Wayward Son (Simon Snow, #2)(77)

BAZ


I don’t know why I trust Lamb.

Maybe because he hasn’t lied to me yet.

And because, when he looks at me, I swear I can feel him looking out for me. It could just be that I’m one of his charges. If he’s the king, or the mayor, or what have you, that’s his job, right? Protecting the interests of his people? I’m one of his people. Or what have you.

I’m sure Snow would love to hear this theory. “I trust him because of our vampire kinship.” Though that’s better than, “I trust him because of the way he looks at me.”

Simon won’t look at me. He’s on the bed with Penny, still wearing his filthy shoes, probably thinking about how much he hates me.

I thought we might come to blows just now; the energy felt so like it had when we were still at Watford, screaming at each other over our school beds. (Though there’s no Roommate’s Anathema to keep us from killing each other here.)

Those fights used to feel so good. It meant getting to look at Snow. Getting his attention. Having a place to hurl all my feelings for him, even if they came out spiked and razor sharp.

Fighting doesn’t feel good anymore. It feels like breaking something because you don’t know how to fix it.

I tidy my things, and wash my face. I think about changing into something less wrinkled, but we’re just piling into another car.

Now isn’t the time to be heartbroken. We don’t know what we’re driving into tonight, but it’s surely a battle.





SIMON


Right, right, right. So we’re just trusting vampires now, is that how it is?

Just telling vampires all our secrets, and then waiting for them to do the right thing? Where I come from, you don’t tell vampires secrets! You don’t negotiate with them. You bloody well don’t let them drive!

The Mage used to say—

I mean, I reckon the Mage did negotiate with vampires—but that’s what made him corrupt! It’s one of the major ways he proved corrupt in the end!

Vampires are banned. They’re actually forbidden. It’s the law. They’re like pithbulls or adders, simply not allowed in the World of Mages. Because you can’t trust them not to murder you!

And, yes, I get that Baz is a vampire. I appreciate the irony. But he hates vampires more than anyone! Which is the only reason you can trust him!

I mean, not the only reason.

I’m just saying—

I’ll be damned if I—

The king of the vampires! We’re trusting the king of the vampires? Because he asked us to? Because he asked us nicely with his pretty blue suit and his pretty blue eyes.…

I’ll be good goddamned.

We don’t need his help to save Agatha. I’ve saved Agatha literally dozens of times without asking any vampires for help. (I mean, Baz pitched in once or twice.) (He complained the whole time.)

Bloody—

Vampires!

I mean, we’ve been here thirty-six hours, and now we’re Team Vampire? Maybe we should summon a few demons and get their help, too.

I have rescued bloody everyone I know, including Baz, again and again, and I never teamed up with the enemy to do it. (Unless you count Baz. There, at the end. I mean…)

This isn’t how you rescue someone!

We’ve been here thirty-six hours, and apparently Baz doesn’t hate vampires anymore. Now, apparently, he trusts some. At least one, apparently. “King” of the vampires—does that include Baz now? Is that what he is? A loyal subject?

You can’t just trust the first handsome vampire you meet!

I mean …

This isn’t how we do this.

This isn’t how it’s done.

I’ll be damned if I follow a vampire into the desert!

I mean …





PENELOPE


We leave after dark. Lamb tries to split us between two rugged-looking four-by-fours, but Simon and I refuse to be separated. Me, quietly. Simon, less so.

Simon doesn’t want to get in any of the cars. He wants to ride above us, like a winged escort. Lamb won’t have it. “I said ‘under the radar,’ mage. Not literally through it.”

Finally, to accommodate us, Lamb borrows an even larger vehicle from one of the other sharply dressed vampires. Baz shoves Simon into the back seat and climbs in after him. Shepard volunteers to ride up front with Lamb. I take the middle row.

It’s startling when you leave Las Vegas, the transition from bright lights to black sky.

We’ll get to the NowNext facility around dawn, Lamb says. I’m trying to visualize it. “If we’re sneaking up on their facility, wouldn’t we have better luck at night?”

“They would have an advantage at night,” Lamb says. “Enhanced senses.”

“But wouldn’t your lot have that same advantage?”

Lamb is dismissive. “My friends and I have kept ourselves alive through centuries of daylight—we’ll be fine. Besides, we’re trying to tip the scales in your favour, young mage. You’re the ones leading the charge.”

“Why are we leading the charge?” Simon demands. (If we weren’t leading the charge, he’d demand to know why not.)

“Because you have magic wands,” Lamb snaps.