Carry On (37 page)

“Is this how you get what you want? By just repeating it until it comes true?”

“Isn't that how you cast a spell?”

My chalk hand drops, and I turn to him, exasperated. “Simon—”

“A-ha!” he shouts, springing up and pointing. It scares the hell out of me. I've seen him kill a dog with less effort. (He said the dog was
were;
I think it was just excited.) “You did it again!”

“Did what?” I say, slapping his hand away from my face.

He sticks his other hand in my face, pointing. “Called me Simon.”

“What would you prefer—Chosen One?”

His hand dips. “I prefer Simon, actually. I … I like it.”

I swallow, and it must be obvious how nervous I am, because he looks down at my neck. “Simon,” I say, and swallow again, “you're being idiotic.”

“Because I like this better than fighting?”

“There is no ‘this'!” I protest.

“You slept in my arms,” he says.

“Fitfully.”

He lets his hand fall, and I catch it. Because I'm weak. Because I'm a constant disappointment to myself. Because he's standing right there with his tawny skin and his moles and his morning breath.

“Simon,” I say.

He squeezes my hand.

“It's not that I don't prefer
this.
It's that…” I sigh. “I can't even imagine it. My family objects to everything the Mage stands for.”

“I know,” he says emphatically. “But I actually think we have bigger problems than that. If we find out who killed your mum, and then we go after the Humdrum together—maybe we can help everyone see that we're better off uniting, and then—”

“And then the whole World of Mages will see how much better it is to work together, and we'll sing a song about co-operation.”

“I was thinking we'd stop cursing each other,” he says, “and locking each other up in towers.”

“Potato, potahto.”

He pulls at my arm and I fall forward a bit. Or maybe I'm swooning—it's not beneath me. (Snow is. Beneath me. Always. By at least three inches.)

“How can you be like this?” I whisper. “How can you even trust me, after everything?”

“I'm not sure I do trust you,” he whispers back. He reaches out with his other hand and touches my stomach. I feel it drop to the floor. (My stomach, that is.) “But…” He shrugs.

He's rubbing my stomach, and I close my eyes—because it feels good. (So good.) And also because I want him to kiss me again.

Snow kissed me last night until my mouth was sore. He kissed me so much, I was worried I'd Turn him with all my saliva. He held himself up on all fours above me and made me reach up for his mouth—and I did. I would again. I'd cross every line for him.

I'm in love with him.

And he likes this better than fighting.

 

65

SIMON

If Penelope were here, I'd tell her she's wrong about me. She thinks I solve everything with my sword. But apparently, I can also solve things with my mouth—because, so far, every time I lean into Baz, he shuts up and closes his eyes.

If Penelope were here, she'd make me explain myself.

Thank magic she isn't here yet.

I've just pushed my fingers between Baz's shirt buttons; his skin is room temperature.

Then someone clears her throat. Baz stands up straight, which means his mouth jerks away from mine. I step away so quickly, I'm not sure I didn't teleport.

His maid or nanny or whatever she is, is standing in the archway. She's wearing a black dress and a white apron. “Mr. Pitch,” she says, and she must get paid to pretend she doesn't notice anything around here, because she doesn't even flinch. Boys kissing is probably mild—she's probably walked into interrogations and goat sacrifices. “You have guests,” she says. “Two young ladies.”

“Thank you, Vera,” Baz says without a hint of apology. “Send them in.” He straightens his shirt and smooths down his hair.

“Girls?” I say. “More than one?”

“Agatha,” Baz says over my shoulder, “welcome. Hello, Bunce.”

I spin around. Penelope and Agatha are standing in the library door; they must not have waited for the maid to come back for them. Penny's already eyeing the library bookshelves lustfully. Agatha's looking at me.

“What are you doing here?” I say.

“Baz called us,” Penny says. She walks into the room and hands me a plate of gingerbread biscuits covered in plastic wrap.

“What are
you
doing here?” Agatha asks me.

“Agatha was staying with me,” Penny explains, “and she had her car, so—”

“Please come in, Agatha,” Baz invites. “Could I get you both something to drink?”

“I'll have tea,” Penny says.

“Excellent,” he says, striding past Agatha out the door.

“What is this?” Agatha says. “Penelope wouldn't even tell me where we were going. What are you
doing
here, Simon?”

I frown at Penny.

She unwraps the plate of gingerbread and takes one. “I didn't know what I was allowed to say! And I didn't think she'd drive me if I told her where we were going. You two need to get over this, Simon. If you can make peace with Baz, you can make peace with Agatha.”

“Temporary peace,” Baz says, already back with tea and a plate of fruit. He must have used magic.

“I'll pour,” Penny says.

“Temporary peace?” Agatha asks. Penny hands her a cup of tea. “Are you all
possessed
?” She hands the tea back. “I'm not drinking this.”

Baz looks at me. “Your call, Snow. Do you trust her?”

Agatha's fuming. “Does he trust
me
?”

“Of course,” I say. And it's true, to some extent, anyway. I trust Agatha not to be evil. I don't trust her alone with Baz—though I guess I should rethink all that, in light of recent information. “Agatha, um—”

“We're trying to figure out who killed Baz's mother,” Penelope cuts in.

“The Humdrum killed her,” Agatha says.

Penny holds her teacup up, gesturing with it. “Not according to her, he didn't.”

Agatha looks confused. And a little pissed off.

I look to Baz. It seems like he should be the one to tell this part, as much of it as he wants to, but he's back at his whiteboard, filling out the
Everything we know
column—
ghosts, Visitings, vampires.
Penny jumps up as soon as Baz adds
Nicodemus
to the list.

I take her place on the couch next to Agatha.

“When did this all start?” Agatha asks me.

“When the Veil thinned,” I say. “Natasha Grimm-Pitch came through to find Baz and found me instead. She wants him to find her murderer. When Baz came back, I told him I'd help him figure it out.”

Agatha's eyebrows are almost touching in the middle, and her nose is wrinkled. “Why?”

“Because it seemed like the right thing to do.”

“It
did
?”

I shrug. “Yeah. I mean—it was an attack on Watford. A murder.”

“What did the Mage say about all this?”

“He didn't. Exactly.” I look down at my lap, scratching the hair above my neck. “Penny and Baz don't think we should tell him.”

“Penny
and Baz
think?”

“It's Baz's mum,” I say, “so I feel like I should respect his wishes on this.”

“But Baz hates you!”

I nod. “I know. We're sort of … on a truce?”

“Simon, listen to yourself—a
truce
?”

“You went to a vampire bar!” Penny shouts from across the room. Baz must be catching her up. “What a pair of splendid morons you are! Did you take photos?”

“Vampires don't show up in photos,” I say.

“That's mirrors, you dolt,” Baz says.

“You can't see yourself in the mirror?”

Baz ignores me and goes back to telling Penny about Nicodemus.

“But…” Agatha is staring at the two of them. “Baz is dark. He's
evil.
”

“I thought you never believed that,” I say.

“I absolutely believed it,” she says. “You told us he was a
vampire,
Simon. Wait—” She turns to him, then back to me. “—did he just now admit that he
is
a vampire?”

I pull at the hair on my neck. I can tell I'm making an idiotic face. “I'm not sure it's that simple.…”

“That Baz is a vampire?”

“No, he's definitely a vampire,” I say. “I guess it is that simple. But you can't tell anyone, Agatha.”

“Simon,
you've
already told everyone. You've been telling everyone since we were third years.”

“Yeah, but nobody believed me.”

“
I
believed you.”

“‘One of you'?” Penelope says loudly. “What does Nicodemus mean by that? That it was another mage who let the vampires in? Or one of you Pitches, someone in your family—”

“It wouldn't have been someone in my family,” Baz protests. “Never.”

“Your relatives are famous betrayers,” Penny argues. “There was a time in the 1700s when they weren't even allowed to sign contracts.”

“Yes, but we never betray
each other.
”

Baz keeps telling Penny about Nicodemus. And Ebb. “Simon's the one who broke it all open,” he says, “without even opening a book.”

“Typical,” Penny says.

Baz doesn't tell her the way Nicodemus threatened him or taunted him. He doesn't tell her much about Fiona. He doesn't say how fucking cool he was at the bar, or how he lost it completely as soon as he walked out. How I kissed him to save his life—and then kissed him just because I wanted to. (I'm just now realizing that maybe I could have saved his life some other way.…)

“So you're staying here?” Agatha says. To me.

“No, I just came to tell Baz about Nicodemus, and then I didn't have a ride home.”

“Who's Nicodemus again?”

“The person who knows who the traitor is,” Penny answers, then turns to me. “I can't believe you guys just walked away from him, knowing he has all the answers! If he'd told you who tried to hire him, we'd be done now.”

“We couldn't compel him,” I say. “And we couldn't beat it out of him—we were surrounded by vampires.”

Penelope folds her arms. “I guess.”

“The ethics on you, Bunce,” Baz says.

“What did
you
find out, Penny?” I ask.

“Not much, in comparison.” She leans back against a bookshelf and crosses her ankles. “I talked to my dad about the Humdrum. He confirmed that nobody blamed the Humdrum for the Watford Tragedy until years later. They just thought it was another vampire attack. Hey, Agatha, are you caught up yet? Maybe we could talk to
your
parents—your dad might remember something—”

“I'm not caught up,” Agatha says.

“Well, catch up,” Penny says. “It's all on the whiteboard. I've got to say, it's good to have you back.”

“I'm not sure I am back,” Agatha mutters. Only I hear her.

“It's been really good,” I tell her. “Actually. Working with Baz instead of fighting with him.”

“Is that why you were looking for him?” she asks. “That night on the ramparts? Because of a Visiting?”

“Sort of…”

Penny and Baz keep adding notes to the board. They're fighting over the dry-erase marker. I feel like I should stay sitting with Agatha, and answer her questions, but she doesn't say any more. And she still won't drink any tea.

Penny drills Baz until she finds out about Fiona's school memory book, then she wants to see it. Then Penny and Agatha spend an hour poring over the pictures.

Baz's stepmum brings us sandwiches. When she walks in, Baz and Penny move to block the whiteboard—Baz, looking cool; Penny, looking like she has a terrible secret.

I try to convince them that it's stupid to have all our notes out in the open, and that we should erase the whiteboard now, but they're both addicted to the thing.

Then Baz's dad comes home from work. He still seems confounded by my presence, but he's thrilled to meet Penny and Agatha—even though I know he doesn't get along with their parents. Maybe he just has nice manners. Baz keeps rolling his eyes.

By late afternoon, we're all cream-crackered, and we haven't made any real progress. Even Penny has abandoned the whiteboard.

I'm still sitting next to Agatha on the couch. Baz is sitting in a stuffed chair, across from us; I think Agatha and I are both watching him, but he rarely looks our way.

Penelope slumps down onto the arm of Baz's chair. I see his nostrils twitch, but he doesn't pull away. I guess he's gone this long without eating anyone, so I'm not going to be bothered about it.

“We have to go back to Nicodemus,” Penny says. “It's what Headmistress Grimm-Pitch told us to do.”

“We can't compel him,” I say, “and he's not gonna tell us anything.”

“Maybe you guys didn't ask
nicely
enough,” she says, waggling her eyebrows.

“Corking idea, Penelope,” Baz says. “We'll have you
seduce
him.”

“No,”
I say.

“I was thinking Agatha…,” Penny says.

“I'm not even here,” Agatha says. “When you're all put on trial before the Coven, I wasn't here.”

“We haven't broken any laws,” I object.

“Oh, like that matters,” she says.

“Hear, hear,” Baz agrees. “You know, I've always expected to be tried unfairly before the Coven someday, but I never thought I'd be in such good company.”

“Nobody's
seducing
a vampire,” I say.