Wayward Son (Simon Snow, #2)(45)

“Who?”

“Don’t give me that. Josh saw the two of you in the members’ wing. You like him!”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I suppose he’s interesting.”

“Interesting? He’s handsome and powerful, and he eats cleaner than anyone I’ve ever met. No grain, no meat, no nightshades, no dairy.”

“What does that leave, Ginger?”

“So much! Nut meats, plant proteins, green vegetables, algae—”

“Right,” I cut her off. I gave up meat when I left England, as well as any animal by-product that isn’t freely given—but these people will scrape your whole plate into the trash if you let them.

“I can’t believe Braden allowed you into the members’ wing,” Ginger said. “I’ve been cleansing for weeks to prepare. I think he’s going to let you skip some steps in the programme. He likes you so much.”

“I’m not in any programme.”

She grabbed my hands excitedly. “Agatha! What if we get to level up together?”

“I’m not levelling up,” I insisted. “I’m just … talking to a boy.”

“You’re evolving before my very eyes. You’re at least forty per cent activated.”

I rolled my eyes.

But I still let Braden give me another VIP tour before dinner. He showed me the grounds. Gardens, golf course, greenhouse. “You’re missing your retreat,” I said.

“The goal of the retreat is to focus,” he replied. “I feel very focused.”

Normally I try not to talk about myself on dates. Most guys make that easy—they’re happy to do all the talking. But Braden wanted to know everything about me. What my parents are like, where I grew up, whether I still have my tonsils and appendix.

My answers were vague. There’s little of my life before now that isn’t magic.

I told him my father is a doctor, and my mother attends parties. I told him that I didn’t like school, that I don’t miss England.

“Don’t you miss your friends?” he asked.

I don’t miss being chased by monsters, I thought, and helping my boyfriend feel straight.

“We were thrown together at school,” I said, “and now we’re not.”

After the tour, Braden walked me to my room to change for dinner. But it wasn’t the room I shared with Ginger; it was this suite in the members’ wing. He’d had all my things moved here.

We aren’t supposed to use our phones during the retreat; they asked us to check them in when we arrived. “It’s a retreat from the outside world,” Ginger had explained.

But I’d held on to mine. It was still in my bag. While Braden waited for me to change, I ducked into the bathroom and tried to call Penny. She didn’t pick up.

When I came back after dinner, my phone was gone.

I turned off the lights then, I’m not sure why. No, I know why—in case someone was watching me.

I turned off the lights, and I slept in my clothes. There’s a lock on the door to this room. But I’m sure Braden has a key.

Which is probably fine. He hasn’t tried to hurt me. He hasn’t even stood too much in my space. Or touched me with any disrespect.

Maybe this is how dating works when you’re a pharmaceutical kingpin. You set a girl up in a stainless-steel suite and ask her how she feels about MRIs.

A woman brought me breakfast this morning. She brought me teff porridge with sultanas and a small dish of vitamins.





34





PENELOPE


I used to be very good at what’s next.

Something terrible would happen—or maybe just something strange and mysterious—and Simon would turn to me, and I’d tell him our plan. I always knew our next move, even if it wasn’t necessarily the right move. I never got hung up on right or wrong. I trusted myself to digest the current scenario and plot the best path forward.

Sometimes we’d get into a situation where the only thing left to do was fight. And sometimes we’d get to the point where the only thing left was for Simon to blow everything up.

And then, when the dust settled, Simon would turn to me, and I’d tell him the new plan.

I haven’t had a plan since we got off the plane.

Agatha’s in trouble, I know she is. But we don’t know where. And we keep blowing all our magic in one place. And we’re leaving a trail of mistakes.

I can’t remember the last time I made a good decision. Maybe on the flight, when I chose cheesecake over strudel.

Simon has grabbed my mobile. “Where is she?”

“We’ll cast a finding spell,” Baz says.

“It won’t have any reach,” I say. “I poured everything I had left into ‘Amazing Grace.’”

Baz did, too. He kicks his empty suitcase into the creek.

“We can look it up online,” Simon says. “‘NowNext.’”

“What if the people who took her phone try to call us?” Baz looks afraid. “They have our number.”

“Should I throw away my phone?” I ask. “They could track it.”

“No,” Simon says. “Agatha might call.”

“Right…” I say. “Right.”