Chiaroscuro (Malec AU)

9

The grueling twelve hour night shift in the E.R. left Catarina longing for a hot shower and a warm bed. Her feet ached and she'd developed a slight limp in her right leg from the blisters that formed on the sole of her foot. She fought off the sleep that threatened to drag her under on the commute back home, and groaned at the sight of the stairs that led up to her third floor apartment.

She took a long, much needed shower, and fell into bed, drifting off into sleep, when her phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand next to her. She fumbled for it and cursed under her breath as she brought it up to her face.

Magnus.

Catarina wondered if he had a death wish, because right now, she'd be more than happy to fulfill it.

CL: Magnus, I swear to God, someone better be dying.

MB: Cat, I'm sorry to bother you, but he's here.

CL: What? Who? Who's there?

MB: My father.

Catarina's heart rate soared when she read the words, her exhaustion disappearing. Without a second thought, she sprung out of bed, grabbed her purse, rushed out the door and headed to the other side of Brooklyn.

****

"Why are you here?" Magnus fought the tremor in his voice as he turned around. His father stood before him, dressed in a suit as black as a void, his presence seeming to blanket the room in darkness.

"Am I not allowed to visit my own son?" Asmodeus Bane advanced towards Magnus in a way that reminded him of a predator on the hunt, calculated and deliberate. Asmodeus halted a few paces away, smiling, gazing at his son with what looked like warmth in his eyes. Magnus didnt fall for it. Warmth wasn't something his father was known for.

"I'm not keen on visitors dropping in unannounced, regardless of blood relation." Magnus retorted, crossing his arms.

"I don't need an invitation. Did you forget who owns the roof over your head?" Asmodeus pulled a set of keys from his suit jacket, and wiggled them in front of his son. "This building belongs to me."

"You love to remind me of that little fact, don't you?" Magnus's anxiety evolved into frustration. "I'll ask again, since you didn't answer the first time. Why are you here?"

Asmodeus turned and slowly walked to the easel on the balcony, his eyes glancing over the painting that rested there with disdain.

"I heard you garnered the attention of a rather influential figure." Asmodeus sifted through a small pile of canvases. "The Lightwood's are a successful, and highly respected family that have lived in this city for generations. Their name holds weight. So imagine my surprise when I heard you caught the eye of their eldest son." Asmodeus absently thumbed through his son's collection of paints. "How long will that last, I wonder?"

A flare of heat erupted behind Magnus's ribs.

"Excuse me?"

"Six months? A year, at most?" Asmodeus continued, "How long until his attention wanders? How long until he moves on to the next person who piques his interest? Success and fame in the art world are fleeting things, Magnus, if you can achieve them at all."

Magnus responded with a hollow laugh.

"You're trying to convince me to work for you again." Magnus shook his head and ran a hand down his face. "I can't believe you. You waltz in here without a word, belittle my success, then expect me to come with you to your big shiny tower and play business man? Talk about some goddamn nerve. I've already told you, I want no part of it."