The Red Scrolls of Magic

by Cassandra Clare

  “Thanks,” said Alec. “I’ll send these and tell Isabelle we’re having a great time.”

  “Will you?” Magnus asked.

  Alec blinked. “Sure. I mean, I miss Isabelle and Jace, and Mom and Dad.”

  Magnus appeared to be waiting for something else. Alec thought it over.

  “I miss Clary, too,” he said. “A bit.”

  “She’s my little biscuit. Who wouldn’t?” said Magnus, but he still seemed rather tense.

  “I really don’t know Simon all that well,” Alec offered.

  Alec didn’t know a lot of people. There was his family, Jace included, and Jace’s new girlfriend, and the vampire Jace was sneaking in as a package deal. He knew some other Shadowhunters. Aline Penhallow was Alec’s age and great with daggers, but Aline lived in Idris, so he wouldn’t be hanging out with her even if he was in New York.

  It took Alec a few minutes as they prowled around the gardens to realize that Magnus might be worrying about what he might say to his family, his friends, almost all of whom were, of course, fellow Shadowhunters. None of whom would be as inclined to give Magnus the benefit of the doubt as Alec would.

  Alec was worried about Magnus, the way he was trying just a little too hard to have a good time. Alec liked it when Magnus was actually having a good time, but he hated it when Magnus was pretending, and he could easily tell the difference by now. Alec wanted to say something, but Shinyun was here, he didn’t know what to say, and right then his phone rang in his pocket.

  It was Isabelle.

  “I was just thinking about you,” said Alec.

  “And I was thinking about you,” said Isabelle cheerfully. “Enjoying yourself on vacation, or have you lapsed into work? Can you not help yourself?”

  “We’re in the Boboli Gardens,” said Alec, which was entirely true. “How’s everyone in New York?” he added quickly. “Clary dragging Jace into any more trouble? Jace dragging Clary into any more trouble?”

  “That’s the cornerstone of their relationship, but no, Jace is hanging out with Simon,” Isabelle reported. “He says they’re playing video games.”

  “Do you think Simon invited Jace to hang out with him?” Alec asked skeptically.

  “Bro,” said Isabelle, “I do not.”

  “Has Jace ever played a video game before? I’ve never played a video game.”

  “I’m sure he’ll get the hang of it,” said Isabelle. “Simon’s explained them to me and they do not sound difficult.”

  “How are things going with you and Simon?”

  “He’s taken a number and remains in the long line of men desperate for my attention,” Isabelle said firmly. “How are things between you and Magnus?”

  “Well, I wondered if you could help me with that.”

  “Yes!” Isabelle exclaimed with horrifying delight. “You are right to come to me with this. I am so much more subtle and skilled in the arts of seduction than Jace. Okay, here’s my first suggestion. You’re going to need a grapefruit—”

  “Stop!” said Alec. He hurriedly strode away from Magnus and Shinyun and hid behind a high hedge. They watched him go with bemusement. “Please don’t finish that sentence. I meant, there’s still that small cult problem I asked you about. I’d really like to get it worked out, so that Magnus can be happier. On our vacation.”

  And so demons could stop trying to kill Magnus, and Magnus would be free from dark rumors and the darker threat posed by the Clave. That too would make Magnus happier, Alec was sure.

  “Right,” Isabelle said. “Actually, that’s why I called. I sent a carefully worded message to Aline Penhallow, but she’s not in Idris right now and she can’t help. So I haven’t been able to turn up much, but I did some digging around in the Institute archives. We don’t have a big section on cults. There aren’t that many in New York. Probably because of real estate prices. In any case, I did turn up a copy of an original manuscript that might help you. I took photos of some pages. I’ll e-mail them to you.”

  “Thanks, Izzy,” said Alec.

  Isabelle hesitated. “There was a frontispiece with a drawing of someone who looked awfully familiar.”

  “Was there?” said Alec.

  “Alec!”

  “Do you tell me all your secrets, Izzy?”

  Isabelle paused. “No,” she said in a softer voice. “But I’ll tell you one now. Of all the men standing in line for my attention, Simon may be my favorite.”

  Alec looked across hedgerows, glowing green in the cool Italian evening, and white marble statues to Magnus, who was striking poses in imitation of the statues. Shinyun could not smile, but Alec thought she must want to. Nobody could help liking Magnus.

  “All right,” Alec said. “Of all the men standing in line for my attention, Magnus is definitely my favorite.”

  Isabelle squealed in outrage. Alec grinned.

  “I’m so glad to hear you sound like this,” Isabelle said in a sudden rush. “And I won’t pry. I just want you to know that any secrets you have, I keep. You can trust me.”

  Alec remembered the old days and the old fears, the way Isabelle had occasionally tried to start conversations about boys and let Alec shut them down. He had always snapped at her, terrified to speak and have someone hear, but sometimes at night when he thought about the possibility of being disowned by his parents, rejected by the Clave, hated by Jace and Max, his only comfort was that his sister knew, and she still loved him.

  Alec closed his eyes and told her, “I always have.”

  He had to tell Magnus, then, that he’d mentioned the Crimson Hand to Isabelle.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as soon as he did. “I’m used to telling her everything.”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” said Magnus instantly, but there was misery on his face again, misery he was trying to hide but that Alec could see perfectly well. “I need to—look, tell your sister anything you like. Tell anyone anything you want.”

  “Wow,” said Shinyun. “That’s extremely rash, Magnus. There is trust and then there is just foolishness. Do you want to be thrown in prison by the Clave?”

  “No, I don’t,” Magnus snapped.

  Alec wanted to tell Shinyun to shut up, but he knew Magnus wanted him to be kind to her. So he didn’t tell Shinyun to shut up.

  Instead he said, “When we get to Rome, I was thinking I should go to the Rome Institute.”

  “So Magnus can get thrown in prison—” Shinyun began, this time angrily.

  “No!” said Alec. “I was going to get more weapons. And carefully and discreetly ask if there’s any word of demon-summoning activities that might lead us to the Crimson Hand. All we know is that we’re going to Rome. It’s a big city. But I was thinking, it’d be better if—if I went on my own. They won’t be suspicious of me.”

  Shinyun opened her mouth.

  “Do it,” said Magnus.

  “You’re out of your mind,” said Shinyun.

  “I trust him,” said Magnus. “More than you. More than anybody.”

  Alec worried that Magnus’s trust was misplaced when they found an Internet café near the Boboli Gardens and printed out what Isabelle had sent him. Which turned out to be a scan of the first few pages of the Red Scrolls of Magic.

  “Not to be overdramatic,” said Magnus, “but—aaaargh. Aaaargh. Why! I cannot believe we broke into a secret sanctum in a creepy dungeon to find something your sister would e-mail us the next day.”

  Alec looked at the page on the glorious history of the Crimson Hand, in which the Great Poison commanded his followers to paint white stripes on horses and make the wooden mouse the national animal of Morocco.

  “It is ironic,” he admitted.

  “It’s not,” said Shinyun. “That’s not what irony—”

  Magnus gave her a look of fury and she stopped.

  Alec shrugged. “No harm having another copy. Shinyun’s reading the book. Now I can read it too.”

  It had to be easier reading than the map. As they walked b
ack toward the car, Magnus glanced at Alec and tossed his keys from hand to hand.

  “We’ll go faster if two of us are sharing driving duties,” Alec offered hopefully.

  “Ever driven stick before?”

  Alec hesitated. “Can’t be harder than shooting a bow and arrow while riding a horse at a full gallop.”

  “It’s definitely not,” said Magnus. “Besides, you have superhuman reflexes. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  He threw Alec the keys and slid into the passenger’s seat with a smile. Alec grinned and jogged over to the driver’s seat.

  Magnus suggested some practice loops in the parking lot.

  “You have to lift your left foot as you’re applying gas with the right foot,” he said. Alec looked at him.

  “Oh no,” he said dryly. “I have to move both feet at the same time. How can I possibly handle such demands of my agility.” He turned back, applied the gas, and was rewarded with a high-pitched screech, like a banshee in a trap. Magnus smiled but did not say anything.

  Soon enough, of course, Alec was maneuvering competently around the lot.

  “Ready to take the show on the road?” Magnus asked.

  Alec only answered with a smile as he peeled out. A whoop of delight and surprise escaped from his throat as the Maserati fishtailed on the narrow street. They turned onto a straightaway and Alec punched the acceleration.

  “We’re going very fast,” said Shinyun. “Why are we going so fast?”

  The low friendly growl of the little red convertible filled the air. Alec glanced over to see Magnus put on his sunglasses and rest his elbow on the door as he leaned over the side and smiled at the rush of the wind across his face.

  Alec was glad to be able to give Magnus a break. Also, he hadn’t realized this kind of wild, dramatic driving was a thing available to him. When he thought of cars he thought of Manhattan: far too many vehicles, not nearly enough road, chugging slowly and unhappily through the veins of the city. There, being on foot was liberation. Here in the Tuscan countryside, though, this car was its own kind of liberation, a thrilling kind. He looked over at his unbearably handsome boyfriend, hair blown back and eyes closed behind his shades. Sometimes, his life was okay. He willfully ignored the grumpy warlock ride-along in the backseat.

  For the next hour, they followed the Apennines through the heart of Tuscany. To their left were sunset-soaked golden fields spanning to the horizon, and to their right were rows of stone villas on hilltops overlooking a green vineyard sea. Cypress trees whispered in the wind.

  It was black night by the time they reached what Magnus said was called the Chianti mountain range. Alec didn’t look. He felt pretty confident handling the Maserati by now, but managing a stick shift along the many sharp turns while driving near the edge of a cliff in the dark was an entirely separate and existentially threatening experience.

  What made the situation even more harrowing was that the headlights only bought them a few dozen feet of visibility, so all they could see were a narrow stretch of road in front, the sheer face of the mountain, and the cliff edge that led to the open sky. Only one of those options was any good.

  Alec managed to downshift correctly on the first few turns, but sweat stung his eyes.

  “Are you all right?” Magnus asked.

  “I’m great,” Alec said quickly.

  He fought demons for a living. This was driving, a thing even mundanes did without any unusual talents or sense-enhancing runes. All he had to do was focus.

  He was holding on to the steering wheel too tight, and he jerked the stick every time he had to shift around a hard turn.

  Alec mistimed a particularly difficult bend that sent the car veering out of control. He tried to punch the accelerator and even out but ended up hitting the brake, sending them spinning down a steep decline.

  The vista before them was not a welcome sight. It meant they were going right off a cliff.

  Alec threw an arm up to shield Magnus, and Magnus grabbed his arm. Alec had felt this strange connected feeling once before, on a ship in troubled waters: Magnus reaching out for him, needing his strength. He turned his hand under Magnus’s hand and linked their fingers, feeling nothing but the warm strong impulse to reach back.

  The car had just skidded off the road and dipped over the side when it came to a sudden stop, the two spinning front wheels touching nothing but air and soft blue magic. It hovered for a moment and then righted itself and rolled back onto the narrow dirt path next to the road.

  “I told you we were going too fast,” said Shinyun mildly from the backseat.

  Alec held on fast to Magnus’s hand, his own clasped against Magnus’s chest. A warlock’s heart beat differently from a human’s. Magnus’s heartbeat was a reassurance in the dark. Alec already knew it well.

  “It’s just a tiny little cliff,” said Magnus. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

  Alec and Magnus got out of the car. Magnus threw his arms out wide as if he was going to embrace the night sky. Alec walked to the cliff’s edge and looked over, whistling at the long, sheer drop down to the ravine. He looked off to the side at a small dirt trail leading to a clearing jutting out from the cliff. He beckoned to Magnus. “It’s pretty dangerous driving at night. Maybe we should stay here.”

  Magnus looked around. “Just . . . here?”

  “Camping could be fun,” said Alec. “We can toast marshmallows. You’d need to summon supplies from somewhere, of course.”

  Shinyun had climbed out of the car and was coming over to join them. “Let me guess,” she said to Magnus in flat tones. “Darling, your idea of camping is when the hotel doesn’t have a minibar.”

  Magnus blinked at her.

  “I beat you to that joke,” Shinyun informed him.

  Magnus lifted his eyes to the night sky. Alec could see the silver curve of a crescent moon reflected in the gold of his eyes. It matched the sudden curve of Magnus’s smile.

  “All right,” said Magnus. “Let’s have fun.”

  ALEC PUT DOWN HIS COPY of the Red Scrolls of Magic to behold the campsite Magnus had conjured. He’d assumed Magnus would conjure up accommodations that would be spacious enough to sleep two comfortably and tall enough for them to stand without hunching over. At least that was what Shinyun had done when she had summoned her own tent, at her insistence.

  What Magnus had erected was not so much a tent as a pavilion, complete with curtains and scalloped edging. The spacious living quarters had two bedrooms, a bathroom, a common area, and a sitting room. Alec made a loop around the massive goatskin structure and discovered the kitchen was set up in the back next to a covered deck area complete with a dining set. An ancient Roman-legion Aquila standard was staked next to the front door as a final touch, in tribute to what Magnus said was his “When in Rome” theme.

  Magnus opened the back flap and strolled out, looking satisfied. “What do you think?”

  “It’s cool,” said Alec. “But I can’t help wondering . . . where did you get this much goatskin?”

  Magnus shrugged. “All you need to know is, I believe in magic, not cruelty.”

  There was the sound of suction, and then a monstrous structure appeared out of thin air, blowing a ring of dust outward in every direction. Where Shinyun’s tent had been now stood a two-story treehouse that blotted out a third of the sky. Shinyun walked out of her upgraded living arrangements and glanced in Magnus’s direction.

  They had engaged in an increasingly less subtle game of one-upmanship ever since they had tried on clothing at Le Mercerie, supporting Alec’s theory that perhaps all warlocks tested each other’s power, in a magic version of sibling rivalry. Magnus was clearly playing. Alec suspected that Shinyun took the game a little more seriously, but he was loyally of the opinion that Magnus was the superior warlock.

  “Love the turrets,” Magnus called over cheerfully. It was hard to defeat Magnus with excess, Alec thought. He would just admire it. “Fancy a midnight snack?”

  The
y congregated at the fire pit on the other end of camp, just a few feet away from the cliff’s edge. Magnus had originally built it, and Shinyun had improved on it, so it was like a pyre for a Viking funeral. The gigantic blaze looked as if they were trying to send a signal up to Valhalla.

  Below the partially covered moon, a flotilla of clouds drifted in front of Mount Corno, the tallest in the Apennine Range. A swarm of fireflies danced just above their heads, and nature had come alive all around them, with crickets chirping and owls hooting to a steady rhythm while the low, wary whistle of the wind floated up from the valley below. Somewhere in the distance, a pack of wolves joined the night symphony with a chorus of howls.

  “They sound lonely,” said Shinyun.

  “No,” said Alec. “They’re together. They’re hunting.”

  “You’re the expert on that,” Shinyun observed. “I was alone once, and hunted.”

  “You were also in a cult once,” Alec pointed out, then bit his lip.

  An edge appeared in Shinyun’s voice. “Tell me, Shadowhunter, where are the Nephilim when Downworlders are in trouble?”

  “Shielding us,” said Magnus. “You saw Alec in Venice.”

  “He was there because he’s with you,” Shinyun snapped. “If he hadn’t been with you, he wouldn’t have been there. They stalk us, and hurt us, and leave us. When was it decided that a warlock child is worth less than the children of the Angel?”

  Alec did not know what to say. She threw up her hands and stood up.

  “I apologize,” she said. “I am on edge with our destination so close at hand. I will retire for the evening. I have to rest. We reach Rome tomorrow. Who knows what will await us there?”

  Shinyun gave them a curt nod and then walked off to her giant tent, leaving Magnus and Alec alone by the fire.

  “I suspect Shinyun may be a ‘no’ on the rousing fireside sing-along I was planning,” said Magnus.