Wayward Son (Simon Snow, #2)(86)

I spin around, my wand out, looking for my next bout. There’s more fire than foes now.

Lamb is still at my back. (The better to stab me, I suppose.) “Baz!” he hisses. “Come on, let’s go!”

“You must be kidding.”

He heaves me around by the arm, so I’m facing him. His suit is stained. His hair is disordered. “I’m glad your friends made it,” he says, “but that doesn’t change reality—nothing can change what you are.”

“You saw what I am,” I say.

He nods grimly. “Yes. You’re one of them. I see that. But Baz, you’re one of us, too. Blood will out.”

“Could I live as a mage in your tower, Lamb?”

“Can you live as you are with them?”

I don’t answer him. He’s still holding my arm. “Come with me.”

I shake myself free. “No.”

He runs away then. Maybe I shouldn’t have let him.

When I turn back to the fight, there’s one last member of the Next Blood running towards me. He’s already alight. I hold out my wand. “Fuck off and die!”

The spell doesn’t catch.

I try again.

Nothing happens.

Then something happens: Simon Snow sweeps me out of the way and into the air.

He’s got me by the waist. His wings are pumping hard. I hold on to dear life.





64





SHEPARD


I take shelter in the unburnt Mercedes for the rest of the fight. I’m foolhardy, but I’m not a fool.

The vampires flare up and ash out quickly. Only their clothes keep burning. All that’s left in the end are little puddles of fire in the sand.

Agatha took out the last one. She and Penelope are still holding hands. Their mouths are smeared with blood, and sparks are sputtering from Agatha’s palm.

Simon hasn’t landed yet. His wings are beating unevenly, and he keeps lurching down, then flapping back up, still holding Baz by the waist.

I climb out of the car and kick some sand over a pile of burning clothes. “So,” I say, “the keys are still in this Mercedes. Anybody feel like blowing this Popsicle stand?”

Penelope and Agatha just stare at me. They’re like something out of a Stephen King movie.

I get in front of them and clap my hands. “Guys!” I clap again. “Friends! Let’s go. Get out while the getting’s good, right? Penelope?” I touch her shoulder.

She blinks at me. “Right,” she whispers.

She starts pulling Agatha toward the car—“Come on, Agatha.…”—and looks up at Simon and Baz. “Simon! We’re leaving, Simon!”

Simon keeps flapping.

I open the car door and help Agatha in. “I’m Shepard,” I say, taking her hand.

Penelope has run back for Simon, getting under him and catching his ankle. “Simon! Come on! Come down. It’s over.… Simon!” The boys fall more than land. “Merlin,” Penelope says. “Watch out for the fire, Simon—he’s still flammable. Can you walk, Baz?”

The three of them are holding each other up.

“Yeah,” Baz says. “Not to worry.”

One of Simon’s wings is hanging and mottled a darker red. I weave my way through the fires to them. Up close, it’s clear that both of the guys are bleeding badly. Baz looks like he was wearing squibs under his shirt. “Come on,” I say, getting my arm around Simon. He leans hard on me.

Penelope pulls Baz’s arm over her shoulder, but Simon won’t let go of him. He’s got his hand fisted in Baz’s bloody shirt.

“It’s all right,” I say, “we’re all going to the same place.” Simon still won’t let go. Penelope and I half drag the two of them to the car. We get Baz in first, in the middle seat, and he hauls Simon in by the waist. Simon loses consciousness as soon as he’s off his feet. “We can go straight to the hospital,” I say.

Baz sneers at me. “Are you kidding? We’ll fix him with magic. We’ll fix it all with magic. Just get us out of here if you can.”

I can. The key fob is sitting in the console. And the car’s equipped with satellite navigation. I run around and get in the front seat. “How were you guys casting spells at all? In a Quiet Zone?”

“There were Normals in the desert,” Penelope says. “Not close—but close enough.”

Their magic comes back full force almost immediately. That Quiet Zone was small. The vampires knew exactly what they were doing when they brought us there.

Penelope heals Simon first, leaning over the seat and clutching his wing.

“Where’s your gem?” Baz asks.

“I’ve got it.” She closes her eyes. “Good as new!”

Simon groans, stretching the wing, inadvertently knocking Penelope back into her seat.

She casts the spell three more times—on his head, his heart, his stomach.

I watch them in the rearview mirror. I know I should focus on the road, but this is spectacular.

Penelope reaches for Baz next, but he shrugs her off. “I’m full of lead,” he says. “I don’t know what will happen. I just need a drink.”

“We’ll be in cattle country soon,” I call back.