“What are you talking about?” Magnus asked. “You’re a fantastic date. You’ve only been here ten minutes, and I already got half of your clothes off.”
Alec looked equal parts embarrassed and pleased. He’d told Magnus he was new to all this, so anything more than mild flirting might scare him off. Magnus had a very calm and normal date planned: no surprises, nothing unexpected.
“Come on,” said Magnus, and grabbed a red leather duster. “We’re going to dinner.”
The first part of Magnus’s plan, getting the subway, had seemed so simple. So foolproof.
It had not occurred to him that a Shadowhunter boy was not used to being visible and having to interact with the mundanes.
The subway was crowded on a Friday night, which was not surprising but did seem to be alarming to Alec. He was peering around at the mundanes as if he had found himself in a jungle surrounded by menacing monkeys, and he was still looking traumatized by Magnus’s shirt.
“Can’t I use a glamour rune?” he asked, as they boarded the F train.
“No. I’m not looking like I’m alone on a Friday night just because you don’t want mundanes staring at you.”
They were able to grab two seats, but it didn’t appreciably improve the situation. They sat awkwardly side by side, other people’s chatter rushing all around them. Alec was utterly silent. Magnus was fairly sure he wanted nothing more than to go home.
There were purple and blue posters staring down at them, showing elderly couples looking sadly at one another. The posters bore the words WITH THE PASSING YEARS COMES . . . IMPOTENCE! Magnus found himself staring at the posters with a sort of absent horror. He looked at Alec and found that Alec could not tear his eyes away either. He wondered if Alec was aware that Magnus was three hundred years old and whether Alec was considering exactly how impotent one might become after that much time.
Two guys came onto the train at the next stop and cleared a space right in front of Magnus and Alec.
One of them began to dance by swinging himself dramatically around the pole. The other sat cross-legged and started beating time on a drum he’d carried in with him.
“Hello, ladies and gentlemen and whatever else you got!” the dude with the drum called out. “We’re gonna perform now for your entertainment. I hope you’ll enjoy it. We call it . . . the Butt Song.”
Together they began to rap. It was quite obviously a song they had written themselves.
“Roses are red, and they say love’s not made to last,
But I know I’ll never get enough of that sweet, sweet ass.
All that jelly in your jeans, all that junk in your trunk,
I just gotta have it—one look and I was sunk.
If you ever wonder why I had to make you mine,
It’s ’cause no other lady has a tush so fine.
They say you’re not a looker, but I don’t mind.
What I’m looking at is the view from behind.
Never been romantic, don’t know what love means,
But I know I dig the way you’re wearing those jeans.
Hate to see you leave but love to watch you go.
Turn back, then leave again—baby do it slow.
I’m coming right after, gonna make a pass,
Can’t get enough of that sweet, sweet ass.”
Most of the commuters seemed stunned. Magnus was not sure if Alec was just stunned or if he was also deeply scandalized and privately commending his soul to God. He was wearing an extremely peculiar expression on his face and his lips were very tightly shut.
Under normal circumstances Magnus would have laughed and laughed and given the buskers a lot of money. As it was, he was profoundly grateful when they reached their stop. He did fish out a few dollars for the singers as he and Alec left the train.
Magnus was reminded again of the extreme disadvantages to mundane visibility when a skinny freckled guy slipped by them. Magnus was just thinking that he might have felt a hand snaking into his pocket when the guy gave a combination howl and screech.
While Magnus had idly wondered if he was being pickpocketed, Alec had reacted like a trained Shadowhunter: he grabbed the guy’s arm and threw him up in the air. The thief flew, outstretched arms limply wagging, like a cotton-stuffed doll. He landed with a crack on the platform, with Alec’s boot on his throat. Another train rattled by, all lights and noise; the Friday night commuters ignored it, forming a knot of bodies in tight shiny clothes and artful hair around Magnus and Alec.
Alec’s eyes were a little wide. Magnus suspected that he had been acting on reflex and had not actually intended to use force meant for demon foes against a mundane.
The redheaded guy squawked, revealing braces, and flapped his hands in what seemed to be either urgent surrender or a very good panicked duck impression.
“Dude!” he said. “I’m sorry! Seriously! I didn’t know you were a ninja!”
Alec removed his boot, and cast a hunted glance around at the fascinated stares of the bystanders.