“I just said it was a hassle carrying it everywhere! I didn’t tell her it was magic!”
“Oh for snakes’ sake, Agatha,” Dad said.
My mother was livid. “You have to do it, Welby.”
So Dad levelled his wand at me: “Ix-nay on the atford-Way!”
It’s a serious spell. Only members of the Coven are allowed to use it. But I suppose it was a serious situation: If you tell Normals about magic, they all have to be tracked down and scoured. And if that’s not possible, you have to move away.
Now Minty (we met in primary school, that’s actually her first name, isn’t it lush?) thinks I go to a super-religious boarding school that doesn’t allow the Internet. Which is all true, as far as I’m concerned.
Magic is a religion.
But there’s no such thing as not believing—or only going through the motions on Easter and Christmas. Your whole life has to revolve around magic all the time. If you’re born with magic, you’re stuck with it, and you’re stuck with other magicians, and you’re stuck with wars that never end because people don’t even know when they started.
I don’t talk like this to my parents.
Or to Simon and Penny.
Ix-nay on my ue-feelings-tray.
* * *
Baz is walking by himself across the courtyard. We haven’t talked since he’s been back.
We’ve never really talked, I guess. Even that time in the Wood. Simon burst in before we could get anywhere, and then Simon burst out again.
(Just when you think you’re having a scene without Simon, he drops in to remind you that everyone else is a supporting character in his catastrophe.)
As soon as Simon and Penny disappeared that day, Baz dropped my hands. “What the fuck just happened to Snow?”
Those were his last words to me.
But he does still watch me in the dining hall. It makes Simon mental. This morning, Simon got fed up and slammed his fork down, and when I looked over at Baz, he winked.
I hurry to catch up with him now. The sun is setting, and it’s making his grey skin look almost warm. I know it’s setting my hair on fire.
“Basil,” I say coolly, smiling like his name’s a secret.
He turns his head slightly to see me. “Wellbelove.” He sounds tired.
“We haven’t talked since you’ve been back,” I say.
“Did we talk before that?”
I decide to be bold. “Not as much as I’d like.”
He sighs. “Crowley, Wellbelove, there must be a better way to get your parents’ attention.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” he says, walking ahead.
“Baz, I thought—I thought you might need someone to talk to.”
“Nope, I’m good.”
“But—”
He stops and sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Look … Agatha. We both know that whatever you and Snow are squabbling about, you’ll soon work it out and be back to your golden destiny. Don’t complicate it.”
“But we’re not—”
Baz has started walking again. He’s limping a little. Maybe that’s why he isn’t playing football. I keep following him.
“Maybe I don’t want a golden destiny,” I say.
“When you figure out how to sidestep destiny, let me know.” He’s walking as fast as he can with his limp, and I decide not to run to keep up with him. That would look appalling.
“Maybe I want something more interesting!” I call out.
“I’m not more interesting!” he shouts back, without turning his head. “I’m just wrong for you. Learn the difference.”
I bite down on my bottom lip and try not to cross my arms like a 6-year-old.
How does he know he’s wrong for me?
Why does everyone else think they know where I belong?
38
BAZ
Snow has been staring at me all day—for weeks now—and I’m just really not up for it. Maybe Aunt Fiona was right; I should have stayed home longer and rested up. I feel like complete shit.
Like I can’t get full, and I can’t get warm—and last night, I had some sort of attack in the Catacombs. It’s so fucking dark down there. And even though I can see in the dark, I felt like I was back in that stupid numpty coffin.
I couldn’t stay underground any longer. I caught six rats, banged their heads on the floor, tied their tails in a knot, then brought them back upstairs and drained them in the courtyard under the stars. May as well have sent an engraved announcement to the whole school, telling them I’m a vampire. A vampire who’s afraid of the dark, for Crowley’s sake.
I threw the rat carcasses to the merwolves. (They’re worse than rats. I’d drain every one of them if the taste didn’t stay in my mouth for weeks. Gamy and fishy.)
Then I slept like the dead for nine hours, and it still wasn’t enough. I’ve been asleep on my feet since lunch, and I can’t exactly go up to my room to take a nap. Snow would probably sit across from me and watch.
He’s been following me everywhere since I got back. He hasn’t been this persistent since our fifth year—he even followed me to the boys’ toilet yesterday and pretended he just needed to wash his hands.
I don’t have the strength for it.
I feel 15 again, like I’m going to give in if he gets too close—kiss him or bite him. The only reason I got through that year was that I couldn’t decide which of those options would finally put me out of my misery.