City of Heavenly Fire (The Mortal Instruments, #6)(38)

“Alec Lightwood?” Catarina grinned. “I’ve never seen anyone get under your skin like that boy.”

“You haven’t known me forever,” Magnus muttered, but it was halfhearted.

“Please. You made me take the Portal job at the Institute so you wouldn’t have to see him, and then you showed up anyway, just to say good-bye. Don’t deny it; I saw you.”

“I didn’t deny anything. I showed up to say good-bye; it was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done it.” Magnus tossed back a slug of his drink.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Catarina said. “What is this about, really, Magnus? I’ve never seen you so happy as you were with Alec. Usually when you’re in love, you’re miserable. Look at Camille. I hated her. Ragnor hated her—”

Magnus put his head down on the table.

“Everyone hated her,” Catarina went on ruthlessly. “She was devious and mean. And so your poor sweet boyfriend got suckered by her; well, really, is that any reason to end a perfectly good relationship? It’s like siccing a python on a bunny rabbit and then being angry when the bunny rabbit loses.”

“Alec is not a bunny rabbit. He’s a Shadowhunter.”

“And you’ve never dated a Shadowhunter before. Is that what this is?”

Magnus pushed himself away from the table, which was a relief, because it smelled like beer. “In a sense,” he said. “The world is changing. Don’t you feel it, Catarina?”

She looked at him over the rim of her drink. “I can’t say that I do.”

“The Nephilim have endured for a thousand years,” said Magnus. “But something is coming, some great change. We have always accepted them as a fact of our existence. But there are warlocks old enough to remember when the Nephilim did not walk the earth. They could be wiped away as quickly as they came.”

“But you don’t really think—”

“I’ve dreamed about it,” he said. “You know I have true dreams sometimes.”

“Because of your father.” She set her drink down. Her expression was intent now, no humor in it. “He could just be trying to frighten you.”

Catarina was one of the few people in the world who knew who Magnus’s father really was; Ragnor Fell had been another. It wasn’t something Magnus liked to tell people. It was one thing to have a demon for a parent. It was another thing when your father owned a significant portion of Hell’s real estate.

“To what end?” Magnus shrugged. “I am not the center of whatever whirlwind is coming.”

“But you’re afraid Alec will be,” said Catarina. “And you want to push him away before you lose him.”

“You said not to do anything that might accidentally contribute to the apocalypse,” Magnus said. “I know you were joking. But it’s less funny when I can’t rid myself of the feeling that the apocalypse is coming, somehow. Valentine Morgenstern nearly wiped out the Shadowhunters, and his son is twice as clever and six times as evil. And he will not come alone. He has help, from demons greater than my father, from others—”

“How do you know that?” Catarina’s voice was sharp.

“I’ve looked into it.”

“I thought you were done helping Shadowhunters,” said Catarina, and then she held up a hand before he could say anything. “Never mind. I’ve heard you say that sort of thing enough times to know you never really mean it.”

“That’s the thing,” Magnus said. “I’ve looked into it, but I haven’t found anything. Whoever Sebastian’s allies are, he’s left no tracks of their alliance behind. I keep feeling like I’m about to discover something, and then I find myself grasping at air. I don’t think I can help them, Catarina. I don’t know if anyone can.”

Magnus looked away from her suddenly pitying expression, across the bar. Bat was leaning against the counter, playing with his phone—the light from the screen cast shadows across his face. Shadows that Magnus saw on every mortal face—every human, every Shadowhunter, every creature doomed to die.

“Mortals die,” said Catarina. “You have always known that, and yet you’ve loved them before.”

“Not,” Magnus said, “like this.”

Catarina inhaled in surprise. “Oh,” she said. “Oh . . .” She picked up her drink. “Magnus,” she said tenderly. “You are impossibly stupid.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Am I?”

“If that’s the way you feel, you should be with him,” she said. “Think of Tessa. Did you learn nothing from her? About what loves are worth the pain of losing them?”

“He’s in Alicante.”

“So?” said Catarina. “You were supposed to be the warlock representative on the Council; you unloaded that responsibility onto me. I’m unloading it back. Go to Alicante. It sounds to me like you’ll have more to say to the Council than I ever could, anyway.” She reached into the pocket of the nurse’s scrubs she was wearing; she had come directly from her work at the hospital. “Oh, and take this.”

Magnus plucked the crumpled piece of paper from her fingertips. “A dinner invitation?” he said in disbelief.

“Meliorn of the Fair Folk wishes for all the Council Downworlders to meet for supper the night before the great Council,” she said. “Some kind of gesture of peace and goodwill, or maybe he just wants to annoy everyone with riddles. Either way it should be interesting.”