magnus watched as Alec—who had retrieved his confiscated bow and arrows, now slung across his back—ran into the crossfire, swerving around two metal pipes clutching at him, barely avoiding getting his head taken off by a swipe of the chandelier octopus. He dove just in time to tackle Catarina out of the way, and landed on his knees with her safe in his arms.

  “Following Alec seems unwise,” said Raphael from behind Magnus. “Since he seems to be running directly toward danger.”

  “Shadowhunters always do,” said Magnus.

  Raphael examined his fingernails. “It might be nice,” he said, “to have a partner you knew was always going to choose you, not duty or saving the world.”

  Magnus did not respond. His attention was caught by Catarina and Alec. Catarina had been blinking up at Alec, looking mildly surprised. Suddenly she began to struggle, crying out a warning.

  Alec glanced up, but it was already too late. Another chunk of the ceiling had come free; it was dangling, about to fall and crush them. It was too late to escape, and Magnus knew Catarina was always dangerously low on magic. She healed whoever came to her and never saved enough to protect herself.

  Magnus watched in horror as Alec flung his body over hers, bracing himself for the cave-in that would bury them both alive.

  Blue fire sparked. Magnus raised his hands, glowing like lamps in the shadows. “Alexander!” he shouted. “Move aside!”

  Alec looked up, surprised not to be crushed to death. He glanced across the ruin of the ballroom at Magnus, blue eyes wide. Magnus kept both hands steady, straining to keep the large chunk of concrete hovering just above their heads.

  Alec and Catarina scrambled to their feet, fleeing across the treacherous ballroom toward Magnus. More living pipes blocked their path, trying to wrap their metal tentacles around Alec’s ankles. He dodged and jumped to avoid them. One managed to curl around his ankle, causing him to stumble. He pushed Catarina out in front, and Magnus caught her hand and pulled her to him and safety.

  Magnus heard Alec say, “Cael,” and saw the blaze of the seraph blade.

  One slash of it cut away the tentacle at his feet. Alec reached Magnus just as Barnabas set the entire floor of the ballroom ablaze. Malcolm responded with a tidal wave of canal water crashing in from the kitchen. The water swirled around Malcolm, knocking him off his feet, and then took out Barnabas. Both warlocks were carried out of the palazzo, Malcolm whooping with delight as if he were on a water ride at an amusement park.

  Everyone, aside from the vampires, took a deep breath. The palazzo continued to fall to ruin around them.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Catarina announced. She put her arm around Alec’s neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I like you.”

  “Oh,” said Alec, looki
ng baffled. “Thanks.”

  “Please take care of Magnus,” Catarina added.

  “I try,” said Alec.

  Catarina gave Magnus a delighted look over Alec’s shoulder. “At last,” she murmured. “A keeper.”

  “Can we get out of the collapsing building now?” said Magnus crossly, though he was secretly pleased.

  She and Hyacinth made for the doors, guiding a few ragged and wounded Downworlders. The vampires, the werewolf Juliette from the train, and many others hovered by Alec.

  Alec looked around. “The stairway to the upper floor collapsed. There are people trapped upstairs.”

  Magnus cursed, then nodded. He reached out and tapped the half-empty quiver at Alec’s shoulder with two fingers. A faint blue light shimmered, and the quiver was suddenly full of arrows.

  “I’ll go after Barnabas and Malcolm and try to contain them,” Magnus said. “You do what you do best and get everyone to safety.”

  He waved his hands in a broad gesture, and the metallic vines that had been the palazzo’s plumbing straightened and gathered themselves into a bridge over the torrent of canal water, leading out of the palazzo to where the warlocks had disappeared. Magnus turned to look at Alec, who had moved to intervene in a fight that had broken out between werewolves and pixies. Then Magnus turned back, flung himself in the direction of the smoke and sparks, and was gone.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  * * *

  Mori Shu

  WITH A BUILDING FALLING DOWN around their ears, some of the werewolves had panicked. Alec found this understandable, but unfortunate. When werewolves panicked, fur tended to fly. Also blood, teeth, and intestines.

  Three werewolves in a snarling knot were closing in on a huddle of terrified pixies. Alec ran to put his body between the two groups, as the masonry dust fell like rain all around, blinding and choking them. Alec just barely ducked underneath the swipe of a clawed paw and then threw himself to the side as one of the werewolves barreled into him.

  Then the others reached him and it was all he could do to avoid being disemboweled. Muscle memory and years of training took over as he danced through the slashes coming from all sides.

  Five long claws just missed raking him across the face, and then the tip of one managed to slice his arm. A set of fangs reached his shoulder and were just about to clamp down when he grabbed a handful of chin fur and rolled, executing a throw that sent the werewolf hurtling onto his back, sliding until he hit rubble.

  The last werewolf tripped over Raphael Santiago’s foot. Alec hastily hit him in the back of the head with the hilt of his seraph blade, and the werewolf stayed down.

  “That was an accident,” said Raphael, with Lily and Elliott sticking close behind him. “He got in my way as I was trying to leave.”

  “Okay,” Alec panted.

  He wiped dust and sweat out of his eyes. Bat the DJ staggered toward them, claws out, and Alec flipped his seraph blade so he was holding the hilt again.

  “Someone dropped a piece of roof on me,” Bat told him, blinking in a way that was more owlish than wolfish. “Inconsiderate.”

  Alec realized Bat was not so much on a murderous out-of-control rampage as mildly concussed.

  “Easy there,” he said, as Bat tumbled against his chest.

  He looked around for the most trustworthy person, for someone to be on his team. He took a gamble and dumped Bat into Lily’s arms.

  “Watch him for me, will you?” he asked. “Make sure he gets out all right.”

  “Put that werewolf down immediately, Lily,” Raphael ordered.

  “It really hurts that you would say that,” Bat muttered, and shut his eyes.

  Lily considered Bat’s head, pillowed on her lavender bosom. “I don’t want to put him down,” she announced. “The Shadowhunter gave this DJ to me.”

  Bat opened one eye. “Do you like music?”

  “I do,” said Lily. “I like jazz.”

  “Cool,” said Bat.

  Raphael threw up his hands. “This is ridiculous! Fine,” he snapped. “Fine. Let’s just vacate the collapsing mansion, shall we? Can we all agree on that one fun, non-suicidal activity?”

  Alec ushered his group of unruly Downworlders to the nearest exit, collecting stray faeries with broken wings and a couple of dazed or drunk warlocks as they went. He made sure most of them were out, flooding the streets of Venice in a bright rush that made the canals look still, before he turned back to the vampires. Lily had entrusted Bat to Catarina, and they were all looking at him expectantly.

  “Could you give me a boost up to the second floor?”

  “I will not,” Raphael said icily.

  “Sure, any friend of Magnus’s,” said Elliott, and then, off Raphael’s glare, added, “is someone we don’t like, definitely, not even a little bit, at all.”

  The steps had caved in near the top of the staircase, and there was now only a jagged cliff off the top of the landing. Lily and Elliott launched Alec above their heads, his leap given velocity by their strength. He waved to them before he turned away, and Lily and Elliott waved back. Raphael had his arms crossed.

  The mansion was quieter upstairs, save for the occasional crack of wood splintering and groan of the mansion’s weakening foundations. Alec began a room-by-room search. Most were empty, of course.

  There was a crying werewolf girl in one room, huddled in a nest of bedclothes. Alec helped her out the window and saw her jump into the canal and dog-paddle away.

  He discovered a pair of peris hiding in a bedroom closet. At least, he thought they were hiding, but he realized they had been making out the entire time and had no idea the party was over. He also freed a mermaid who had accidentally locked herself in one of the bathrooms.

  Alec had just about covered the entire floor when he ventured into the library and came upon a group of Sighted mundanes overpowered by vines. A jungle of floorboards and pipes and other assorted home construction items had come to life and wrapped them up like mummies. The library was above the grand ballroom, and some of the magic from the battle had clearly seeped in.

  Alec hacked his way to them with his seraph blade, cutting through the floorboards like a sickle across rows of wheat. He wrenched a strangling lamp from around a woman’s neck.

  The living furniture seemed to be turning its attention toward Alec as the threat. That meant he was able to get the mundanes free as floorboards, pipes, and murderous footstools concentrated on him. He guided the terrified little group to the window and shouted for help.

  Elliott appeared and caught the mundanes one by one as Alec threw them down.

  “Pretty sure I know the answer to this,” Elliott called up to Alec, “but your position on me biting these people is . . .”

  “No!” Alec shouted.

  “Just checking, just checking,” Elliott said hastily. “No need to get worked up about it.” Alec felt wary about throwing down the last mundane, but then Catarina appeared, wielding bandages. The mundanes would be safe with her.

  Alec’s own situation had become slightly worrying. For every pipe he cut, another took its place. The wooden boards curled around his ankles and wrapped around his wrists. The more Alec struggled, the more he became entangled.

  Far too fast, his legs were tightly circled by copper piping, his waist by floorboards, and his arms by two wooden planks that had burst from the walls. A wooden vine wrapped around his wrist and squeezed so tight Alec’s blade dropped from his hand.

  At this opportune moment, Shinyun prowled into the room.

  “Alec?” she demanded. “What on earth is going on? Why is the palazzo falling down?”

  Alec stared at her. “Where have you been?”

  “Do you need help?” she said. Her unblinking, unmoving face was turned in his direction for several moments more, during which Alec did not know if she was amused, thoughtful, or marveling at what an idiot he was.

  “I could burn you free,” she offered. Her hand began to glow, turning from orange to a h
ot, red, searing light. Alec could feel the heat through the vines, which were melting away quickly.

  Alec was deeply relieved to see Magnus stroll into view, Malcolm at his side, dripping canal water. “Please don’t risk my boyfriend’s life or limbs,” said Magnus. “I am attached to both. Malcolm, please call off your . . . plants and things.”

  The light died in Shinyun’s hands. Malcolm appraised the nest and then clapped his hands several times, taking turns alternating which hand was on top. With each clap, the vines receded.

  “Where’s Barnabas?” Alec asked, shaking off the scraps and rubble as he stepped free of the mess.

  “I encouraged him to leave,” said Magnus. “Subtly.”

  “How?” asked Alec.

  Magnus considered. “Maybe not all that subtly.”

  Malcolm’s face was even more pallid than usual. “This is terrible,” he announced. “I think I may have lost my security deposit.”

  “You don’t have a security deposit,” Alec reminded him. “You stole that Barnabas guy’s house.”

  “Oh yes,” said Malcolm, cheering up.

  Alec held Magnus’s hand as they made their way out of the ruins of the palazzo. It was a relief to have that link between them, the warm, strong clasp of Magnus’s hand a solid promise he was safe.

  “So, as Alec was saying,” said Magnus as they passed through the remains of the foyer, “where have you been?”

  “Out in the courtyard, when the building started to fall down,” Shinyun said. “I had no idea what was going on. I tried to make my way back in to you, but there were people who needed help.”

  “That was occupying us, too,” said Alec, as they walked down the front steps.

  A huge chunk of fallen marble blocked the bottom of the staircase. Malcolm was looking weary, but he and Magnus made a simultaneous gesture, and the marble began to slowly slide away.

  The fading night painted the marble violet. There were still a few stragglers from the party waiting in the cobbled street outside the palazzo. Juliette gave a small cheer when she saw Alec and the others emerge. Raphael did not cheer.