The One That Got Away (The Bounty Hunter Trilogy)

Chapter twenty

Magnus grabbed the railings of the staircase, climbing up. The construction part of the building was covered in various, almost transparent, sheets, the dust settling on the floor, but making up small spirals as he crept over the floor, quiet as a cat. Hodge was here, somewhere, and they were on the third floor now. There was little chance that he'd have jumped. So he must've still been in here, unless there was another way down and out.

He moved, quick and steady, taking out his gun and loading it with a soft click. The knife in his boot announced itself with the heaviness of the metal and for once, Magnus felt comfort in it. He had more than a bullet to protect himself. He thought about Simon, who was probably dead, although he wished it wasn't true. Jace, who had been close to being dead, and might not make it. He thought about Clary and Isabelle, who would never be the same again, should their boyfriends die. And then he thought about Alec. Alec, who was the protector of this family. The one who would kill, and did, for his team, his friends, his siblings, his home. Magnus's breathing was shallow as he sneaked around another wooden beam.

He couldn't bare to think how Alexander would be feeling, after all this. He had to believe, that him leaving wouldn't leave an all too painful wound behind. Alexander would be fine, he'd forget about Magnus soon enough, given time. Still, there was that little voice, a glimmer of light as hope rose in him. That maybe, just maybe, he could stay and be there for Alec. 

There was a crack and Magnus stilled, crouching down. He heard shuffling - very, very quiet, barely audible. He closed his eyes, listening. Then, he rose and as quick as lightning, he took the blade, throwing it into the direction of the sound. He saw Hodge, the knife buried in his right arm and the man growled, eyes looking up at Magnus. He smirked, pulling the knife out, a painful expression on his face. "Don't move." Magnus said, voice echoing on the empty floor. His gun was pointed at the injured man, who just laughed.

"You think you've won? After what you did to my family, you won't get away, Magnus Bane." Hodge spoke, moving slightly backwards. Magnus took another two steps towards him. "Stop. Moving." he said through gritted teeth. Hodge smirked. "I have no idea what you are talking about." Magnus then said. "And I don't care. You've killed people and you've betrayed Alexander and his family. For that, you'd deserve to die. But I know that's not what he would want. So, if you don't want a bullet hole in your body - or several - I suggest you come calmly." Magnus stated, eyes fixed on the man. Hodge's eyes seemed maniacal as they turned angry and his finger shook as he pointed it towards Magnus.

"You killed my brother. Hugo Starkweather. You murdered him, cold-blooded, 5 years ago in Spain!" he yelled and Magnus narrowed his eyes at him. "What are you talking about?" he asked. He knew he shouldn't be stalling like this, but Hodge seemed to be as unstable as they come. Maybe if he got to tell his story, Magnus would be able to talk him into surrendering. "Don't play dumb!" Hodge shouted, his face now red from anger. His clothes were torn and dusty, just like Magnus's, but his hands were bloody. Magnus tried not to think about whose blood it was. Then, something clicked in his mind.

He remembered his year in Spain and his missions. Starkweather had been the name of the mob boss, who'd interfered as Magnus tried to end a gang war in a small slum near Madrid. He had friends there, good friends and together they had almost ended the gang war with almost no bloodshed. Until Hugo and his mob attacked both parties, wanting the power over both gangs and to control that part of the town. Magnus could almost see the man in front of him - he did look like Hodge in many ways. Only his eyes had been a dim green, not a cold gray as Hodge's. Magnus had no choice but to take him down, when he almost blew up the whole neighbourhood. There were children there, innocent people. He still felt sorrow when he thought of the lives lost that day.