Shadowveil

The Revelation

Magnus never worried. Much.

 His own personal brand of anxiety could usually be recognized and vanished away with enough shopping bags, enough tubes of glittering lip gloss, and a couple of fancy tropical cocktails. And after all, he was immortal and forever was a long time to be wallowing in persistent consternation.

Therefore, the direct effort to go with the flow.

Even when there was something that perhaps a less fabulous person would be concerned about--for instance, the approaching demon invasion, the possessed blonde Shadowhunter in a magical cage, and the absence of a certain redheaded biscuit--he wasn't worried at all. Nada. Zero. Zilch. 

Magnus glanced over at his husband, who looked unfairly sexy despite being covered in blood, dirt and ash. Most Shadowhunters pulled off the near-death-experience-grunge look well, he mused, but Alexander really took the trophy. The blood spatters brought out the blue in his eyes and the smudges of unidentified filth made his jawline sharp enough to cut diamonds. 

Sadly, Alexander was too busy to notice his admiration.

The Silent Brothers, being the creepy stitched-up book lovers that they were, had somehow managed to lug what looked like the contents of several libraries into the Gard with them to take shelter too. Apparently, those dusty books were the longtime treasures of the Nephilim or something--Alexander had practically had cartoon stars in his eyes once he saw them. He'd looked undecidedly between Magnus, standing next to the glowing cage that held his parabatai, and the mountain of yawn-inducing books. Magnus had waved him off with a fond, "My little researcher," and then watched him pore over the moth-eaten texts like the end of the world was coming.

Which, to be fair, probably was. And if it made Alexander feel better to bury his nose in dusty tomes while it happened, then so be it. Magnus wasn't one to deny anyone a last enjoyable experience--which was why he was currently stuffing several thousand calories worth of magically summoned chocolate bonbons into his mouth. 

The cage next to him sparked suddenly as Jace twitched inside it, his features momentarily tensing before settling again. Magnus paused mid-chew to stare at him suspiciously; he was keeping him unconscious with magic, but after brushing against the minds of the possessed he didn't want to risk the demonically controlled mosquito waking up--not only because he was annoying but because he was also a horribly excellent fighter.

He edged away a little. The magic should hold, but--

Alexander screeched suddenly. Most of the people in the room pulled out various pointy objects, unsheathed claws, or bared teeth, searching for the enemy. Magnus jumped; the bonbon in his hand hit the ceiling, stuck there, and then glopped down onto his velvet shoes. The warlock swore. 

"What is it, Alexander?" he asked, seeing no immediate threat and rather cross about the crumbs on his amber velveteen slippers. It was so terribly hard to remove stains from that fabric, even with magic--and if Magnus was going to die today, he wanted to meet the afterlife in style.

Alexander looked up, his blue eyes glowing in the witchlight rays. His face shone with barely suppressed triumph. "I found it," he said, carefully holding up a ragged book as if it were the Holy Grail. Angel, Magnus hated it when Alexander got all vague and mysterious and intellectual. "Found what?" he snipped. 

"The demon that's been possessing everyone," the Shadowhunter said, flipping through the pages with a kind of frantic delicacy. He jabbed a finger at a particular page with a clumsy illustration in it; the silver ink had flaked off in patches and the corners of the paper were singed, but the demon was unmistakably the one that Magnus had seen in the possessed man's mind.