Wayward Son (Simon Snow, #2)(37)

I don’t want to look away from Simon, so I rub my fingers along the pockmarks in my chest. They sting, but they seem to have already stopped bleeding. I still don’t know what kills vampires—but I suppose I can rule out a chestful of buckshot.

There are still no headlights behind us. Maybe the dark creatures don’t need headlights. Maybe they don’t need cars.

Bunce’s face is in the window again. “We’re trying to put some distance between us!” she shouts. “He slashed their tyres!”

Who did, the Normal? That was clever. Still doesn’t mean we can trust him. Did he purposely herd us off the motorway? Right into their paws? What’s his angle now?

There’s a heavy thud.

Snow has landed in the truck bed, crouching, his fingertips down, his wings half folded behind his neck. He looks up at me. “Baz.”

Simon. I reach out and pull him up to me, next to me, onto me. I’m checking him for holes and wet spots. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he says. “Penny—”

“She’s fine.”

“And you—” His hands are on my shoulders. His mouth is over mine.

“I’m fine,” I say, while he kisses me.

Crowley, if this is what it takes to keep Simon in my arms—gunshots and Quiet Zones and high-speed chases—I’m here for it. I’ll swear to it. I’ve found my vocation.

He pulls away, petting my hair down. “Baz…”

“Simon?”

“You smell like a dead merwolf.”





SIMON


Worse than that.

“Like goblin intestines,” I say.

“How do you even know what a goblin’s—”

“Lower intestines.” I cover my nose with my hand. “Eight snakes, Baz!”

“I know, all right?” Baz shoves at my shoulder. “I have enhanced senses.”

“It’s making me cry,” I say. “I can taste it.”

“You can get off me, Snow. Nothing’s stopping you.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m good.”

Wild horses couldn’t drag me.





30





PENELOPE


My magic comes back in an hour. I’ve been murmuring spells to myself since we got back on the road—tapping my ring on my leg. Suddenly a “Clean as a whistle!” takes hold and scrapes along my skin and scalp, scrubbing me clean. I’ve got my hand at the Normal’s throat before the spell’s done.

He flinches, but that’s it. I think he was expecting this. “I guess we’re out of the Quiet Zone,” he says.

I push my thumb into his throat. “Is this a dagger which I see before me!”

A pocketknife falls out of his jacket, but the Normal doesn’t twitch or glow.

I try another spell to reveal his intentions—“True colours!”

The Normal glows a little purple, and I’m almost disappointed. Blue is safe, red is danger, but purple is the most common outcome—almost everyone wants something from you.

I hear Baz casting spells in the back of the truck. Making us hard to see, making us hard to follow. Deep magic. He’s probably already exhausted.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the Normal says. “Or expose you.”

“You expose us by looking at us and knowing what we are!”

“I could help you.” He’s remarkably calm. “I could show you—”

“You pushed us away from our magic and straight into a trap!”

“That was an accident!”

“Was it?” My teeth are bared. “You knew we’d run out of magic.”

The Normal looks guilty. I still have my hand at his throat. His skin is a few shades darker than mine, and he’s wearing a thin gold chain around his neck. “I was just following you,” he says, sounding a bit more urgent. (Good, he should feel urgent.) “I thought you were leading me off the interstate. How was I to know you didn’t know what you were doing?”

“Why would you follow three monsters leading you away from civilization?”

He shrugs. “Curiosity?”

I blow air through my teeth. My grip tightens. “If it was all an accident, then how did the dark creatures know to find us there?”

“You weren’t exactly lying low,” the Normal says, glancing over at me. “You cast a dozen spells and killed seven vampires at a Ren Faire. Out in the open! Those places are crawling with magickal types.”

“Why would anyone with magic want to go to that place?” I demand. “It’s a complete farce—it was insulting!”

The Normal starts to laugh. I can feel it under my thumb.

I feel ridiculous. This whole situation is ridiculous. This whole country. I let go of him and sit back in my seat.

Simon’s face is in the window behind me. He’s clinging to Baz. “Where are we going?”

“There’s a town ahead,” the Normal says. “Scottsbluff.”

“They’ll expect us to stop there,” Simon says.

The Normal’s looking at Simon in the rearview mirror. He raises his voice to be heard: “Maybe. But we’re safer in plain sight. On the road. In towns.”