It was Emma and Julian, looking at each other.
Someone was calling for them from downstairs. Clary brushed away a tear and got up and smoothed her already smooth dress.
“This is like a wedding,” she said. “I feel like they’re going to tell us we have to go pose for the photographer in a minute.”
Clary hooked her arm through his.
“One thing,” he said, remembering Maia, and Jordan. “Even when I’m a Shadowhunter, I’m still going to be a little bit a Downworlder. I’m never going to turn my back on them. That’s the kind of Nephilim I want to be.”
“I wouldn’t have expected anything else,” Clary said.
Downstairs, the two new parabatai were examining each other from across the room. Emma stood on one side, wearing a brown dress covered in twining gold flowers. Julian stood on the other, twitching inside his gray suit.
“You look amazing,” Clary said to them both, and they looked down shyly.
At the Accords Hall, Jace was waiting for them on the front step, looking like Jace in a suit. Jace in a suit was unbearable. He gave Clary a look up and down.
“That dress is . . .”
He had to clear his throat. Simon enjoyed his discomfiture. Not much ever threw Jace, but Clary had always been able to throw him like a Wiffle ball on a windy day. His eyes were practically cartoon hearts.
“It’s very nice,” he said. “So how was the ceremony? What did you think?”
“Definitely more fire than a bar mitzvah,” Simon said. “More fire than a barbecue. I’m going to go with Formal Event with the Most Fire.”
Jace nodded.
“They were amazing,” Clary said. “And . . .”
She looked to Simon.
“We have news,” she said.
Jace cocked his head in interest.
“Later,” she said, smiling. “I think everyone is waiting for us to sit down.”
“Then we need to get Emma and Julian over here.”
Emma and Julian were lurking in the corner of the room, heads close, but with an awkward gap between their bodies.
“I’m going to go talk to them,” Jace said, nodding at Julian and Emma. “Give them a few words of manly, thoughtful advice.”
As soon as Jace walked away, Clary started to speak, but they were immediately joined by Magnus and Alec. Magnus was about to start guest teaching at the Academy, and they wanted to know how bad the food was. Julian’s younger brothers and sisters—Ty, Livvy, Drusilla, and Octavian—were clustered together around the table with the appetizers. Simon glanced over his shoulder and saw Jace unloading Jacely advice onto the new parabatai. There was the delicious smell of roasting meat. Large platters of it were being placed on the tables now, along with vegetables and potatoes and breads and cheeses. The wine was being poured. It was time to celebrate. It was nice, Simon thought, in the midst of all the terrible things that could happen and sometimes did happen, there was also this. There was a lot of love.
As Simon turned back, he saw Julian hurrying out of the hall. Jace returned, his arm around Emma’s shoulders.
“Everything okay?” Clary asked.
“Everything’s fine. Julian needed air. This ceremony, it’s intense. So many people. You need to eat.”
This was to Emma, who smiled, but kept looking over at the door her parabatai had just gone through. Then she turned and saw Ty running across the Hall with a tray containing an entire wheel of cheese.
“Oh,” she said, “yeah, that’s bad. He can actually eat that entire cheese, but then he’ll throw up. I’d better get that or this will end badly for Jules.”
She ran after Ty.
“They have a lot on their hands,” Jace said, watching her go. “Good thing they have each other. They always will. That’s what being parabatai is about.” He smiled at Alec, who grinned back at him in a way that lit up his whole face.
“About that parabatai business,” Clary said. “We might as well tell you the news. . . .”
Born to Endless Night
By Cassandra Clare and Sarah Rees Brennan
Magnus had left behind a sleeping child and his worn-out love, and he opened the door on a scene of absolute chaos. For a moment it seemed as if there were a thousand people in his rooms, and then Magnus realized the real situation was far worse.
—Born to Endless Night
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to Endless Night
—“Auguries of Innocence,” William Blake
Magnus believed that many old things were creations of enduring beauty. The pyramids. Michelangelo’s David. Versailles. Magnus himself.
However, just because something was old and imbued with years of tradition did not make it a work of art. Not even if you were Nephilim and thought having the blood of the Angel meant your stuff was better than anybody else’s.
Shadowhunter Academy was not a creation of enduring beauty. Shadowhunter Academy was a dump.
Magnus did not enjoy the countryside in early spring, before winter had truly ended. The whole landscape was as monochrome as an old movie, without the narrative energy. Dark gray fields rolled under a pale gray sky, and trees were stripped down to gray claws clutching for the rain clouds. The Academy matched its surroundings, squatting in the landscape like a great stone toad.
Magnus had been here a few times before, visiting friends. He had not liked it. He remembered walking long ago under the cold eyes of students who had been trained in the dark, narrow ways of Clave and Covenant, and who were too young to realize the world might be more complicated than that.
At least back then the place had not been falling down. Magnus stared at one of the slender towers that stood at each of the four corners of the Academy. It was not standing up straight; in fact, it looked like a poor relation of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
Magnus stared at it, concentrated, and snapped his fingers. The tower leaped back into place as if it were a crouching person who had suddenly straightened up. There was a faint series of cries issuing from the tower windows. Magnus had not realized there were people inside. This struck him as unsafe.
Well, the inhabitants of the formerly leaning tower would soon realize he had done them a favor. Magnus eyed the angel in the stained-glass window set above the door. The angel stared down at him, sword blazing and face censorious, as if he disapproved of Magnus’s dress sense and was going to ask him to change.
Magnus walked under the judgmental angel and into the stone hall, whistling softly. The hall was empty. It was still very early in the morning, which perhaps explained some of the grayness. Magnus hoped the day would brighten before Alec arrived.
He had left his boyfriend in Alicante, at his father’s house. Alec’s sister, Isabelle, was staying there too. Magnus had slept uneasily at the Inquisitor’s house last night, and said he would leave them to have breakfast alone—just the family. For years he and Robert and Maryse Lightwood had arranged their lives so that they never saw each other unless duty called or large cash payments for Magnus beckoned.
Magnus was fairly sure Robert and Maryse missed those days and wished they would come back. Magnus knew they would never have chosen him for their son, and even if their son had to date a man, they would have preferred not a Downworlder, and certainly not a Downworlder who had been around during the days of Valentine’s Circle and seen them at a time in their lives they were not proud of now.
For himself Magnus did not forget. He might love one Shadowhunter, but it was impossible to love them all. He expected many more years politely avoiding and, when necessary, politely tolerating Alec’s parents. It was a very small price to pay to be with Alec.
Just now he had escaped Robert Lightwood and had a chance to inspect the rooms Magnus had requested the Academy prepare for them. From the state of the rest of the Acade
my, Magnus had dark forebodings about these rooms.
He ran lightly up the stairs in that silent, echoing place. He knew where he was going. He had agreed to come and give a series of guest lectures at the request of his old friend Catarina Loss, but he was, after all, the High Warlock of Brooklyn and he had certain standards. He had no intention of leaving his boyfriend for weeks. He had made it clear that he required a suite for himself and for Alec, and that the suite had to include a kitchen. He was not going to eat any of the meals Catarina had described in her letters. If possible, he intended to avoid even seeing any of the meals Catarina had described.
The map Catarina had drawn him was accurate: He found their rooms at the top of the building. The connected attic rooms could, Magnus guessed, possibly count as a suite. And there was a little kitchen, though Magnus feared it had not been updated since the 1950s. There was a dead mouse in the sink.
Maybe someone had left it there to welcome them. Maybe it was a festive gift.
Magnus wandered through the rooms, waving a hand that encouraged the windows and countertops to wash themselves. He snapped his fingers and sent the dead mouse as a present to his cat, Chairman Meow. Maia Roberts, the leader of the New York werewolf pack, was cat-sitting for them. Magnus hoped she would think Chairman Meow was a mighty hunter.
Then he opened the little refrigerator. The heavy door fell off, until Magnus gave it a stern look and it hopped back on. Magnus looked inside the refrigerator, waved his free hand, and saw to his satisfaction that it was now filled with many items from Whole Foods.
Alec would never have to know, and Magnus would send the money to Whole Foods later anyway. He swept through the rooms one more time, adding cushions to the bare, sad wooden chairs and heaping their multicolored blankets from home onto the lopsided canopy bed.
Emergency decorating mission accomplished and feeling far more cheerful, Magnus descended into the main hall of the Academy, hoping to find Catarina or see Alec coming. There was no sign of activity, so despite his misgivings, Magnus went to check for Catarina in the dining hall.
She was not there, but there were a few scattered Nephilim students having breakfast. Magnus supposed the poor creatures had gotten up early to throw javelins or some other unsavory business.
There was a thin blond girl heaping a gray substance that could have been porridge or eggs onto her plate. Magnus watched with silent horror as she carried it toward a table, acting as if she actually intended to eat it.
Then she noticed Magnus.
“Oh, hello,” said the blonde, stopping in her tracks as if she had been hit by a beautiful truck.
He gave her his most charming smile. Why not? “Hello.”
Magnus had been around the block before blocks were invented. He was familiar with what this look meant. People had undressed him with their eyes before.
He was impressed with the intensity of this particular look. It was rarer for people to rip off his clothes and send them flying to various corners of the room with their eyes.
They were not even particularly exciting clothes. Magnus had decided to dress with quiet dignity, as befitted an educator, and was wearing a black shirt and tailored pants. He was also, for that stylish educator touch, wearing a short robe over the shirt, but the glittering gold thread running through the robe was very subtle.
“You must be Magnus Bane,” the blonde said. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Simon.”
“I can’t blame him for bragging,” said Magnus.
“We’re so glad to have you here,” continued the blonde. “I’m Julie. I’m practically Simon’s best friend. I’m very cool with Downworlders.”
“How nice for us Downworlders,” Magnus murmured.
“I’m very excited for your lectures. And to spend time together. You, me, and Simon.”
“Won’t that be a party,” said Magnus.
She was trying, at least, and not all Nephilim did. And she mentioned Simon every other breath, despite Simon being a mundane. Besides, the attention was flattering. Magnus turned the smile up another notch.
“I look forward to getting to know you better, Julie.”
It was possible he misjudged the smile. Julie reached out a hand as if to take Magnus’s, and dropped her tray. She and Magnus looked down at the broken bowl and the sad, gray contents.
“It’s better this way,” Magnus said with conviction.
He gestured, and the whole mess vanished. Then he gestured to Julie’s outstretched hand, and a pot of blueberry yogurt with a small spoon appeared in it.
“Oh!” Julie exclaimed. “Oh, wow, thank you.”
“Well, since the alternative was going back and getting more of the Academy food,” said Magnus, “I think you owe me big. Possibly you owe me your firstborn. But don’t worry, I’m not in the market for anybody’s firstborn.”
Julie giggled. “Do you want to sit down?”
“Thank you for the offer, but actually, I was looking for someone.”
Magnus surveyed the room, which was slowly filling up. He still did not see Catarina, but at the door he saw Alec, with the air of someone newly arrived and talking to a mundane Indian boy who looked about sixteen.
He caught Alec’s eye and smiled.
“There’s my someone,” he said. “Lovely to meet you, Julie.”
“Likewise, Magnus,” she assured him.
As Magnus approached Alec, the other boy shook Alec’s hand. “I just wanted to say thanks,” the boy said, and left, with a nod to Magnus.
“Do you know him?” Magnus asked.
Alec looked mildly dazed. “No,” he said. “But he knew all about me. We were talking about—all the ways there are to be a Shadowhunter, you know?”
“Check you out,” said Magnus. “My famous boyfriend, inspiration to the masses.”
Alec smiled, a little embarrassed but mostly amused. “So, that girl was flirting with you.”
“Really?” Magnus asked. “How could you tell?”
Alec gave him a skeptical look.
“Well, it has been known to happen. I’ve been around for a long time,” said Magnus. “I’ve also been gorgeous for a long time.”
“Is that so?” said Alec.
“I’m in high demand. What are you going to do about it?”
He could not, and would not, have teased Alec like this years ago. Alec had been new to love, stumbling through his own terror at who he was and how he felt, and Magnus had been as careful with him as he knew how to be, afraid to hurt Alec and afraid to shatter this feeling between them, new to Magnus as it was to Alec.
It was a recent joy to be able to tease Alec and know he would not hurt him, to see Alec standing in a different way than he used to, easy and casual and confident in his own skin, with none of his parabatai’s swagger but with a quiet assurance all his own.
The dimly lit stone dining room, the clatter of students eating and gossiping, faded away, nothing but background to Alec’s smile.
“This,” said Alec. He reached out and tugged Magnus to him by the front of his robe, leaning back against the door frame and drawing Magnus slowly in for a kiss.
Alec’s mouth was soft and sure, the kiss slow, his strong hands holding Magnus close, pressed along the warm line of his body. Behind Magnus’s closed eyelids, the morning turned from gray to gold.
Alec was here. Even a hell dimension, as Magnus recalled, had been greatly improved by Alec’s presence. Shadowhunter Academy was going to be a snap.
Simon came up late to breakfast and found Julie capable of talking about nothing but Magnus Bane.
“Warlocks are sexy,” she said in the tones of one who had had a revelation.
“Ms. Loss is our teacher, and I am trying to eat.” Beatriz stared dispiritedly at her plate.
“Vampires are gross and dead, werewolves are gross and hairy, and faeries are treacherous and would sleep with your mom,” said Julie. “Warlocks are the sexy Downworlders. Think about it. They all have daddy issues. And Magnus Bane is
the sexiest of them all. He can be High Warlock of my pants.”
“Uh, Magnus has a boyfriend,” said Simon.
There was a frightening glint in Julie’s eye. “There are some mountains you still want to climb, even though there are ‘No Trespassing’ signs up.”
“I think that’s gross,” said Simon. “You know, the way you think vampires are.”
Julie made a face at him. “You’re so sensitive, Simon. Why must you always be so sensitive?”
“You’re so terrible, Julie,” said Simon. “Why must you always be so terrible?”
Alec had been with Magnus, Julie reported. Simon was thinking more about that than Julie’s terribleness, which after all was not anything new. Alec was going to be staying at the Academy for weeks. He usually saw Alec in crowds of people, and it had never seemed the right time to talk to him. It was the right time now. It was time to talk it out, the problem between them that Jace had hinted at so darkly. He didn’t want there to be something wrong between him and Alec, who seemed like a good guy from what Simon could remember. Alec was Isabelle’s big brother, and Isabelle was—he was almost certain—Simon’s girlfriend.
He wanted her to be.
“Should we try to get a little archery practice in before class?” George asked.
“That’s jock talk, George,” said Simon. “I’ve asked you not to do that. But sure.”
They all got up, pushing their bowls aside, and walked to the front doors of the Academy, heading for the practice grounds.
That was the plan, but none of them made it to the practice grounds that day. None of them made it past the threshold of the Academy. They all stood on the front step, in a horrified cluster.
On the stone of the front step was a bundle, wrapped in a fuzzy yellow blanket. Simon’s eyes failed him in a way that had nothing to do with his glasses and everything to do with panic, refusing to register what was actually before him. It’s a bundle of junk, Simon told himself. Someone had left a parcel of garbage on their doorstep.
Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy Page 42
