The Red Scrolls of Magic (The Eldest Curses #1)(32)

Magnus could be forgiving of Shinyun choosing not to disclose her past. After all, apparently he couldn’t even remember his own. He wanted to believe that talking about things made them better, but in his experience, sometimes talking made everything worse.

A silence fell between them. Shinyun sipped her drink and remained silent herself. Magnus was terrified, and not for his own life. He kept thinking about the moment Alec had collapsed on the roof of the train, when he had believed with cold horror that Alec was dying for him. He was afraid for Alec, and afraid of what he himself might have done that he could not now remember.

He couldn’t tell what Alec was thinking, but as he watched, Alec smiled, just a little, and reached out across the bar. His strong, scarred fingers curled around Magnus’s, their hands joined in the tiny pool of light cast by the candle.

Magnus wanted to grab Alec and kiss him breathless, but he suspected Shinyun would not appreciate the show.

“You’re right,” Alec said. “I guess the enemy of my enemy is my friend, or at least a friendly acquaintance. Better if we team up.” He lowered his voice. “But she’s not sleeping in our hotel rooms.”

“All reconciled?” asked Shinyun. “Because, sorry to be rude, but this is incredibly awkward to sit through. I’m not here to witness your relationship growth. I just want to defeat the evil cult.”

Magnus had made up his mind. Whatever else was going on—whether he owed Shinyun for saving their lives, or for how the Crimson Hand had harmed her—she knew a great deal. It would be foolishness not to keep her close by.

“Let’s all enjoy our refreshments and assume for now that we’re all on the same side. Can you tell us about your more recent past, at least?”

Shinyun considered for a moment and then seemed to come to some decision within herself.

“I’ve been hunting the Crimson Hand for some time. I received updates from an informant in their ranks called Mori Shu. I was closing in on them, and then they found another spy in their ranks, abandoned their mansion, and went into hiding. I ran out of leads, but then I heard from a reliable source that the Spiral Labyrinth had given you a chance to go after the cult.”

“If she learned that, maybe someone else did,” Alec said. “Maybe that’s why the Hand wants you dead, Magnus.”

“Maybe,” Magnus said. It was a solid theory, but there was still too much he didn’t remember. He had the sinking feeling there was plenty he could have done to turn the Hand against him.

Shinyun didn’t seem interested. “I tracked you around Paris, watching your movements, and I decided to approach you at the Shadow Market when the Shadowhunter attacked me.”

“I was protecting Magnus,” Alec said.

“I understand that,” said Shinyun. “You fight well.”

There was a tiny pause.

“So do you,” Alec said.

The leader of the Crimson Hand, whoever he might be, knew they were coming. Magnus wanted to be safe. He wanted Alec to be safe. He wanted this to be over.

“Let’s get another bottle,” he said, gesturing with one hand toward the bartender, “and toast to our new partnership.”

The fresh bottle arrived at the table, and their glasses refilled. Magnus raised his in a toast. “Well,” he said with a small smile, “on to Venice.” They toasted and drank. Magnus thought of more pleasant things than demonic cults. He considered the city of liquid glass and moving waters, the city of canals and dreamers. He watched Alec, whole and well, his blue eyes clear and his voice an anchor in a wild sea.

Magnus realized he’d been wrong to think Paris was the city to get their relationship off to a good start. Even before the demon-worshipping cult, Alec hadn’t been that impressed with the Eiffel Tower or the hot-air balloon, not the way Magnus wanted him to be. Paris was a city of love, but it could also be a city of surfaces, of bright lights that slid away and were quickly lost. Magnus did not want to lose this one. He would set a better scene. He would get things right this time.

Venice was the place for Alec. Venice had depth.





PART II


City of Masks




. . . Venice once was dear,

The pleasant place of all festivity,

The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!

—Lord Byron





CHAPTER TEN




* * *





Labyrinth of Water


MAGNUS THREW THE CURTAINS OPEN and stepped onto the balcony of the hotel room. “Ah, Venice. There is no city in the world like you.”

Alec trailed him outside and leaned over the railing. His gaze followed a gondola snaking along the canal and disappearing around a corner.

“It’s a bit smelly.”

“That’s the ambiance.”

Alec grinned. “Well, the ambiance is pretty strong.”

The only good thing about the previous night’s demon attack was that between the dozen or so glamour spells in place on the part of all the participants and a number of the bystanders, the mundanes responsible for the actual running of the train hadn’t noticed the enormous ruckus or the giant hole in one of their passenger cars. They pulled into Venice at ten in the morning, almost on time.

One water taxi ride later, they had arrived at the Belmond Hotel Cipriani, just a few blocks from the Crimson Hand’s former headquarters.