Colliding Hearts #Wattys2017

Chapter 6- Magnus Bane

Magnus Bane was the high warlock of Brooklyn and had somehow become a close friend to the Shadowhunters that preoccupied the city. Through a war and fighting angels and saving the earth, Magnus Bane had seen enough of Shadowhunters to last him a good few lifetimes.

He had dealt with their kind for far too long, had dealt with the heartache of watching his once lover fall out of love with him and fall back into his old ways. He had watched a girl he protected lose her best friend, save the world and almost lose her mother. Watched an old friend marry the love of her life and after everything, they were all, in their own ways, happy.

The last year's struggles and triumphs passed through his mind as he walked along the street, heading towards his apartment studio. He would be lying if he wasn't upset about the day's events. He had found out through Luke that Emerson, his personal favorite of the Fairchild Twins, had supposedly died in a car crash.

There had been no way to see if it was true. Jocelyn had come clean to everyone last night about Emerson and why she had been given away after she was born. Of course Magnus didn't speak of his part in the whole thing, he didn't see the point.

Just as he reached his complex he felt a familiar pure presence. Narrowing his eyes he turned and seemingly out of thin air appeared Emerson, running only to collapse and black out near his feet. He quirked one eyebrow as he walked closer and crouched down, pushing her sweaty bangs from her eyes.

Her orange knit sweater was stained with blood, along with her jeans and hands. Her messenger bag looked like it had blood in it as well and her duffle bag looked like it had been packed full. Her cheeks looked like they were stained with tears and she had purple bruises under her eyes.

Her bright red and orange hair was dark and matted with sweat and blood that seemed to be flowing from a large gash in the back of her head. Lifting his hand a blue ball of light and smoke formed as his eyes glowed a golden yellow. He flicked his wrist forwards and the ball flew outwards and hovered over her head before forming an oval around her head and floating downwards, healing her wounds.

He repeated the spell, watching as her arm that looked like it was at an odd angle, popped back into place and he could hear her bones forming. Once she was healed he used his magic to lift her and levitate her to his apartment; not wanting to get any blood on his new outfit.

He placed her on his day bed that was in the living room, facing the large glass windows that looked out onto the city. Using magic he cleaned the blood and made her clothes look brand new and cleaned her messenger bag and her duffel bag before setting them by her feet. He went to his bar and began fixing him a drink, contemplating on what to do next.

He could call Jocelyn, tell her Emerson was alive or he could all Tessa, he was certain Tessa would never have allowed Emerson out of her sight aside from college, of course. Tessa. He wondered why Tessa would tell such a lie to Jocelyn and Clary, then again much like Tessa; he had come to know Emerson personally and knew that she wouldn't survive this world.

Taking a sip from his martini glass he felt a surge of power wrap around his apartment. Wind appeared and his cabinet doors flung open, slamming shut and repeating. His furniture turned over as a high pitched ringing sound shattered all of the surrounding glass. Clutching his ears he fell to his knees as he sent magic to protect Emerson from the raining glass. As quickly as the turmoil began it ended and with wide eyes Magnus stood and looked to Emerson who looked perfectly fine, sleeping peacefully in a circle of glass.

He stood over her; his eyes glowed as he lifted his hands up and inspected her. A faint glow of silvery white shone through the sleeve of her left wrist. Reaching down he gently picked up her arm and pulled back her sleeve, inspecting the smooth skin of her arm and hand. He turned her wrist over and there on the inside of her left wrist was a mark he had only ever heard of; the mark of The Anahera.