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“Parabatai?” Simon said. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you trying to tell me this is about being parabatai? I can’t have a parabatai. I turned nineteen two months ago.”
“It has been spoken of often to me,” Jem said in his soft voice, “how much the two of you were dedicated to each other. The manner in which you have always stood up for each other and put the other first. When a parabatai bond is true, when the friendship runs deep and honest, it can be . . . transcendent.” There was sadness in his eyes, a sadness so profound it was almost frightening.
“It’s a bit of a technicality,” Magnus added, “but Shadowhunters have no problems with technicalities. They love a technicality. Look at Jem. Jem is a technicality in the flesh. People don’t come back from being Silent Brothers, either, and there he is.” Jem smiled at this, the sadness in his eyes receding.
“Even I knew,” said Jem. “And I don’t know you very well. There’s always something about true parabatai. They don’t need to speak to communicate. I saw the two of you having entire conversations without saying a word. It was like that with my parabatai, Will. I never had to ask Will what he was thinking. In fact, it was usually better not to ask Will what he was thinking. . . .”
“Maybe two hours,” George said. “You look terrible. What was it?” “The food,” Simon mumbled. “It finally got me.”
“You know,” said Simon quietly as they got into the carriage, “there was probably a time when we would have considered this creepy.” “I don’t remember that time anymore,” replied Clary. “I guess we’re finally even on something we don’t remember.”
It was all the love he saw in Jem’s eyes when he talked about Will, and the love in Alec’s face when he looked at Jace, even when Jace was being annoying, and a clear memory he had of Jace holding Alec while he was wounded and the desperation in Jace’s eyes, that terror that comes only from thinking you might lose someone you can’t live without.
At the Accords Hall, Jace was waiting for them on the front step, looking like Jace in a suit. Jace in a suit was unbearable. He gave Clary a look up and down.
“That dress is . . .” He had to clear his throat. Simon enjoyed his discomfiture. Not much ever threw Jace, but Clary had always been able to throw him like a Wiffle ball on a windy day. His eyes were practically cartoon hearts.
Then he opened the little refrigerator. The heavy door fell off, until Magnus gave it a stern look and it hopped back on.
Magnus looked inside the refrigerator, waved his free hand, and saw to his satisfaction that it was now filled with many items from Whole Foods. Alec would never have to know, and Magnus would send the money to Whole Foods later anyway.
There was a thin blond girl heaping a gray substance that could have been porridge or eggs onto her plate. Magnus watched with silent horror as she carried it toward a table, acting as if she actually intended to eat it. Then she noticed Magnus. “Oh, hello,” said the blonde, stopping in her tracks as if she had been hit by a beautiful truck. He gave her his most charming smile. Why not? “Hello.”
“Well, since the alternative was going back and getting more of the Academy food,” said Magnus, “I think you owe me big. Possibly you owe me your firstborn. But don’t worry, I’m not in the market for anybody’s firstborn.”
Alec had been cranky that day, having wrenched his arm almost out of its socket during a fight with a dragon demon. He’d been leaning against the kitchen counter, listening, nursing his arm, and texting Jace messages like Y DO U SAY THINGS R XTINCT WHEN THINGS R NOT XTINCT and Y R U THE WAY THAT U R. Until he ran out of patience.
“I couldn’t help but notice that the baby is blue,” Robert said. “Alec’s eyes are blue. And when you do the”—he made a strange and disturbing gesture, and then made the sound whoosh, whoosh—“magic, sometimes there’s a blue light.” Magnus stared at him. “I’m failing to see your point.” “If you made the baby for yourself and Alec, you can tell me,” said Robert. “I’m a very broad-minded man. Or—I’m trying to be. I’d like to be. I would understand.” “If I made . . . the . . . baby . . . ?” Magnus repeated.
“What? Where? When? How? Did Magnus seem like an athletic yet tender lover?” Julie demanded.
“They are not like Brangelina,” Simon said. “What would you even call them? Algnus? That sounds like a foot disease.” “Obviously you would call them Malec,” said Beatriz. “Are you stupid, Simon?”
“Congratulations, Simon, that’s a very romantic question,” Isabelle told him. “Am I meant to take it as ‘No, I didn’t miss you, and I’m seeing other girls’? If so, don’t worry about it. Why worry, when life is short? Specifically, your life, because I am going to cut off your head.”
“I wasn’t aware,” said Simon, “that there are any other girls in the world but you.”
Ragnor had been yelling at kids to get off his lawn before lawns were invented.
Clary and Simon continued to stare judgmentally. It made Simon very happy. Judging people together was an essential part of best friendship.
Magnus kept misplacing his baby. This did not seem a good sign for the future. Magnus was sure you were meant to keep a firm grip on their location.
“Just picking a topic at random,” Isabelle said. “We could also talk about Avatar: The Last Airplane, if you want.”
