West of Words (Alec Lightwood)

🗝 Chapter Eight 🗝

Varian was confident in his skills, and as he slash and tore his way through the dozens of demons with easy swipes of his blade.

His magic accompanied it, knocking back the swarm or demolishing them with massive balls of fire. He breathed through it all, keeping himself calm even as they gained on him, and just as he took down the last demon he was swiped with the claws of another.

"Merde," Varian muttered, pressing a hand to his side as he attempted to heal the wound. He could feel it moving and morphing under the skin, but it wasn't doing it fast enough.

Varian lifted his other hand reaching to put his sword away before creating a portal. He was glad for its appearance, and just as he moved towards it the chittering of a Shax demon sounded from behind him. He turned, groaning internally at the dozen or so that had appeared in the time it took him to form the portal.

He swung his hands towards them firing off wave after wave of attack, gasping loudly at the flare of pain that passed over him as he back towards the portal. Varian thought of the New York Institute as he fell through it backwards, hoping that the demons wouldn't be able to follow him through.

A shout passed through Varian's lips as he landed, alerting everyone around him to the appearance of the Secondhand Warlock, and the three Shax demon that followed him through. Varian was on his feet in an instant, pulling his sword and stabbing the one nearest to him. The other Shadowhunters in the institute attempted to react, but as most weren't ready for an attack they scrambled for weapons.

Varian threw his hand out, a blast of magic leaving his hand and taking down the second. The third was running straight for someone, and Varian reacted before he could really think about it. He lifted his sword hand above his head, before hurling it across the room and watching as it sunk hilt-deep into the body of the demon. It screeched, before bursting into dust.

"Well, that was eventful." Varian smiled as he spoke, pressing his hand into his side as he waited for the Shadowhunters to react.

Those nearest to him rushed forward, reaching for his hands to arrest him, Varian did not protest. He knew that he was of course innocent, but at the same time had just barely enough strength to hold himself on his feet. Even the emotions in the room blurred together, Varian felt as though his mind was turning to mush.

"Wait!" A voice shouted and Varian looked up, "He's with me! He's with me." The second was spoken firmly, the authority was there and strong. The two Shadowhunters holding Varian's hands behind his back dropped them quickly, and Varian attempted to act like he was uninjured.

Varian held his hand out to the side, and the onlookers in the room caught sight of the Warlocks sword flying across the room and into his hand. Varian placed it in its sheath.

Jace motioned for Varian to follow and he did without protest, trying to avoid limping in an attempt to seem like he has it all together. "Everyone's through here." Jace spoke as if he needed to fill the empty air between them, and Varian just nodded, ready to take a seat and work on healing himself rather than wandering the halls of the institute.

More than anything he wanted to go home, where it was quite, and where he didn't have to put up barriers to protect himself from the emotions of the others in the room.

Varian smiled in a way of greeting the others in the room when Jace and him stepped in.

"Is it safe?" Varian asked, noticing that the room that everyone was gathered in was the training room. He stretched his back as he waited for an answer, digging his hand into his side as he muttered a spell. The words seemed to echo, if only for Varian, around the room.

"Yeah, yeah it is." Clary spoke in what she thought was reassuring, Varian didn't agree. Another man was in the room, someone that Varian did not recognize, if not for the circular rune on his neck marking him as a former member of The Circle. "Uh, Hodge, this is Varian. He helped us get the cup. Varian, Hodge."

Varian looked the man up and down, trying to concentrate on the aura that the man was giving off. It was like a light show, dancing from blue to grey to black then back to blue. It meant the man was being untruthful, but trying to stay calm. But he couldn't think about it now.

He nodded in a way of greeting, before turning abruptly towards Alec, the same Shadowhunter to trust him with his stele the first time around.

"Your stele, may I have it?"

He held his hand out to Alec, and he passed it over, starting to roll up his own sleeve before looking surprised as Varian lifted his shirt. The others, the trained-since-birth Shadowhunters, attempted to react. If a Downworlder were to mark his or herself with a rune there would be dire consequences, but as Varian rolled his shirt up and exposed the Shax demon wound only one didn't doubt that he knew what he was doing.

Alec Lightwood had no idea why he trusted the Warlock that stood in front of him, but it was a feeling much larger than himself. He felt himself ready to give the man whatever he wanted, and though he did not show it he was surprised when the Warlock lifted his shirt and drew an iratze  above the wound on his side.

It started to stitch itself back together and Varian sighed audibly at the sudden release in pressure on his side. He relaxed, a bit more than necessary and stumbled into the side of a column next to him.

None of the Shadowhunter's approached him, for fear that he would turn into a Forsaken or react harshly to their presence.

It took Varian a moment to stand to full height, and with a wave of his hand his clothing repaired itself and he smiled. "Good as new." Varian passed the stele over, smiling in thanks. "But the cup isn't safe here, you can't keep it."