The Red Scrolls of Magic

“Life is a stage, so exit in style.

“Only the faithful who make a truly great drink shall be favored.

“Offend not the Great Poison with cruel deeds or poor fashion.

“Seek the children of demons. Love them as you love your lord. Do not let the children be alone.

“In times of trouble, remember: all roads lead to Rome.”

Alec looked at Magnus, and Magnus could not entirely understand Alec’s small smile. “I think you wrote this.”

Magnus winced. It did sound like him. Like his worst self, frivolous and thoughtless, contemptuous and superior. He did not remember writing it. But he almost certainly had. He was, almost certainly, the Great Poison. He was, almost certainly, responsible for the Crimson Hand.

“It’s silly,” Shinyun remarked with disgust.

“Magnus, aren’t you relieved this is a joke?” Alec said, and Magnus realized his smile had been relief. “Why would anyone think you needed to have your memories of this taken away? It isn’t serious.”

He almost wanted to snap at Alec, though he knew it was himself he was angry at. Don’t you see what this means? The Crimson Hand might have started out as a joke, but now it was deadly serious. People were dead because of Magnus’s joke.

Magnus was responsible for more than just the cult’s existence. Shinyun was crouched on the stone before him, her wrecked life a living testament to what he had done. Magnus had told his followers to find the children of demons. He had commanded that warlock children be brought into his cult. Whatever evil the cult had done, whatever Shinyun had suffered, it was Magnus’s doing.

Soon enough Alec would realize that too. Magnus cleared his throat, and tried to make his voice light as air.

“Well, the good news is,” he said, ignoring Alec’s question, “?‘all roads lead to Rome.’ So at least we know where to go next.”

MORNING WOULD BREAK OVER VENICE soon, illuminating water and sky. The city was coming to life already. Magnus could see the storefronts opening and smell baked bread and sausages as well as brine in the air.

Morning and its transformations were not here yet. The dawn was a line of pearl above the indigo waters. The buildings and bridges were deep lavender and silver by its faint, brightening light. Magnus, Alec, Shinyun, and Malcolm, whom they had found curled up asleep on the remains of the front steps of the palazzo and brought with them, had climbed into a vacant gondola. Magnus waved the gondola in the direction of their hotel, his magic sending bright blue sparks scattering on the surface of the water.

Magnus’s party clothes were dust gray and crumpled, which was how he felt. They’d all walked quietly back through the endless corridors and doors and stairs until they had found the stars going out as the sky began to brighten over the canals. They had barely spoken, and Magnus was still avoiding Alec’s gaze. Alec was visibly exhausted. He’d abandoned his tattered jacket somewhere in the ruins of the palazzo, and he was in his shirtsleeves, face marked with dust and dirt. He’d been running and fighting and searching for the better portion of the night, trying to fix Magnus’s mistakes, diving for and shielding people with his own body as warlock magic shattered the place where they stood.

He lay at the bottom of the boat now, his back leaning against Magnus’s chest. Magnus could feel Alec’s whole body limp with weariness.

“I’m sorry you had a terrible time at the awful party,” Magnus whispered low in Alec’s ear.

“I didn’t have a terrible time,” Alec whispered back, his voice scratchy with tiredness and worry. “I was with you.”

Magnus felt Alec’s head loll back against his chest.

“Sad the party broke up so soon,” Malcolm commented.

“It’s almost time for breakfast, Malcolm. Also, the building fell down. Anyone fancy breakfast?”

“Most important meal of the day,” Alec murmured, somewhat more than half-asleep.

There was no answer from anyone, even Malcolm, who was clearly brooding on his wrongs. “I can’t believe Barnabas Hale,” Malcolm said. “He’s so rude. I’m glad he’s flouncing off to another city. Florence, was it? Or maybe . . .”

“Rome,” said Shinyun grimly.

“Oh yes,” Malcolm said brightly. “Maybe Rome.”

There was a terrible silence. It was broken when Malcolm started to sing a song, soft and off-key, about a lost love by the sea. It didn’t matter—Magnus’s thoughts were far away.

Barnabas Hale was going to Rome.

All the Crimson Hand’s roads led to Rome.

The Crimson Hand and its leader, who had been laying the blame for the cult’s current activities on Magnus, were almost certainly in Rome.

Magnus had known Barnabas Hale a long time and had never liked him. His appearance in Venice had been an unpleasant surprise. But it was a big jump from that guy is annoying to that guy is slaughtering faeries and summoning Greater Demons and tried to kill me with a Raum brood mother.

Still, Barnabas was a warlock with plenty of power. He had said he owned the palazzo, so he had wealth as well. He was someone to follow up on, in any event.

“We need sleep,” Shinyun said eventually, “and then we should get down to Rome as soon as possible.”

“The sooner we get there, the sooner Alec and I can continue our vacation,” said Magnus.