Wayward Son (Simon Snow, #2)(79)

“If we live through this” being the operative clause, unfortunately.

Simon and I have seen plenty of action over the years. We’ve saved Agatha from more serious threats than this in our sleep. (Literally. Second year. The Humdrum sent counting sheep. It was epic.)

But that was a different version of us. Post-Humdrum Penelope and Simon just barely survived seven drunken Renaissance Faire vampires, even with Baz’s help. And without Shepard, we would have lost to a goat and a skunk in western Nebraska. We did lose to that dragon.

We are out of our depth and nearly a hemisphere out of our comfort zone. And it occurs to me, three hours north of Las Vegas, that we are very probably going to lose.

Lamb isn’t expecting us to win. As he heads into the desert, following the speed limit.

We’re just the boiling oil he’s pouring over the castle wall. He’s expecting us to take a few of the other guys down with us. He’s using us to create a diversion.

That is in fact exactly what Shepard proposed to him. Shepard doesn’t think we’re going to win, either! He’s just hoping for a good show. He’s probably going to find a nice safe hill where he can watch and take notes. (That’s how the Americans wrote their national anthem.)

Only Simon, Baz, and I care about finding Agatha. And now that I think about it, I’m not sure why I ever thought that was enough.…

I’m not sure why I thought we had to do this alone.

My mother is one of the wisest witches in the world. She’s one of the most powerful mages in England. And never once did I seriously consider asking her for help.

Pre-Humdrum Penelope never had to. I had the most powerful mage in the world as my best friend. Together we were invincible.

Oh, hell … that was never true, was it?

I was never invincible. I was just in the vicinity.

Simon has no power now, and I’m as powerful as I ever was. Which, it turns out, isn’t very powerful at all.





55





BAZ


I don’t know what I was picturing. Another improbable American city jutting out of the sand. More American suburbs. Office buildings that look like they came flat-packed from Ikea. Not this.…

The Next Blood have set up shop far from the edge of any town. It’s nearly daybreak when Lamb turns off the road, directly into the desert.

Snow has spent the whole night on the edge of his seat, fidgeting and glaring at the back of Lamb’s head, watching his every move. (Lamb has done nothing but drive and adjust the satellite radio.) Every time Simon moves, he clips me with his wing. I keep shrugging him off. And then he pushes back, like I’m the one bothering him. He won’t let us put away his wings—which have spikes, by the way—even for the ride. He’s being relentlessly childish, and I ran out of patience for it hours ago, back in Nevada. Are we still in Nevada?

If I’d known I was going to spend all night in a car with three bleeding hearts, I would have drunk more than one pet-store rabbit. And brought more Altoids. (They’re very good for blocking out blood smells. Especially the spearmint flavour.) I refuse to ask Lamb to stop for me to hunt—he’d probably offer me a flask instead.

Simon pokes my ear with his wing.

I shrug him off.

He snaps his wing to shove me back.

“For Crowley’s sake, Snow! It’s like being caged in with a bear!”

“Nearly there,” Lamb says coolly.

Simon and I both look out the window. We don’t seem to be nearly anywhere.

But Lamb is slowing down. He checks the line of cars behind us in the rearview mirror. We park at the edge of a hill—a hill of sand—and the other cars park beside us. “All right,” he says, turning in his seat. “Are you ready?”

Bunce nods. Even though she looks less ready than I’ve ever seen her. She tumbles out of the car, her right hand clenched in a fist. Snow and I follow. Shepard is still asleep, and I can’t think of a reason to wake him.

The other vampires are already standing outside their cars, watching us.

Lamb faces us, talking softly. “There’s no time to waste. You’ll be able to see the laboratory as soon as you crest the dune. It’s the only building. Signal to us when you’re in.”

Snow is popping his knuckles, and cracking the joints in his wings. “Let’s go.”

“Right,” I say to Lamb. “How should we signal you?”

He frowns, clamping his hand around my arm. “Baz, I meant it. The mages will go in first—they’ve got the edge. We don’t risk our lives senselessly.”

“Lamb—” I start to argue.

Simon cuts me off: “It’s fine. Penelope and I have this. We’ll signal if we need you.”

Penelope doesn’t look so sure. “I think Baz—”

“It’s fine,” Simon says again, unfurling his wings like whips. The vampires are all watching him. They’ve never seen anything like him. No one has.

He lifts off, flying up the hill.

Penny keeps looking at me, both of us trying to communicate something big with our eyes. Something like—“It’s all right. I’m right behind you. We’ve got this.”

She finally turns away, following Simon. He touches down near her, then lifts up again. He’s twitching with energy, spoiling for a fight. Penny’s wearing her tartan skirt and knee socks again. The backs of her knees are dimpled.