The Red Scrolls of Magic

by Cassandra Clare

  He trusted Alec. He trusted him implicitly. But trust did not guarantee Alec’s safety. Besides, Magnus had trusted and been wrong before. As he headed out in search of Alec, he could not silence the echo of his old friend’s voice in his ears.

  But does he love you?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  * * *

  Dance Me to Your Beauty

  ALEC WATCHED AS MAGNUS’S FRIEND Catarina Loss led him away. A moment later Shinyun exited through the large double doors, presumably to check the estate grounds, leaving Alec standing alone in the midst of a ball.

  Alec was very glad he was wearing a mask. He felt abandoned in hostile territory. Actually, he would much rather have been abandoned in hostile territory than left to stand around at a party.

  Magnus had said some of these people were his friends.

  During their adventures in New York, Magnus had always seemed so independent and self-sufficient. Alec was the one with the ties: to his fellow Shadowhunters, and above all to his sister and his parabatai. It had never occurred to Alec that Magnus had multiple loyalties as well. Magnus was not getting invited to parties, was being cut out of his own world, because he was with Alec.

  If Alec wanted to be with Magnus, he had to be able to get along with Magnus’s friends. Magnus always made the effort to help out Alec’s friends. Alec had to find some way to do this, though he could not imagine how.

  He remembered with deep relief that he had a mission.

  He twisted his way through the crowded hallways into what must be the servants’ quarters, which were only slightly less crowded than the main rooms. Here, a small army of staff—mostly djinns, kelpies, and sprites—flitted about, making sure the music and lights stayed on, the alcohol remained flowing, and the mansion was kept clean. There was a sitting room for a dozen or so warlocks, who were constantly rotating shifts to maintain the magic. An entire pack of werewolves handled security.

  He made one quick pass down the servants’ hall behind the dining room and entered the kitchen, only to get thrown out by the head chef, a very angry goblin.

  He left the kitchen hastily. The goblin, waving a cleaver and a spatula, could not keep up.

  There was no sign anywhere of a stone goat. Alec tried to find his way back to the party, where he could ask if anyone had seen this Mori Shu guy, though the idea of interrupting strangers to interrogate them wasn’t the most attractive.

  He heard faint music coming from behind one door. He opened the door and walked into a room painted with murals of forest scenes, feathery vines, and deep pools. Against the mural, two women were making out. One woman was tiny and wearing bright purple that shone in the romantic gloom. The taller one, a woman with long, silvery-blond hair pulled back from the curve of her faerie ears, raised her eyebrow at Alec over her companion’s shoulder. Her companion giggled and slid her hand up the blond faerie woman’s black-clad thigh.

  Alec walked backward out of the room.

  He closed the door.

  He wondered where Magnus was.

  He wandered through the mansion. The next room he passed contained a group of Downworlders playing cards. He poked his head in and realized what sort of game it was when someone said something about fish, and then a brownie wearing a bird mask, who had apparently lost the hand, stood up and began to unbutton his shirt.

  “Oh, wow, excuse me,” said Alec, fleeing.

  A pixie grabbed his hand. “You can stay, Shadowhunter. Show us some of your runes.”

  “Let go, please,” said Alec.

  Her eyes sparkled mischievously at him.

  “I asked politely,” said Alec. “I won’t again.”

  She let go. Alec continued his weary quest for Mori Shu, any signs of cult activity, or at the very least someone who wouldn’t make a pass at him.

  In one hallway, the floor gleaming parquet and the ceiling festooned with golden cherubs, there was a boy in a grumpy cat mask and biker boots, not involved in any sexual activity, legs crossed and leaning against the wall. As a bevy of faeries passed the boy, giggling and groping, the boy scooted away.

  Alec remembered being younger, and how overwhelming large groups of people had seemed. He came over and leaned against the wall beside the boy. He saw the boy texting, PARTIES WERE INVENTED TO ANNOY ME. THEY FEATURE MY LEAST FAVORITE THING: PEOPLE, ALL INTENT ON MY LEAST FAVORITE ACTIVITY: SOCIAL INTERACTION.

  “I don’t really like parties either,” Alec said sympathetically.

  “No hablo italiano,” the boy mumbled without looking up.

  “Er,” said Alec. “This conversation is happening in English.”

  “No hablo ingles,” he said without missing a beat.

  “Oh, come on. Really?”

  “Worth a shot,” said the boy.

  Alec considered going away. The boy wrote another text to a contact he had saved as RF. Alec could not help but notice that the conversation was entirely one-sided, the boy sending text after text with no response. The last text read VENICE SMELLS LIKE A TOILET. AS A NEW YORKER, I DO NOT SAY THIS LIGHTLY.

  The weird coincidence emboldened Alec to try again.

  “I get shy when there are strangers too,” Alec told the kid.

  “I’m not shy,” the boy sneered. “I just hate everyone around me and everything that is happening.”

  “Well.” Alec shrugged. “Those feel like similar things sometimes.”

  The boy lifted his curly head, pushing the grumpy cat mask off his face, and froze. Alec froze too, at the twin shock of fangs and familiarity. This was a vampire, and Alec knew him.

  “Raphael?” he asked. “Raphael Santiago?”

  He wondered what the second-in-command of the New York clan was doing here. Downworlders might be flooding in from all over the world, but Raphael had never struck Alec as a party animal.

  Of course, he was not exactly coming off as a party animal now.

  “Oh no, it’s you,” said Raphael. “The twelve-year-old idiot.”

  Alec was not keen on vampires. They were, after all, people who had died. Alec had seen too much death to want reminders of it.

  He understood that they were immortal, but there was no need to show off about it.

  “We just fought a war together. I was with you in the graveyard when Simon came back as a vampire. You’ve seen me multiple times since I was twelve.”

  “The thought of you at twelve haunts me,” Raphael said darkly.

  “Okay,” Alec said, humoring him. “So have you seen a guy called Mori Shu anywhere around here?”

  “I am trying not to make eye contact with anyone here,” said Raphael. “And I’m not a snitch for Shadowhunters. Or a fan of talking to people, of any kind, in any place.”

  Alec rolled his eyes. At this point, a faerie woman came twirling through. She had leaves in her updo and was swathed in ribbons and ivy and not much else. She tripped on a trailing line of ivy and Alec caught her.

  “Good reflexes!” she said brightly. “Also great arms. Would you be interested in a night of tumultuous forbidden passion, with an option to extend to seven years?”

  “Um, I am gay,” Alec said.

  He was not used to saying that casually, to any random person. It was strange to say it, and feel both relief and a shadow of his old fear, twined together.

  Of course, the declaration might not mean much to faeries. The faerie woman accepted it with a shrug, then looked over at Raphael and lit up. Something about the leather jacket or the scowl seemed to appeal to her strongly.

  “How about you, Vampire Without a Cause?”

  “I’m not gay,” said Raphael. “I’m not straight. I’m not interested.”

  “Your sexuality is ‘not interested’?” Alec asked curiously.

  Raphael said, “That’s right.”

  The faerie thought for a moment, then ventured, “I can also assume the appearance of a tree!”

  “I didn’t say, ‘not interested unless you’re a tree.’ ”

  “Wait,” said t
he faerie suddenly. “I recognize you. You’re Raphael Santiago! I’ve heard of you.”

  Raphael made a gesture of dismissal. “Have you heard I like it when people go away?”

  “You were one of the heroes in the Downworlder victory over Valentine.”

  “He was one of the heroes of the Downworlder and Shadowhunter alliance, which led to the victory,” Alec said.

  Raphael stopped looking annoyed and began to look nastily amused.

  “Oh, did the Shadowhunters help a little?” he asked.

  “You were there!” said Alec.

  “Can I have your autograph, Raphael?” asked the faerie lady.

  She produced a large, shiny green leaf and a quill. Raphael wrote LEAVE ME ALONE on the leaf.

  “I’ll cherish it,” said the faerie. She ran away, clutching the leaf to her bosom.

  “Don’t,” Raphael yelled after her.

  A blast of music echoing down the corridors was his only reply. Alec and Raphael both winced. Raphael glanced up at him.

  “This is the worst party I’ve ever been to,” he said. “And I hate parties. People keep asking me whether I have extra superpowers, and I tell them they are thinking of Simon, whom I dislike.”

  “That’s a little harsh,” said Alec.

  “You have to be harsh with fledglings or they do not learn,” said Raphael sternly. “Besides, his jokes are stupid.”

  “They’re not all gold,” Alec admitted.

  “How do you know him?” Raphael snapped his fingers. “Wait, I remember. He’s friends with your annoying blond parabatai, right?”

  He was, though Simon would probably be surprised to hear it. Alec was very familiar with how Jace behaved when he wanted to be your friend. He didn’t act friendly, which would have been too easy. Instead he just spent a lot of time in your presence until you got used to him being there, which he was clearly now doing with regard to Simon. When Jace and Alec were little, Jace had done a lot of hostile hanging around him, hoping to be noticed and loved. Alec honestly preferred it to awkward getting-to-know-you conversations.

  “Right. Plus, Simon is sort of dating my sister, Isabelle,” said Alec.

  “That can’t be,” said Raphael. “Isabelle can do better.”

  “Er, do you know my sister?” Alec asked.

  “She threatened me with a candelabra once, but we don’t really chat,” said Raphael. “Which means we have my ideal relationship.” He gave Alec a cold glare. “It’s the relationship I wish I had with all Shadowhunters.”

  Alec was about to give up and walk away, when a pretty vampire woman in a cheongsam came flying down the hallway, ribbons waving from her purple-streaked hair like a silken flag. Her face was familiar. Alec had seen her at Taki’s, and around the city more generally, usually with Raphael.

  “Save us, oh fearless leader,” said Raphael’s lady friend. “Elliott’s in a huge aquarium puking blue and green. He tried to drink mermaid blood. He tried to drink selkie blood. He tried to—”

  “Ahem,” said Raphael, with a savage jerk of his head in Alec’s direction.

  Alec waved. “Shadowhunter,” he said. “Right here. Hi.”

  “He tried to keep to the Accords and obey all the known Laws!” the woman declared. “Because that’s the New York clan’s idea of a truly festive good time.”

  Alec remembered Magnus and tried not to look like he was here to ruin the Downworlder party. There was one thing he and this woman had in common. He recognized the bright purple she was wearing.

  “I think I saw you earlier,” said Alec hesitantly. “You were—making out with a faerie girl?”

  “Yeah, you’re gonna have to be more specific than that,” said the vampire woman. “This is a party. I’ve made out with six faerie girls, four faerie boys, and a talking toadstool whose gender I’m unsure about. Pretty sexy for a toadstool, though.”

  Raphael covered his face briefly with his non-texting hand.

  “Why, you want to make something of it?” The woman bristled. “How happy I am to see the Nephilim constantly crashing our parties. Were you even invited?”

  “I’m a plus-one,” said Alec.

  The vampire girl relaxed slightly. “Oh, right, you’re Magnus’s latest disaster,” she said. “That’s what Raphael calls you. I’m Lily.”

  She lifted a hand in a halfhearted wave. Alec glanced at Raphael, who arched his eyebrow at Alec in an unfriendly way.

  “Didn’t realize Raphael and I were on pet name terms,” said Alec. He continued to study Raphael. “Do you know Magnus well?”

  “Hardly at all,” said Raphael. “Barely acquainted. I don’t think much of his personality. Or his dress sense. Or the company he keeps. Come away, Lily. Alexander, I hope I never see you again.”

  “I’ve decided I detest you,” Lily told Alec.

  “It’s mutual,” Alec said dryly.

  Unexpectedly, that made the vampire woman smile, before Raphael dragged her away.

  Alec was almost sorry to see them go. They were a piece of New York, even if they were vampires and, for some reason, incredibly hostile toward him in particular. Alec had never met anyone worse at parties than he was before.

  He could not give up his search yet. He made his way downward, searching for the basement, and found a bowling alley that had been turned into an impromptu dueling venue. Next to it was a theater that he could only describe as a Roman toga orgy room. At the far end was a swimming pool that had been changed into a massive bubble-bath party. It was all very overwhelming and uncomfortable. There were still no stone goats in sight.

  He entered a side door and found himself alone in a lighted passageway leading to what looked like a cellar. The noise from the party was dampened by the thick stone walls. Alec proceeded down the corridor and descended a set of stairs, noting the thick layer of dust on just about everything that conveniently betrayed footprints on the steps. Someone had been here recently.

  The lower level opened to a roughly cut stone cellar filled with racks of wooden barrels on one side, and stacks of food stores on the other. This place would make the perfect entrance to a secret lair if there ever were one. He began to probe the caskets, checking for a false bottom or a hidden latch or anything out of the ordinary. He was halfway along the wall when he heard it: distant voices and the sound of scraping. Alec went still. He cocked his head to the side and listened with his rune-enhanced hearing.

  “These used to be the Crimson Hand’s headquarters,” said a man’s French-accented voice. “But I’ve seen no sign of cult activity and every sign of a seriously amazing party. I even heard Magnus Bane was here.”

  “And yet, we still have to search the whole building,” said a woman in return. “Imagine that.”

  Alec drew a seraph blade as he crept toward the voices, though he didn’t activate it. At the end of the wall, a short hallway extended that opened to a wine cellar. On the walls were floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with bottles. There was a blinding white light emanating from a point on one of the shelves, illuminating the room. Standing in front of it were two silhouettes studying what appeared to be a small statue of Bacchus. Alec could make out a woman’s side profile, and the curve of one faerie ear.

  He couldn’t get a good view of their faces in the harsh light, so he continued creeping forward, one soft step at a time. No Downworlder could hear a Shadowhunter coming, if the Shadowhunter didn’t want them to.

  A dagger flew through the air, just missing the sleeve of Alec’s black coat.

  Maybe some Downworlders could hear a Shadowhunter coming.

  “Atheed!” the woman shouted, and her seraph blade caught fire in her hand. The man beside her drew his bow.

  “Wait!” said Alec, and pulled his silk mask down with his free hand. “I’m a Shadowhunter! I’m Alec Lightwood; I’m from the New York Institute!”

  “Oh,” said the man, and lowered his bow. “Hi there.”

  The Shadowhunter woman who had drawn first did not put her seraph blade away b
ut stepped closer, studying him. Alec studied her in turn, and recognized her, pale as a pearl, with streaming fair hair, delicately pointed ears, and striking blue-green eyes. Her pretty face was set in grim lines now.

  She was the faerie woman who had been kissing the vampire girl, in the first room Alec had stumbled into at this ball.

  She was the Shadowhunter woman Alec had seen from the vantage of a hot-air balloon, chasing a demon in Paris.

  There was only one Shadowhunter woman with faerie heritage Alec knew of.

  “And you’re Helen Blackthorn,” he said slowly, “from Los Angeles. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m on my travel year,” said Helen. “I was in the Paris Institute, intending to go on to the Institute in Rome, when we heard rumors about a warlock commanding demons and leading a cult called the Crimson Hand.”

  “What rumors?” asked Alec. “What have you heard, and where from?”

  Helen ignored the questions. “I’ve been chasing the demons and the warlock ever since. Malcolm Fade, High Warlock of Los Angeles, gave me an invitation to this party, and I came hoping to find answers. What are you doing here?”

  Alec blinked. “Oh. Um. I’m on vacation.”

  He realized how stupid that sounded. It was as close to the truth as he could admit, though, without exposing Magnus and leading to a situation where he was standing in front of the Clave explaining, My warlock boyfriend accidentally founded a demon cult.

  When Alec was in trouble, he was used to being able to turn to his fellow Shadowhunters for help. If it hadn’t been for Magnus, he would’ve told these two about Mori Shu and the stone goat. They could all have gone searching together. But Alec couldn’t do that now. These Shadowhunters and he might not be on the same side.

  He looked at the Shadowhunters, and instead of relief that they were here, he felt only anxiety about the lies he had to tell them.

  “I’m just here to have a good time,” Alec added weakly.

  Disbelief flashed across Helen’s face. “In the subbasement of a former cult headquarters, during a Downworlder party full of miscreants, armed with a seraph blade?”