Wayward Son (Simon Snow, #2)(59)

Baz didn’t blink when we walked into this hotel, the theme of which seems to be What if Dracula opened a hotel and didn’t care whether everyone guessed he was Dracula?

Everything is black. The walls, the furniture. Everything but the carpet, which is the colour of spilled wine. Or spilled blood, I reckon.

Penelope walked in and nearly walked right out: The centrepiece of the lobby is a bunch of hanging birdcages. At least a dozen of them, all painted black, with only black birds inside. Black parrots and black—I don’t know—cockatoos or something.

“Do you think they dye them?” Penny asked, walking along the wall to avoid the cages. (She’s hated birds ever since fourth year, when the Humdrum sent cravens after us, and they tried to peck out our eyes.)

We all kept our distance from the front desk while Baz secured our room. I’m not sure if he had to use money or magic, or if the employees just recognized him as one of their own. Everyone who works here is pale and incredibly good-looking. The men wear black suits, and the women wear black leather dresses cut into lace. (Leather and lace.) (Are they vampires? Is everyone a vampire here? You’d think I’d know, from living with one. But it took me years of very close study to figure him out.)

Our suite is slightly more cheerful, at least. It’s only mostly black. The walls are the colour of Baz’s new shirt (maybe vampires love pink?), and the beds are grey. Everything that could be leather is.

We got here this morning, and spent the rest of the day washing the sand out of our hair, taking naps, and ordering room service. Baz went out for a while and came back with this suit and a change of clothes for Penelope and me. He was the only person Shepard would allow to leave the room.

“Las Vegas can’t be that dangerous,” Penny says. “Some of the most famous magicians in the world live here.” She’s lying on one of the beds, wearing a pretty yellow sundress—Baz should pick out her clothes more often. (And he should never pick out mine. He brought me back a shirt with buttons. Like I work in a bank.) Penelope sighs. “I can’t believe I came all the way to Las Vegas, and I’m not gonna see Penn and Teller.”

“Please,” Baz mutters. “Sellouts.”

Shepard’s eyes light up. “Penn and Teller?”

Baz finishes adjusting his cuffs and collar, and turns away from the mirror. He really does look perfect. Whatever strange look he’s going for—Gothic pop star—it works for him.

Penelope sits up, looking serious. “Right then, Basil, we’ll be here listening, and your phone—”

“Will be in my pocket, Bunce,” Baz says. “I’ll call you before I leave. You’ll hear the whole thing.” He’s all set up for international calling now.

Thinking about him in a room full of vampires makes me itch all over.

“If they start asking too many questions—” Penny says.

Shepard takes over: “Be as honest as possible. You’re not from around here, you’re on holiday, you heard there was a party.”

“That’s … actually a decent plan,” Penny says. “And if they don’t buy it—”

“You set them all on fire,” I cut in, “and we get the hell out of here.”

Baz smiles at me. His eyes are soft. I think they’re still soft from last night. From whatever spell we cast in the back of the truck.

“On second thought”—I step between him and the door—“let’s just set this place on fire and get the hell out of here immediately.”

Baz lowers his eyebrows, like he can’t tell whether I’m being serious. “What about Agatha?”

I think I am being serious. “These vampires might not even know about Agatha. You might be risking your life for nothing.”

“I’ll be fine, Snow. Have a little faith in me.” He adjusts his cuffs again. (What is even the point of cuffs that need constant adjusting?) Then he takes out his phone and dials a number.

Penny’s mobile rings. She answers it without saying anything.

Baz slips his phone back into his jacket pocket. He steps around me, opens the door, and holds out his hand: I give him the room key.

Then he’s gone.

Penny puts her arm on my shoulder. “He’ll be fine, Simon.” She pulls me over to one of the beds, and lays her phone down right in the middle, switched to speaker.

We hear Baz’s phone rubbing against his pocket as he walks.…

Then the ping of the lift arriving.…

Doors opening. People talking, laughing.

After a few seconds, another ping, and the people get off.

Then we hear the lift whooshing to the top of the building. “Have a little faith,” Baz whispers.

The lift pings. The doors open.

He’s moving again. The hallway is quiet.

He knocks three times on something solid.





44





BAZ


I knock on the door. Which was apparently a mistake—because the woman who answers it is scowling. I start to say hello, but she leans in and sniffs me, then walks away, waving me in. I suppose I pass her test.

I step inside. It’s the penthouse suite, much larger than ours, and crowded with people.

Not people—vampires. People like me. I worried that I’d be overdressed, but Shepard was right: Everyone here has gone a bit over the top. Men in suits, women in gowns and capes. Everyone dripping jewels and gold chains and feathers.…