Then the heavy oak doors to the infirmary opened and the Lightwoods entered. And Alec realized he wasn't going to get to sleep any time soon, if the unfamiliar redhead following them was any indication.
Magnus slowly rose to his feet. Maryse was at the head of the group, Robert slightly behind her and Max trailing them. But what caught and held Alec's attention was the girl behind Max.
She had feathered red hair that cascaded in gentle curls around her shoulders, falling to just below her breasts. Her eyes were a muted green, almost teal, unlike Declan's, which shone like the purest emeralds. She had on black battlegear pants but a black hoodie and a Sherpa vest zipped to her chin, her hair pulled neatly around her face. She stood significantly shorter than Robert, but only an inch or so below Maryse. She had long, slim hands, like painter's hands.
"Who's this?" Magnus said, sounding somewhat wary.
"How are the Branwells?" Maryse demanded of Izzy, almost cutting off her adoptive son. Magnus' fists clenched. The redhead shot a look at her turned back and stepped around her as she and Izzy talked, walking up to Magnus. She had to stop about two feet away to not have to comically crane her head.
"Clary Fairchild," she said, holding out a hand. Magnus smiled his most charming smile and took her hand in both of his.
"Magnus Lightwood, a pleasure," he said. He did a half turn and gestured to Alec. "Alexander Bane."
"High Warlock," Clary said with a knowing smile, coming around to shake his hand as well. Her hand was small and warm in Alec's grip—his suddenly felt large and clumsy.
"A pleasure," he murmured. "Pardon my inquiry—where are you from?"
Something flickered in Clary's eyes, but it was gone as soon as Alec had caught it. "I'm from the Upper East Side, but I've been training at the Academy for a few years."
Alec narrowed his eyes slightly, wishing he still had the magic to peer into her head. He gripped her hand tighter and gave it a shot anyway. He caught a flash of a man with dark skin and gold eyes, and a woman who looked just like her but older, and the love but irritation that went with them.
His head spun and throbbed like someone had just lobbed a rock at it. Wincing, he pulled his hand back like he had been shocked and pressed his fingers into the corners of his eyes.
"Alexander, are you alright?" Magnus asked immediately.
"Headache," he murmured.
"Clarissa."
Clary turned her head. Maryse and Izzy were looking at her. Behind them, Mia and Robert were talking, turning a stele over in their palms. Max perched uncomfortably in the chair by Kiera's bed and held a comic book to his face. Kiera picked at her nails but kept shooting Max sideways glances.
"This is my daughter, Isabelle," she said crisply. The two girls smiled identical smiles and shook delicate hands.
"My eldest"—there was unnecessary emphasis put on the word—"isn't here at the moment. He should return soon." She raised an eyebrow at Alec as if daring him to say anything.
"Ah, shit," Magnus growled to himself. He pulled his phone from his pocket and began thumbing through it.
Alec felt a throb of anger in his heart. Magnus moved behind him and placed his warm hand on his shoulder. The touch was both comforting and warning—let her be.
YOU ARE READING
Outcast
Fanfiction"My name is Magnus," he introduced himself, gold eyes shining. "Magnus Lightwood." "I didn't know Maryse and Robert had another kid," Alec said, much more sharply than intended. "Adopted," he amended, shrugging one shoulder. "My parents-died. Year...
