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man Magnus thought was the bartender.
    Magnus inclined his head. “Thank you very much.”
    More people swirled back in, cautiously at first and then in far greater numbers. Nobody was asking where exactly the dog had gone. A great many of them seemed to want drinks.
    Perhaps some of them would ask questions later, when the shock had worn off, and this night’s work would become a situation that needed clearing up. But Magnus decided that was a problem for later.
    “That was nice, what you said to her,” said Magnus, when the crowd had completely hidden Marcy and Adrienne from their sight.
    “Uh . . . it was nothing,” said Alec, shifting and looking embarrassed. The Shadowhunters did not see much to approve of in kindness, Magnus supposed. “I mean, that’s what we’re here for, aren’t we? Shadowhunters, I mean. We have to help anyone who needs help. We have to protect people.”
    The Nephilim Magnus had known had seemed to believe the Downworlders were created to help them, and to be disposed of if they didn’t help enough.
    Magnus looked at Alec. He was sweaty and still breathing a little hard, the scratches on his arms and face healing quickly thanks to the iratzes on his skin.
    “I don’t think we’re going to get a drink in here; there’s much too long a line,” said Magnus slowly. “Let’s have a nightcap back at my place.”
    They walked home. Though it was a long way, it was a nice walk on a summer night, the air warm on Magnus’s bare arms and the moon turning the Brooklyn Bridge into a highway of shining white.
    “I’m really glad your friend called you to help that girl,” Alec confessed as they walked. “I’m really glad you asked me along. I was—I was surprised you did, after how things were going before.”
    “I was worried you were having a terrible time,” Magnus told him. It felt like putting a lot of power in Alec’s hands, but Alec was honest with him and Magnus found himself possessed by the strange impulse to be honest back.
    “No,” said Alec, and went red. “No, that’s not it at all. Did I seem— I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t be sorry,” Magnus told him softly.
    Words seemed to explode out of Alec in a rush, though judging by his expression he wished he could hold them back. “It was my fault. I got everything wrong even before I showed up, and you knew how to order at the restaurant and I had to stop myself laughing at that song on the subway. I have no idea what I’m doing and you’re, um, glamorous.”
    “What?”
    Alec looked at Magnus, stricken, as if he thought he’d got everything wrong again.
    Magnus wanted to say, No, I was the one who brought you to a terrible restaurant and treated you like a mundane because I didn’t know how to date a Shadowhunter and almost bailed on you even though you were brave enough to ask me out in the first place.
    What Magnus actually ended up saying was, “I thought that terrible song was hilarious ,” and he threw back his head and laughed. He glanced over at Alec and found him laughing too. His whole face changed when he laughed, Magnus thought. Nobody had to be sorry for anything, not tonight.

    When they reached Magnus’s home, Magnus laid a hand on the front door and it swung open.
    “I lost my keys maybe fifteen years ago,” Magnus explained.
    He really should get around to getting more keys cut. He didn’t really need them, though, and it had been a long time since there was anyone he wanted to have his keys—to have ready access to his home because he wanted them there anytime they wanted to come. There had been nobody since Etta, half a century ago.
    Magnus gave Alec a sidelong look as they climbed the rickety stairs. Alec caught the glance, and his breathing quickened; his blue eyes were bright. Alec bit his lower lip, and Magnus stopped walking.
    It was only a momentary hesitation. But then Alec reached out and caught his arm, fingers tight above his elbow.
    “Magnus,” he said in a low voice.
    Magnus