Wayward Son (Simon Snow, #2)(33)

We don’t have magic.

We don’t have mobile service.

We need a plan.

Simon’s leaning over the back of his seat, touching my arm. “Are you okay?”

“We still have Baz,” I say. “We still have your wings. We fight like orcs if we have to.”

Baz hops out of the car, taking point in the rear lights. I stand beside him with my shoulders square. I’m accustomed to fighting next to someone far more powerful than I am. “Take out their phones first,” I say.

Simon stands at Baz’s other side and spreads his wings.

The truck pulls into the parking lot, moving slowly now that it has us cornered. It stops in front of us. The engine and then the lights turn off.

One person gets out. A black guy, about our age. He’s wearing a denim jacket and wire-rimmed glasses.

His hands are empty, and after a second, he waves. “Hi.”





26





SIMON


“Hi,” I say back.

Penelope isn’t having it. “What do you want?!”

The guy scratches his neck. He looks embarrassed. “Nothing. I saw your, uh, show, in Omaha—and I wanted to talk to you.”

“So you chased us across Nebraska?”

He shakes his head. “It wasn’t meant to be a chase.”

“It felt a lot like a high-speed chase,” I say.

“We obviously didn’t want to talk,” Penny says.

Baz is cold as ice. His wand is pointed at the guy. “What are you?”

“I’m nothing,” the guy says. “I swear, I’m a Normal.”

A chill crawls up my spine.

Normals don’t know that they’re Normal.

“What do you want,” Baz says, stepping forward. It’s a threat, not a question.

The guy is smiling. His hands are out where we can see them. “Look, I’m sorry, I really did just want to talk to you. And then I got caught up in the game of it.”

Baz sneers. “This isn’t a game.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ve just never seen—”

“You haven’t seen anything.”

“—a vampire-slaying vampire.”

I feel linked through the heart to Baz and Penelope. I can feel all of us holding our breath.

“We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Penny says, “and we don’t want to talk to someone who’s chased and intimidated us.”

“Look”—he’s still trying extra hard to seem friendly—“I get carried away sometimes. I just knew that if I lost you, I’d never see you again. This is a once-in-a-lifetime—”

“You are never going to see us again,” Baz says. “Now get in your truck—wait.” Baz stops. His wand hand dips. “I recognize you.”

“I’m Shepard.” The guy holds out his hand.

Baz doesn’t take it. “You’re the one who gave me the spell. At the Renaissance Faire.”

“Buzz off,” the guy says, smiling.

“If you really think we’re vampires,” I say, “why’d you follow us into the middle of nowhere? Aren’t you afraid of us?”

“I’m Shepard,” he tries again, holding his hand out to me.

I take it, and Penny groans.

“You’re not a vampire.…” Shepard says. He’s looking at me like I’m the Ark of the Covenant, and he’s Harrison Ford. “You’re something new. Or maybe something old. I’m hoping you’ll tell me over a hot cup of coffee.”

“A hot cup of bullshit,” Penny says. “You need to leave now, Mr. Normal.”

“Shepard,” he says, reaching his hand out to her.

“No!” She points at the road. “Go! You’re lucky we don’t call the police!”

“All right.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “I know I handled this all wrong. I’m sorry.” He starts walking to his car. “I can call somebody, if you want, to bring you gas. You spelled the tank, right? And it died when your magic stopped?”

“Who says our magic stopped?” I flap my wings. Unintentionally.

“There’s no magic out here,” he says. “Not for Speakers.”

“Why not?” Penny asks. She must want to know the answer more than she wants to keep our secrets. “Where did the magic go?”

“There aren’t enough Normals here,” he says. “There’s no language to draw on. Nebraska’s one of the least magickal places in the country for people like you—why’d you leave the interstate?”

Penny’s furious. “To get away from you!”

I turn to Baz. “Is that even a thing?”

He raises his eyebrows like, “Beats me.”

“So we’re stuck here,” Penny says.

“I could give you a ride,” the Normal offers.

“Are you kidding me!” she snaps back.

“How do you know”—Baz is glaring at him—“what you think you know about us? About magic?”

Shepard smiles. (I wouldn’t be smiling in this situation.) “People have told me. Other magic-Speakers.”