Born to Endless Night Read online

  "I didn't expect him," said Magnus. "I didn't expect anything like this to come, for me. Even if I thought sometimes about what it might be like if you and I did have a family, I thought it would not be for years. But yes. Yes, I want to try as well."

  Alec smiled, his smile so brilliant that Magnus realized how relieved he was, and realized belatedly how worried Alec had been that Magnus would say no.

  "It is quick," Alec admitted. "I thought about having a family, but I guess I always thought . . . Well, I guess I never expected anything like this to happen before we got married."

  "What?" said Magnus.

  Alec just stared up at him. One long, strong archer's hand was dangling into the baby's crib, but Alec was intent on Magnus, his dark blue eyes darker than ever in the shadows, one look from Alec more important than a kiss from anyone else. Magnus saw he meant it.

  "Alec," he said. "My Alec. You have to know that's impossible."

  Alec looked stunned and horror-struck. Magnus began to speak, the words tumbling out of his mouth faster and faster, trying to get Alec to see.

  "Shadowhunters can marry Downworlders, in Downworlder or mundane ceremonies. I've seen it happen. I've seen other Shadowhunters dismiss those marriages as meaning nothing, and I've seen some Shadowhunters bow under pressure and break the vows they made. I know you would never bow or break. I know that type of marriage would mean just as much to you. I know that any promises you made me, you would keep. But I was alive before the Accords. I sat and ate and talked with Shadowhunters about peace between our people, and then those same Shadowhunters threw away the plates I ate off because they thought I irredeemably tainted whatever I touched. I will not have a ceremony that anyone looks down on as lesser. I do not want you to have any less than the ceremony you could have had, to honor your vows to a Shadowhunter. I have had enough of making compromises in the name of trying to make peace. I want the Law to change. I do not want to get married until we can get married in gold."

  Alec was quiet, his head bowed.

  "Do you understand?" Magnus demanded, feeling almost desperate. "It's not that I don't want to. It's not that I don't love you."

  "I understand," said Alec. He took a deep breath and looked up. "Changing the Law might take a while," he said simply.

  "It might," said Magnus.

  They were both quiet for a little while.

  "Can I tell you something?" Magnus asked. "Nobody ever wanted me to marry them before."

  He'd had other loves, but none of them had ever asked, and he had known, had sensed with a cold, sinking feeling, that it would be useless, not to ask them. Whether it was because they did not feel they could promise until death did them part when Magnus would not die, because they took Magnus lightly or thought, being immortal, that he took them lightly. He had never known the reasons they did not want to marry him, but there it was: There had been lovers willing to die with him, but nobody had ever been willing to swear to live with him every day for as long as they both had to live.

  Nobody until this Shadowhunter.

  "I never asked anyone to marry me before," said Alec. "So that's a no, then?"

  He laughed as he asked, a soft laugh, worn but happy. Alec always tried to give those he loved a path or an open door; he tried to give those he loved anything they wanted. They sat there, leaning against their baby's crib together.

  Magnus lifted his hand, and Alec caught it in midair, their fingers linking. Magnus's rings flashed and Alec's scars glowed in the moonlight. Both of them held on.

  "It's yes, one day," Magnus said. "For you, Alec, it's always yes."

  *

  After classes the next day Simon sat in his dank dungeon room, resisted the almost irresistible temptation to go find Isabelle, and mustered up his courage.

  He marched up the many flights of stairs and knocked on the door of Alec and Magnus's rooms.

  Magnus answered the door. He was wearing jeans and a loose, frayed T-shirt, holding the baby, and he looked very tired.

  "How did you know he'd just woken up from a nap?" Magnus asked as he opened the door.

  "Uh, I didn't," said Simon.

  Magnus blinked at him, in the slow way that tired people did, as if they had to think deeply about blinking. "Oh, my apologies," he said. "I thought you were Maryse."

  "Isabelle's mother is here?" Simon exclaimed.

  "Shhhh!" said Magnus. "She might hear you."

  The baby was grizzling, not quite crying but making a sound like a small, unhappy tractor. He wiped his damp face against Magnus's shoulder.

  "I'm really sorry to interrupt," said Simon. "I was wondering if I could have a word alone with Alec."

  "Alec's sleeping," Magnus said flatly, and began to close the door.

  Alec's voice rang out before the door was quite closed. He sounded as if he was midyawn. "No, I'm not. I'm awake. I can talk to Simon." He appeared in the doorway, pulling the door back open. "Go out and take a long walk. Get some fresh air. It'll wake you up."

  "I'm great," said Magnus. "I don't need sleeping. Or waking. I feel great."

  The baby waved his fat hands in Alec's direction, the gestures loose and uncoordinated but unmistakable. Alec looked startled but smiled, a sudden, unexpectedly nice smile, and reached out to take the baby in his arms. As soon as he did, the baby stopped grizzling.

  Magnus waved his finger in the baby's face. "I find your attitude insulting," he informed him. He kissed Alec briefly. "I won't be gone long."

  "Take as long as you need," said Alec. "I have this feeling my parents might be coming to help very shortly."

  Magnus left, and Alec stepped away from the door, going to stand at the window with the baby.

  "So," said Alec. His shirt was rumpled, clearly slept in, and he was bouncing a baby. Simon felt bad even bothering him. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

  "I'm really sorry again about the other day," Simon told him.

  Then he wondered if it was terrible that he had referenced sex in front of Alec's baby. Maybe Simon was just doomed to mortally offend Alec, over and over again. Forever.

  "It's okay," said Alec. "I once walked in on you and Isabelle. I guess turnabout's fair play." He frowned. "Although you two were in my room at the time, so actually I think you still owe me."

  Simon was alarmed. "You walked in on me and Isabelle? But we haven't . . . I mean, we didn't . . . Did we?"

  It would be typical of Simon's life, he thought. Of all things in the world, he would forget that.

  Alec looked upset to be having this discussion, but Simon fixed him with a pleading stare and Alec apparently took pity on Simon's great patheticness.

  "I don't know," Alec said at last. "You were in the process of taking your clothes off, as I remember. And I try not to remember. And you seemed to be engaging in some sort of role-play."

  "Oh. Whoa. Like advanced role-play? Were there costumes? Were there props? What is Isabelle going to be expecting here, exactly?"

  "I won't discuss this," said Alec.

  "But if you could just give me a tiny hint . . ."

  "Get out of here, Simon," said Alec.

  Simon yanked himself back from the edge of role-playing panic, and pulled himself together.

  This was more words than he had spoken to Alec in years.

  Though Alec had just ordered him out of the room, so Simon had to admit things were not exactly going well.

  "I'm sorry," said Simon. "I mean, I'm sorry for the inappropriate questions. And I'm sorry for walking in on you, er, yesterday morning. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for whatever it is that went wrong between us. Whatever you're angry about. I honestly don't remember, but I do remember how you are when you're angry, and I don't want things to be like that between us. I remember you don't like Clary."

  Alec looked at Simon as if he was crazy.

  "I like Clary. Clary's one of my best friends."

  "Oh," said Simon. "I'm sorry. I thought I remembered . . . I must have gotten it wrong."
>
  Alec took a deep breath and admitted: "No, you didn't get it wrong. I didn't like Clary at first. I got--rough with her once. I slammed her up against a wall. She hit her head. I was a trained warrior and she didn't have any training at all, back then. I'm twice her size."

  Simon had come here to conciliate Alec, so he was unprepared for the strong urge to take a swing at him. He couldn't do it. Alec was holding a baby.

  All he could do was stare at him in furious silence, at the very idea someone would touch his best friend.

  "It's no excuse," Alec continued. "But I was afraid. She knew about me being gay, and she told me that she knew. She wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know, but I was scared of her because I didn't know her. She wasn't my friend then. She was just some mundane invading my family, and I knew Shadowhunters, I was friends with Shadowhunters, who if they'd ever guessed--they would have gone running to tell my parents, so my parents could talk sense into me. They would have told everybody. They would have thought they were doing the right thing."

  "It wouldn't have been the right thing," said Simon, still furious but shaken. "Clary would never do that. She never even told me."

  "I didn't know her then," said Alec. "You're right. She never told anyone, about any of it. She had every right to say that I'd gotten rough with her. Jace would have punched me in the face if he'd known. I was terrified she would tell Jace that I was gay, because I wasn't ready for Jace to know about me. But you're right. She would never, and she didn't." He looked out of the window, patting the baby on the back. "I like Clary," he said simply. "She always tries to do what's right, and she never lets anyone else tell her what right is. She reminds my parabatai that he wants to live. Occasionally I wish she'd take fewer mad risks, but if I hated reckless crazy-brave people, I'd hate . . ."

  "Let me guess," said Simon. "His name rhymes with Face Herringfail."

  Alec laughed and Simon mentally congratulated himself.

  "So you like Clary," said Simon. "I'm the only one you don't like. What did I do? I know you have a lot on your plate, but if you could just tell me what I did so I can apologize for it and so we can maybe be okay, I'd really appreciate it."

  Alec stared at him, then turned and walked toward one of the chairs in the attic. There were two rickety wooden chairs, both of which held cushions with peacocks embroidered on them, and there was a sofa. The sofa was a little slanted. Alec took one of the chairs, and Simon decided not to risk the sofa and took the other.

  Alec put the baby on his knee, one arm carefully around his small, round body. With his free hand he played with the baby's tiny hands, tapping them with his fingertips, as if he were teaching the baby how to play patty-cake. He was clearly getting ready for a confession.

  Simon drew in a deep breath, preparing for whatever it was. He knew it might be really bad. He had to be ready.

  "What did you do?" Alec asked. "You saved Magnus's life."

  Simon was at a loss. An apology seemed inappropriate.

  "Magnus was kidnapped, and I went into a hell dimension to save him. That was my whole plan. All I wanted to do was rescue him. On the way, Isabelle was badly hurt. My whole life, I always wanted to protect the people I loved, to make sure they were safe. I should have been able to do it. But I couldn't. I wasn't able to help either of them. You did. You saved Isabelle's life. When Magnus's father was intent on taking him and there was nothing I could do about it, nothing at all, you stepped in. I'd undervalued you, in the past, and you did everything I ever wanted to do, and then you were gone. Isabelle was a wreck. Clary was worse. Jace was so upset. Magnus felt guilty. Everyone was so hurt, and I wanted to help them, and you came back but you didn't remember what you had done. I'm not really good with strangers, and you were a really complicated stranger. I couldn't talk to you. It wasn't that you did anything wrong. It was that there was nothing I could do to make it even between us. I owed you more than I could ever repay, and I didn't even know how to thank you. It wouldn't have meant anything. You didn't even remember."

  "Oh," said Simon. "Wow."

  It was weird to think of faceless strangers thinking of Simon as a hero. It was even weirder to have Alec Lightwood, who he'd thought did not even like him, talk about him as if he was a hero.

  "So you don't hate me, and you don't hate Clary. You don't hate anyone."

  "I hate people forcing me to talk about my feelings," said Alec.

  Simon stared at him for a moment, an apology on his lips, but he did not speak it. Instead he grinned, and Alec grinned shyly back.

  "I've been doing it way too much since I got to the Academy."

  "I can imagine," said Simon.

  He had not been sure what would happen with the baby Alec and Magnus were taking care of, but from everything Isabelle had said, she was sure they were keeping him. That must have required a conversation.

  "I would like," Alec said, "not to talk about feelings again for about a year. Also maybe to sleep for a year. Do babies ever sleep?"

  "I used to babysit sometimes," Simon said. "As I recall babies do sleep a lot, but when you least expect it. Babies: more like the Spanish Inquisition than you think."

  Alec nodded, though he seemed confused. Simon made a mental note that it was his duty now, as Alec's established friend, to introduce Alec to Monty Python as soon as possible. The baby crowed as if he were pleased by the comparison.

  "Hey," said Alec. "I'm sorry that I made you think I was mad at you, just because I didn't know what to say."

  "Well," Simon said. "Here's the thing. I was helped along in my assumption."

  Alec stopped playing patty-cake with the baby. He went still all over. "What do you mean?"

  "You didn't talk to me a lot, and I was a little worried about it," Simon explained. "So I asked my friend, between us guys, if you had a problem with me. I asked my good friend Jace."

  There was a pause as Alec absorbed this news. "You did."

  "And Jace," said Simon. "Jace told me that there was a big, dark secret issue between us. He said it wasn't his place to talk about it."

  The baby looked at Simon, then back at Alec. His small face looked thoughtful, as if he might shake his head and go: That Jace, what will he do next?

  "Leave this to me," Alec said calmly. "He's my parabatai and we have a sacred bond and everything, but now he has gone too far."

  "That's cool," said Simon. "Please exact awful vengeance for both of us, because I'm pretty sure he could take me in a fight."

  Alec nodded, admitting this very true fact. Simon could not believe he had been so worried about Alec Lightwood. Alec was great.

  "Well," Alec said. "Like I said . . . I do owe you."

  Simon waved a hand. "Nah. Call it even."

  *

  Magnus was so tired, he stumbled into the Shadowhunter Academy dining room and thought about eating there.

  Then he actually looked at the food and came to his senses.

  It was not quite dinnertime, but there were a few students gathered early, even though Magnus did not anticipate there would be a rush on the slime lasagna. Magnus saw Julie and her friends at one table. Julie looked Magnus up and down, taking in the wrecked hair and Alec's T-shirt, and Magnus read deep disillusionment on her face.

  So a young girl's dreams died. Magnus admitted, after a sleepless night and wearing one of Alec's shirts because Isabelle had destroyed several of his own and the baby had been sick on several others, he might not be at his most glamorous.

  It was probably good for Julie to face reality, though Magnus was determined to, at some point, take a shower, wear a better shirt, and dazzle the baby with his resplendence.

  Magnus had visited Ragnor at the Academy, and he knew how the meals there worked. He squinted, trying to figure out which tables belonged to the elites and which to the dregs, the humans who aspired to be Nephilim but were not accepted by the Nephilim as good enough until they Ascended. Magnus had always thought the dregs showed enormous self-restraint by not rising up aga
inst Shadowhunter arrogance, burning down the Academy, and fleeing into the night.

  It was possible that the Clave was right when they called Magnus an insurgent.

  He could not work out, however, which tables belonged to whom. It had been very clear, years ago, but he was certain the blonde and the brunette Simon knew were Nephilim, and almost sure the gorgeous idiot who wanted to raise a baby with Simon in a sock drawer was not.

  Magnus's attention was attracted by the sound of a throaty, imperious voice coming from a Latina girl who looked all of fifteen. She was a mundane, Magnus knew at a glance. Something else he could tell at a glance: In a couple of years, whether she Ascended or not, she would be a holy terror.

  "Jon," she was saying to the boy across the table from her. "I am in so much pain from stubbing my toe! I need aspirin."

  "What's aspirin?" asked the boy, sounding panicked.

  He was obviously a Nephilim, through and through and through. Magnus could tell without seeing his runes. In fact, he was prepared to bet the boy was a Cartwright. Magnus had known several Cartwrights through the centuries. The Cartwrights all had such distressingly thick necks.

  "You buy it in a pharmacy," said the girl. "No, don't tell me, you don't know what a pharmacy is either. Have you ever left Idris in your whole life?"

  "Yes!" said Jon, possibly Cartwright. "On many demon-hunting missions. And once Mama and Papa took me to the beach in France!"

  "Amazing," said the girl. "I mean that. I'm going to explain all of modern medicine to you."

  "Please don't do that, Marisol," said Jon. "I did not feel good after you explained appendectomies. I couldn't eat."

  Marisol made a face at her plate. "So what you're saying is, I did you a huge favor."

  "I like to eat," said Jon sadly.

  "Right," said Marisol. "So, I don't explain modern medicine to you, and then a medical emergency occurs to me. It could be solved with the application of a little first aid, but you don't know that, and so I die. I die at your feet. Is that what you want, Jon?"

  "No," said Jon. "What's first aid? Is there a . . . second aid?"

  "I can't believe you're going to let me die when my death could so easily be avoided, if you had just listened," Marisol went on mercilessly.

  "Okay, okay! I'll listen."

  "Great. Get me some juice, because I'll be talking for a while. I'm still very hurt that you even considered letting me die," Marisol added as Jon scrambled up and made for the side of the room where the unappetizing food and potentially poisonous drinks were laid out. "I thought Shadowhunters had a mandate to protect mundanes!" Marisol shouted after him. "Not orange juice. I want apple juice!"