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Simon
I’m barely out of breath by the time I return to Watford. Even my magic isn’t beginning to tire.
For the first time ever I can feel my magic working with me, supporting me as it flings me through the front gates and into the courtyard. I can feel everyone’s eyes burning holes turn to me as I tear through towards Mummers but I don’t care. All I can think of is Baz.
I can feel my magic pick up even as I think of him. Baz. The boy I’m in love with. The boy that I want to spend the rest of my life with.
These are the only thoughts that swirl around my head as I race towards Mummers. I’m too impatient for the stairs and so instead I fly up towards our window.
I reach our room with ease and I begin to lower myself in through the open window. I can’t see into the room for the curtains that sweep across, but I know he’ll be lounging on his bed. I can’t wait to see him.
I pull the last of my wing through the window and brace myself before flinging open the drapes, eyes already facing his bed.
He’s not there. He’s not in the room at all.
As my eyes adjust I can only see Simon the cat, crying and clawing frantically at the door.
For the first time since I left the mage behind me the smile drops from my face.
Where is he?
Worry starts to bloom in my chest and the light fizzy champagne that had filled my veins starts to drain away.
I was so sure that I’d find him here, but now different thoughts are starting to overtake me – Baz lying in the Woods bleeding out with the Mage stood over him, Baz drowning in the moat surrounded by the merwolves, Baz dying alone and frightened without me by his side to pull him through.
A sharp pain cuts through my whirlpool of thoughts and I look down to see Simon the cat with his claws hooked into my leg.
But before I can even react he’s let go and is back scratching at the door and meowing loudly. It takes me a second before I go over to the door and cautiously open it.
It cries once more before slipping around the door and disappearing down the stairs.
I take one step and then another before I’m charging down the stairs after it. It seems totally crazy and I’m sure it is, but in a strange way it would make sense if the cat really did know where Baz is. It is magical and it always seemed to like him more anyway. I make up my mind and barrel down the stairs after it.
As we run into the open courtyard the cat doesn’t even hesitate as it changes direction and starts to pelt towards the centre of Watford. I have a feeling now that I know where its going.
I’ve only been there once - I followed Baz there in the dead of night when I was still trying to work out who he was.
I continue to run through Watford, into the White Chapel, back behind the altar, behind the sanctuary and the Poets Corner . . . Through the secret door, and down into the Catacombs.
I realise now that Simon the cat hasn’t joined me down here, but I get it.
The catacombs are creepy enough on a normal day, but today an overwhelming sense of danger fills every corner and crevice. It’s okay though.
I just think of Baz and my magic goes wild, spilling out of me. Instead of going off though, it feels more focused, more centred. I can tell that my magic wants to find Baz as much as I do so I let it guide me through the winding maze of passages and corridors until I start to hearing echoes of shouted words and spells coming from ahead of me.
My hand reaches towards the wand. I know who awaits me, and as much as I hate to admit it, I know that this will be my final fight against the mage.
Baz
I’m not particularly angry at anyone, myself included.
Instead I just feel disappointed.
I knew the Mage was up to no good and so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he forced his way into our room. I didn’t even manage to get a good spell off before he disarmed me and dragged me down here.
The only thing is my favour now is that we’re in the catacombs.
I’m sure he’s desperate or he would have thought this through more; that or he truly is a terrible mastermind. He really should know that I have the advantage down here.
I know these wandering paths better than anyone and the dark doesn’t bother me the way it does him.
And although he’s taken my wand I still have one more weapon, though I’d really rather not use it.
I’m sure his blood would taste disgusting. (and honestly I’m not sure I’m desperate enough to bite another human yet.)
I suppose I’m so calm because I’m still waiting for Simon to show up and save the day.
(though it could also be shock. I think it might be shock.)
“It was never supposed to end like this. It was never meant to involve you at all,” The Mage keeps muttering under his breath as he drags me deeper and deeper into the darkness of the catacombs.
I tried to keep up with him at first, until his mutterings grew more and more frenzied and I ceased being able to understand him. I’m not too bothered about keeping track of it though – whatever bullshit reasoning he has for doing this seems to be pretty faulty so far.
Surely he knows that Simon will save the day?
Simon
As I burst around the corner my eyes automatically focus in on Baz first, assessing and checking that he’s alright.
The second thing I see though is the Mage, with his wand in his hand curled around Baz’s neck.
“Don’t you dare hurt him!” I don’t even have to think - my magic instinctively lashes out, pushing the wand out of his hand and sending it clattering onto the floor behind him. As if he was expecting me, Baz shoves him backwards almost simultaneously, his vampiric strength pushing him further than his lithe frame would’ve suggested possible.
Even in the situation we’re in I can’t stop a smile creeping onto my face as Baz starts to run towards me. I can barely see a thing in this low light and yet our hands still manage to curl around each other as we start to make a break towards our escape.
For a second I think we’re going to make it out scot free before a sudden burst of flame comes rocketing over our shoulders. Baz swerves and pulls me into a small off-shoot of a passage.
“I am so bloody glad you’re here, but we’re still outmatched, love. He’s got my wand an-” he says but before he’s even finished his sentence I’m holding out my wand expectantly.
“Take it. Take my wand.” I know its unorthodox but everything about us is, and I can’t be trusted to use it without going off.
Baz’s mum is down here. (Also, I’m a little worried about the catacombs collapsing and burying us here forever but y’know, whatever.)
He stares at me for a minute before nodding grimly and taking it into his hand.
“One problem down. Still one madman to go though. And I’m good at this but . . .”
“You’re not going to beat the mage in a straight fight.” I finish off for him.
I can hear the mage getting closer and closer and I’ve got the start of an idea. It’s risky but all I know is that we can’t let him catch us.
I won’t let him hurt Baz anymore.
Baz
I can hear the Mage getting closer and closer and I make up my mind.
I’m not going to let him hurt Simon anymore.
I pull him out of our crouch and start to pull him down the passage. I know we can’t keep running forever, but I know the catacombs better than anyone and that’s got to count for something surely.
I’m so focused on keeping us moving away from him and navigating this dark maze that I barely notice Simon’s face as we run. His eyes are distant as if he’s thinking intently about something that I really hope is a plan.
I duck into another alcove and pull him in tight next to me before leaning out and casting a quick Bend over backwards down the hall. I hear the mage curse and I lean back in, angling my body towards Simon.
“Please tell me you have an idea.” I say, as I quickly check him over for injuries. I know he wouldn’t say anything even if he was hurt.
I don’t think he’d even realise.
Or care.
“I- I think so,” he says, looking serious even as his voice shakes. “Remember how this all started?”
“What, us trying to kill each other with sexual tension?” He smiles at that shyly before continuing.
“No. Well yes? I mean, the chimera – remember what I said?” His smile grows now, becoming more confident as he speaks. “I said that even the mage-“
“couldn’t defeat it on his own! Merlin’s beard Simon, are you insane? I can’t just summon a chimera like that – it took weeks of ritual casting last time!” He squeezes my hand, and I feel just a ripple of his magic against my consciousness.
“But this time you have me,” he says, and I can feel my face begin to slip into a matching grin.
Crowley, never mind his magic, even his enthusiasm is enough to make me teeter on the edge of hysteria.
“Okay.” I say, trying to prepare myself more than him, I think. I close my eyes, picturing the spell in my mind.
“Okay. Just like lighting a match, right?” he says flippantly but my eyes open in shock before I dive forward, letting my lips graze his cheek. I’m so in love with him right now. A deep red blush spreads across his face but his eyes never leave mine.
That’s when I know, I think.
That’s when I know we’re going to win.
“And then we just blow on the tinder,” I say and pull myself up and out of our hiding spot. Simon follows me effortlessly, his hand never leaving mine, and we step forwards to face the mage together.
Classic literature are some of the hardest spells to cast, but the Greek tragedies are a certain type of formidable.
After being told orally for so many years, each time being tweaked to fit the teller’s interpretation they no longer require perfect turn of phrase but instead require the caster to embody the sprit of the tale.
It was near impossible the first time I did it, after weeks and weeks of practice with as much time and space as I needed, and now I’m stepping out face to face with the mage to cast it face to face.
No pressure then.
I should be feeling nauseous, but instead I think about Simon Snow.
The chosen one.
A boy with unrivalled power at his fingertips.
The boy who remembered how my mother taught me to cast.
My wonderful, terrible boyfriend.
And I begin to cast.
“the Chimaera, who was not a human being, but a goddess,” as soon as we step out I can feel the mage throwing spell after spell at us but I refuse to deviate from my spell.
Instead Simon pulls his hand, and my hand with it, and points it towards the mage.
“for she had the head of a lion and the tail of a serpent,”
I can feel the moment when Simon lets his magic out because my voice grows louder and steadier, and every spell the mage throws at us just becomes enveloped in it before burning out in a shower of sparks.
“while her body was that of a goat,” I can feel the spell starting to take root within me now.
What once was a small flame inside of my heart has started to grow and grow and grow.
I feed it every drop of magic I have to give and that Simon has to give, and then some more and it roars in response.
I turn to Simon, the savour and the love of my life, and utter the last phrase of the incantation.
“and so she breathed forth flames of fire!” And with that, the roar of the fire within my heart becomes audible for every soul in the catacombs to hear. And right in front of us is its source.
A chimera.
Simon
I know that we’re facing off against one of my ultimate enemies and stuff but I couldn’t look away from Baz if I wanted to.
He’s glowing as he channels my wand and magic with an ease that I have never managed.
Literally glowing.
Hundreds of tiny lights have surrounded him, almost like starlight with a soft radiance that brightens the gloominess of the catacombs with ease.
I’m only shaken out of my mesmerised staring by the loud howling of the chimera as it materialises in front of us.
Unlike last time, I’m not afraid of this monster.
The only true monster here is the mage.
The chimera launches itself forward at the mage; its teeth and claws are out and already are tearing into the mage. I’ve never seen him like this – panicked and shouting spells as if his very life depended on it. It’s shocking to see him, the ruler of the magikical world, in such a disarray.
I know Baz must be thinking the same thing because he looks at me uneasily as we see, for the first time ever, the mage begin to lose.
“We can’t just let him die like this, Baz.” I say, with more certainty than I feel. We could easily let the chimera win, and we could stop the mage once and for-
“No,” Baz interrupts my turbulent thoughts with a start.
“For what he’s done to our world, and for what he’s done to you - he deserves a fate worse than this,” he says, and I feel something that I didn’t know was tight in my chest loosen.
“Shall we finish this together then?”
I don’t know how to repay Baz for letting me become part of his world this summer, I don’t know how to be a good boyfriend, and I definitely don’t know how to let him know how much I love him but this?
This I do know how to do. This is what I was born to do.
We step forward together and I clutch onto his hand like it’s a lifeline as I let my magic well and truly go.
It swells and swells until it completely fills the room and the catacombs and maybe even the whole of Watford and it is sticky and hot and overwhelming.
But this isn’t going off – instead this feels like flying. Like kissing Baz.
It feels like magic.
Baz
We’ve sitting there, in silence, for who knows how long.
My limbs feel heavy with exhaustion and Simon’s head is still resting on my shoulder as it was when we first slid to the floor.
The mage’s unconscious body lies in front of us but neither of us can bear to look at it.
The chimera is nowhere to be seen. Simon’s magic completely dissolved it but as it did, I could feel it weaving around me leaving all of me (even my eyebrows) totally unsinged.
I barely have any energy, magical or not, left in me but with one hand (obviously I'm not letting Simon's hand go just yet) I slowly light a small flame and let it flicker in my palm to create a soft light that bathes Simon’s features in warm tones and shadows.
“Hey Simon,” he doesn’t reply, instead choosing to just hum back at me.
“Not now but, someday y’know. My mother is down here, and I’d like you to meet her,” I say looking carefully into the flame in my palm.
For the first time since we defeated the mage, meeting my whisper for whisper, he replies.
“Yeah. I’d like that.”