The Red Scrolls of Magic

The faerie Hyacinth caught one radiant stream of magic and whirled, holding on to it as if the light were a ribbon on a maypole. The vampire woman in the violet cheongsam, Lily, was dancing with another vampire who Alec presumed was Elliott, given the blue and green stains around his mouth and all down his shirtfront. Malcolm Fade joined in the dance with Hyacinth, though he appeared to be doing a jig and she seemed very puzzled. The blue warlock who Magnus had called Catarina was waltzing with a tall horned faerie. The dark-skinned faerie whom Magnus had addressed as a prince was surrounded by others whom Alec presumed were courtiers, dancing in a circle around him.

Magnus laughed as he saw Hyacinth using his magic like a ribbon, and sent shimmering streamers of blue light in several directions. Catarina batted away Magnus’s magic, her own hand glowing faintly white. The two vampires Lily and Elliott both let a magic ribbon wrap around one of their wrists. They did not seem like trusting types, but they instantly leaned into Magnus with perfect faith, Lily pretending to be a captive and Elliott shimmying enthusiastically as Magnus laughed and pulled them toward him in the dance. Music and starshine filled the room, and Magnus shone brightest in all that bright company.

As Alec made for the stairs, he brushed past Raphael Santiago, who was leaning against the balcony rail and looking down at the dancing crowd, his dark eyes lingering on Lily and Elliott and Magnus. There was a tiny smile on the vampire’s face. When Raphael noticed Alec, the scowl snapped immediately back on.

“I find such wanton expressions of joy disgusting,” he declaimed.

“If you say so,” said Alec. “I like it myself.”

He reached the foot of the stairs and was crossing the gleaming ballroom floor when a voice boomed out from above.

“This is DJ Bat, greatest werewolf DJ in the world, or at least in the top five, coming to you live from Venice because warlocks make irresponsible financial decisions, and this one is for the lovers! Or people with friends who will dance with them. Some of us are lonely jerks, and we’ll be doing shots at the bar.”

A slow, sweet song with a shivery beat began. Alec would not have thought the dance floor could become more crowded, but it happened. Dozens of masked Downworlders in formal wear who had been standing near the walls converged on the floor. Alec found himself standing awkwardly alone in the center of the room as couples twirled around him. Crowns of thorns and towering multicolored feathers blocked his vision. He looked around in alarm for an escape route.

“May I have this dance, sir?”

Instead he saw Magnus, all in white and silver.

“I was coming to find you,” said Alec.

“I saw you coming.” Magnus pushed his mask halfway up his face. “We found each other.”

He moved in close to Alec, one hand settling on his lower back, laced their fingers together with the other, and kissed him. The glancing touch of his mouth was like a ray of light on water, illuminating and transforming. Alec moved instinctively closer, longing to be illuminated and transformed again, then remembered, reluctantly, than they should remain on task.

“I met a Shadowhunter here called Helen Blackthorn,” he murmured against Magnus’s mouth. “She said—”

Magnus kissed him again.

“Something fascinating, I’m sure,” he said. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“What question?”

“May I have this dance?”

“Of course,” said Alec. “I mean—I would love this dance. It’s only . . . we should work this out.”

Magnus drew in a breath and nodded. “We will. Tell me.”

He had been smiling before, but the smile had faded. Instead there was a certain burdened set to his shoulders. Magnus felt guilty, Alec realized for the first time, for spoiling their vacation. Alec thought that was silly—he’d have had no vacation at all without Magnus, no shine of magic and no shocks of joy, no lights and no music.

Alec reached up and touched Magnus’s mask. He could see his own face reflected in it like a mirror, his eyes wide and blue against the glittering carnival around them. He almost did not recognize himself, he looked so happy.

Then he pushed the mask up and he could see Magnus’s face clearly. That was better.

“Let’s dance first,” he said.

He wrapped his arm around Magnus’s back, felt unsure about that, fumbled, and tried repositioning his hands on Magnus’s shoulders.

Magnus was smiling again. “Allow me.”

Alec had never given much thought to dancing before, aside from a few awkward childhood attempts with his sister or their friend Aline. Magnus slid his arm around Alec’s waist and began to dance. Alec was no dancer, but he was a fighter, and he found he intuitively understood how to respond to Magnus’s movements and how to move with them. They were suddenly synchronized, gliding across the floor as gracefully as any other couple in the room, and all at once Alec knew how it was to really dance with someone—a thing Alec had never even known to want. He’d always assumed that storybook moments like these were meant for Jace, Isabelle, anyone but him. Yet here he was.

The chandelier seemed to shine directly on them. A faerie on the balcony tossed down a handful of glittering stars. Tiny shimmering points of light settled in Magnus’s black hair and floated in the tiny space between their faces. Alec leaned forward, so their foreheads touched, and their lips met again. Magnus’s mouth was curved against Alec’s. Their smiles fitted against each other perfectly. Alec closed his eyes, but he could still see light.