Outcast

Chapter Two - Unhappy Reunion

Three hours later, Alec had just finished making another potion for a werewolf—a regular client of his recovering from a narcotics addiction—when his cellphone rang. He picked up and eyed the unknown number with a bit of wariness. Deciding he could deal with whatever was on the other end, he picked it up and said, "High Warlock Bane, if you're a solicitor I'm not here, anyone else had better have a good reason to talk."

"Wow, I don't recall you being so cynical last time we talked."

Alec's stomach dropped to his toes. "Jace," he gasped, grabbing the edge of the countertop hard as his head spun. The Chairman raised his head from his nap.

"Hey buddy," Jace replied. "Magnus came home and said you attacked him."

"I didn't attack him," Alec lied, feeling the old defiance rise in his stomach like acid. "And another thing—why did you tell a random Shadowhunter about my past?"

"He lives with us, Alec," Jace replied, and then his voice disappeared to yell something before he came back. "It was only fair that he knew."

"And that's another!" Alec exclaimed. "He said he's been living with you guys for ten years! Where was he when I came back after my High Warlock examination?"

"In the infirmary," Jace replied easily. "A mission gone awry, lots of burns, the like. He showed up at the Institute not long after—" He stopped. "After you left."

Alec didn't reply to that.

"Listen, Alec." He sighed. "I sent Magnus to fetch you because I can't leave to do it myself. Robert and Maryse are in Idris with Max, they have been for a year. I've been left in charge, but since the Circle and Valentine have gotten more aggressive and more prominent, we've gotten so many Shadowhunters coming and going, and the wards need reinforcing, and—" He paused and took a deep breath as his words began to speed up and trip over each other. "I need help. That's what I'm saying. I need to know what you know."

Alec sat down on his barstool, knees weak. The Chairman rose and padded toward him, nudging his hand and meowing for pets. Alec absently rubbed his head.

"I didn't think that the first time I talked to you in three years would be—like this," Alec replied. "I thought it would be more, 'hey buddy, wanna go get coffee?' Or even 'Isabelle gave us all food poisoning and you need to come home and heal us'. Has her cooking improved?"

"No," Jace snorted, then his voice dropped. "She's making dinner. Please, bring food with you when you come."

Alec smiled. "I love how you assume I'm coming," he joked.

"You said before that if I needed you, you would, quote, 'drop everything' and 'be there in a heartbeat'."

The warlock sighed and snapped his fingers. His coat and scarf zoomed in from the hallway, and wound themselves around Alec's body. "I'll be there in twenty minutes," he said. "Let the wards know not to fry me."

Jace spoke, and his voice was so quiet Alec barely caught it. "The wards have always been set up to accept you, Alec."

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Alexander was your average High Warlock of Brooklyn. But even his immortal heart stuttered in fear as he saw the Institute again, for the first time in six years. He took a step through the wards and it was like plunging through icy water. He shivered, and then the warmth returned. He heard a bell ring in one of the high towers of the Institute, and smiled as he knew that Isabelle and Jace would be sprinting for the Sanctuary to greet him.