#anyothername

James could think of only one other time when he thought about challenging Magnus Bane, the high warlock of London. He was six years old, and Magnus insisted that if James didn't go to sleep when his parents told him, then he'd wake up one morning an old man. Being the stubborn child he was, James decided to test him and defied his parent's orders to go to sleep at night and instead read Mark Twain until the sky turned orange with the sunrise. That morning, he climbed out of his bed and walked into the bathroom only to find his hair had turned entirely gray, his skin was fallen and loose, and he had one tooth. His scream woke the whole house. His parents ran into his bedroom in their nightclothes with Lucie toddling in behind them. The odd thing was, they didn't see what he saw. All they could see was six-year-old James. Tessa cleaned up his tears and put him back to bed, and when he woke up several hours later, he looked himself again. He never defied Magnus Bane even when he got older and understood the warlock's clever sort of magic.

James watched as Cordelia struggled to bend over and tie her boot laces. Despite his desperation at keeping Cordelia from going to The Hell Ruelle, he couldn't stand there and watch her struggle to tie her laces. He knelt in front of her and gently pushed her hands away, and began pulling the locking the laces through the notches.

"It's not necessary for you to come along," said James, as he tightened the laces on each notch. "Magnus and I can get the key for you."

"No," said Cordelia, shaking her head, so her loose red curls brushed the sides of his face. The movement sent a waft of her scent towards him: primrose and verbena.

He inhaled deeply through his nose. "You don't trust me then."

Cold fingers touched his jaw and lifted his eyes until they landed on her. Her expression was soulful, and Ernest. It made something stir inside of him, shattering through the usual bitterness and anger that was his permanent state. "It's not that I don't trust you, James. I need to do this. I don't have much time—"She closed her eyes, and James knew she'd said too much.

"Time for what?" He pressed.

"It's not important." Her fingers dropped from his face, and she reached back down towards her shoelaces, but James was onto the next before she could reach them.

What was she not telling him? She never was a very good liar. Even when they were children, she tried to take the fault for something Lucie did to keep her out of trouble from their parents. Cordelia was too honest, too telling. There had to be more than reassessing the original Shadowhunter Codex for discrepancies. Still, he couldn't determine what else she'd want with an ancient manuscript with hundred of other copies readily and easily available to her.

"If you're doing this for my family, or Lucie, you shouldn't be," he said after finishing the laces on her second boot and rose back to his feet.

Cordelia stood with him, carefully and in considerably more discomfort. "What if I'm not doing it for anyone? What if I'm doing it for me? For my future?"

James searched her face for a tell. "Are you?"

"I'm more selfish than you think."

James recalled finding Cordelia hanging from a cliff, protecting Lucie with her own life, and shook his head. "No, you're not."

She crossed her arms and looked down at her shoes, so he almost didn't hear her when she spoke again. "You think you know me so well."

"I used to." He'd liked to get to know her now.

A smile lifted her mouth. "We were children then."

Just moments ago, he stood grappling with whether or not he could trust this grown-up version of the girl he'd dreamed about in his adolescence. And he watched her wrestle with the same, especially now that the Clave might have poisoned her against him. Except, it didn't seem at all like the Clave's opinion of Downworlders influenced her. She didn't wake up upset at the fact that she was nursed to health by Magnus, or lying on his lounge in the living room of his flat, or even that James had been the one to find her. It made him wonder.

"Yeah, but we're not so much different now, are we?"

She shrugged. "Do you still run around using baguette as swords?"

"When I'm with the right company, I might," teased James.

Cordelia grinned. "And what's the right company?"

James looked at the bright red curls that framed her face. "Red-haired rule followers."

"Oh, with Charles then?"

Shock and amusement stole a breath from James as he laughed. Moments later, Cordelia was laughing with him, and he'd spend the rest of the night trying to find a way to hear the sound again. "I can't think of worse company."

"I can think of one or two that might be worse." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "For starters, Augustus and his tyrant of a father. He cornered me just before the attack and basically blackmailed me into being his date to a Clave event."

The room seemed to shutter around James at the thought of Cordelia being Augustus Pounceby's date to anything. "Really?" His voice broke, and he quickly cleared it. "Why—why you? Can't he ask someone who will willingly go with him? Difficult as that might be." Anyone. He could ask anyone else.

"He thinks the Consul's son and the Head of the London Institute's daughter could provide him with some sort of respect from his peers. Respect he can't seem to earn on his own." She rolled her eyes. James found some relief in how ridiculous she found Augustus. "He wants it to be a statement to everyone else."

"Yeah, everyone else," said James under his breath. More like a statement to James and anyone who facilitates with him still. If the Herondale's one ally was seen in any sort of relationship with a Pounceby, it might earn him loyalty and respect from those who still opposed him. It also felt like a giant statement to James, considering Pounceby walked around the Academy talking about the "Carstairs" girl. It seemed his bullying towards James got worse after the summer holiday James and Cordelia spent together after everyone went to Egypt. James always thought it was just another thing Augustus could tease him about, but now he realized it might have been laced with jealousy.

"What was that?" Cordelia asked, breaking him from his reverie.

"Hm?"

"What you just said," answered Cordelia. "Just then, under your breath, I couldn't quite hear you."

James shook it off quickly and did his best to casually take a seat on the arm of the couch. "What did you say to him?"

"I tried to tell him that I'm not interested," said Cordelia in a bitter tone, but that's when he started threatening me."

James stilled. "Threatening you how?"

"Well it's not really me he threatened," she said, and her eyes fluttered around the room nervously. "He says that the decision to have my father be the Head of the London Institute was divided right down the middle with his father's vote being the deciding one. He says that if I don't go with him, he'll have his father retract his vote and the position will go to the next candidate."

James clenched his jaw until his teeth hurt. He planned several ways to inflict pain upon Pounceby, but all of them ended with him in irons. As long as Pounceby ended up in some sort of infirmary or flat on his arse, he'd honestly find it worth it. He wanted to leave an imprint of his knuckles right between Augustus's beady little eyes.

Cordelia sat down next to him, trying not to be too close. "Honestly, what is taking Magnus so long?"

Magnus could take all night for all James cared, especially if it meant that he could sit and talk to Cordelia for several more hours.

She leaned around him to look at the hallway entrance where Magnus had disappeared through. Their shoulders brushed, and he pressed his lips together for a moment. "Tell him you're going with someone else."

He studied her reaction. Confusion crossed her face for a moment but then morphed back into amusement. "That wouldn't go over well considering he's the first person to ask me."

"What if this other person didn't ask you, but instead asked your parents?"

Cordelia arched an eyebrow. "Who did you have in mind?"

James shrugged. "I'll think of someone. Just don't agree to anything Pounceby says, especially if he threatens you And don't be surprised if someone shows up at the institute asking to escort you to this Clave event."

Cordelia seemed to brighten. "If you manage to pull it off, I believe you'll have rescued me for a third time. What would I do without you looking out for me?"

Their eyes met and held for a moment. James could see the steady fire that flickered in Magnus's fireplace reflected in Cordelia's playful expression. Was she flirting with him? Did she want him to flirt back? Of all the quick, witty things he's said to girls in the past, he couldn't think of one clever thing to say back.

Cordelia's gaze broke away when Magnus appeared in the hallway, dressed in a glittering pair of leather pants and a grey mesh top and fingerless gloves that had studs sticking out from each knuckle. His midnight-black hair was expertly pushed back away from his face to reveal blue eyebrows combed through with glitter.

Cordelia leaned into James. "You didn't tell me it was this kind of club."

Magnus grabbed a leather bag from the coat rack and hung the strap over his shoulder. "The Hell Ruelle is every kind of club. Are you two ready? My source says that Hypatia will be at the club tonight but only for an hour before she's due to leave again, so if we're going to make this happen, we need to leave now."

Cordelia stood, and James reluctantly followed.

Magnus threw a piece of cloth at Cordelia. "Hurry up and put this on. We should have left fifteen minutes ago."

"We were waiting on you—"started Cordelia, but Magnus just pointed at the bathroom across the room.

James stood by the door with Magnus while Cordelia got dressed and contemplated how the night had gotten entirely out of his hands. When he brought Cordelia back to Magnus's, he hadn't expected that it would somehow lead to them going to the Hell Ruelle to steal from Hypatia Vex— his employer. If she found out he helped them steal from her, then she'd stop giving him business— or worse. He had to stay hidden tonight.

"Penny for your brooding thoughts?" Asked Magnus from where he leaned against the wall by his front door. "Nevermind, not even I have enough money."

"Do you think we should disguise her somehow?" Asked James. "Just in case someone recognizes her and informs the Clave."

"Who from the Clave would be there to recognize her?"

"I've seen spies before," said James. "Hypatia is a constantly being investigated for something. I'm just trying to take the necessary precautions."

Magnus smirked. "How admirable of you. I'll see what I can do."

Cordelia emerged from the bathroom wearing an emerald green lace dress that hugged every curve of her body. She pulled at the hem, trying to get it to come down farther than her mid-thigh, where James's eyes seemed to lock on the caramel and golden tones of her exposed skin.

"A bit short isn't it?" She said accusatorially to Magnus.

"Quit pulling at it," said the warlock. "It's an antique."

"I'm afraid to bend over."

"Then don't bend over."

Cordelia looked to James with an exasperated expression, but he couldn't form a coherent thought, much less a whole sentence.

"Hold still," said Magnus as he walked towards Cordelia, his fingertips flashing with sparks of neon blue.

Cordelia started to back away. "What are you doing?"

"I said hold still!" said Magnus. "Unless you want me to change the whole shape of your face."

"My face—"

Magnus waved his fingers in a complicated pattern until Cordelia's once scarlet locks turned black as the river Thames on a moonless night and shrunk up to curl lightly upward around her jawline.

Magnus tilted his head and examined his work. "There. She's disguised. Can we go now?"

On the busy London street, Magnus led the way with James and Cordelia trailing a few paces behind him. Cordelia fidgeted with her dress underneath the long trench coat Magnus lent her to wear while they walked to the club. She continued to pull at the hem and then adjust the low neckline that would sink lower, exposing more of her breast each time she pulled the hem down. She looked absolutely ridiculous and painfully beautiful at the same time. James couldn't help but laugh.

"What's funny about this?" demanded Cordelia.

"Stop fidgeting," said James. "You look… fine."

"I feel ridiculous. What was wrong with the way that I looked before?"

"You looked like a Shadowhunter."

Cordelia opened her mouth to retort, but realization dawned on her face. "Right. I keep forgetting that's not a good thing around here." She straightened, giving up on the rising hem. "Is there a possibility of us running into someone at The Hell Ruelle?"

"There's always a possibility," said James.

A mundane walking in the opposite direction bumped into Cordelia and shoved her into James's side, nearly sending her off balance if she hadn't grabbed onto James's arm to steady herself. The man cursed over his shoulder and continued on his way.

Cordelia, still holding onto James's arm, scowled. "I thought the people in London were supposed to be polite and courteous."

"Not this part of London," said James before they hurried to catch up with Magnus.

Over the sound of the bustling city, filled with car horns, music, and late-night construction, James couldn't hear the sound of his name being called across the street. It wasn't until Cordelia's hand tightened around his arm as she pulled him to a stop that he was made aware of it.

"Oye, I caught you mate!"

James's breath caught in his throat as he turned to see who'd caught up to them. Out of breath from his run to catch up with James, a fae named Jasper, a reoccurring buyer from James, stood in front of James and Cordelia. "Fancy finding you here. Just my luck. Can I get a score from you—?"

"Not tonight," said James, cutting Jasper off. "I'm not working tonight."

Jasper's eyes widened, and he looked between Cordelia and James a few times. James resisted the urge to step in front of her and block his view in case he's questioned about who James was seen with tonight. The disguise was already proving to be a good plan.

"Right," said Jasper. "Another night then."

"Yeah, another night."

James's shoulder dropped as soon as Jasper turned and disappeared into the crowd. When he turned around again, Cordelia stared up at him guardedly. "Tell me again exactly what kind of business you're in."

A/N: Thanks for waiting with me through my holiday hiatus. I needed a break but I'm excited to get back into writing the rest of this story. I hope your holidays were wonderful and you enjoy this chapter.

Send me something you’d like to see in my fic i.e a scene, a trope, a moment between two characters. Whatever comes to mind! I’ll add one into each new chapter.

Message me if you’re interested. I think this might be fun.

Cordelia stared at Matthew for what might be considered an obscene or embarrassing amount of time as the last words he spoke to her sunk into her consciousness and stopped sounding like something she made up in some feverish drug-induced dream. Then, without her knowledge, she found herself repeating them back to Matthew like some deranged parrot.

“You gave the key to James?” She said his name as if Matthew gave the key to a rooster or an octopus, and not someone who only a few months ago was someone closer to Matthew than a brother or perhaps even a spouse.

Matthew nodded as if he hadn’t committed a crime almost as felonious as the one she was attempting to commit now. “That is what I said, yes.”

Cordelia closed her eyes and shook her head in an embarrassing attempt to vanish Matthew from her sight, and when she’d open her eyes again, he’d be gone. But he was still standing there all the same.

“Why would you tell me that?”

It wasn’t as if she were close to Matthew. She’d met him a few times in the years their families would mingle at Clave meetings or when Cordelia would visit the London Institute. Still, Matthew would always run off with James and refuse to include Cordelia or Lucie in their endeavors. Not that they minded, their elaborate escapades usually ended with one or bother of them in some trouble. Sometimes Lucie seemed bothered by not being included. Still, it was usually easy enough to distract her with some training in the Institute gym, or if Cordelia asked her to read one of her latest fanfictions from a novel she was particularly enamored with at the time.

But no, in all that time, she hadn’t formed any kind of friendly or other connection with Matthew. In fact, she couldn’t recall the last words they spoke to one another.

After a moment of silent contemplation, Matthew shrugged and said, “Because James trusts you, and that’s reason enough for me.”

“You’ve spoken of me with him?”

Matthew sauntered past her towards the ancient scribe and tapped the glass with his fingers. “Your name has come up once or twice.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest. “In regards to what?”

“In regards to your family moving into the Institute and essentially taking over his life.”

Like a sad, old balloon, her heart deflated. But Matthew had just said that James trusted her despite those things.

“It wasn’t my choice,” protested Cordelia. “Believe me. I tried to stop it. I’m trying to fix it.” It’s why she was standing in a forbidden section of an Alicante library attempted to steal possibly the most famous relic of her people. A crime that would have her stripped of her Marks and cast into the mundane world. The room began to feel crowded.

“How?” Matthew asked, narrowing his eyebrows and dragging his thumbnail across his bottom lip.

“What?” asked Cordelia.

“How are you attempting to fix this? Last I saw, you and your family were jollily moving into the Institute without protest.”

Cordelia glared across the room as if she were attempting to light Matthew on fire with her eyes. “What do you know of my protest? We’ve never shared a conversation with each other.”

“Did you keep anything the same or has your mother already changed the wallpapers and lined the halls with pictures of your family?”

Cordelia’s cheeks grew warm, and her hands tightened into fists. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to leave Tehran. I didn’t want to move to London. I didn’t want to leave my friend, my home, my life, to that desolate, colorless, freezing wasteland. When I heard that the Clave exiled the Herondales I was devastated and when I heard they’d elected my father to be the head of the Institute, I was livid. I love the Herondales. Lucy is one of my dearest friends, and James—“She paused, unsure how to finish that statement, so she decided to avoid it altogether. “I tried to fight against it. But if my family didn’t accept, who knows what other horrible family that Clave would have elected instead, and they’d be more under the Inquisitor’s thumb than we are. So, as far as I’m concerned, you should be grateful it’s my family in that Institute and not someone else.”

Matthew looked up at her then; his interest peaked. “All right, I will admit you give a strong argument. You still haven’t told me how you plan on fixing any of this.”

Cordelia raised her hand and shoved her middle finger towards him. “And now I don’t intend to.”

She caught Matthew raising his eyebrows in shock at her crude gesture but then turned on the heels of her boots and stomped towards the door with venomous words poised on her tongue but a more profound will to keep Lucie’s secret.

But as she pulled the door open, Matthew spoke from behind her. “You’d need authorization to remove this dusty old piece of legend… much less pick it apart for discrepancies. James has told me a lot about you, but he never mentioned how terrible of a liar you are, Red.”

She rolled her eyes at the unoriginal nickname he’d suddenly bestowed upon her, considering she didn’t feel they were at a point where nicknames were appropriate. Still, she was too bothered by his insult to comment on that small fact. “I don’t appreciate being called a liar.”

“I’ll give you another chance to tell me the truth then,” said Matthew, leaning his elbow on the case. “What is it you want with the Codex and why are you all kerfluffled about my giving the key to James?”

Cordelia opened her mouth to retaliate when her brain suddenly went blank. She couldn’t tell him about her rendezvous with Lucie in the clock tower, or the run-in she had with James in the Downworlder district because to do so would be dragging him into her scheme as well. But he appeared to have his ruse going as it were… perhaps she’d have company in the prison cell she was sure to end up in if anyone found out about her helping the Herondales.

“I’ll answer your question, honestly, if you answer mine.”

Matthew tapped his fingertips on the glass face of the case. “Sounds about a fair trade.”

She crossed her arms, feeling like a lawyer about to ask the incrementing question to the defendant. “Why did you give the key to James?”

The space between them grew quiet but charged with a challenge that neither one dared to touch. Yet, there seemed to also be an understanding, at least on Cordelia’s part. If Matthew gave James the key to the case for whatever reason, it means that Matthew sees James without the Clave knowing. It means Matthew has chosen not to abandon them either. It means that Matthew and Cordelia had something in common after all.

“That is something I cannot tell you.”

Cordelia was about to argue when the door to the room burst open, and the attendant from the front desk scowled at the both of them from behind her wire-rimmed glasses. “Do either one of you have authorization to be in here?”

Cordelia seethed internally. How could she allow him to distract her? Now she was going to be dragged to her parents, and she’d have to explain to them why she was in a restricted section of the Alicante library with Matthew Fairchild, someone who she promised to keep her distance from since they’re both known to be close to the Herondales. As excuses started to flood her brain, “she got lost and found herself in the restricted section by accident” or “she was simply making sure Matthew didn’t do something illegal”… Matthew spoke up. “My mother, the late Consul Fairchild, gave us permission to come in. She entrusted me and the young miss Carstairs with returning a few books she borrowed and I asked if I could show miss Carstairs the room of Shadowhunter relics. She doesn’t find herself in Alicante very often and wanted to continue her education.”

The attendant glared over her glasses at the two of them. “I wasn’t notified of your visit.”

“It was last minute,” said Matthew, as he stepped away from the case and came to stand beside Cordelia. “She had to go into the Clave meeting. I can have her send a letter or stop by when she’s finished and confirm if that will ease your distrust, though, I hardly feel that’s necessary seeing as everything is safe in their boxes and Cordelia is now slightly more educated then when she came. Isn’t that right, Red?” He nudged her with his elbow.

She stifled the urge to shove him across the room. “Yes, that’s right. He was just showing me about.”

“Yes,” said Matthew, patting her affectionately on the head. “And now we should be going. The meeting is well on its way to being over and we shan’t be late for our departure.”

Matthew grabbed her by the hand, which she promptly ripped from his grasp, and dared him with her eyes to try again. He wisely did not and ushered her past the disapproving stare of the attendant.

Cordelia quickened her step, attempting to put as much distance between herself, Matthew, and her failed attempt at stealing the original Shadowhunter Codex as she possibly could.

// // //

Outside, the late afternoon sun nearly blinded her with its vibrant colors of orange, sapphire, and rays of pink. She took a sharp left turn, heading back the way she’d come in. She needed to make it back to the Smith’s shop before it closed and before she’d promised to regroup with her parents. She quickened her pace, attempting to shake off the irritation lingering from her conversation with Matthew and her failure at stealing the Shadowhunter Codex.

She promised to meet Lucie again that night. How would she tell her that she couldn’t gain access to the book because her brother had the key? Would she be exposing James if she told Lucie that? Or would she be exposing Matthew for giving it to him? The disappointment on Lucie’s face haunted her thoughts and filled her chest with an ache. She would just have to find a way to get the key from James and try again— simple as that.

As she took another corner down the Main Street where the Smith’s shop stood on the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. Standing, only a few feet ahead of her, was Augustus Pounceby with a group of his equally insufferable friends. Cordelia pivoted on her heels in an attempt to sneak away unseen when she heard her name called from where they were standing.

“There you are,” said Augustus and proceeded to lope down the road like a pompous show dog.

Cordelia cursed under her breath and tried to force a smile. “Here I am.”

Augustus came to a stop in front of her. “Your parents told me you’d be in town. We looked all over for you. Where have you been?”

“In the library,” she said.

Augustus wrinkled his nose. “Why on earth would you want to visit that ratchet old place? There are more entertaining things to do in Alicante then visit the library.”

“Well I happen to like the library,” said Cordelia and shouldered past him to continue down the road, hoping it was enough of a hint that she didn’t want to continue their conversation any longer. She’d had enough of all conversations for the rest of the day. She wanted Cortana, to go home, and to figure out her next course of action. She needed to find a way to contact James again and retrieve the key without telling him why she needed the key or what she planned to do with it.

He made it clear he didn’t want her helping him or his family. If she told him about helping Lucie, he’d most likely put an end to it or expose whatever plan Lucie has been conjuring, which honestly might be for the best. But Lucie believed in this plan; she’d been adamant that there was something in that book. Something worth risking Cordelia’s life and her own to obtain, so Cordelia had to believe her. It was as simple as that.

“So did that Herondale boy,” said Augustus, falling into step beside her. “Probably where he learned all about his demon heritage. It’s fortunate my father and the Inquisitor got rid of them when they did. Who knows what sort of damage they had in store for this place. I heard they were planning on allowing hoards of their demon brethren into Alicante and making into another circle of Hell.”

Cordelia looked away and rolled her eyes.

“One small shame in not having demon boy here though,” said Augustus, with malice on his tongue. “This place is lacking in quality entertainment. He was always good for a laugh and a bit of fun.”

Cordelia turned abruptly and glared at him through her mascara-coated lashes until his features changed to show his discomfort. “I’m sure you’ll find some other way to waste yours and other people’s time.”

Augustus’s lips thinned to a point where they were nearly non-existent. Then, before he could utter another word, Cordelia walked off again, the clip of her boots echoing on the bricks.

“I’m done trying to be nice to you, Carstairs,” said Augustus from a few paces behind her. “I won’t be treated this way.”

“Good,” said Cordelia without turning around. “That’s the one self-respecting thing you’ve said all day.”

The Smith was just turning the sign on her door to CLOSED when Cordelia ran up the steps and begged her for just a moment to collect Cortana before she had to leave back to London. Then, with a disapproving glare on her lined face, the Smith unlocked the bolt and opened the door.

A bell rang over her head as Cordelia entered. “Thank you. I’m sorry I’m late. I lost track of time.”

“It’s known to happen around here,” said the Smith as she walked around her counter and took a cloth-wrapped blade down from the shelves on the wall. She set Cortana on the counter and carefully unwrapped the cloth, exposing the shining crisp new layer of the blade. “Fine weapon you have here. Cortana, forged by Wayland the Smith himself. Only someone of great honor can wield such a blade.”