The Malec Chronicles

The Demon Hour

The letter appeared on his desk, still burning, sparks flying off the paper at a fast enough pace that Magnus couldn't avoid the way the tiny pinpricks of heat bit into his fingers. Still, the pain was more of a nuisance than anything, and he scanned the message for the important bits- Alec Lightwood, one of my charges, greater demon poisoning, Valentine's return, you know what kind of man I am, Magnus, but I also know the kind of man you are. Magnus lets the paper flutter to the ground, ignoring the way that the still smoldering corners were singing black marks into the fabric of his favorite (albeit stolen) rug, not bothering to read the rest. He had a feeling that he knew what it would say.

He has promised me freedom. The words stare up at the empty room, in the neat, curling handwriting of a man that has done nothing but study for years. I was not enough of a fool to turn that down, or to turn my back on him. There will be time for others to fix that later, but now a boy -one that I claimed responsibility for, one I loved as my own son, surely more than his own father does- is dying. I am asking you to come, and know that you will. With regret, Starkweather.

The bell rings at the institute, and after a few seconds where Magnus stares at the door like that could let him see what was going on inside, it flings open, banging into the wall behind it with a thud that echoes in the empty hall. "Thank God!" Isabelle wavers on the heels of her boots for a moment and then she flings her arms around him, clutching at him in a hug that knocks the wind out of him. "How'd you know to come?"

Magnus stares at her, taking in the still perfect hair and the ichor burn on her cheek, the coil of her electrum whip wrapped around her arm tight enough to leave marks, and the blood coating her, so much blood, all of it her brothers and a much too great of an amount. She does not seem on the verge of breaking, there are no cracks in her surface, but he can see the tension in her shoulders and the underlying strain in her voice.

"Later," Magnus says, wishing only to spare her the pain that comes with betrayal, especially the ache of one that comes when it is someone that is supposed to protect you that turns their back on you. It might have been this wish to spare her pain that had him reaching up to brush his fingers over her cheek, letting a few strands of magic seep out, just enough to sooth the burn. It was magic that would have been better conserved until he saw what condition the other boy was in (Alec, the blue eyed one at the party, who said that Magnus was good and could not have helped all those horrible things he had to do) but he thinks that there was nothing the elder Lightwood would want more than to spare his little sister pain. "How's Alec?"

It appeared to be a stupid question.

Alec, it seemed, was dying.

Not dying as in a small amount of dying that could easily be fixed, but a painful struggle to breathe kind of dying, the kind that would sap all of Magus' strength and use all of his magic, not even giving him enough time to cast a spell to lessen the pain. Alec comes back to consciousness with a groan, his head rolling to one side so he could look at Magnus. His eyes were still the brightest blue Magnus had ever seen, but his skin was covered in sweat and his hair was matted in blood, pain drawing lines across his face that made him look much older than he was. And his chest... his chest was a gaping hole, with blackish blood seeping out. The skin seemed to be peeling away from his as Magnus watched, and as the seconds ticked on, Alec turned an alarming shade of green before tilting his head to gag on the contents of an empty stomach.

"Oh, Alec darling," Magnus said, cradling Alec's cheek in the palm of his hand. He had sent Izzy away, told her that she would just slow down the healing process if she was in the room. "This is going to hurt."

Alec didn't seem to concerned, just placed one blood smeared hand over Magnus', like he was trying to convey that it was alright with him. Magnus pulled back, wincing as he stared down at the wound, but he did not hesitate before summoning the magic that was always pooled at his fingertips, filling the room with electric blue light. It doesn't matter much to him, Magnus reasoned with himself, trying to block out the cry that Alec made as the first bit of poison was stopped and reversed in its tracks, making its way back towards the wound. Magnus had to draw out the poison before anything else, if Alec had any hope of healing.