Chapter 1 - Terrible Love

It's just past 1AM when I enter the dimly lighted bar at the 46th floor of the Imperial Garden Hotel in Tokyo. The view with its glittering sea of city lights provides a stunning backdrop, but I'm way to wound up to actually enjoy it. My band, The Mortal Instruments, played a sold-out gig for 55.000 fans at the Tokyo Dome tonight and the adrenalin is still coursing through my veins.

Apparently I'm not the only one. Raphael Santiago, lead singer of our support act Trashed Vamp, is simultaneously nursing a glass of scotch and playing a match of tonsil hockey with a bleached blond. Who ever said men couldn't multi-task, obviously never met Raphael.

I give him a brief nod, after which I walk to the bar and order a beer. The bartender comes back with my drink and I gesture to the piano on the dais in the middle of the bar. "Alright if I play for a bit?"

"Sure." Recognition flashes in her eyes, but it vanishes just as quickly as it appeared. The Imperial Garden Hotel obviouslytrains their bar staff very well. Shame that the same can't be said for their security personnel, considering I was ambushed by a screaming drunk girl in the hotel lobby after I returned from the concert venue. Thank fuck that Craig, our own security chief, was there to save my ass.

I still haven't got used to the fame thing, even though it has been two years since The Mortal Instruments catapulted to fame seemingly overnight (we actually played our butts off in unseemly dive bars for crowds consisting of the grand total of ten people for six years, but for some reason that part of the story always gets left out). I mean, music is my life and I am extremely grateful for our fans, but I'm still baffled by the fact that everyone and their mother wants to know who I'm screwing and what my favorite color is.

My favorite color is black by the way, even though Izzy, my sister and our band's fashionista drummer, claims that black is a result from the complete absence of light and therefor cannot be considered a real color. The ink on my body says otherwise.

Jace, TMI's lead singer and my best mate since way back when, actually adapted to the lime light like a pro, taking much of the focus of me, but ever since he - shock, horror - ditched the rock 'n roll lifestyle in favor of domestic bliss with Clary Fairchild aka The Journalist, and considering the fact that Simon and Izzy are in a long-term relationship as well, the pap's attention has shifted solely to me.

Now I'm asked on a daily basis if I'm ever going to tie the knot with Lydia Branwell (she's lovely, but not bloody likely) or exactly how serious my involvement with supa-dupa-model Maia Roberts is (I talked to her for the grand total of five bloody seconds at a charity event). Questions like these - and worse - are fired at me on a daily basis. Boy, if they ever found out the true story about Alexander Gideon Lightwood...

But they won't, I'll make damn sure of that. The four of us - Jace, Simon, Izzy and me - worked so hard to get where we are today, and there is no way in hell that I'll allow for everything to blow up in our faces now.

However, I have been on edge ever since Jace, The Artist Formerly Known As Manwhore Extraordinair, lost his heart to that redheaded journalist. They've pretty much been glued to the hip from the moment he laid eyes on her. I mean, I'm happy that he's happy - Jace hasn't had an easy life and he deserves every shred of happiness he gets - if only she weren't a journalist. Clary is nice enough and as far as I can tell (which is not far at all, since I know crap all about love) she seems completely smitten with Jace, but that doesn't mean that I actually trust her. People have a habit of pretending to be your friend and then stab you in the back when it suits them. Trust me, I know.

Pushing away the unwelcome memories that suddenly claw at the edges of my brain, I let my fingers glide over the piano keys. Music is my sanctuary. Always has been, always will be. Enough said.

As if my fingers move on their own, I hit the first few chords of 'Smokers Outside the Hospital Doors' by the Editors and then the people at the bar just fade into the background as I get sucked into the song.

I just finish the fourth song when I spot Magnus Bane, owner of Warlock Inc., the record company TMI is signed to, entering the bar.

I miss a note, but thankfully manage to get my shit together before I muck up the rest of the song.

When he sees me, he walks straight in my direction and it takes all my power to not just stand up and run away. Magnus Bane, with his flashy clothes and amber eyes that are heavily accentuated with kohl, unnerves me. It is as if he can see straight through me and I'm not altogether sure that he likes what he sees. Anyway, he's the darling of the media because he clawed his way out of the gutter and is now CEO of the world's number one record company. I mean, I love a good rags to riches story as much as the next guy, but the way they describe him in the press, it's as if he's actually invented sliced bread. And yeah, it goes without saying that he is thick as thieves with TMI's resident journalist Clary. No surprise there.

"I heard there was a disturbance earlier on," he starts as soon as I have finished the song.

"Yeah," I answer without taking my eyes of the piano, even though I'm not playing at the moment. "Don't worry, Craig dealt with it."

"It is unacceptable," Magnus huffed. "God knows what could've happened if you had been there on your own, Alexander."

"A black belt in karate is what would have happened. I can take care of myself, Magnus." I remember reading somewhere that Magnus has an active dislike of Coldplay - how someone who dislikes Coldplay managed to become the most powerful man in the music industry is completely beyond me, but that just goes to show what I know - and I, being the miserable git I truly am, hit the first notes of 'Trouble'.

'Ah, the one Coldplay-song that's actually palatable," Magnus says. "You continue to surprise me, Alexander."

"Good ways, I hope?" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them and I pray to God that there isn't enough light in this bar for him to notice my cheeks turning beet-red.

He then gives me a curt nod and walks to the bar.

I exhale, not even realizing until that moment that I'd been holding my breath the whole time Magnus was talking to me. Seeing how our whole conversation didn't last longer than a minute, I was in no actual danger of oxygen deprivation, but I feel slightly lightheaded nonetheless.

I expect him to stay at the bar, but to my surprise he comes back with two drinks in his hand: a fancy looking cocktail for him and a beer. For me.

"I had no idea you could play the piano," he says. "Considering your guitar seems to be glued to your hand 24/7."

I lift my shoulders in what I hope will pass as an indifferent shrug. "Simon is way out of my league when it comes to any instruments with keys, but I used to play the organ in my father's church on Sundays."

Magnus nods. "That's right, Izzy told me your Dad is a pastor."

Dad. I haven't actually thought of Robert Penhallow as 'Dad' in a long time, and I'm pretty sure Izzy feels the same way. However, the fact that she has discussed Robert with Magnus surprises me. Even if it hasn't been more than a brief mention, it proves that she trusts him and trust isn't something that comes easily to my sister.

I glance at Magnus and realise with a jolt of surprise that I trust him as well. No idea why, I just do. Ever since TMI's breakthrough, he's been at our side in the shark infested waters of the music industry and he hasn't let us down once.

I give a frustrated sigh. Me playing Coldplay just to spite him was petty and immature, and because I don't even want to contemplate the reasons I act like a complete jerk whenever Magnus is around, I look up and ask: "Any requests?"

The beaming smile he gives me does funny things to my stomach, as if a bunch of butterflies have taken up residency there. "Play me that song you and Jace have been working on."

"Which one?" I ask, even though I know damn well which song he is referring to.

"'Until you'."

"AKA 'Jace Wayland is madly in love and won't shut up about it'," I mutter under my breath, conveniently omitting the fact that even though Jace came up with the music, I was actually the one that wrote with the lyrics.

"It's a beautiful song. Definitely should be on your next album. The lyrics are just so sincere... So heartfelt."

"Well, Jace is in L-O-V-E and he isn't exactly shy about it." My voice drips with sarcasm.

Magnus gives me a calculated look. "That's odd. Jace told me you wrote most of the lyrics."

Well, shit... I just walked straight into that trap, didn't I? 'Bigmouth strikes again' should probably be my next song, anything but that sappy lovesong.

I try to come up with a clever comeback, but before I can think of anything, a strange, rumbling noise seems to rise up from the floor.

And then the earth just starts to move out by itself.

I'm not that drunk already, am I? No, this is my third beer of the night, so it can't be that.

The movement of the floor changes from a slight sway to a tremor that seems to increase with every passing second.

"What's happening?" I ask with a slightly panicked voice.

Magnus looks at me dumbfounded, but then the sound of breaking glass followed by someone screaming seems to propel him into action. He grabs me by the shoulders, pushes me to the ground and covers my body with his.

We're in the middle of an earthquake and I don't even feel the slightest trace of fear.

Magnus' body is pressed closely against mine, we're half under the piano and his face just hovers dangerously above me.

Completely mesmerized I look into his amber eyes. God, he's gorgeous... If this is how I'm going to die,it really isn't so bad.

A large vase falls over the piano and just crashes inches from where we lie. Instinctively I put my hands on Magnus' head to protect him.

Another thought flashes in my mind. I don 't want to die without kissing this man at least once.

My kissing experience is limited and my first kiss was the stuff of nightmares that still haunts me to this day, but none of that matters now.

Time seems to slow down. Our breaths mingle and then I just crash my lips to his and kiss him.