The Red Scrolls of Magic

As he did, Magnus whispered, “God, I love Shadowhunters.”

Alec said again, “I’m glad.”

His mouth was soft and warm, a contradiction with his strong hands until it was not, until the kiss became both encircling comfort and burning urgency. Magnus pulled back eventually, gasping for breath, because the other choice was pulling Alec down into the grass and the dark.

He couldn’t do that. Alec had never done anything like this before. On their first night in Paris, Magnus had woken in the early hours to find Alec still awake and pacing the floor. He knew that Alec must worry sometimes about what he’d gotten himself into. The decision about whether to take things further had to be entirely Alec’s.

Alec asked in a strained voice: “Do you think we could skip the cabaret?”

“What cabaret?” said Magnus.

They took off, out of the park and toward the general direction of Magnus’s apartment, stopping twice because they got turned around by the narrow streets of the city and twice more to make out in dimly lit alleys. They would have become a great deal more lost if not for Alec’s keen sense of direction. Shadowhunters were so useful when traveling. Magnus planned to never again leave home without one.

He had been a revolutionary and a bad painter in this apartment, had been robbed of his life’s savings here in the eighteenth century. It was the first time he had been rich and had lost everything. Magnus had lost everything a few more times since then.

These days he was based in Brooklyn, and the Paris apartment stood empty save for the memories. He kept it for sentimental reasons, and because trying to find a hotel during Paris Fashion Week was its own special bonus level of Hell.

Not bothering with keys, Magnus flicked a finger at the front door and used what little magic reserves he had left to swing it open. He and Alec entered the building still kissing, fetching up against the walls and stumbling up four flights of stairs. His apartment door slammed open with a loud bang and they spilled inside.

The velvet blazer didn’t even make it inside his apartment, since Alec tore it off and dropped it in the hallway just short of the front door. As they crossed the threshold, he was ripping Magnus’s shirt open. Cuff links and buttons chimed distantly against the floorboards. Magnus was savagely unzipping the leather jacket as he pressed Alec against the arm of the sofa and tipped him over onto the cushions. Alec fell with easy grace onto his back, pulling Magnus down on top of him.

Magnus kissed the Equilibrium rune, then the Stamina rune. Alec’s body arched beneath him, and his hands tightened on Magnus’s shoulders.

Alec’s voice was insistent as he said something something “Magnus” something something.

“Alexander,” Magnus murmured back, and felt Alec’s body surge underneath his in response. Alec’s hands locked on his shoulders. Magnus studied him with sudden concern.

Alec, wide-eyed, was staring off to the side. “Magnus. Over there.”

Magnus followed Alec’s gaze and realized they had company. There was a figure sitting on the purple love seat opposite them. In the shimmer of city lights through the window, Magnus saw a woman with a cloud of brown hair, startled gray eyes, and the beginnings of a familiar wry smile.

Magnus said, “Tessa?”



CHAPTER THREE



* * *



The Crimson Hand



THE THREE OF THEM SAT in the living room in uncomfortable silence. Alec was sitting on the other end of the sofa, far from Magnus. Nothing was going according to plan tonight.

“Tessa!” Magnus said again, marveling. “Aren’t you unexpected. And uninvited.”

Tessa sat and sipped her tea, looking perfectly composed. Since she was one of Magnus’s dearest and oldest friends, he felt it would be nice if she looked even slightly apologetic. She did not.

“You told me once that you would not forgive me if I didn’t drop by whenever I found myself in the same city as you.”

“I would have forgiven you,” Magnus said with conviction. “I would have thanked you.”

Tessa glanced Alec’s way. Alec was blushing. The ends of Tessa’s lips curled up, but she was kind and hid her smile behind her teacup.

“Call it even,” said Tessa. “You once walked in on me in an embarrassing situation with a gentleman in a mountain fortress, after all.”

Her half-concealed smile flickered. She looked again at Alec, who had inherited his coloring from Shadowhunters long gone. Shadowhunters Tessa had loved.

“You should let that go,” Magnus advised.

Tessa was a warlock like Magnus, and like Magnus, she was used to overcoming the memory of what had been loved and lost. They were in the longtime habit of comforting each other. She took another sip of tea, her smile restored as if it had never been gone.

“I certainly have let it go,” she replied. “Now.”

Alec, who was watching this back-and-forth as if sitting center court in a tennis match, raised a hand. “I’m sorry, but did you two used to date?”

That stopped the conversation dead in its tracks. Both Tessa and Magnus turned to him with identical looks of shock.

“You seem more horrified than I do,” Magnus told Tessa, “and somehow I am deeply wounded.”

Tessa gave Magnus a tiny smile, then turned to Alec. “Magnus and I have been friends for more than a hundred years.”