Chapter Text
I met him on a dark and stormy night. There was no other man like him. And no other night like it.
So here’s the thing. I’m not entirely sure how I got into this business. Okay, that’s a lie. I know exactly how. What I mean is that I don’t know how I turned what was supposed to be a side hustle into a legitimate business. Okay. Not legitimate in the legal sense, but like, if it were legal I would have to pay taxes for it.
This is confusing even for me. Let’s start again.
I’m an orphan. I lived in an orphanage until one day I just decided I didn’t want to anymore. I ventured out on my own and before I knew it, enough years passed that I wouldn’t have been able to go back if I wanted to. That was probably my first existential crisis where I panicked over what I was going to do for the rest of my life, and that I wasted a perfectly good roof over my head and that I was stupid to leave before I aged out.
Yeah. It was a bad time.
But that time is gone now. I’m here today thriving. But before that, I was dirty and poor and sad. People with nothing to worry about didn’t bother looking at someone like me. I was passed by on the streets with the same air of disgust as if I were already a rotting corpse. Finding work was hard so I gave up and became a thief. When that almost got me killed I discovered I had magic. When that happened I realized I could do odd jobs more efficiently than my Normal competition and I had a nice little side business. Then word got around that I was pretty useful and then Magicians wanted me to do stuff for them (and stop helping Normal people); and then Magicians wanted me to do stuff under the table. Then one thing led to another and I realized I could just. Give my magic to people. Magicians. Normals. Vampires. Like. Literally, if it breathed and could ask me for some, I could give it. (I could also take it). That’s when the money and the trouble really started rolling in.
My name leaves a bad taste in the mouth of Magicians. They kind of try to kill me.
But everyone else loves me.
And like I know I’m skimming over what would otherwise make a great coming of age story. But really you just need an idea of my life in order to understand what is currently happening to me. That something being a gorgeous prick and a nightmare of an evening.
So. Let’s begin.
****
“It’s very simple. You get close to the Mage, do your thing, and boom. You are officially in the clear.”
It did sound simple. Penny is good at making things sound simple.
Agatha takes a long drag of her cigarette then blows out the smoke in a way that manages to be incredulous. She is good at voicing her disapproval with the world around her without ever saying a word. I really admire that quality. It’s how she took charge of my finances and the business-y side of things. Now that is definitely a story to be told at a later date. And from her mouth, not mine, because really I play a pretty minor part in her life. I’m certain that this major part of my life is really just a side hustle for her.
I think that’s badass.
Anyway I’m looking to her for some hint of approval that I can afford a move as risky as this one. I mean. Taking magic from the Mage? The. Mage? Rendering him useless and thereby setting up a scenario where he gets replaced with someone else? That’s a big deal and it’s really up in the air as to whether it will be good for me. I mean in theory a better Mage will come to power and try not to kill me. But honestly I think I would just be putting a bigger target on my back and an outrageous price on my head.
“I’m telling you it will work,” Penny insists. “At this rate what have you got to lose?”
“My life?” I say at the same time that Agatha says, “His head.”
“Okay.” Penny waves her hands in front of her as if to clear the room from bad juju that Agatha and I are putting in the air. “Yes. This might go bad—”
“Emphasizing a maybe does not make it less of a certainty,” Agatha says.
“What she said,” I say.
“…but there are some really open minded people that would like to see the Mage removed from power,” Penny continues while Agatha snorts. “Look at my Mom. She loves you, Simon! She would never want anything bad to happen to you.”
“Does she want to be the Mage?” Because I would be completely fine with that. The woman can make cherry scones that make a grown man weep. (Me. I’m the grown man.)
“Er, well, no.”
Agatha takes another drag. “Just let it go. You’ll only end up getting Simon killed.”
“Oh come on! Think of the possibilities!”
Agatha blows out the last of the smoke in her lungs. “No.”
I shrug. That’s that I guess. It’s a good plan if you ignore literally everything about it but the ideal outcome. Anyway I’m not comfortable with taking magic. That side of the business is even more shady than the illegally giving magic side. Certain types of people seek me out to take magic. It’s super expensive. And I never like guessing how these people have stacks of bills on hand at a moment’s notice.
I’m not saying I’m super moral, here, because obviously I’m not. It’s just that I’ve only ever taken two jobs like that before. I never felt great afterward.
“But you have to, Simon!”
“Does he?”
I blink at Penny. “I do?”
At this she begins to fidget by taking off her glasses and checking them for smudges. “Well…I may have…” she rubs at the lens with the bottom of her shirt. With her head turned to the floor she mumbles something that I can’t quite make out.
“You may have…?”
“I may have accepted a job on your behalf.”
****
And so now I’m here. At a ritzy party with a bunch of Magicians, trying to blend in so that I can find this supposed client and tell him the deal is off before I’m discovered, quartered, and hanged. Normally I would never do something so risky as this: hanging out in plain sight and fraternizing with the enemy. Supposedly it’s the only way to get close to the guy. He’s a Pitch. Which means he’s only social at a party and literally nowhere else.
I can only get away with my disguise because the Simon Snow everyone knows about is a street rat. Someone who is never seen in polite company, doesn’t have a suit to his name, and can be smelled long before he is seen.
Considering how much money I make for my services this story is complete bollocks. But that’s anti-Simon propaganda for you.
It serves me well at any rate. I try to encourage these kinds of stories when I can because it’s helpful for situations like this. Some brown hair-dye (because a Magician’s eye is trained to catch magical alterations, not L’ORÉAL Paris Superior Preference Medium Brown), my best grey suit, and a can-do attitude means that I schmoozed my way in without a hitch. I carry a flute of champagne for added effect and not at all because I’m so nervous about being here I’m also scared I’ll sweat through my suit.
I’m taking a turn about the room, eyes scanning for my client. I’m looking for a tall, pale man with long dark hair and a superior way about him. That pretty much describes every Pitch and magical being in this room. Except for the pale part (on the Pitch side). Most of them are not. Penny said his name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch but that he goes by Baz, and that he would be expecting me tonight on the balcony.
(It sounds like the set-up for a bad romance.)
(There are also a lot of balconies in this place.)
I’m hoping to avoid theatrics and just say my piece and get out of here. I can’t afford to go snooping around a mansion. My schmoozing skills are good insofar as I get through the front door. I’m not meant to carry on a proper conversation. Especially not one where I have to charismatically get away with skulking around someone’s home.
I take a swig of champagne and that is when I see him. The description Penny gave me does not do him justice. He has one of those faces that you would expect to see in a museum. It’s easy to see he comes from old blood, but like, in a really good, sophisticated kind of way. Like he inherited every single good Pitch gene, from the shine of his hair, to the elegance of his walk. (He’s not even walking. He’s just standing there looking uncomfortable with a flute of champagne in each hand. But that’s my point. He just seems graceful.) If there is a God, then he (or she) put in the work on this man.
I almost feel bad that I’m about to turn him down. For the job.
Although I am curious as to why someone like him would pay for something as heinous as taking someone’s magic. It’s not my business. I’m not going to ask because the less I know about clients, would-be or otherwise, the better for my mental health. But I do wonder.
I walk right up to him. “It’s more acceptable to get trashed later into the party.”
Tyrannus scowls at me. “It is also acceptable to touch up your roots before making a formal appearance.”
My hand shoots to the top of my head. I feel my face burn. What a fucking prick. Never meet your heroes, I guess. Not that this guy would ever be a hero. Considering what he wants from me, he’s definitely the villain. “Don’t you know the rule? Only point something out if that person can fix it in five seconds or less.”
He looks bored. “I would rather be rid of you for longer than that.”
My jaw drops. I can’t help it. He’s just…so fucking rude. It’s unbelievable. He doesn’t recognize me, that much is obvious, but even if I were just some random person, I haven’t done anything to warrant this. “The hell is wrong with you?” I demand.
He pointedly looks me up and down. “You are still standing here.”
And if you think this is why the night was so horrid, you are wrong. Because just as I lose my head and practically shout “Do you know who I am?” The Mage makes a grand entrance. The double doors to the ballroom fly open. Lightning flashes from the ceiling-high windows so bright it momentarily stuns the partygoers, myself and Tyrannus included. Thunder explodes over head, but it is still not loud enough to cover the Mage’s shout of, “WHERE IS HE?”
Silence.
All eyes are on the Mage.
I discreetly inch behind Tyrannus, who in turn discreetly moves behind a small group of people. Neither of us questions the other.
Natasha Grimm-Pitch steps forward, back ramrod straight and anger practically oozing from every pore. “You are not welcome here.” Her tone is icy and I can immediately see that haughtiness is a heritable trait in this family. Tyrannus is still growing into his, it seems. “Get out.”
“Natasha.” The Mage’s voice is like oil. Nasty and slick with all the power in the world. “Be reasonable about this.”
“I will not ask again.” Her voice raises slightly, but not to be heard. It’s more like a command. Other members of the family step forward to back her. In front of me, I can feel that Tyrannus wants to do the same. He twitches forward, but in the same half-second keeps himself rooted to the spot. His hands are fisted at his sides.
The Mage takes in the Pitch brigade, but remains unperturbed. With a sad smile he addresses the room. “Do you know whom it is you keep company with?” The question rings out. Nobody seems to know what to say and the Mage draws energy from it. I can feel it. Not magically, but like confusion and distress are what energizes him. I’ve dealt with people like this before, both in business and as a powerless child. They are a stain on society. I’m suddenly not all that opposed to accepting Tyrannus’ job. “This woman,” he gestures to Natasha, “this family,” another sweeping motion of his arm, “keeps company with vampires.”
Tyrannus’ knees buckle for a split second. I catch him by the arm. It’s freezing. He wrenches away from me.
The silence fills with murmurs.
“Not only that,” the Mage continues.
“That’s enough.” Natasha snaps, her voice cracking like a whip.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Fiona Pitch steps up to her sister’s side. It’s unsteady just like her words. She’s not scared. Just drunk.
The Mage speaks over them and just like before, his words ring out clear as day. “Her son is one of them!”
“Oh…shit.” The words are out of my mouth, barely audible compared to the uproar that has just begun, but Tyrannus whips around as if I had screamed his name. I’m expecting fangs, but really all I see are wide grey eyes of someone helpless and scared. And I really get it.
I grab his hand.
He tries to pull away, but I just hold on tighter. “What are you—?”
“She willingly put you all at risk to protect a monster,” the Mage says as the crowd gets more agitated. Because they all know that Tyrannus is here. They’re looking for him. They want to get rid of him. They’re pushing and shoving and craning their necks around. “She had every chance to kill him!” The Mage punches his hand for emphasis. “To keep everyone safe!”
Fiona stomps forward, wand pointed at him. “Not another fucking word!”
I tug at Tyrannus. “I’m going to get you out of here. We need to go. Now.”
The Mage’s personal guard surges forward. They grab at Fiona but she fights them, curses them. Friends and family of the Pitches join in to back her up and all hell breaks loose from there. The room is split into three factions: those helping the Mage, those helping Fiona, and those trying to ferret out Tyrannus. Nobody is successful, but they sure are making a mess of things. I’m trying to shove our way to the door, but he is fighting me.
“No, not that way,” he says. He nods to a unremarkable looking door off to the right. “There.”
We almost make it to the door. But then we are quite literally lifted off our feet. Below us a woman has her wand pointed at us. “I’ve found him!” She declares. It’s so loud and chaotic that it is only after a small crowd has formed around us that more of the room starts to take notice. Cries of there he is! And kill him now! And his friend! Take hold.
“Bring him to me!” The Mage says. The woman begins to float us towards him and honestly this is as undignified as it gets.
“No!” Natasha snarls and she does the unspeakable. In a rush of words too fast for me to understand, she strikes the Mage down with a flare of magic. At the same time Fiona breaks through the crowd and knocks the woman holding us in her spell to the ground. Gravity returns and we crash to the floor in a heap. I’m just lucky that I land on top of him and not the other way around. I don’t have time to get my bearings. People are screaming now as panic and outrage and a whole lot of negativity explodes throughout the room. Fiona shoves me aside and pulls Tyrannus to his feet. The Mage’s guard swarms Natasha. Magic is flying everywhere. People are shoving, running. It’s all too much. I feel like I’m in the immediate aftermath of something really bad. Like an explosion. A fire. A shooting.
And then it happened.
A bolt of lightning. It’s magic. We all know it is. It’s just something you feel. And when it’s this powerful even a Normal can sense it. It cracks through the air, through the crowd, right into Natasha Grimm-Pitch.
She doesn’t crumple to the floor she just…like ash in the wind she’s just…gone.
On his knees, wand outstretched, the Mage seems triumphant.
Tyrannus loses it.
Fiona loses it.
They charge the Mage. Tyrannus is fast. Quicker than the eye can follow and unbelievably strong. He is holding the Mage up by the throat, fangs flashing and it’s such a terrible sight as tears stream down his face. And I know I can’t let him do this. I know it in my bones with the same certainty that I know he is perfectly justified.
I close my eyes. I want the two of us out of here. I want us safe and far away. I want it so bad that my will becomes more.
In the blink of an eye we are back in my room.
Tyrannus is standing empty-handed. He’s staring at the space where there was once the throat of his enemy. He stays like that for a long time. I don’t know what it means and I don’t know if he does either. There’s too much. It’s all too much. I’m sitting on my bed (I always will myself on my bed) knees up to my chin, waiting for him to decide what comes next. I’m shaking, but not because I’m tired.
Thunder rumbles.
Tyrannus flinches.
“You’re safe now,” I say. I can barely hear my own voice. I’m still hearing all of the people in the ballroom. I squeeze my knees tighter.
Tyrannus’ hand drops to the side. He looks at me now. I don’t know what to make of his expression. It’s like he’s feeling everything at once to the point where none of the emotions mean anything. His face is utterly blank but his eyes are stormy and dark and unnatural. His fangs are still out and tears are dripping down his chin. I don’t expect him to say anything. Not in the state he is in. But he does and his voice is perfectly composed. “Who are you?”
I almost want to lie to him. Because if I tell him this, he’ll want something I can’t give him. Because everyone knows that I have the power to just make things happen. Even so, I can’t bring people back to life.
“I’m Simon. Simon Snow.”