The Lost Book of the White

by Cassandra Clare

  “Well, that’s something,” Magnus said. He paused. “I didn’t tell Catarina.”

  “Nothing?” said Ragnor.

  “Nothing. But that’s not fair to her. I’ll tell her when I see her next. It would mean a lot to her to know you’re all right.”

  Ragnor looked surprised, but pleased. “Really?”

  “Yes,” said Magnus. “You idiot. She cares, more than almost anybody. There are so few of us, and—” He stopped. A terrible thought had occurred to him. “Oh no,” he said. “You’re not going to use that stupid alias again?”

  “First of all,” said Ragnor, “I am not going to take naming advice from somebody who could have chosen any name in the world and went with ‘Magnus Bane.’ Second, yes, I am going to use that name.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t,” said Magnus.

  “It’s only appropriate,” Ragnor said with a wink. “I am now, after all, but a Shade of my former self.”

  Magnus let out a long groan.

  * * *

  AFTER SAYING GOOD-BYE TO RAGNOR and Tian, Alec and the rest of them stepped through the Portal and walked out into a cool autumnal morning in New York. Unfortunately, they were standing in an alley near the Institute, which was redolent with the smell of garbage.

  “Ah,” said Simon, “home.”

  “Magnus,” said Jace, “why didn’t you just open the Portal directly into the Institute?”

  One of the things that Alec had come to enjoy about raising a child with Magnus was that it was adorable when Magnus, the most self-assured, levelheaded man he knew, looked uncertain and awkward. And having a child greatly increased the frequency with which Magnus looked uncertain and awkward.

  This was one of those times. Alec wanted to grab him and kiss him, but it did seem like a strange moment for it. “I didn’t want to maybe wake up Max,” Magnus said with a shrug.

  Once they got inside, Max was quickly located, crawling happily around on the rug in Maryse’s study while being watched by Maryse, Kadir, and unexpectedly, Catarina. Rather than greeting any of them, Alec found himself discarding his usual self-possession and running to scoop Max up from the ground and hold him tightly. Max was pleased, but clearly puzzled by the intensity of Alec’s affection. After a moment he gave in and began laughing and wriggling happily. Magnus came over and stroked Max’s head affectionately, looking a bit distracted.

  Jace and Isabelle had gone to hug Maryse; Simon and Clary were chattering to Kadir and Catarina. Holding Max, Alec leaned into Magnus, savoring the circle the three of them made—here, surrounded by their family and friends. He had risked his life and been thankful to get home safe many times before, but this was different. This was painful and beautiful and terrible and perfect.

  Fairly soon, Jace, Clary, Simon, and Isabelle excused themselves to go clean up—they were all streaked with dirt and grime. Alec knew he didn’t look much better, but he didn’t care—he bounced Max in his arms while Magnus dragged Catarina off for a conversation. Alec assumed he wanted to tell her about Ragnor—they had been close for centuries, and she would need to know the whole saga, starting with his not being dead and ending with… wherever he was going now.

  For their part, Maryse and Kadir seemed happy, both to have watched Max and also to return the baby to his parents. Max, too, seemed sanguine enough. He bounced contentedly in Alec’s arms.

  “Wasn’t too bad?” Alec said, smiling.

  “No!” said Maryse. “Not at all. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

  “I can’t help but notice,” Alec said, “that your arm is in a sling. Also,” he added to Kadir, “that you have two black eyes.”

  Kadir and Maryse exchanged glances and then returned to their sunny smiles. “Nothing to do with Max,” Maryse said breezily. “Just a bit of an accident hanging a picture on a high wall.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Alec. “So definitely nothing to do with Max?”

  “The very idea is ridiculous,” said Kadir solemnly.

  “We had an excellent time watching Max,” said Maryse firmly. “And we greatly look forward to doing it again.”

  “Again!” agreed Max. Alec chucked him under the chin.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Clary said. She and Jace had returned, changed and scrubbed. Her red hair shone. Alec noted that Jace was still carrying his spear from Diyu; apparently he’d grown fond of it. Clary ruffled Max’s blue hair. “Keeping out of trouble?”

  “Boof,” Max confided. He high-fived Jace.

  “That’s a fine spear, Jace,” said Kadir. “Though I prefer a naginata, myself.”

  “Okay,” said Jace. “Mom, Kadir. Clary and I were talking. And I think… I’m willing to run the Institute, but only if I can do it with Clary. Both of us together.”

  Maryse seemed delighted. “I think that will work out fine.” She looked over at Alec. “Did you help convince him?”

  Alec shook his head. “Nope. He decided on his own. Have you told Isabelle and Simon yet?” he added to Jace.

  Jace and Clary exchanged a glance. “We went to Isabelle’s room,” Jace said cautiously, “but they seemed to be, uh, busy.”

  “That’s my sister,” said Alec. “I didn’t need to know that.” He looked over at his mother, who was, or was pretending to be, deep in conversation with Kadir.

  “At least you didn’t have to hear it,” said Clary.

  The corner of Jace’s lip twitched. “I guess Simon has realized that rather than dwelling on life’s uncertainties, you should spend quality time with people you love.”

  “Dear God,” said Alec, “I am removing myself and my baby from this conversation.”

  He headed across the room to Magnus, still deep in discussion with Catarina. She looked stunned, but managed to smile as Alec approached them carrying Max.

  Max held his chubby blue arms out to Magnus. “Ba!” he said.

  “Oh, here,” Alec said. “Take the little guy for a minute.” He prepared for the handoff.

  Magnus backed away, hands raised as though warding something off. “No, you… you keep him for now. I’ll, uh, I’ll just…”

  “What?” said Alec. “What’s wrong?”

  Magnus looked around hectically. “I’ve just… I’ve been very monster-y recently. I’m still a little rattled from that. I don’t want to, you know… drop him. Or anything.”

  “Magnus,” Alec said. “You aren’t monster-y. You’re Magnus. Take your kid.”

  “Excuse us, Alec,” said Catarina, and caught hold of Magnus’s hand. “I need to borrow your boyfriend for a moment.”

  * * *

  CATARINA THRUST MAGNUS INTO A chair in the hallway. He was still slightly dizzy; she had advanced on him and dragged him away from Alec and Max with startling force. Sometimes he forgot how strong she was.

  She stared at him intensely. “Don’t do this,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Don’t do this self-loathing, ‘wah wah I’m a monster’ thing. It’s unbecoming.”

  Magnus hesitated. “You didn’t see Shinyun. I got very close to becoming a monster. It’s a complete fluke that I was saved.”

  Catarina looked at him skeptically. “I thought it was a very clever plan executed by your boyfriend.”

  “Well, yes, but it was a guess on his part. He didn’t know it would work. I’m still not sure why it did work.”

  “And so suddenly after hundreds of years you’ve decided that, what, you’re a danger to the people you love? Because you’re a warlock and warlocks have demon parents? You’ve gone through this before, you know, and come out the other side. You don’t need me to give you the speech about how we’re defined by what we do, not what we are. I’ve heard you give that speech yourself.” Catarina’s look was compassionate, but Magnus could feel her aggravation in the set of her shoulders. They really had known each other a very long time.

  “It’s different now,” Magnus said. He paused. “Do you remember the Shanghai Club? In 1910?”

  Catarina nodded slowly. “It was ju
st after Ephraim passed away.”

  “I asked you if raising him had been worth it,” Magnus said. “You gave so much, and he lived a good life… but then he died anyway.”

  “Ah,” said Catarina with a small smile. “That’s why it’s different now.”

  Magnus nodded sheepishly.

  “Magnus, you are surrounded by people who love you. I didn’t let Ephraim go until I made sure he too was surrounded with love. His living to a ripe old age, dying in his bed surrounded by his family—I was so sad when he died, but it was also a victory. I had saved that boy. I had raised him into a man. He had lived, had loved others. He had exactly what I wanted him to have.”

  “But Max,” began Magnus, and Catarina waved her hands.

  “Magnus, I hate to sound like Ragnor, but you are an idiot sometimes. I am telling you that you are doing good, that you are doing the right things. Your loved ones, your family, will be there to save you when you need saving. And they will be there to help save Max, if he needs saving. You have to trust in that.” She gave him a wry smile. “You are literally the person who taught me that.”

  Magnus shook his head, overwhelmed. “You’re right. It’s just hard to remember sometimes. It feels so different now, with Max. My responsibility to him is so huge, so much bigger than any responsibility I’ve felt before.”

  “Yep!” said Catarina, folding her arms. “We call that ‘being a parent.’ ”

  Magnus held up his hands in surrender. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. You win. And since you’re my oldest friend, or one of them…”

  “You’re going to ask me for a favor, aren’t you?” said Catarina in a resigned tone.

  Magnus reached into his torn and tattered jacket and drew out the Book of the White. “Bring this to the Spiral Labyrinth for me, will you?” he said. “I think I’m done looking after it for now.”

  * * *

  IT WAS ALWAYS STRANGE FOR Alec to leave the Institute, to say good-bye to his mother and Isabelle and Jace and… return home. The Institute had been his home for so many years, and while he’d settled into Magnus’s apartment being their apartment, there was still always a brief moment, as they departed, when Alec felt like something was off.

  Back at home, Magnus called the Mansion Hotel in Shanghai and arranged to have all their things placed into storage, from which he planned to teleport them home when the hotel staff weren’t looking. Alec played with Max, who crawled happily around the living room, enjoying the quiet of being home. Presently, Magnus returned and scooped up Max, who protested briefly before giving up, breaking into a beaming smile, and immediately beginning to chew on one of Magnus’s buttons.

  “They’re pretty, aren’t they?” Magnus said.

  “You know,” said Alec, “I always got that our job was saving the world, but it’s way more terrifying now that Max is here.”

  “Excuse me,” said Magnus, “maybe your job is saving the world. My job is harder to summarize, but a significant portion is just about looking good.”

  “Oh,” said Alec, “so when the world needs saving, you’re not going to show up and save it? Sure, that sounds like the Magnus I know. Hey, Max!” he added, and Max briefly paused in his intent chewing to look over at Alec. “Is that your bapak? Can you say bapak?”

  “He doesn’t say bapak yet,” Magnus said in a whisper. “Don’t pressure him.”

  “It’s weird,” said Alec. “It’s a weird life. But it’s the life we’re made for, I guess. And the life we choose.”

  “Bapa!” Max yelled loudly, waving an arm. Behind him, one of the curtains in the window burst into flame. Alec sighed, grabbed a couch cushion, and went to beat the fire out.

  “Our other job,” said Magnus, “is to keep Max from burning down this whole building until he’s old enough to control his magic.”

  Alec smiled. “After Sammael, that seems almost possible.”

  “Bpppft,” said Max.

  “Bapak?” Alec said again.

  Max frowned in concentration, and then began chewing on the button again.

  * * *

  MUCH, MUCH LATER, WHEN ALL was dark and quiet in the apartment, and they were all back in their own beds, Magnus awoke from fitful dreams. Very carefully he freed himself from the grasp of Alec’s arm, crept out of bed, threw on a sweater over his silk pajamas, and made his way across the hall and into the other bedroom.

  Almost immediately, he saw two very blue eyes peering at him over the edge of the crib. The lurking eyes reminded Magnus of a time he’d seen a hippo lying in wait with its eyes just above the waterline.

  Magnus strolled toward the crib. “Hey there, you,” he whispered. “I see someone who shouldn’t be up.”

  There was a growing twinkle in the blue eyes, as though Max had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar but was hoping to find a co-conspirator to cut in on his illicit cookie deals. When Magnus approached, Max lifted his arms, in silent demand to be scooped up.

  “Who’s a wicked, rule-breaking warlock?” said Magnus, complying with the request. “Who’s my baby?”

  Max squealed in delight.

  Magnus lifted his son up high. Then he tossed Max into the air in a shower of iridescent blue sparks and watched him laugh, perfectly happy, perfectly trusting that when he came down, his father would catch him.

  * * *

  THE SOUND OF SONG RUFFLED the calm of Alec’s slumbers. He could’ve easily let himself roll over in their silk sheets and fall back into the luxurious warmth of sleep, but instead he pulled himself to the surface of awareness. He was still drowsy, but the song was sweet, and it made him want to see.

  When he slid open the door and peered into Max’s room, he did. Magnus was dressed for comfort at home. In fact, he was wearing one of Alec’s sweaters, the thick worn fabric slipping to one side on his narrower shoulders. As with most things, Magnus made it look good.

  “Nina bobo, ni ni bobo,” he was singing in his deep, beautiful voice, an Indonesian lullaby, much older than Magnus himself. He rocked their child in his arms. Max was waving his hands as though to conduct the song, or to catch the firefly-bright and cobalt-blue sparks of magic floating around the room. Magnus was smiling down at Max, a small, tender, and impossibly sweet smile, even as he sang.

  Alec meant to let them be and return to bed, but Magnus paused in his song and tossed Alec a glance as though he knew he’d been watching.

  Alec leaned in the doorway of the bedroom, resting his hand over his head against the doorframe. “Is that your bapak?” he said to Max.

  After some consideration, Max said, “Bapak.”

  The look Magnus gave Alec was golden as a coin, as Nephilim wedding cloth, as the morning light through the windows of home.

  Epilogue

  IN A PLACE BEYOND PLACE, the Princes of Hell gathered.

  A request had come, making the veils of the worlds reverberate with the sound of their brother’s voice. That it was a request, and not a command, was itself surprising.

  Some came out of loyalty. Some out of curiosity. Some came because if the others were coming, they were certainly coming as well.

  “I know we don’t talk much,” Sammael began.

  They settled down and gave him their attention. They were a motley sort of crew, he had to admit, from Belial—appearing, as he most often did, as a beautiful pale-haired man—to Leviathan, who was more of a dark green serpent, with sleek scales and arms that could be charitably described as tentacle-adjacent.

  “I know we mostly go our own ways,” Sammael went on. “We only see one another to fight, over territory, over power. That’s how it’s been, since the beginning.”

  That was how it was at present, as well. Belphegor and Belial had ignored each other completely since they arrived, each refusing to acknowledge the other’s existence. Leviathan and Mammon had decided to sit in the same chair, each arguing that it was the only cosmically large chair present and as the most sizable of the princes he deserved it more.

  Sammael con
sidered explaining to them that the chair was only a metaphysical construct and there could just as easily be two chairs as one, since they were in a place beyond place and all that. But he didn’t like to get involved.

  Asmodeus, obviously the strongest of them by most measures, still maintained his loyalty to Sammael. Luckily for Sammael. When he bowed his head in acknowledgment of Sammael’s superiority, the others took note, and Sammael didn’t think he would have too much trouble with them.

  “If that’s the way it’s always been, then that’s the way it’s supposed to be,” said Astaroth. There was nodding from the others.

  “Recently,” Sammael said, “as some of you surely know, the love of my life, the great Mother of Demons, Lilith, was killed by humans on Earth. It has destroyed me,” he went on sharply. “I grieve with a grief to make stars collapse.”

  Azazel rolled his eyes.

  “I see that, Azazel!” Sammael snapped. “None of you perhaps understand, as you believe love is incompatible with the goals of the demonic realms. But I am here to tell you that you are wrong,” he said. “Lilith was the greatest of my strength,” he said, choking up a little. “And only now that she is gone do I feel a part missing from me.”

  There was a silence. Belial said, “Sammael, have you brought us all here, disturbing our activities across the entire universe, in order to tell us that love is real?”

  “No,” said Sammael. “Well, okay. Love is real, so if you’re capable of taking any insight from that, there it is. But no, I have a more concrete reason for gathering you.

  “Recently,” he went on, “I had a series of strange encounters with humans—with warlocks and Nephilim—in the broken courts of the realm of Diyu.”

  “Diyu?” rumbled Mammon. “Yanluo’s old place? We had some parties there.”

  “Yes,” said Sammael, “and you should see the state it’s in now. Not. Good.” He gave them a significant look. “But that’s important to my point. All my plans there came to ruin.”

  “You have brought us here,” said Belial, his diction as elegant as always, “to tell us that love is real and that you are terrible at your job?”