Blood of the Hunt

Blood of the Hunt - Chapter 15

Morning light filtered through the sheer curtains pulled across the window of Alec's borrowed guestroom and sparkled off tiny dust motes in the air like impromptu glitter. Alec felt the familiar pang of missing Magnus with a hitch in his gut. Seraphine had arrived to take over the warlock's seat on the Council, but her half-brother still remained within the Spiral Labyrinth to continue his search for a cure for her while he readied the base of Jiahao's concoction.

He scrubbed a hand back through his dark hair and sighed. As he had not received any messages in the night telling him that the Adamant Citadel had been burned down, he had to assume that the Iron Sisters had at least agreed to listen to Clary and Sera. If they were successful, Cassius would try his luck in Deep Faerie, and Magnus would be ready the moment he had the final two pieces of the puzzle. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. So much to do, so little time.

Alec pulled on a pair of dark socks without really paying attention, distracted by his husband's absence. If Magnus had been here, he probably would have been insisting on coordinating their sock choices and advising what style of belt Alec should wear for the occasion. Instead, the room was quiet around him. He rose from the edge of the four-poster bed and caught a glimpse of himself in the rectangular stand mirror in the corner. With a sigh, he conceded that his sister would refuse to let him out of the house if he failed to shave again.

In the tiny two-piece ensuite bathroom attached to his guestroom, he started filling the sink with warm water. He noted the familiar pattern of scars and runes across his bare torso, a road map of the life he had lived so far. A gentler road in recent years, to be sure, but still not without its own risks. He wet his face absently as he let his eyes linger on the thicker ridges that traced the paths of the claws and teeth that had gotten through his defenses over the years, ugly tributes to the times when he had misjudged his position or overestimated his own abilities. He knew he wasn't perfect.

Definitely not perfect, Alec mused to himself ruefully when he let his eyes skim past the shiny patch of recently burned flesh where he had seared off the rune that had kept him under house arrest before the destruction of Alicante. I've made plenty of mistakes.

He lathered the shaving cream over where his facial hair had only recently begun to grow in flecked with salt and pepper. It was only a matter of time before he would start greying at his temples as his father had done, and then Magnus would fuss outwardly while he fretted inwardly. They had long ago made peace with Alec's mortality, but it didn't lessen the dread that accompanied the slow march of time. It was days like today that made it seem so much more important that they had lived life together as fully as they had. Bitterly, he wished there was some way to know if what he was trying to do was leading him down the right path or right off a cliff. If the circumstances had been different, he might have even asked Sera to see what she could see with her strange gift, but it was far too dangerous for her to walk the dream world now that the Unseelie King was watching for her.

The first pass of the razor felt clean and crisp, the blade as sharp as any weapon he had carried, and he swirled the shaving cream off in the water with the satisfaction of having cleared a strip through the scruff that had grown during his negligence. It was oddly cathartic to stand over the sink and shave away not only the stubble, but also the fears and doubts that had been plaguing him. It was one thing to know in his heart that what he was doing was right, but it was another thing entirely to stake the future of the Nephilim on it.

Uncertainty had chewed at the edges of his resolve the pervious night while wearing faces from the past. Valentine Morgenstern's smug smile had leered back at him in the mirror while he had wrestled with the decisions that had brought him to this point. And what makes you so very different from me, the phantom memory had taunted.