#malec x reader

(Next Chapter)

Mornings always proved challenging, and the comfort of his bed only made the negative feelings about his situation stronger. No amount of sunshine could brighten his mood in recent years, nor could the fluff of his blanket as the light disappeared and his room darkened once more. No extreme or mixture within gave him a sense of comfort.

His oldest friend, Raphael, made it a point to include him despite their opposing heritage. The far-too-old Shadowhunter befriending the vampiric member of Hotel DuMort would be humorous to their kin. The two species couldn’t get along despite their similar situations—being hunted for their blood.

Raphael was unique, just like his people. Eljah wished he could share the same sentiment with his own people, but he’d felt their wrath before and it was a losing game. Although, technically, he was one of a kind. He didn’t have people or true kin because he was an abomination. And abominations don’t get the luxury of friends and family.

“I’m supposed to be hiding in the shadows, not you,” Raphael sighed as he walked into the room. Candles illuminated the room and the blackout curtains prevented the deadly sunlight from getting in.

“I might as well be just as allergic as you, Rafa.”

“Hardly. Up.” Raphael lifted the plush white blanket before grasping onto Eljah’s arm. With multiple complaints and some unkind words, the small boy was upright. His hair was always messy, conscious or unconscious, to the point it became a style. Random silver strips contrasted the shadowy brown overtaking his head. Over the previous months, his hair grew longer, making him feel more feminine than he could have while growing up. If the downworld thought Shadowhunters were bad now, they could rest easy with the image of the Clave’s earlier days.

“What is the nest up to today?” The two had known each other for a long time; long enough to not shy away at the sight of skin and boxers. Eljah crossed to his dresser while Raphael spoke, jumping with the change in temperature upon contact.

“Nothing you have to worry about, even though I know you will.” Raphael laughed at the little hops Eljah made while dressing himself.

“I can’t help it. You guys are stuck with me now, so I have no choice but to care.”

Eljah slid a pair of shorts that rested low against his hips and a t-shirt that drowned him. August was his least favorite month because it was inevitably the hottest one. Manhattan sucked in the humid weather and bubbled it until a rush of cold would pop it. You either stayed in your home or flocked to an indoor business—Eljah’s goal tonight—to beat the heat.

“That is true, my mistake,” Raphael poked fun, receiving a stare from the male opposite him, “but seriously, just enjoy your night and I’ll find something for you to do this week, hm?”

“You said that last week, Santiago.”

“Damn, we are going by last names now, Winterscaar?”

“Oh, bruto gross, no. My mistake,” Eljah repeated. The two shared hushed giggles, but eventually it went silent. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but Raphael’s aura became serious; Eljah hated to watch the swirls switch from bright yellow to mushy turquoise when he went into big-brother mode.

“There’s something out there that will make you happy. I know it. Maybe it’s here in the nest or on the other side of New York. Hell, another continent. I’ll help you find it.”

“How are you gonna find it if it’s on another continent? TSA will have to mark you as combustible material before you step foot on a plane.”

“Not funny.”

“It’s a bit funny, mano…” Raphael choked back a sigh, already used to the flammability jokes.

Raphael seemed to have more to say, but a knock sounded at the door. Raphael went to check it and Eljah activated the LED lights built into all the rooms. Eljah heard basic mumbles and words of confirmation before Raphael exited, saluting to his best friend.

Eljah knew what time it was already. Every day had a clockwork aspect to them, and he’d long since adjusted to the schedule of vampires. As his day started, most ended. It made slipping into night life easier and letting himself deal with emotions in his own way: drunk and/or high.

“You don’t look 22,” the bodyguard argued. Eljah had taken the time to walk his way to the club (and pre-game smoke). He didn’t fully feel the effects, but the immediate boost in confidence after every hit had him ready to make a bold move if needed. He wanted to cave his own head in every time someone accused him of being underage.

“That seems racially motivated.” He enjoyed watching people’s faces when he threw out that card. It was a common misconception amongst those who have never met shadowhunters that they were all pale-skinned white dudes with insane amounts of tattoos. Eljah himself was technically white, but it was the minority of his genetics. His father was Puerto Rican, and he’d grown up in San Juan before integrating into the Mexico City Institute. He found New York bland compared to the colorful buildings, streets, and culture of his hometown.

The man guarding the door was not white either. “Go back home, kid.”

“Este imbécil,” rolling his amber eyes. He placed his hands upon his eyelids, allowing the energy in his bones to circulate. Within milliseconds, the silvery cover slithered over his vision and the energy connected to the bodyguard’s light and powdery one. Eljah focused on forcing a command into the other man’s consciousness.

A voice echoed, “ah, ah, ah, no need,” a veil laid itself over his magic, “it’s not nice to compel random people.”

“Do you gain anything from that?”

“Just slight amusement,” the acicalao with short, spiked hair responded, “I know every warlock in Brooklyn, but I don’t know you. Why’s that?”

“New in town.”

“Are you now? Well, then, why don’t I introduce you to a little New York nightlife, hm?”

“The only thing I need introduced to is something strong.”

“That can be arranged. Come on in.”

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Sitting on the terrace of a loft that became your home so many years ago, you gaze out into the cloudy sky, enjoying the pitter patter of the small droplets of rain that accompany them. Lightning and thunder roll through the silence of your surrounding, snapping you out of your nostalgic thoughts. An orange tabby kitten stumbles its way to you, wanting warmth and comfort from the weather. You wrap it in your jacket and smile, listening to it purr from happiness.

“What’re you two idiots doing?”

Your phone dropped from his hand, hitting the floor with a crack, and you felt your heart sink, your fingers just an inch shy of saving it. Magnus and Alec had popped up from their seats, now backed against the wall; Alec running a nervous hand over the back of his neck and Magnus trying to hide his smile. 

You glared at them, sending them both skittering out of the room. You picked up your phone with the care of a mother handling her injured child, an image of spiderwebbed glass dancing in your mind. But as you examined your phone, there wasn’t a single sign of any damage. Not even a crack in the shimmer of your turquoise case. It seemed the crisis had been averted.

Of course it wasn’t until that night when you logged onto your social media that you realized a picture of their dumb faces had been posted to your Instagram…

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You had seen a lot in your life, even despite the fact that you had the sight and could see things, other humans couldn’t. Your mother had had the same ability, so Warlocks, Shadowhunters, Vampires and all the other creatures weren’t new to you.

But that a Shadowhunter and a warlock, one of which was literally said to be the leader of the warlocks in this area, wanted to adopt a little warlock girl was even new to you. Especially because they didn’t need to do it. In the human world they didn’t even really exist. Nobody would care about that sweet little girl that looked a little bit scared to you. But only until the tall Shadowhunter smiled at her and the warlock layed a hand on her back, their eyes full of fatherly love for her.

That was the moment you knew you would work for them and take care of this adoption. This three were already a family and you wouldn’t let anybody take that away from them.

requested by @pegxcarter hope you like it

ARKOSIOS : Shadowhunter of demonic descent. Known Arkosios: Tessa Gray (tɛ́sə gré) and Eljah Winterscaar (ɛ́lyə winterscar).

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Chapter 1: PanDEMONium .☘︎ ݁˖

Chapter 2: Jewel .☘︎ ݁˖

Chapter 3: Adventures in Parabatai .☘︎ ݁˖

Chapter 4: Velvet Couches and Demon Summoning .☘︎ ݁˖

Chapter 5 (Mini/Bonus): Brujo Atractivo .☘︎ ݁˖

Chapter 6: Park Slope .☘︎ ݁˖

Chapter 7: Trouble In Paradise .☘︎ ݁˖

Chapter 8: Magic for Stains .☘︎ ݁˖

Chapter 9: New Dye-Job and Pig Pens .☘︎ ݁˖

Chapter 10: I Work Here .☘︎ ݁˖

Chapter 11: The New York Institute .☘︎ ݁˖

Chapter 12 (Mini/Bonus): No Me Decepciones, Lightwood .☘︎ ݁˖

Chapter 13: Not Started .☘︎ ݁˖

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Extra Content

Incorrect Quotes .☘︎ ݁˖

(Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)

“You are more than welcome to sit beside me if you want, little one.”

“I’m not little, bichote big shot.” They’d just walked through the door, and Eljah was focusing on what the bar had to offer.

“Standing next to me you are… I’m now realizing I never caught your name. I’m Magnus Bane.”

“Magnus Bane?… shit.”

“You’ve heard of me?” He wanted to say how could I not? You’re essentially my best friend’s adoptive father and I find you attractive, but that was over sharing.

“Through a friend.”

“I might just know this friend. Care to share?” The much younger warlock cracked each of his fingers one by one and turned his rings habitually.

“Raphael.”

“Raphael?” he repeated in surprise. “Wow, small world. I didn’t know he had many out-of-town friends.”

“I would’ve come with him, but he had business to attend to, wouldn’t tell me what.”

“Your name?”

“Buy me a drink and I’ll tell you.”

—

After introducing himself over a couple shots of whiskey, Eljah’s head was spinning to the point he had to let it flop back to stabilize the vibrating under his skin. He was sitting on a couch near the bar and he had sunk into it upon contact. His hearing was intact but his focus was not, weaving between the fellow warlock, the music, and the people dancing on the floor.

It was clear Magnus intended to learn more about Eljah. But Eljah didn’t want to be rude. This was the high warlock of Brooklyn. Eljah hadn’t traveled all the way here to upset anyone.

“I’m not much of a conversationalist.”

“No worries. I’m sure we have enough history combined to entertain ourselves. I have plenty of time before my meeting.”

“You’re meeting someone? In a club?”

Magnus chuckled after placing his drink on the silver table in front of him. “Some Shadowhunters is all.” He didn’t notice the immediate discomfort of his new friend, so he continued, “they’re offering a necklace that has been precious to me for centuries for my services.”

“Shadowhunters?” Eljah’s arms stretched to meet the corner of the couch and he turned to survey the club for said shadowhunters. Magnus’ eyebrows drew together as he observed Eljah.

“Not friendly with them, either?” Magnus asked curiously.

“What?”

“I asked if you were friendly with them or not. Is that why you’re so worried now?”

“Uh, no no. But I try my best to steer clear, you know? I should probably buy a bottle and head back.”

“Where are you heading back to? I can portal you if you’d like.” Magnus emphasized if you’d like with a lift of his hand to remove sparkles and various sequins that had fallen in Eljah’s hair. Eljah felt back for flinching momentarily when the older warlock moved, but it didn’t phase him.

“I prefer walking, honestly. And I don’t like to share where I’m going. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course. But I can’t have a young warlock in danger now, can I?” The man pulled a mirror out of thin air to check his eyeliner and Eljah took his moment to watch him. When he was going to object again, Magnus’ name was called. The two turned to the noise made by a blonde shadowhunter quickly approaching alongside a redhead. Magnus’ face dropped, all semblance of fun gone.

Magnus acknowledged the strawberry woman as Clary Fairchild and expressed that she’d grown into a beautiful young woman. She seemed less than impressed.

“Magnus Bane. So, you’re the one who stole my memories.” Eljah inaudibly gasped and awkwardly looked around, attempting to step back. He began to, but his senses activated and his body locked up.

His eyes blurred and he could see the other two who’d branched off from the group re-grip their weapons, clearly ready to cause trouble for Eljah.

“At your mother’s request. She knew the risk.” Magnus and Clary looked each other up and down, shared feelings of annoyance on display. “Show me the jewelry, shadowhunter. You’ve interrupted me and my new acquaintance for long enough.”

A gorgeous necklace unraveled from the blonde shadowhunter’s hand. To any mundane, it looked like a massive ruby, but for those aware of what lurked in the shadows, it was more than that. Magnus was being teased by the blonde, who pulled the necklace back before he could grab it.

“Give Clary back her memories, and you get the jewelry.”

Magnus was not new to this process, however. “I have to confirm its authenticity.” He wiggled his fingers to beckon the shadowhunter to pass it over, which happened begrudgingly.

“Amor verus numquam moritur. True love cannot die. Oh, how I’ve missed this jewel,” Magnus sighed.

“Now it’s your turn to pay up,” Clary ordered.

Magnus’ next words shocked more than just the shadowhunters. “I wish I could retrieve your memories, but I no longer have them..”

“What? Where are they!?”

“I fed them a memory demon for safekeeping.” The lack of context made Eljah’s head swirl, and he sat down on the nearest cushion while the arguing grew.

“And why the hell would you do that?” The blonde angrily asked.

“To protect Clary and the cup. If Valentine ever captured me, he could torture Clary’s memories out of me. Just like he tortured Dot.”

Raphael had told Eljah briefly about what he knew of Valentine—which wasn’t much, other than he wanted all downworlders dead. Essentially, the white supremacist of the shadow world. His vampire friend warned him to take safer, more open routes anywhere he went unless he wanted to end up dead or experimented on.

“Tortured? Wait, is Dot okay?”

“You don’t know?” there was a strong beat of slimy silence, “Dot is dead.” Clary whispered, “what?” in response, her face paler underneath her makeup now. She kept shaking her head in disbelief, “how do you know?”

“I can’t feel her magic anymore,” Magnus visibly deflated. “Valentine killed her because she would not betray your mother.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Come with me, Clary,” the high warlock offered, “my lair can offer you protection no shadowhunter ever could.” The sneer in his voice was strong at the mention of angelic beings. Said beings only scoffed and Clary followed with quick rejection.

“No, I’m not going anywhere with you.” Eljah was considering leaving again as the bass of a new song boosted and the drink he’d sipped earlier was making him sweat—downworld drinks hit differently… alongside the weed in his system. He was certainly waking up at the mention of important topics, but he needed to stay seated longer.

“Don’t be a fool. Your mother would want you to live.”

“Then help me get my memories back from whatever demon you gave them to.”

“Valentine is hunting you, too,” Magnus sounded venomous now, “and every moment we’re outside my lair’s protection, is a moment Valentine gets closer to finding us.”

Magnus clapped his hands together, releasing his magic to create a purple, bubbling portal. Not forgetting about his new friend, he turned to him.

“The offer extends to you as well. Are you well enough to get back home?” Eljah didn’t speak, nodding curtly to signal he would leave on his own. Clary and her protector looked at each other as she considered the same, but the blonde shook his head.

“I won’t offer again.” Magnus rolled his eyes and waited in annoyance.

Clary’s response was bold to Eljah, and far too earnest and emotional. She claimed she wouldn’t hide from her problems, and neither should Magnus, which made Eljah annoyed too. How shadowhunter of her to respond that way. He understood the need to get things done, but the shadowhunters weren’t the ones being hunted. How could she possibly digest if hiding or not hiding was appropriate? Downworlders didn’t have the same privileges.

Distracted in his thoughts, he didn’t notice any danger looking nearby.

“Look out!” Within seconds, an arrow shot through the club and hit someone. Eljah shot up in fear, auto-gripping his stele from his pocket, but tried to remain stoic as he approached the now deceased shadowhunter.

An incredibly tall, brunette shadowhunter who shot the arrow rushed through and kneeled beside Eljah, checking his pulse. He didn’t hear Magnus whisper, “who are you?”. Eye contact with their savior distracted Eljah.

“Are you okay?” The brunette whispered quickly. Eljah nodded again, standing to make space for the others.

Clary yelled out for Magnus as he attempted to leave. “You’re my only hope.”

“Valentine found us. I warned your mother this might happen.” He disintegrated into the portal and Clary stood with a clenched fist containing a button from his shirt.

A beautiful female shadowhunters followed the path of the previous, telling them, “the area’s secure. Looks like he was the only assassin.” Eljah turned away from the group and lifted his left sleeve to access his Iratze rune, ridding him of his high so he could leave safely. He assumed no one saw.

“He has a circle rune on the base of his neck,” the attractive male brunette added.

“They found us. It’s not safe here. Clary, we have to go!” The blonde’s words fell on deaf ears as Clary stood still in shock. Eljah wanted to approach, ask if she was okay, but he couldn’t move. The once boisterous club felt stuffy now.

Eljah was walking backward to leave, aggressively bumping into someone.

“It’s not safe for you either, even if you’re from a different institute. No shadowhunter is safe,” the tall man spoke in monotone, “there is space in the New York Institute and we may need the help.”

“I’ll be just fine on my own, but thank you. Just take care of your redhead and good luck.”

“No, he’s right,” the blonde stopped Eljah, “it’s not safe. Come back to the institute.”

“Are you gonna knife me if I don’t?”

“No, but who’s to say one of Valentine’s men won’t do the job as soon as you leave?”

Eljah sighed. Magnus’ lair now sounded nicer now than it did before.

(Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)

“I know where the cup is.” The redhead stood strong and assured, her eyes wide and taut. The energy boosting from her body was churning red and orange, which complimented her hidden excitement while showing how passionate she was.

She flipped around as the room’s interest lit up. Magnus closed the book in his hands and Jace jumped up, moving into the middle of the room. Eljah had felt Clary’s energy shift from the room over, already standing at the ready on the fluffy cream-colored rug.

“Come again?” Jace asked.

“The tarot cards. My mom, she must have painted them years ago, but the Mortal Cup has to be hidden inside the Ace of Cups! The card looks exactly like it.” Eljah exhaled in comfort, consoled by Clary’s boost in memory.

Earlier, Magnus had taken the time to explain anything Eljah had missed while he was “traveling the world” (which wasn’t technically a lie). Eljah had been traveling before he came to Raphael seeking refuge, but it had been a year since; he was in New York this entire time. With the amount of coincidences, items missing or found, etc, it made sense to worry. It wasn’t helpful to Eljah’s current stress, but he needed to know.

Eljah sat down close to Magnus, who was sharing a look with Jace as he grasped Eljah’s knee. The expressions weren’t ones of excitement or happiness, which Clary pointed out. Eljah noticed then as the condo’s light hit the blonde shadowhunter that Jace had heterochromia in his eyes. It looked like someone had dropped a small splash of ink in his eye.

“All we have to do is find… Dot…” Eljah was just as confused as Clary until he remembered that name being mentioned during the club meeting. Poor thing.

“If Dot had the cards when she was taken, we don’t have much time,” Jace pointed out, “if Valentine gets his hands on the cup-”

Magnus stood fast and interrupted Jace with a finger lifted to his face. “We know. If Valentine started creating shadowhunters or gained control of demons, it’d be like Beyoncé riding on a dinosaur through Times Square.” He’d circled Clary to assert his point, continuing, “people would notice.”

“But he can control demons. I’ve seen it.”

“Mmm, paying off a few demons is easy, especially since they rarely survive long enough to collect.”

“Still waiting on Valentine’s thank-you card,” Jace joked. Clary and Eljah smiled in response.

“Opening the gates of Hell… that’s a little more tricky,” Magnus continued.

Luke chose this moment to walk in, saying, “Valentine doesn’t have the cards,” startling Eljah, whose hand slipped on the velvet material as he jumped up from his position on the couch. He tried to play it off, but Luke and Clary noticed. He felt embarrassed.

“I do. They’re in my desk back at the precinct. When Clary went missing, I went to the loft, and I cleared everything out ‘cause I didn’t want the Circle to track her.” Magnus didn’t look satisfied, though.

“That’s great! This should be easy,” Clary relaxed.

“Hmm, that’s what General Custer said,” Magnus countered as he sat in a comfy chair. He crossed his legs, and Eljah would be lying if he said he didn’t sit pretty.

“Magnus is right. Valentine has spies everywhere, even in the NYPD. We have to be discreet,” Luke explained.

“Discreet? You look like something out of The Mummy movie.” She made Magnus and Eljah chuckle, the two looking at each other as if sharing their thoughts.

“We’ll go in the morning. Werewolf healing, remember? This is nothing a couple of hours of beauty sleep can’t fix.”

And with shared looks of confirmation, the group dispersed.

—

Alec leaned over the couch Luke had occupied, who was now in one of the luxurious red patterned beds Magnus had, resting with double the bandages as before, scrubbing the fabric. Magnus joked he had magic for the stains while pouring himself another drink. Eljah thought he’d gone unnoticed.

“I think you’ve exerted yourself enough for one day,” Alec reasoned. Eljah enjoyed the sight for a couple seconds more, Magnus in his red and gold shirt and Alec in a figure-defining black short-sleeve shirt. He took his chance to start backing out, resting a hand on the edge of the door.

“You aren’t thinking of running out on us… are you?” Magnus picked on as Eljah froze, facing away from them, with wide eyes. “Stay. I owe you dinner and a drink. Both of you.” Magnus grasped Eljah by the shoulder and dragged him back to the living room, handing him a sangria and passing a margarita to Alec. He flared some blue magic and the drink lit on fire.

“High quality bar service around here, huh?” He giggled, taking the fattest sip of the sangria that he could.

“For you both, yes. To us,” he raised his glass, clinking both of ours. Alec held it like a newborn baby, seemingly not used to alcohol. Meanwhile, Eljah was borderline chugging it comedically. He genuinely laughed as Alec cringed and struggled to keep it down.

“Why did you ask for me? Eljah was here. Hell, even Jace and Clary were both here.”

“Hmm, Jace didn’t tell you?” Alec shook his head, both Eljah and Alec following Magnus’ moving figure. “It doesn’t matter. It was a lie anyway.” Alec’s head shot over to Eljah, who tightened his lips and stifled a giggle.

“Are warlocks always this cryptic?” Alec asked curiously, and it made Magnus chuckle.

“I’m not being cryptic… I’m being coy.” He sighed out, frustrated by the lack of understanding from Alec. He flicked his eyes over to Eljah, who really was tiny compared to the two, before saying, “let me spell it out for you… both of you. I wanted to see you again.” Eljah paused rubbing his right eye out of exhaustion to stare at Magnus in shock.

“Why?” Alec asked sheepishly, habitually checking for Eljah behind him. The smaller man was blushing like a lunatic and low-key hiding himself behind Alexander.

“Why’d you come?” Magnus asked, peeking behind Alec at Eljah’s timid form.

“I’m not sure…”

Magnus’ eyes changed emotion. “For almost a century… I’ve closed myself off to feeling anything for anyone. Man or woman.” Alec looked like he could’ve devoured Magnus right there, but he was new to this. You two have… unlocked something in me.” The tension was rising in the room, cut by Alec’s phone. He picked it up all too quick, struggling to keep the phone upright and bring it to his ear.

Eljah was intimidated to think someone would hold an interest for him. He was so boring! Most of the time, he rotted in his bed at the DuMort (which was technically impossible, immortality and all). His fingernails captured his attention, picking at the remnants of old black nail polish. Magnus rested his hand upon him, stopping the motions.

“Breathe.”

Just like that, his chest released all the air it had been holding, eyes opening wider and eyebrows pulling together at the effect Magnus had on him. Most people couldn’t get in the way of his anxiety, centuries’ worth of it having grown. Magnus sipped his drink, peering down at Eljah past the edge of the glass. Turning to face Alec, he realized the call meant a saddened departure.

“Oh, the furrowed brow… Maryse must be recruiting you for something… unseemly.”

“Listen, Magnus, I… I wish I could… I just- I don’t know what-” Magnus placed a single finger against Alec’s lips and hushed him.

“I understand,” he answered honorably. Alec smiled at the action, clearly infatuated. Magnus stepped out to acknowledge both men around him. “Stay for one more drink? And then decide. Hm?”

—

The sound of bickering awoke Eljah, sunlight dripping onto his face like a hot shower through the open windows.

“I should have never taken you up on your offer for drinks,” Alec scolded.

“In hindsight, liquor might have been a bad idea,” pausing for effect, “after being drained of all my magic to heal your friend Luke…” Magnus countered with emphasis on the role he played last night.

“Not my friend. He’s Clary Fairchild’s. I’ve only known her five days, and she’s already more trouble than she’s worth.” When Alec saw Eljah’s sleepy form rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes, he looked guilty, regretting raising his voice above a whisper. Magnus hadn’t noticed yet, his back to the other warlock.

“You’re more than just a pretty face, aren’t you?” He’d hurried to pull his jacket on but stopped to turn and look at Magnus, standing in the middle of the living room.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Alec dove further into his offended tone, which was out of place and inappropriate, considering no one was offending him.

“You shared your strength with me to help your friend. It’s rare to find a shadowhunter with such an… open heart.”

“I trust you… I don’t know why, but I do.” Alec admitted sheepishly before moving topics with a sigh. “What time is it? I have to get back to the Institute.” Alec was in a rush, like usual. Magnus was desperate for more time with the two, assured that Eljah would leave when he realized Alec was gone, still unaware he watched silently like a cat on a windowsill.

“Stay for breakfast! I conjure up a mean Belgian waffle.” Eljah’s stomach growled. Magnus turned and told him good morning with a quick bow, returning his attention to Alec.

“No. If you let anyone know that I slept here last night…” Alec threatened, making Eljah more concerned. He’d stood and stretched the muscles in his body, Alec glancing at the sliver of stomach that showed when his shirt rose. It made him blush further.

“Relax,” Magnus scorned, “my reputation’s on the line just as much as yours. I’d lose all my credibility if my people found out I let a shadowhunter spend the night.”

“Then why’d you let me and Eljah sleep here?” Magnus paused, looking like he had to reach forward to grapple his sentences together through his thought process.

“Trust makes you do strange things…” He inhaled oxygen, saying, “must be something in the air,” with a smile still gracing his face despite Alec’s rejection. Alec had a hint of a smirk, but it washed away as fast as it had brightened his features, clearing his throat.

“Eljah, we could use you at the Institute. Come by later or… don’t, I don’t care,” shrugging his jacket back into place and virtually sprinting out the door.

(Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)

It hadn’t been more than an hour since Magnus and Alec laid Eljah (unwillingly) to rest on the couch before Magnus had more visitors. Alec received a text from Isabelle regarding an injured werewolf in need of help, who was to be the new alpha of the New York wolf pack. He was someone important to Clary, and Magnus was quite fond of her, accepting immediately.

When Eljah awoke, the tall brunette was nowhere to be found. Magnus was ushering him to the bedroom so he could rest more. He offered solaces for having to wake him, but Eljah was determined to pretend nothing had happened. He washed his hands and tied his hair back messily to prepare to help the older warlock, who persisted until the minute the group arrived.

“What happened?” Magnus swung open the extravagant doors, the werewolf groaning as he loosely held consciousness.

“He was attacked!” Simon, the familiar man yelped.

“He needs a warlock! He needs you.” Clary added. The black man, being assisted to the couch Eljah had become familiar with, had gashes down his chest leading to his abdomen. The blood was thick red and mixed with the sweat covering his skin. The smells blended uncomfortably within the suite, the werewolf’s citrus scent combining with Magnus’ and his own bodily fluids.

The head warlock ordered, “put him down here,” as he laid a white sheet on his, no doubt, expensive and/or antique furniture. The man was muttering random names and things Eljah could barely catch on to. Clary shushed him lovingly, but she couldn’t stop the inevitably growing pains.

Where are you? Where are you!?

Clary spoke his name—Luke—and Eljah genuinely debated looking into Luke’s mind to see if he could calm him.

“Luke, it’s Clary. Can you hear me?”

“Clary, listen to me. Listen… you have to listen to me. I just have to tell you, just in case-”

“No, don’t even say it, don’t!” Clary pleaded.

“No, listen to me-” the conversation droned on in the back of Eljah’s mind, Magnus and Simon saying something. Luke sounded a lot like Eljah’s Papá did a little over a century ago; lost in a haze, thoughts on loop like a broken record, and emotions on high. Eljah didn’t know how to use his energy back then, but he could now.

As Luke roared out, body raising and tense, Eljah closed his eyes and focused on the wound. The yelling was background noise and Eljah wasn’t afraid of getting bitten, resting his hands on Luke’s temple and forcing him quiet. The others went silent in shock.

“Eljah, it’s not safe to do this right now.”

“You do your part, I’ll do mine,” he said, harsher than he meant to. Magnus ran off without further hinderance.

“I thought you were a shadowhunter,” Clary innocently asked in a flurry.

“I am,” he answered truthfully, now that Magnus wasn’t around. Clary accepted it must’ve been an advanced shadowhunter ability and Eljah was thankful. “Look, he’s calm for now, but when the next transformation starts, I don’t think I can hold it off. Keep working.”

—

Magnus was a true yapper, even more when stressed. He almost floated around the entire apartment, and when Jace came in with a bloody nose, Magnus only stopped for a second to inquire, “what happened to you?” Before leaping off to the next ingredient.

“Luke’s car may have… found its way into a pole while I was stashing it. I don’t do mundane driving.”

“Yeah, apparently,” Simon teased. It made Eljah chuckle softly from his spot, now sitting across from the unconscious werewolf, bandaged and sedated.

“What do you need for the antidote?” Jace continued after judging Simon’s scrawny arm wrapped around Clary’s shoulders.

“Hey, I got this!” Simon stopped the shadowhunter. Magnus yelled out the ingredients: phoenix eyes, moon salt, and Idris fulgurite. Simon claimed it would be a “trip to the pharmacy” and Eljah wished it were that simple. Magnus didn’t care who went to retrieve the ingredients, as long as they could wait to kill each other until afterwards.

“One more thing! I need Alexander.”

…

“Uh, why do you need Alec?”

“… Virgin shadowhunter energy.” Eljah could’ve covered that just fine, but this didn’t seem like the time to put himself forward again (and while he lacked experience, he wasn’t a virgin either).

“That explains so much,” Simon mumbled. Eljah got up, following Magnus around.

“Uh, yeah, Alec… I can’t.”

“What are you doing? If you need more energy, I’m here,” Eljah maintained.

“Jace, just ask. Please! You guys need to talk,” Clary fiercely pushed. Said shadowhunter didn’t seem keen but exhaled, agreeing.

“No. Go rest your pretty little head somewhere or help stir this potion. You’re too generous with your energy and you will get hurt.” The smaller boy just mumbled in response, hot on the warlock’s tail.

“Trouble in paradise?” Magnus taunted Jace as he passed him, never a moment missed by him. Eljah jabbed his arm for his lack of manners, but Magnus only stuck out his tongue.

—

Luke had awoken again for a short period before Magnus steadied him once more. There was something Luke was adamant Clary learn, and it seemed Magnus had the answer.

“Tell me what? What’s so important that Luke risked his life?”

“Everything Jocelyn hoped to hide from you.” Magnus snapped his fingers and a sketchbook alongside charcoal appeared on the glass table Clary stood in front of.

“When you were younger, I’d watch you sketching. It was your bliss.” He stirred the pot, adding emphasis to his words. “You’re gonna need some bliss now.”

The story of the uprising has become well known, even though the Clave tried to conceal any evidence of Valentine and his influence. Eljah was back in the Bahamas, and even at such a great distance, he knew what happened.

“When I first heard about your father, around the time he and Jocelyn first got together, long before the Uprising and the Circle, Valentine elevated the Morgenstern name to be synonymous with virtue. And your mother was at his side… but by the time my people came to know him, barely two years later… his name had become synonymous with devastation.”

Clary herself looked devastated, but not surprised. “Your mother told me it was then she first saw the signs. They never found all the bodies. We’d all stood with the Clave for centuries.”

“How could that not matter to him?”

“He was obsessed with ensuring purity of blood, convinced that the impurities were a threat to peace.” Magnus looked as if he could gag on his words.

“He was the threat to peace,” Clary hissed.

“Mad men rarely make sense… they just hate to hate,” Eljah distractedly spoke up for the first time in a while.

“And he hated downworlders for the gifts that we possess that he could not have. He hates us enough to kill us all.” This was the most malicious Magnus had sounded since meeting Eljah, face telling the story of a thousand traumas. The alcohol he’d been downing wasn’t calming him, either. Eljah was content with placing a hand on his shoulder, Magnus placing his free hand over his in return.

Clary had finished her gruesome drawing depicting an impaled downworlder, shaking both Magnus and Eljah to their cores upon viewing. It was a massive part of a downworlder’s existence to accept tragedy and wrongdoing, but especially at the hands of shadowhunters, who either seemed insensitive to their struggles or all too sensitive (meaning they’ve had the luxury of not witnessing such grim acts).

“Ever since my mother was kidnapped, and the Shadow World invaded my life, so many downworlders have helped me. Not even thinking about what it might cost them! How could Valentine not see good in any of them?”

“He was blinded by his ambition…”

“Why didn’t the Clave stop him?”

“The Clave is a joke. They’ve had secret agendas for a long time, longer than you or I have existed.” Eljah’s nose twitched with the memories of what his childhood could’ve been if it hadn’t been for the Clave.

“And he was clever. He and his followers they managed to convince the Clave that the downworlders they killed on their special missions had violated the Accords in some way. Complete fabrications!” He slammed his drink down in anger, Eljah jolting in shock, still standing behind him.

Innocent as always, Clary asked such an obvious question, “How could the Clave not see??“ but both Magnus and Elijah were rightfully riled up, and their emotions intensified by the reminder of the Clave’s incompetence.

“Shadowhunters believe in the law as absolute. They could never conceive of one of their own going astray.” Clary laughed humorlessly at his depiction of her kind.

“My father didn’t go astray, Magnus. He went insane.”

“What happened back then is happening again. The Clave refuses to believe that Valentine’s a threat. Nineteen years ago, their lack of vision allowed the circle to almost decimate the entire Shadow World.”

“That was the Uprising?”

“Yes. Valentine wanted to create a new Shadowhunter army, and for that, he needed the Mortal Cup. He knew it would be on display at the signing of the Accords as a show of the Clave’s power. He seized the opportunity to accomplish everything he ever wanted: Destroy the Accords, murder downworlders, and secure the Cup.”

—

There was no further time for an existential crisis or debating her mother and Luke’s intentions while they were Circle members. Luke was on his last leg, his healing officially ceased and awareness thinning with the amount of pain he was in.

Magnus flashed his magic, the power surging through Luke as his body curled. Alec was nowhere to be found. Eljah trusted Magnus, but not his body’s ability to hold out on the shadowhunter’s arrival. He was tired of relying on them despite the short time knowing them. The perk of little to no people in your circles means you can only rely on yourself—the most reliable!

He should be grateful to the warriors, but Magnus was beginning to sweat and looked no better than Luke, as his magic was running out. Eljah continued mixing the potion frantically, barely noticing Alec run past him straight to the kneeling warlock. He’d caught him before he could fall, supporting him like Eljah earlier in the day.

Magnus was gasping for air, panting as he said, “help me. I need your strength.” They stayed close, taking in the energy of one another. Eljah watching them merge into murky red and a gray so dark it became black. It felt like he wasn’t meant to watch, so he turned away.

“Take as much as you need,” Alec huffed. His hand grabbed Magnus’ and the two launched themselves back into position.

“Clary!” Jace yelled out as he and Simon finally made their entrance, tossing the final ingredient to Clary and completing the potion. She mixed it as fast as possible and hurled herself across the room to Luke, saving him just in time.