The Red Scrolls of Magic

“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 over 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.”