Wayward Son (Simon Snow, #2)(27)

Whatever they’re selling, the wenches are buying it. One of the vampires has already got a girl in his arms, her legs wrapped around his hips. He must be wicked strong. Baz turns away, just as the guy nearest us pulls down his sunglasses to look at me. His skin is pale as ash, and his cheeks look too full. He winks.

I shudder. “Baz.”

“I know.” Baz’s fangs are popped. He’s turned back to watch them again.

“They’re—”

“Simon, I know.”

“Where’s Penny?”

“We’ll find her when we’re done.”

“Done what?”

He takes a determined breath. “Slaying these vampires.”

“We can’t just kill them,” I say. (I can’t, anyway. I’m not the sort of person who picks fights with monsters anymore.) “We bloody well can. As long as we get the drop.”

“But they haven’t done anything wrong!” (Now I’m the sort of person who gives vampires the benefit of the doubt.) “Yet, Snow. They’re probably opening those harlots like cans of lager while we argue about it.”

“We should get Penelope,” I say. “We’re outnumbered.”

“They’re outnumbered. Two magicians to none.”

“Like I said—we should get Penelope.”

“Where’d they go?”

I look. The vampires have disappeared.

“Damn it.” Baz is already following their trail.

“Baz—”

“Simon. They’re going to murder those girls!”

“Not immediately. Not in broad daylight.”

“Do you think there’s a Vampire Code of Conduct?”

The sword seller yells at Baz. “Hey! Cometh back and payeth for that!”

“We’ll be right back,” I say, dropping my Master Sword on a table. Then I decide to grab a broadsword. “Right back!”

I catch up with Baz as he ducks between two shacks. “Do you see them?”

“I smell them,” he whispers. “Quiet.”

This part of the festival is set up along a stand of shade trees. There’s no business happening behind the sheds and tents; it’s like being backstage.

I hear giggling. It takes a second before I see them, hidden in the trees: The vampires have surrounded the women, and they’re all … making out, it seems like.

“Christ, you people are perverts.”

“These are not my people,” Baz says. “And be quiet. Vampire ears.”

“They still haven’t done anything wrong. We can’t kill them for copping off.”

Then one of the women shrieks. And not in a copping-off way. In an “I’m dying” way. Another woman joins her.

Baz snarls—just as Penelope shouts, “Burn, baby, burn!”

One of the vampire’s legs is suddenly on fire. He tries to stamp it out, but … vampires are very flammable. The other six jump back and take off after Penny. Baz and I take off after them.

The vampires are unbelievably fast. But then, so is Baz. I run after them all for a minute before I remember I can fly. I flap up over the tents, looking for Penny. The vampires are chasing her through the crowd. She’s got her ring hand out, but no clear shot at them.

I settle down near her. People make room for me, clapping—which lets the vampires through as well. Penny takes aim. “Off with your head!” she shouts at one of them, and isn’t that just what happens. (Penelope’s never been one to pull punches.) His head rolls backwards, and his body falls forward—and his mates rush towards us, enraged.

I charge one of them, swinging my sword. My extremely shit sword. Which buckles over the bastard’s shoulder.

I shuffle back, directly into another sword stall. (Which doesn’t take as much luck as you’d think; at least half of these shops sell weaponry.) I grab a claymore and swing. The blade hits the vampire, then separates from its hilt.

This vamp’s got shaggy blond hair and a Count Chocula cape with a big collar. I grab another sword and hold him back for a moment, before he pulls it out of my hands by the blade. I hook my tail around his leg and yank him to the ground—which gives me a second to grab a scimitar with my left hand and a battle axe with my right.

He’s already recovered. I step back, onto the main thoroughfare. All the fairgoers have lined the dirt pathway like they’re watching a parade. I can’t see Penny. She won’t have enough magic left in her for another decapitation. But she’s clever, I tell myself. And Baz is an even match for any three of these creeps. I hope.

The vampire lunges towards me—and I bash the scimitar into his chest. It breaks like a matchstick, and the vampire gets hold of my hand. This is very bad news. He could bite me like this. Or break me in two. If I still had magic, I’d be trying and failing to think of a good vampire spell about now. (Imagine how much I’d miss magic if I’d ever properly mastered it.) I try to fly up and away from the vampire, but he holds on tight. I’ve still got a battle axe in my other hand, so I take one last desperate swing at him— The head of the axe snaps off when it hits his neck.





22





BAZ


Penelope Bunce has decapitated one vampire and set two more on fire. She’s my mother’s daughter.