Any Way the Wind Blows (Simon Snow, #3)(116)

“When I hear you tell me what a shit aunt I’ve been, I think, Well, yeah, I’ve always been shit compared to Natasha. If she were here, she would have done a much better job with you!

“But she isn’t here.” Fiona’s voice breaks. A tear slides down her cheek.

“She isn’t here,” she says more softly.

“And I’m not sorry that I tried to be…”

I look down at my tea and wipe my eyes on Snow’s sleeve. “I’m not sorry either,” I whisper.

Fiona sniffs. She blows her nose into a napkin. “All right,” she says, sounding more like her cock-of-the-walk self. She leans over and picks up her handbag, a giant, black leather thing with fringe. She opens the flap, and takes out a vintage tape recorder. She sets it on the table between us. “Found this under my bed.”

I sit up straight and reach for it. “Is that—”

“That’s it, all right. Don’t push any buttons until you find the girl.”

I pull my hands back. “Is there a spell?”

Fiona shakes her head. “The original spell should still be working.

‘Caught on tape.’”

“Fuck, that’s savage.”

“It was a real chore finding someone who could cast it.”

“So I just take this to Philippa and…”

“Push play.”

I can’t believe Fiona has had this under her bed for years …

No. I can believe it.

I gingerly lift the tape recorder off the table and look up into my aunt’s eyes. They’re brown. My mother’s were grey, like mine. “Thank you,” I say.

“Nah, don’t thank me. I mean, really, considering the circumstances.” She reaches over and takes a chunk out of my banana cake, narrowing her eyes at my chest. “‘Watford Netball’? Do boys play netball at Watford now, or are you shacking up with a bird?”

I look down. Fucking Snow. Did he steal every one of Agatha’s school jumpers?

“I have to get going.” Fiona is standing up, brushing crumbs off her T-shirt.

I stand up, too.

She ruffles the top of my hair. “I won’t let out your room right away…”

“Fiona…”

“Seriously, Baz, don’t thank me. I already feel like a twat.”

“What were you looking for that day at Watford?”

She looks at me for a second, then rubs her face with both hands and sighs. “I was looking for my mother’s wedding ring. Your mum used to wear it, on her pinkie. I didn’t figure she’d miss it now.”

“A wedding ring…”

Fiona folds her arms, like she’s ready for me to lay into her, and she doesn’t fucking care.

I do just that: “Are you serious? You’re marrying that sleazy Kurt Cobain wannabe?”

“That’s not how I’d describe him…”

“His name was stricken from the Book, Fiona!”

“Well.” She shrugs with both arms. “I’m not the Book, am I.”

“You called him a ‘two-bit gangster.’ You said he was shitty, even for a vampire!”



“I was angry,” she says. “But the truth is … he makes me happy. He always did.” She huffs. “Are you going to turn me in?”

“Does he still drink people?”

“No…” She rocks her head from side to side, like she’s equivocating.

“Not in the traditional sense.”

“Are you going to let him Turn you?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Your mother would roll over in her grave!”

As soon as she says it, she winces at me. “Don’t worry,” she says gently.

“I’m not going to cop your look.”

“This is outrageous, Fiona, even for you. Is it happening soon?”

Her hands are on her hips. She looks like she’s trying to decide whether to be honest with me. “Yeah,” she says, after a moment. “I think so.”

“Well…” I shake my head and roll my eyes, giving in. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks, Basil.”

“I can’t believe you tried to rob my mother’s grave!”

“Ah, she wouldn’t have missed it! The ring wasn’t there, anyway. Or at least I couldn’t find it. Not in her rooms, either.”

I make one last appeal: “I know I didn’t know her, but I really don’t think my mother would want you to marry Nico.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t. But she isn’t here, Baz. My mum and dad are gone, too. And I can’t—We’ve got to make decisions for the living. You know?”

I do.

When I get back to Snow’s flat, the new sofa has been delivered, and the three of them are christening it with sandwich crumbs.

Simon smiles at me. His hair is wet. “Shepard got breakfast. We saved you some.”

I shake my head. “I have to go … do something.”

“But you just got back.”

“I know,” I say. I can’t talk to Snow about this. It’s too much. “But I have something else now. To do. I just came back for my phone, and—”