Текст книги "Carry On"

Автор книги: Rainbow Rowell

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

73

PENELOPE

My little sister, Priya, was the one to get the door. She was waiting up for Father Christmas—and doing a hell of a job, too; she made it until four in the morning. I think she outlasted Mum and Dad.

Priya heard the knocking and thought that it was Father Christmas himself. We don’t have a fireplace; she must have thought he had to come through the front door.

When she opened the door, Simon fell in, and she shrieked.

I don’t blame her. He looked like Satan incarnate. Massive red-and-black wings. A red tail with a black spade at the end. He’d cast some sort of spell on himself that made him glow yellow and orange, and he was covered in snow and debris, and wearing the filthiest, fanciest pyjama bottoms.

Mum and Dad heard Priya scream and came thumping down the stairs. Mum screamed, too. And then Dad shouted, and then apparently he had to keep Mum from throwing curses—she thought Simon was possessed or enchanted or that he’d gone full Lucifer.

The rest of us came running down the stairs then (except for Premal, who didn’t come home, even for Christmas)—and I saw Simon and ran to him. It didn’t occur to me to be scared of him.

That snapped Mum and Dad back to normal.

Mum started casting warming spells, and Dad got a bowl of hot water and a cloth to clean Simon up. We ended up putting him in the shower. He was so exhausted, he could hardly stand. He couldn’t even tell us where he’d been. I assumed he’d made it back to Baz’s house, but I didn’t want my parents to know that we’d left Simon on the road in the middle of the countryside on Christmas Eve.

I helped my mum and dad give him a shower, and nobody cared that I was seeing him naked. Then we put him in some of Mum’s trackies, and she tried to tuck his tail down one leg.

I kept casting, “Nonsense!” until Mum told me to shut up.

“It’s not working, Penny.”

“But it worked last time.”

“Maybe it’s not a spell,” Dad said. “Maybe he transformed.”

“Maybe he evolved,” Priya said from the bathroom doorway, “like a Pokémon.”

“Go to bed, Priya,” Dad said.

“I’m waiting for Father Christmas!”

“Go to bed!” Mum shouted.

Mum was casting spells, too. “As you were!” and “Back to start!”

“Careful, Mitali,” Dad said. “You’ll turn him into a baby.”

But none of Mum’s spells touched Simon. She tried casting spells in Hindi, too. (She doesn’t speak Hindi, but my great-grandmother did.) Nothing worked.

They put Simon in my bed, and Dad thought they should call the Mage, but Mum said they should wait to see what Simon wanted them to do.

(Simon seemed conscious, but he wasn’t saying anything. And he wouldn’t make eye contact.)

My parents were still arguing about it after they left my room and shut the door. “Go to bed, Priya!” my father shouted.

I climbed onto the bed next to Simon and laid my ring hand over his red wings.

“Nonsense!” I whispered.

“Nonsense!”

74

SIMON

I wake up on Christmas morning in Penelope’s bed.

She’s sitting next to me, staring at me.

“What?” I say.

“Thank magic! I was worried you’d never speak again.”

“Why?”

“Because you weren’t talking at all last night. For heaven’s snakes, Simon, what happened to you?”

“I…” I’m lying on my stomach. I try to roll onto my back, but can’t—the wings must still be there. Just thinking about them makes them spread out again, and they knock Penny over.

“Simon!”

“Sorry!” I say, trying to pull them back. “Sorry.”

Penny takes the edge of one wing and rubs it between her thumb and forefinger. “Are these permanent?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Not intentionally.”

“We coated you in spells yesterday, and none of them did anything.”

“Who’s we?”

“Me, my parents. Do you even remember coming here?”

“Sort of … I remember flying. I didn’t recognize London. From above. So I had to go to the Eye, then sort of half-fly down the streets to find your house. I’ve only ever come here before on the Tube.”

“I wonder if anyone saw you.”

“I don’t know. I tried to think about being invisible—”

“You what?”

I close my eyes now and think about the wings. I think about how I don’t need them anymore. I feel the magic welling up in me. (The magic is always welling up in me lately. Always coming up the back of my throat.) I think about how I don’t want to fly, then I think about pulling the wings back into my back.

When I open my eyes again, Penny is staring at me, her hand empty where the wing had been. She looks spooked. “What did you just do?”

“Got rid of the wings.”

“What about the tail?”

I reach down and feel a ropy, leathery tail. “Jesus.” I think hard about getting rid of it, and it zips through my hand, scratching my palm on its way back into my body.

“Why did you even have a tail?” Penny asks.

“I don’t know,” I answer, sitting up. “I must have been thinking about that dragon.”

“Simon…” She’s shaking her head. “What happened last night?”

“The Humdrum,” I say. “He attacked me at Baz’s house. He tried to use Baz against me.”

“He created the biggest hole in Great Britain!”

“What?”

“My dad got the call this morning. All of Hampshire is gone.”

“What?”

“Dad and the team are there now, but the Pitches told them they can’t come on their land. They’re calling it an act of war.”

“By the Humdrum?”

“By the Mage,” she says. “They say he’s controlling the Humdrum—maybe even that the Mage is the Humdrum. The Old Families have convened a Council of War, no one knows where. Mum says the Mage is looking for you, but she’ll be damned if she tells him you’re here. Unless you want her to tell him. Do you want her to tell him?”

“I don’t know, I guess so.… Why would the Pitches blame the Mage for this?”

Penny bites her lip and looks down. “I think because of you, Simon. Everyone is saying that you went to the Pitches’ on Christmas Eve and did some dark ritual to kill their magic.”

“I was fighting the Humdrum! I mean, I was trying. The Humdrum did something to Baz—he sent him after me like he does the dark creatures.”

“So you fought Baz?”

“No! I gave him my magic, so he could fight the Humdrum off. It was like a spell. The Humdrum was there, Penny, looking like me again—and he talked to me this time. In my voice. He watched us. And then … then he just disappeared. What if he stole the magic at Baz’s house out of spite? Because I beat him?”

Penny keeps biting her lip. “I still don’t understand why you had a tail.…”

“I—I needed to get out of there.” I’ve got my hands in my hair. I try to remember it, clearly, how it happened. “When Baz was himself again, we walked out of the forest right into a dead spot. His parents were freaking out, and Baz told me to go. So … I did. I didn’t have any other way to get here.”

“So you flew.”

“Yeah.”

She looks more worried than I’ve ever seen her outside of a kidnapping situation. “What spell did you cast, Simon?”

“Penny … It was just like last time. I didn’t cast any spell. I just—I did what I needed to do.”

She’s watching herself wring her hands in her lap.

“Penny?”

“Yeah?” She doesn’t look up.

“What should I do?

She sighs. “I don’t know, Simon. Maybe Agatha’s right.” She finally meets my eyes. “Maybe it is time to talk to the Mage.”

*   *   *

Penny decides we should eat lunch first. Late lunch. I’ve been sacked out most of the day.

Her parents are gone, and there’s nothing in the fridge but a raw turkey. Penny doesn’t trust herself to spell it cooked, so we eat cereal and toast and Christmas sweets.

Her little sister wanders in. “You’re the reason that Father Christmas didn’t come,” she says to me. “You scared him off.”

“Father Christmas will come, Priya,” Penny says. There are five kids in their family: Premal, Penny, Pacey, Priya, and Pip. (Penny says her mother should be charged for child cruelty, and her father for neglect.)

“Father Christmas is a lie,” Pacey calls from the living room. “So is God.”

I don’t know Pacey well. He’s at Watford, year five, but he and Penny don’t get on. Penny and her siblings all argue constantly. I’m not sure they know how to communicate any other way.

I still feel terrible: cold and wet, even though I’m perfectly dry and wearing some of Pacey’s clothes. (I woke up in ladies’ trackie bottoms.) And even though I couldn’t feel that weird dragon tail when I had it, now that it’s gone, it kind of aches. My Weetabix keep lurching up my throat, and I swallow them down hard.

I’m trying not to worry or think about what I should do next. Penny’s right—we’ll go to the Mage. The Mage will tell us.

When someone knocks at the door, I think it must be him. Priya goes for it, and Penny stops her. I stand up and summon my blade, just to be safe.

It’s Baz.

Standing on Penny’s doorstep, wearing that greenish black suit again and smelling faintly of smoke. His hand is in his pocket, and his eyes are narrow. He tilts up his chin. “Let me in, Bunce. There’s no time for pleasantries.”

“Don’t you have to be invited in?” she says.

He sneers, and she waves him in. “Come on.”

Baz shoves past her and looks around the living room. “Where’s your dad’s office?”

“My dad isn’t here—he’s at your house. And what makes you think I’d let you in his office? Why are you even here?”

“I’m here,” Baz says, looking over at me, then looking me up and down, “because we have an agreement.”

Penelope steps between us. “If you make a single move towards Simon—even a gesture—in my house, I will slaughter your whole family, Basilton. I’ll kill them so hard, they won’t even be able to find the Veil. Simon didn’t do this.”

He sneers at her some more. “That’s where you’re wrong—show me your father’s office. Are there maps? I’m assuming there are maps.”

We both stare at him. Me, because I can’t help it. Penny, in shock.

“Truce!” he says. “Come on, we’re still on truce. Make haste!”

I nod. “Come on, Penny. Take us up.”

She sighs and unfolds her arms. “Fine, but you can’t touch anything up there. Either of you.”

We follow her up the stairs. Baz knocks against me with his shoulder and elbow. “All right, Snow?” he asks softly.

“Yeah. You?”

“Fine,” he says.

“Your magic?” I whisper.

“Fine.”

He touches my back so lightly, I’m not sure it’s not an accident.

We take the last step up into the attic, where Penny’s dad works. I’ve never been up here before—the whole room is maps. Maps on the walls, covered with string and pins. Maps spread out on high tables, held in place by empty tea mugs. One entire wall is a blackboard, filled with numbers and sentence fragments.

“Lovely,” Baz says. “You come by it honestly, Bunce.”

He walks around the room until he finds what he’s looking for. “There,” he says. “Already labelled.” I step up behind him. It’s a map of the South East with a red string around Hampshire. The flag on the pin says, CHRISTMAS EVE 2015.

“Last night, the Humdrum attacked Simon—and the biggest hole in Britain opened up.” He glances back at us. “When did the dragon attack Watford? What day?”

I shrug.

“It was after our Magic Words exam,” Penny says. “The middle of November.”

“Right…” Baz walks around the room, reading the flags. He stops in front of a map of Scotland. “There,” he says. “November fifteenth. The Isle of Skye.”

“Are you saying that the Humdrum is linked to the holes?” Penny asks. “Because we already knew that.”

“I’m getting there, Bunce.… Now, when did the holes first appear?”

“Do we really have to do this by Socratic method?”

Baz frowns at her.

Penny sighs. “Nobody really knows. We didn’t start documenting the holes until 1998, but there were small ones all over the country by then—”

He nods quickly, cutting her off. “And when were you born, Simon? You’d think I’d know, but I can’t remember you ever celebrating your birthday.”

I shrug again. Then clear my throat. “I don’t know. I mean … Nobody knows. They just guessed when they found me.”

“But you’re probably eighteen now. Maybe nineteen?”

“They put 1997 on my papers.”

Baz nods. “Good—1997, shortly before the holes were discovered. And when did you realize you were a magician?”

Penny’s paying attention now. She and I have never talked about this. I don’t like to talk about this.

“I didn’t realize it,” I say. “The Mage told me.”

Baz is pinning me to the wall with his eyes. “But how did the Mage know? How did he find you?”

I clear my throat. “I went off.” They both know what that means. But I didn’t, not at 11. I woke up in the middle of the night, during a vicious nightmare—I’d gone to bed hungry, and in my dream, my stomach was on fire. I woke up, breathless, and magic was pouring out of me. Blasting out. The children’s home was burnt to the ground, and everyone in it woke up streets away. Unharmed, but still, streets away. (Once I watched a show about tornadoes in America, and they showed furniture that had been picked up and set in a yard miles away without breaking. It was like that.)

“You lit up the magickal atmosphere like a Christmas tree,” Baz says.

“Like a carpet bomb,” Penny chimes in. “My mum actually threw up when it happened.”

“When?” Baz says. “When did it happen?”

“August,” I say. I know he already knows this. “The year we started school.”

“August,” Baz says, “2008.” He walks around the room. “Here,” he says, pointing at a dead spot on the map. “And here.” He points at another.

Penny and I stare at the map.

Then she steps forward. She points at a string circle. “And in Newcastle…,” she says softly. “And a bunch of tiny ones on the coast. The holes changed that year. My dad says they metastasized.”

“But—but I wasn’t any of those places!” I sputter. “I’ve never been at the site of a new dead spot before last night.”

Baz turns to me. “I don’t think you have to be there. To make it happen.”

“Simon,” Penny asks, “when did you go off on the chimera?”

“Our fifth year,” Baz says. “Spring 2013.”

“Here,” Penny says, pointing. “And a big one over there.”

“Are you saying I’m the Humdrum?” I step away from them. “Because I’m not the Humdrum.”

Baz meets my eyes. “I know. I know you’re not. But Simon, listen. The Humdrum told us—he said he doesn’t take the magic, that he’s ‘what’s left when you’re done.’”

“I don’t even know what that means, Baz!” I feel like I might go off right now. My fingertips are buzzing.

“It means, the Humdrum doesn’t take the magic, Simon—you do.”

Penny gasps. “Simon. The first time you went off, you were eleven years old—”

“Exactly,” Baz says. “Probably wearing a shitty T-shirt and cast-off jeans—and bouncing that bloody ball.”

They’re looking at each other now. “Simon went off,” Penny says, “and he sucked up so much magic—”

Baz nods eagerly.

“—he tore a hole in the magickal atmosphere!” Penny says.

“A Simon-shaped hole…,” Baz agrees.

I hold my head in both hands, but it still doesn’t make sense. “Are you saying I created an evil twin?”

“More of an impression,” Baz says.

“Or an echo,” Penny says, still awestruck.

Baz tries to explain it again: “It’s like you tore so much magic out at once, you left fingerprints.… Whole-being prints.”

“But—,” I say.

“But…” Penny shakes her head. “Why didn’t the magickal atmosphere just accommodate Simon the way it accommodates every powerful magician? It’s a balanced system.”

“So is the earth,” Baz says, “but if you clear-cut a forest, the ecosystem doesn’t just bounce back.”

“This doesn’t make sense!” I say. “Even if I did tear a me-shaped hole, how did it come alive? And why is it a monster?”

“Is it alive?” Penny asks.

“And is it a monster?” Baz wonders.

“We’re talking about the Insidious Humdrum!” I shout.

“We’re talking about a hole,” Baz says calmly. “Think about it. What do holes want?”

“To be filled?” I guess. I know I’m not keeping up.

“Crowley, no,” he says. “To grow. Everything wants to grow. If you were a hole, all you’d want is to get bigger.”

“That’s it, Baz!” Penny throws her arms around him. “You’re a genius!”

He shoves her off after a second. “Careful. I’m also a vampire.”

I slump against one of the walls; a few pins fall to the floor. “I still don’t get it.”

“Simon,” Penny says, “you’re too powerful. You use too much magic at once. The magickal atmosphere can’t take it—it just collapses when you go off.”

“Theoretically,” Baz says.

“Theoretically,” she agrees.

“But…,” I say. There must be more “but’s.” “Why does the Humdrum keep trying to kill me? Why send every dark creature in the UK after me?”

“He isn’t trying to kill you,” Baz says. “He’s trying to get you to go off.”

“And use more magic,” Penny says.

Baz holds his hand up to the maps behind him. “To make a bigger hole.”

I stare at them.

They stare at me.

They still seem so proud of themselves—and excited—as if they’re not staring at the greatest threat the magickal world has ever known.

“We have to tell the Mage,” I say.

Baz’s face falls. “Over my dead body.”

75

BAZ

“If this is true,” Snow says, “if even a little bit of it is true—we can’t keep it a secret. We have to go to the Mage.”

I knew this was coming.

I knew this would be his solution.

I’ve known from the beginning that Simon would go running for the Mage when things got serious.

“The fuck we do,” I say. “We have to go to the numpties.”

“The numpties,” Snow says. As if he can’t believe what I’m saying. “You just told me that I’m destroying the World of Mages, and now you want to go numpty hunting?”

“We have an agreement,” I remind him. I try to sound urgent, not desperate.

Snow looks at me funny—like maybe I’m talking about how we’re boyfriends now. As if that even matters anymore.

I sigh bitterly. “Not that agreement, you twit—you promised to help me find my mother’s killer.”

“I will help you find your mother’s killer,” Snow says, “after we figure out how to stop this.” His head falls back. “Maybe. I mean. If I’m still alive then, if the Mage doesn’t decide the answer is just ending me.”

“Simon,” Bunce admonishes.

“He’ll have to get in line,” I say, “once my family finds out what’s happening—once the whole World of Mages finds out. The Old Families already think you and the Mage are scheming to take their magic. The person who takes you out will be given a crown.”

“Baz,” Penny says.

“I suppose you think it will be you,” Snow says, narrowing his eyes.

“We have a truce,” I say, my voice rising. “The shit has already hit the fan, and if we don’t solve my mother’s murder now, we never will. And you promised, Simon. I promised.”

“There are more important things to worry about right now!” Snow shouts at me.

“Nothing is more important than my mother!”

76

BAZ

I only remember where the numpties live because Fiona said, “Christ, what a mess, and right under Blackfriars Bridge—this city has gone straight to hell,” when she was dragging me to her car.

It doesn’t take long to get to Blackfriars from Hounslow. It’s Christmas Day, and there’s no one out. I park the car and clear a path in the snow to the head of the bridge.

I’m starting to feel a bit panicky.

I know I shouldn’t have come alone, but anyone I could have asked for help would have dragged me back to the matter at hand—the fact that my family is now magickally homeless. Even Fiona wouldn’t have listened to me today.

Simon and Penny are back to saving the day. Or destroying it. Maybe both. That’s all right; I always knew where I stood with Simon—just below the rest of the world. And far, far below the Mage.

All right. It’s all right.

I’m afraid—but that’s reasonable. You try going back to the place where you were kept in a coffin until you couldn’t remember what light looked like.

But I’m in a better position than I was last time. I’m conscious, for one. I have my wand. And my wits about me.

The door to the numpties’ lair is easy to find—it’s basically just a hole in the pilings. I slide down some mud, and my stomach churns at the smell. Wet paper and decay. I’m in the right place.

It’s too dark down here even for me to see, so I hold my hand and start a fire in my palm, illuminating a circle of nothing around me.

I let the flames grow larger … and see a lot more nothing. I’m in a chamber full of debris. Hunks of pavement. Large stones. None of it’s familiar; I was unconscious when I was brought here and mostly unconscious when I left. I don’t even really know what the numpties look like.

I clear my throat. Nothing happens.

I clear it again. “My name is Basilton Pitch,” I call out loudly. “I’m here to ask you a question.”

One of the big rocky things starts to tremble. I hold the fire in its direction. And my wand.

The big rocky thing opens like a Transformer into a bigger rocky thing that seems to be wearing a giant oatmeal-coloured jumper. “You,” it rumbles in a voice like roadworks.

It’s a familiar rumble. I feel the walls closing in on me, and my mouth tastes like stale blood. (Blood’s thicker when it stales; it clots.)

“You,” the thing says. “You killed some of us.”

“Well, you kidnapped me,” I say. “Remember?”

“Didn’t kill you,” it says. There are more of the things now, ca-runching around me. I don’t see where they’re coming from, but there does seem to be less debris lying around. I try to make out their faces—everything about them is yellow-grey on yellow-grey. They’re like piles of wet cement.

“You were well on your way to killing me,” I say, “but that’s not why I’m here. I came to talk to you.”

I’m surrounded by them now. It’s like standing inside a stone circle.

“Don’t like talk,” one rattles out. It might be the one in the jumper again. Or it might be this one, right next to me, wearing an electric blanket, the plug dragging behind it on the ground.

“Too cold to talk,” another growls. “Time to rest.”

That’s right, I forgot. Numpties hibernate. I must have woken them. “You can rest,” I say. “I’ll leave you. Just tell me this one thing.…”

They rumble to themselves.

“Who sent you after me?”

The numpties don’t answer. I feel like they’re moving closer to me, even though I can’t see it happening.

“Who sent you to take me?” I shout. I’m holding my wand in the air, my arm coiled back behind my shoulder. Maybe I should already be casting spells at this point, but killing them won’t bring me answers. And what if they fight back?

Are they already fighting back?

It suddenly feels like I’m squeezing between stone walls. They’re closing in on me, pinching around my left arm … around the fire in my hand … the fire.

“If you crush me,” I yell, “my fire will go out!”

The crunching stops; I think they’re standing still. They seem to settle in sloppy slabs around me, around my hand. How long do they think I can stand like this? (And why don’t they just move somewhere tropical?)

“Tell me,” I order. “Who sent you to take me?”

“Won’t say,” one of them answers. It’s like listening to rocks being broken into gravel.

“Why not?”

The wall behind me lurches closer. “Told us not to.”

I stand straighter. “Well, I’m telling you otherwise.”

“Kept us warm,” the biggest one says.

“You don’t look warm.”

“Kept us warm for a while,” it says.

“Told us not to talk,” grumbles another.

“Don’t like talk.”

I let the fire in my hand go out, and they make a noise like ten thousand teeth grinding.

“More fire,” I hear. “More firrrre.”

“I’ll give you more fire when you answer my question!” They’re vibrating. I’m not sure whether it’s from anger or impatience or something else. “Who sent you? Who paid you to take me?”

“Warmed us,” I hear.

“Who?”

“One of you.”

“Magic ones.”

“Which one of us? Was it a man? What did he look like?”

“Like a man. Soft.”

“Warm.”

“Wet spot on the pavement.”

“Green.”

“Green?” I say.

The largest numpty unfolds, then crunches down into a pile right in front of me, forcing the others away. “Your headstone!”

“One of you.”

“Warm.”

“Take the vampire brat,” the big one grinds, “keep him in the dark, give him blood.”

“Hold him till the cold comes and stays.”

“Fire. Warm. You promised.”

They’re pressing closer again. “You promised.”

I restart the fire in my hand, but instead of backing off, they crush closer to it; I can’t even see my wrist.

“Get back!” I yell. My left arm is sucking away from my shoulder, and my wand arm is pressed up against my ear. “Back off!”

“Cast Paper beats rock,” someone shouts. Not a numpty—a man!

“What?!”

“Paper beats rock—do it.”

I call out, “Paper beats rock!” And then a specific kind of chaos erupts:

There’s someone hopping on top of the numpties, slapping them with sheets of newspaper like he’s playing whack-a-mole. They try to heave away, but when he thumps them, they go still. Actually still. The pressure around me stops.

I look up and see none other than Nicodemus himself standing on top of the biggest numpty, catching his breath.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask him, my mouth surely hanging open.

He sneers. “I came to save you from numpties.”

“Did you just put them to sleep with The Guardian?”

“I did. Why didn’t you?”

Nicodemus is wearing a cheap blazer over a white T-shirt, black jeans with a wallet chain, and ancient steel-toed Doc Martens. It’s clear what my ridiculous aunt saw in him.

He reaches down and takes my wrist, pointing my wand at the rock wall that’s trapping my other arm. “Have a break, have a Kit-Kat,” he says.

“What?”

“Say it.”

“Why?”

He pinches my wrist.

“Have a break, have a Kit-Kat!” I cast, and the rock crumbles around my arms. “That shouldn’t work,” I say, shaking my hand free.

The numpties don’t wake up, despite me breaking pieces off them.

“Stop complaining,” Nicodemus says, “and come on. The newspapers won’t hold them forever.”

He’s holding out his arm, so I take it, even though he smells like sour blood and cider. He hauls me up until I’m standing on the numpties, too.

We hop from one to the next, then onto the ground. “This way,” Nicodemus says, switching on a big flashlight.

I follow him up the mud pathway and out into the daylight. As soon as we’re above ground, I push him away from me.

“Watch it,” he says. “I just saved your life!”

“You just ruined my plan—they were about to tell me who kidnapped me!”

“They already told you,” he snarls. “It was the Mage!”

The Mage. The green man. The headstone. The Mage?

Nicodemus curls his lip, so I can see his missing eyeteeth. “It was the Mage who had you kidnapped,” he says. He keeps moving forward, and I keep stepping back. “And the Mage who let the vampires into Watford.”

“What?” I stumble in the snow, and catch myself.

“He made a deal with them,” Nicodemus says, inches from my face. “If they attacked Watford and gave everyone a good scare, he’d let them live in London, unbothered. He wanted me to make the deal, but I wouldn’t, so he found someone else.”

“The Mage sent vampires to kill my mother?”

“I tried to warn her, but she wouldn’t believe Merlin’s oath coming from me.” Nicodemus shrugs. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think the Mage meant for your mum to die—but I don’t think he minded much. Made everything else easier, didn’t it?”

I take another step back. “Why are you telling me this now? Why not before? And why are you even here—did you follow me?” I whip my head around, looking for more vampires. Is this a trap?

“I couldn’t tell you,” Nicodemus says. “He would have killed me! But now it doesn’t matter what he does. He went and arrested my sister, didn’t he? Your Mage. He’s got Ebeneza now. And I need your help getting her back.”

It was the Mage. It was the Mage all along.

I mean, I always thought it was him, but I never really thought it was him. How could he? He’s the Mage. How could he just—?

I make a noise like Snow, a growl that starts in my stomach and triggers my fangs. Then I turn and run for my car.

Nicodemus runs after me. He grabs my arm. “Wait! I’m coming with you!”

“You’re not coming with me.”

“I told you—he has my sister!”

“What do I care?”

“I’m going to help you fight.”

“I don’t want your help, you monster.”

“Too bad,” he says, yanking me. “You’ll have it!”

We’re interrupted by desperate yelping: A Normal is out walking his dog, a cross-eyed Cavalier spaniel, and it’s taken an interest in Nicodemus and me, barking madly.

“Come along, Della.” The Normal pulls on her chain, and the dog nearly chokes herself jumping at us. Bark, bark, bark.

I could swear it’s saying, “Baz! Baz! Baz!”

I turn away from Nicodemus and look more closely at the spaniel. “Are you saying my name?”

“Baz!” the dog barks. “Thank magic! It’s me, Penelope!”

“Bunce?” It does sound like her. In a yelpy, canine way. “Who turned you into a dog?”

“Am I a dog?” she yaps. “The spell’s never worked that way before. Baz, you have to come get me!” The Normal is leaning over to pick up his dog, as if I’m a threat to her.

I am. I grab the dog and hold it up to my face.

“Hey, now,” the Normal says. Nicodemus hisses at him, and the man lets go of the dog’s chain.

“Bunce, what are you talking about?”

“Baz, we can’t let Simon face the Mage alone—I have a really bad feeling about it. I need you to come get me!”

Simon. Alone with the Mage. With my mother’s murderer.

“I’m coming.” I shove the animal under my arm and look up at the Normal. “I need to borrow your dog.”

“You can’t just—”

I hold up my wand. “There’s nothing to see here!” The Normal looks at us, then down at his hands, then gets a cigarette out of his pocket.

I start running towards my car.

Nicodemus is right behind me. “I’m coming with you!”

I keep running. He grabs at my arm again, and I whirl around, starting a fire in that palm. He jumps back.

The Bunce spaniel yelps at him.

“I have to save my sister,” he says. “And you could use my help. You know I can’t get in on my own.”

I tilt up my chin. “I could use your help. And if what you’re saying is true, Ebb certainly could. But I’ll be damned to hell twice over before I let a vampire into Watford. Even a gelded one.”