Magnus awoke in a room that was not his, laying on a sofa that was not his, looking up at a white, patterned ceiling that was also not his. His mind felt foggy, his mouth dry. He pushed himself onto his elbows, and leaned back against the sofa arm, his legs stretched out in front of him, tangled in a throw. His clothes were still damp and clinging, uncomfortable from his walk in the rain from the Dumort last night. The Dumort. His mind raced, trying to piece together the night before. But parts of the evening came in bursts of sunlight, finding to radiate through the foggy cloud of his mind. It was no use, the clouds of confusion were too thick to break through. His blurry eyes focused on his surroundings. The decadent décor, the chaise longues, the golden tea set. Woolsey's house.

"Good morning." A robe-clad Woolsey Scott called, the garment pulled tightly over what appeared to be incongruous navy corduroy trousers. Despite the gentleness of Woolsey's tone, the sound was offensive to Magnus's ears. With every movement, his head seemed to ring and reel.

"I...what happened?" Magnus croaked, his throat like sandpaper, a thump in his head that simply screamed 'hangover'.

"Nothing." Woolsey said, sitting himself in an armchair across the parlour. "It was instantly clear to me that you weren't here for a reconciliation. I wouldn't have taken advantage, you know. We had a couple of glasses of wine, and then I left you here to sleep."

"Urgh, I feel terrible." Magnus mumbled, burying his head in the material of the sofa cushion.

"Well, your couple of glasses might have been half a dozen." Woolsey smirked and Magnus rolled over to glare at the werewolf. The glare, however, made his head thud and he laid his cheek against the sofa arm. Woolsey leaned forwards and pushed a cup into Magnus's hand. "It's ginger and peppermint. They ease nausea. It's vile, but it works."

Magnus sat up and felt his stomach flip over. He froze for a second before the roll of sickness passed. To be sick on the carpet of the person who was currently caring for you after a night of heavy drinking, Magnus thought, was surely bad manners. He took the cup and sipped gingerly. "I didn't know that."

"Well, it is only eleven in the morning and already you have learned two things; ginger and peppermint ease nausea, and it is advisable to avoid kissing people when one is sad and intoxicated."

"I feel so awful." Magnus groaned.

"Just keep drinking that disgusting tea." Woolsey advised.

"No, I mean about kissing you." Magnus admitted, feeling the sick feeling in his stomach resettle. This time as guilt and not the aftereffects of his drinking the previous night. "I'm really sorry, Woolsey."

The werewolf shrugged elegantly.

"Don't be. It was fun, but I was hardly ready to propose. It isn't as if I'm in love with you."

"Join the club." Magnus sighed. "Neither is Camille."

"Oh, that's what this is all about." Woolsey said, comprehending. "I thought it might be something like that." He sat back and eyed Magnus for a second, before he spoke again. "Look here, Magnus. I don't understand your frankly dysfunctional love life. Most of the time, I would tell you to go and win back her favour. However, I do not need to know the whole story of what happened last night between the two of you to know that she did something awful to hurt you this much. So, though I know you love her very much, do not pursue it. She is a vampire, and a floozy. You deserve someone better than that."

Magnus smiled a little. He wasn't sure he did deserve someone better, not when he considered how he had used Woolsey as a way of drowning his sorrows last night. But, nevertheless, he appreciated the kind words.

"You have forever." Woolsey reminded the warlock. "Embrace an attitude more 'carpe diem'. I have a finite life, and if that is filled with careless love then so be it. Romance is overrated. You have plenty of time to fall in love and settle down. And, until you want to do that, why not have a little fun along the way?"

Magnus sighed. "I suppose."

"Someone will come along." Woolsey said, lazily comforting. "They usually do."

"In two hundred years, perhaps." Magnus scoffed.

"Perhaps." Woolsey agreed. "But isn't it worth it, to find someone worthwhile?"

Magnus stood up. "You're right, you're right."

"I usually am." The werewolf replied. "Now, go on. Go home or to Ragnor Fell's or wherever. I'm not running some sort of hotel here. Off you go."

Magnus laughed, handing back the mug, the bottom coated in mint. As he leaned down to give the werewolf the cup, he turned and gently kissed Woolsey's cheek. Unlike last night, it wasn't a romantic gesture, one of lust and passion. It was affectionate, loving – but in a way that spoke of a need from his companion for nothing beyond friendship, if that was what was desired. Woolsey smiled and in his glance to Magnus as the warlock pulled away, he could tell Woolsey had understood every intricacy of the message Magnus's kiss conveyed.

"I'll see you soon." Magnus said, grateful for the easy-going nature of his friend. He had a feeling that he could show up on Woolsey's doorstep at any time of day or night, and Woolsey would be completely unruffled. It was a quality Magnus sought in a friend; one who was able to go where the wind took them and adapt to life's abundant rapid changes. Magnus – in short – sought a friend who embodied the Magnus effect after which he had named himself, the ability for an object to suddenly change direction and continue its course of travel in a wildly unexpected direction. Woolsey, most certainly, was that. "Thank you." Magnus added. "Could I invite you out for a drink sometime?"

"The day I turn that offer down is the day I ask you to put a silver bullet through my head."

Magnus laughed. "Fair enough. Let's hope you never give up alcohol then."

"That'll be the day." Woolsey snorted.

As Magnus set off walking back across town to Ragnor's house, he felt that perhaps Woolsey had been right; whether love came to him tomorrow or in millennia, the wait would be worth it if they loved Magnus as he loved them. And, the more he thought about it, the more he saw that was the problem with Camille; there was an imbalance of give and take between them. If it was meant to be, Magnus thought, he would wait for his soul mate forever.

When Magnus arrived at Ragnor's house that afternoon after a brief – if brief counted as a couple of hours – walk through Hyde Park, the shadowhunters and their two mundane friends were already gathered. Two of them – Magnus recalled their names from the back of his mind: Gabriel and Gideon Lightwood – were dressed all in white. On their necks, protruding from under their shirt collars, blazed red runes of remembrance. A death in the family, Magnus thought sympathetically.

"Good morning, fellows." Magnus said, sitting down beside Ragnor. He turned to Gabriel and Gideon and flicked a hand. A long-stemmed ivory rose fell into each of their laps. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Gideon nodded. "Thank you."

"If there is anything I can do, anything at all..." Magnus said sincerely.

"Could you perhaps help us get back home so we can collect our things?" Gabriel asked, turning the rose over in his hands, fingers stroking the white petals. A thorn pierced the pad of his thumb but, even as a bead of blood blossomed, he didn't seem to notice. Magnus's heart tugged in sympathy. "I wouldn't normally ask but..."

"Of course, that's no trouble at all." Magnus assured the shadowhunter. "I am stepping out with a friend this evening, but we could go tomorrow, if that suits both of your schedules?"

"That would be fine." Gideon said. "Thank you."

"Who are you stepping out with?" Ragnor asked, curious.

"Woolsey."

"Scott?"

"How many Woolseys do you know?" Magnus asked amusedly. "But anyway; to business."

"I think we ought to show this lot their culprit, don't you agree, my dear little cabbage?"

Ragnor flushed angrily emerald.

"Magnus, grow up. I told you about that years ago." He sniffed. "Move on."

"And it is just as funny today as the day you divulged the information."

"You're being highly unprofessional." Ragnor said, getting to his feet. "Let's go. And that includes you." He added, gesturing to the shadowhunters.

"Whatever you say, my sweet peapod."

Magnus was treated to the sight of Ragnor's face flushing a deep moss colour before he spun on his heel and stalked from the room. The others followed, suppressing smiles.

"So, we are allowed to see who it is?" Ciel asked, glancing curiously at a loose sheet of paper on the floor which boasted a method to cast a spell to turn oneself into a cat. He mustn't let Sebastian get a hold of that, or he was liable to morph into a feline at any given moment. Ciel did not see the appeal of cats. Sebastian, unfortunately, did. As Sebastian looked down to see what his master was reading, Ciel put his boot on the paper and slid it carefully out of view.

"Yes, you can see who it is." Ragnor said, taking the opium Will had let him keep from his pocket and scattered the drug inside the circle of candles that Ragnor had not bothered to clean away. He began chanting in Chthonian and Sebastian, stood by the door with Ciel, bowed his head. Ciel looked up to catch the sight of Sebastian's eyes flashing crimson before his long black hair shielded them from view.

"Stop it." Ciel hissed under his breath, and when Sebastian lifted his head again, his irises were subdued dark brown.

In the centre of the circle of candles, the figure of Camille appeared, a flickering image as wavering as the flames illuminating her. Her waves of cascading blonde curls poured over her shoulders like water over rocks. Against her white skin, a dress of sapphire material clung to her hips, plunged at the neckline. Resting on her chest was a chunk of ruby, a golden chain gleaming. She stretched her legs out, a pale bare feet resting atop the lap of a man beside her, who was running locks of her hair between his careful fingers. Magnus glanced away.

"Who is that?" Ciel asked, looking at the image inquisitively.

"She's very pretty." Jem commented politely.

"Oh, very." Will nodded and Ragnor glared at him, quelling.

Camille leaned forwards and the subjugates at her feet sat up, offering their necks and arms willingly, servants desperate to serve their queen. She put an elegant hand under the chin of a sickly looking ashen haired woman, whose eyes were wide like tea saucers. Camille's mouth rested against the woman's shoulder, the act shielded by the ashy curtains of the victim's hair. But when Camille pulled back, her lips were rouged in blood.

"A vampire." Ciel said, with a lack of surprise and accepting that Gabriel and Gideon thought quite commendable of a mundane.

"Who is she?" Gideon asked, repeating Ciel's earlier question.

"Camille Belcourt." Magnus said slowly. "Who happens to be my former lover."

There was a long silence in which Jem felt intensely awkward and guilty for his earlier complimentary remarks about Magnus's ex-lover. To add insult to injury, in the centre of the room, Camille leaned forwards and kissed the man in the image on the cheek, leaving a lipstick print of blood on his skin. Her mouth continued, planting small marks against his complexion, moving down from his cheekbones, to his jaw, to his neck. Magnus became quickly and deeply interested in looking out of the window, breathing slowly and deeply. There was a long and uncomfortable silence.

"Now I look closer, she isn't all that pretty." Will lied. "Her nose is slightly crooked, isn't it?"

Jem nodded loyally. "Absolutely."

Magnus smiled slightly and Ragnor dissolved the image of Camille with a wave of his hand.

"So we'll plan how to proceed and then come and see you again." Jem said.

"Very well." Ragnor said. "This is far more than it seemed..."

"I'll see you two tomorrow." Magnus said to the Lightwood brothers. "And, again, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. And thank you for your help." Gabriel said. His father had brought him up to see themselves as far superior to Downworlders, but he couldn't maintain that belief. Not now.

They turned to leave, but Will stayed where he was. Magnus couldn't help grinning. What was it with this boy and loitering when everyone was leaving?

"Can we help you?" he asked.

"Could I talk to you?" Will said, and Jem looked at him curiously. Will turned to his parabatai. "You go home. I will be back in a while."

"It's alright. We can wait in the carriage." Jem told him.

"Jem, just...I'll be home in a while. I just want to start planning for the mission. Magnus knows vampires better than us, particularly Camille. No use all of us staying when I could just gather the information myself, is it?"

Jem nodded and led from the room, beckoning the others to follow. Gabriel cast a curious look back.

"Come on," Jem said firmly. "Let's go."

They left and the door clicked shut behind them.

"Goodbye, Ragnor." Magnus said pointedly, and he left with a scowl, mumbling something about ungrateful shadowhunters. "Have a seat." Magnus said, and Will did as the warlock himself crossed his legs up and under him on the armchair. "Now what can I do for you?"

"I need your help." Will said.

"I'll endeavour to oblige." Magnus replied. "Now tell me, what's wrong?"