Natty Alexia

“Tessa!” Magnus said again, marveling. “Aren’t you unexpected. And uninvited.”
Tessa sat and sipped her tea, looking perfectly composed. Since she was one of Magnus’s dearest and oldest friends, he felt it would be nice if she looked even slightly apologetic. She did not.
“You told me once that you would not forgive me if I didn’t drop by whenever I found myself in the same city as you.”
“I would have forgiven you,” Magnus said with conviction. “I would have thanked you.”
Tessa glanced Alec’s way. Alec was blushing. The ends of Tessa’s lips curled up, but she was kind and hid her smile behind her teacup.
“Call it even,” said Tessa. “You once walked in on me in an embarrassing situation with a gentleman in a mountain fortress, after all.”
Her half-concealed smile flickered. She looked again at Alec, who had inherited his coloring from Shadowhunters long gone. Shadowhunters Tessa had loved.
“You should let that go,” Magnus advised.
Tessa was a warlock like Magnus, and like Magnus, she was used to overcoming the memory of what had been loved and lost. They were in the longtime habit of comforting each other. She took another sip of tea, her smile restored as if it had never been gone.
“I certainly have let it go,” she replied. “Now.”
― Cassandra Clare, The Red Scrolls of Magic

“About Bane. Don’t hurt him,” Raphael said abruptly.
Alec hesitated. “No,” he said, his voice softer. “I would never—”
Raphael held up a peremptory hand. “Stop being disgusting, please,” he said. “I don’t care if you wound his, as the kids say, ‘wittle fee-fees.’ Dump him like a ton of magic bricks. I wish you would. I just meant, don’t kill him.”
“I’m not going to kill him,” Alec said, appalled.
His blood ran cold at the idea, and colder as he looked down into Raphael’s face. The vampire was serious.
“Aren’t you?” Raphael asked. “Shadowhunter.”
He said the word the same way as the Downworlders of the Shadow Market had, but it sounded different in service of protecting someone Alec would gladly give his life to shield from harm.
It made Alec wonder if the people of the Market were all looking at him and seeing a threat to someone they cared for.
“Stop it, Raphael,” said Lily. She gave Alec a brief, surprisingly sympathetic look. “Kid’s obviously in love.”
“Ugh,” said Raphael. “Terrible business. Let’s get out of here.”
Elliott cheered. “Can we go to the after-party?”
“No,” Raphael said with distaste. He left Alec and walked away without a look back. After a quick last glance, Lily and then Elliott turned to follow.”
― Cassandra Clare, The Red Scrolls of Magic

“It’s a classic love story. I hit on him at a party, he asked me out, then we fought an epic magical battle between good and evil side by side, and now we need a vacation.”
― Cassandra Clare, The Red Scrolls of Magic

“In one hallway, the floor gleaming parquet and the ceiling festooned with golden cherubs, there was a boy in a grumpy cat mask and biker boots, not involved in any sexual activity, legs crossed and leaning against the wall. As a bevy of faeries passed the boy, giggling and groping, the boy scooted away.
Alec remembered being younger, and how overwhelming large groups of people had seemed. He came over and leaned against the wall beside the boy. He saw the boy texting, PARTIES WERE INVENTED TO ANNOY ME. THEY FEATURE MY LEAST FAVORITE THING: PEOPLE, ALL INTENT ON MY LEAST FAVORITE ACTIVITY: SOCIAL INTERACTION.
“I don’t really like parties either,” Alec said sympathetically.
“No hablo italiano,” the boy mumbled without looking up.
“Er,” said Alec. “This conversation is happening in English.”
“No hablo ingles,” he said without missing a beat.
“Oh, come on. Really?”
“Worth a shot,” said the boy.
Alec considered going away. The boy wrote another text to a contact he had saved as RF. Alec could not help but notice that the conversation was entirely one-sided, the boy sending text after text with no response. The last text read VENICE SMELLS LIKE A TOILET. AS A NEW YORKER, I DO NOT SAY THIS LIGHTLY.
The weird coincidence emboldened Alec to try again.
“I get shy when there are strangers too,” Alec told the kid.
“I’m not shy,” the boy sneered. “I just hate everyone around me and everything that is happening.”
“Well.” Alec shrugged. “Those feel like similar things sometimes.”
The boy lifted his curly head, pushing the grumpy cat mask off his face, and froze. Alec froze too, at the twin shock of fangs and familiarity. This was a vampire, and Alec knew him.
“Raphael?” he asked. “Raphael Santiago?”
He wondered what the second-in-command of the New York clan was doing here. Downworlders might be flooding in from all over the world, but Raphael had never struck Alec as a party animal.
Of course, he was not exactly coming off as a party animal now.
“Oh no, it’s you,” said Raphael. “The twelve-year-old idiot.”
Alec was not keen on vampires. They were, after all, people who had died. Alec had seen too much death to want reminders of it.
He understood that they were immortal, but there was no need to show off about it.
“We just fought a war together. I was with you in the graveyard when Simon came back as a vampire. You’ve seen me multiple times since I was twelve.”
“The thought of you at twelve haunts me,” Raphael said darkly.
“Okay,” Alec said, humoring him. “So have you seen a guy called Mori Shu anywhere around here?”
“I am trying not to make eye contact with anyone here,” said Raphael. “And I’m not a snitch for Shadowhunters. Or a fan of talking to people, of any kind, in any place.”
Alec rolled his eyes.”
― Cassandra Clare, The Red Scrolls of Magic