Equilibrium - Alec Lightwood. (ON HOLD)

Chapter Eleven.

Alec's POV 

"Magnus' lair is right behind that fence," Jace said, gesturing towards a building that looks very much abandoned, but that wasn't the case, not even close.

Warlocks were able to cast very powerful glamours, but of course, like with everything in the Shadow World, Clary didn't know that, and while it wasn't necessarily her fault, it still annoyed me to no end. 

She annoyed me. 

In fact, she infuriated me. 

"Magnus lives in a warehouse?" She questioned with confusion, not comprehending why such a flamboyant Warlock would live in such a rundown establishment. 

"Not exactly. Warlock glamour." Jace explained as we slowly ventured forward, but I frowned, not understanding how we were able to get so close to Magnus and all of those under his care. 

"Something's wrong. It's far to easy to get this close." Isabelle voiced what I'd been thinking, concern as clear as day.

If something really was wrong, if something had happened to Magnus, then what did that mean for Amara. She didn't really know how to defend herself, but that wasn't my concern; I was concerned for her selfless heart that I know she would follow. 

She would defend the defenceless even if it meant putting herself in harm's way. 

"His protective wards must be down," Jace murmured, and I felt myself tense as scenarios and ideas ran rampant through my mind. 

I had to stop; I had to compartmentalize, I couldn't afford to be distracted when it came to battle; that was how people died. 

"You... Don't get in the way," I commanded coldly, glaring icily towards Clary, who peered back with defiance blazing in her eyes, but our staring contest was brought to an end as the commotion in the warehouse pulled our attention, 

"Oh, God! Valentine found Magnus!" Clary yelled, taking off towards the building with us once again, running after her, but I had no intentions of trailing the redheaded child and memory retrieval quest. 

I had something else to do, something far more important. 

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Amara's POV 

"You shouldn't have touched the girl." I heard Magnus growl out as he circled one of the invaders, his magic flaring around his fingers, ready to strike with the speed of a  viper. 

I wanted to help, I didn't want anything to happen to the soft-hearted, empathetic warlock who'd pulled the rug out from under my feet, but I couldn't do anything with the blood continuing to pump out of my wounded shoulder. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, is she a friend of yours? Maybe I'll leave her head on a spike by your front door." The circle member taunted, and with a flash, Magnus' magic whipped out, tipping over a bookcase and barely scraping by his opponent. 

"Your magic's strong, warlock. Much stronger than that horned weakling I killed this morning." He stated casually, and even from my slumped over position from the couch, I could see the way Magnus' face dropped at the news of his fallen friend. 

"Elias?" He questioned hesitantly as if he didn't truly want to know the answer. 

"That was his name. Well, lucky for us, he sold you out before I took his warlock mark. Cat's eyes. Be a nice addition to my collection." I could see the look of distraction on the warlock and knew that the former shadowhunter was about to strike.