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Baz.
I run my fingers through the pages of the diary. Bunce found a box in his mother's office, filled with items that used to belong to The Mage. She thought of giving it directly to Simon — Snow , I correct myself— but she didn't know what kind of things might be in there, and since she has been too busy with her mother, she asked me to take a look at them.
With all the trouble at home —Fiona was attacked by vampires, but still managed to get out safely. Daphne was worried, about me and my siblings— and the unusual dragon sightings in Watford's grounds —there is still no explanation for this; apparently they are not the only magical creatures seen nearby. I would have loved to work with the Bunce women to find an explanation, but I knew Snow would surely be there too. My heart has suffered enough, thank you very much— I've hardly had any time off. Maybe it will keep me entertained enough not to think about him.
This feels too personal. It's not like I enjoy looking back at the life of the man who caused my mother's death, and who is to blame for what I am. But even if Snow and I are no longer together, I still care about him, so I agreed immediately to help Bunce.
The first pages are dated to the late 80s and early 90s, I guess his early years in Watford. There are spells here and there, descriptions of places I've never heard of.
But what strikes me most is the great interest he had in the Chosen One. More than half of the notebook concentrates there, on the prophecies about the great saviour.
Simon Snow was prophesied . Or well, someone with the greatest power among all magicians, the only person capable of ending the threat to magic.
And he came at just the right time.
From my experience, I can say that there were some failures. I doubt very much that the prophecies said that Snow —his magic— was linked to the Humdrum, and that his sacrifice of it meant the salvation.
I know that I spent years mocking him —trying to hide my true feelings— but I always believed in his power. He was something out of this world, the perfect hero.
I grew up with him, to see him rise up and become the saviour that The Mage saw fit.
And I stood by him when he fell. It was my arms that were there to hold him — "Fell in love, didn't you?" I said to him one day. We had been together for a couple of months, and everything felt so easy then. Simon Snow had changed his destiny —of dying at the hands of the villain (me), or of defeating it and admiring the sunset together with his dream girl—. Sacrificing his magic was enough to survive, and to fulfil his childhood fantasy of sharing a home with his best friend. The villain in his story became his lover, against all odds. He was safe, though with a few extra pieces.
We were safe.
We could be happy now. We could write a new ending for his story: he exchanged his princess for a vampire. And the castle, for a flat shared with Bunce.
He made me happy.
With him, I had everything. And then I had nothing.
One day, things were already broken. And I didn't realize it until it was too late. Snow left me in the same place where I realized my feelings for him, where we shared magic and saw the stars.
After my mother's murder, Watford no longer seemed like a happy place to me. But my room at Mummers House felt like home, the place where I could have even Simon Snow's crumbs. All the magic that those four walls had once guarded was gone.
"I don't want you to give up anything for me, I don't want you to change! Go back to being that brave and arrogant bastard, the man I fell in love with!" were his last words to me, before running out of the room and losing himself in the night.
After months when he barely spoke to me, hearing his broken voice telling me to get out of his life left me in a trance. I stood in the middle of the room, trying to process what he had said.
When I reacted and wanted to go out and look for him, all I found was the cold kiss of the wind. Snow was gone, and the only thing I had left of him was my broken heart and all the memories beside him.
There were many reasons for us to break up. He had lost everything: his magic, his mentor, his friend. Fate did not treat him well, and he began to forge a different one.
For months, I watched him fall apart, lose his way, stop shining. He saved me from dying in a burning forest.
And what did I do for him?
Just looked away. I waited for him to turn around and see me, and maybe he would realize that all was not lost; he had me, and he had his best friend.
But I never did enough. I didn't cross a burning forest, knowing that I am flammable, to save him with a kiss.
Perhaps, in the end, I wasn't enough for him.
I search the box for a second journal, to clear my mind. I've done well the last few days, and I'm not ready to see the reality before my eyes. I find it, and this one starts in 1995.
"Lucy agreed to run away with me. Finally, we can be happy together; with her by my side, the search for Chosen One will be easier. She is the only person who listens to me, and who makes me believe that I am getting somewhere. The Lancashire cottage will be an excellent refuge: it is far enough away from the curious. The only drawback is the remoteness with the Watford library."
I leaf through it halfway. He used to write a lot about everything he’d found about the Chosen One, which made the diary look more like a record. But by the end of 1996, the things he wrote down were different.
"We finally did it —I did it. Lucy carries in her womb our future saviour, made of pure magic. We went to Watford, to the room that used to belong to the oracle. I have recited every spell I managed to collect, I used the blood of the unicorn as indicated. Right at the autumn equinox, I reaffirmed the great power we both had given him."
This cannot be possible. He can't be talking about Simon. Or can he?
I advance to his June notes on the last leaves. The possibility that The Mage may have been related to Simon turns my stomach.
"Our hero was born at noon. Exactly at the summer solstice, as it should be. He has the same blue eyes as Lucy, and I know we've done it perfectly. As soon as he was born, an electric current ran through my body. Like a ray of sunshine.
But everything has a price. Lucy didn't resist for long, and she died at nightfall, holding our son.
I can't take care of him, I don't know anything about how to raise a baby. I've decided it's best to leave him in the hands of the Normals, so that he grows up with a huge language; when it's time, I'll find him and teach him to polish his magic. I will make him the best of my soldiers, he will fulfil all the prophecies that have been told since the beginning of time.
I have written on his arm the name Lucy gave him, when she knew he was a boy Simon Snow.
I was about to write his mother's surname too, Salisbury. But it would be too much of a risk, for her family to find out and ruin my plans. So I will take him to an orphanage, where at least he will have a proper life.
When he grows up and realizes what a good job I did with him from the beginning, he will thank me.”
If it wasn't for the fact that the guy has been dead for almost two years, I would go and kill him myself with my own hands.
Simon had a father and a mother. He had a last name, and that son of a bitch took it away from him, along with the opportunity to grow up like any magician —although with The Mage as a father, I doubt that was possible.
Simon Snow Salisbury.
Should I tell him? Or should I tell Bunce first?
What does this mean? Snow has never been a Normal. Maybe there's still magic in him? Can he still get it back?
My phone ringing on the coffee table distracts me. Bunce.
Penny.
Shepard said something like this while we were in America. About mountains —dragons, actually— that were waking up. I didn't think it was literal.
It is inevitable not to think about the last attack of a dragon in Watford, and how Baz and Simon managed to chase it away —Baz, using Simon's magic; if he hadn't come, Simon would have killed it, just like in the first year.
Clearly, this is not something we can count on.
In any case, they are not attacking us directly. But it's unusual for them to live in this part of England.
And that's not the worst part. There are more magical creatures nearby —pixies, trolls, and even some werewolves.
And vampires.
As if we haven't had enough of them in America. Apparently, it has something to do with the Pitches, and since Baz's aunt has been hunting them. I have no idea if there are still debts between them and the magicians —between them and The Mage —, some revenge pending...
The members of The Coven practically live here, since the last weeks with their constant meetings with my mum, but nobody manages to find an answer. Nobody knows what to do.
The Penelope Bunce of 18 would have taken care of this by now. But that Penelope had the Chosen One by her side, armed with magic, spells and swords. If something got too much, Simon'd just go off.
But America only showed me that I lost my role in the story too. I feel lost, empty.
But I must keep fighting, just like Simon has taught me for years.
"Penelope!" I recognize my mum's voice outside her office. I can hear the urgency —or fear— and I rush to open up.
When I see her with tears in her eyes and a wand in her hand, all I want is to keep us safe. "They're attacking Watford!"
This must be a bad dream.
Simon.
I think a month has passed since we returned from that disastrous trip to America. Penny has hardly been with me, and has spent almost a month in Watford with her mother. A month since I broke up with Baz.
I thought it would be best for both of us —mainly for him— but all I have done is sink deeper into misery. I've barely eaten, and I'm getting back to the look I had every summer before I went back to Watford: my body looks dull, my ribs start to crack, and two dark bags hang under my eyes. I can't even stand looking at myself in the mirror; I don't recognize the person in the reflection. He looks like a stranger.
I myself feel strange inside my skin. As if I don't know who I am.
But this morning, I decided I couldn't go on like this. Lying —in my bed or on the sofa— staring at the ceiling, until nightfall. Eating anything I find in our cupboard, or what Shepard brings me sometimes.
Even if my life has lost meaning, I must make one last effort.
So I got up and made my bed. I've taken a shower and put on some clean clothes —a pair of black joggers, and a white t-shirt that I'm afraid used to belong to Baz (possibly a pair of pyjamas he forgot here, which still smells of him)—. I even made myself a decent breakfast.
Perhaps being completely alone for more than a week has made me realize how low I've fallen, how deep I'm in.
I used to have everything, and now I have nothing, because I dedicated myself to losing it. I pushed aside everyone who was willing to help me out, and now I'm the only one who can pick up all my shit.
The nightmares are back, during the few nights I've slept. But last night was different.
I knew it was him. I know him like the back of my hand: his voice, his figure, the exact tone of his eyes and the taste of his lips.
That day in the White Chapel was repeated in my dream, but we were all bathed in blood —I can't say whose— and injured. Baz was lying on my lap, paler than ever, and whispering things just to me. That I had been his most beautiful nightmare, the sweetest torture, and the reason for him to wake up every morning.
He told me that he had always admired the way I fought. That I should never stop, that I should keep that part of me alive.
And then, I woke up. With tears running down my face and my body trembling, it felt like going off.
I guess that also influenced the sudden change. But I had forgotten how good it feels to do something on my own, even if it is as simple as basic things. Maybe I could clean the rest of the flat, or do all the laundry. One thing at a time, I suppose.
However, there's a feeling, like a hunch, that doesn't allow me to be completely calm. A slight discomfort on my chest that makes me think that something is wrong.
I call Penny, just to make sure she's okay. One, two, three tones. She doesn't answer, and I call her again. Nothing.
For a second, I consider calling Baz. Maybe they are together, maybe he knows something.
Maybe I just want to make sure he's okay. Maybe I want to hear his voice again, after missing him for so long.
The strange feeling doesn't diminish. I feel as if someone has cast a spell of attention on me, and that it won't stop until I do something.
I leave the flat, keeping my keys in my pocket, until I remember the wings.
Maybe it's nothing more than paranoia.
Penny is fine, she's just busy.
I try to calm down, but it's impossible. On an impulse, I take the coat I used to have to go out and buy cider, and I run towards the street.
A few people look at me strangely. I hope it's because a guy wears a coat on a summer afternoon, and not because of the lump on my back.
I take a taxi, because the train will be too risky, and I spend the whole trip to Watford with my nerves on edge.
As soon as I arrive I start running, and I almost feel guilty, but I don't stop.
The tension is in the air, telling me that maybe I was not wrong. I enter the school, crossing the meadow and the bridge, until I reach the Weeping Tower.
I knew things were wrong.
Baz.
In a second of distraction I look at the west, and I almost think I'm dreaming.
As unreal as it seems, Simon Snow is there. The sun reflects on his hair, making it shine like gold, and his silhouette reminds me of the hero he was meant to be. His wings spread out in all their splendour; he almost looks like an angel.
But what surprises me most is the sword held in his hand.
Simon.
I don't know what I just did. It was enough for me to think about the Sword of Mages, and the next second I had it in my hand, as tangible as before.
But in my body I don't feel any trace of magic, not even the slightest.
Below me there is a crowd of dark creatures. Vampires, werewolves, trolls. Although I'm afraid most of them are already corpses...
I can see Mitali Bunce finishing off several of them, and not far away, Penny does the same, I think even Agatha is over there —I see a fleeting trace of her blonde hair—. And they don't need more than their wands.
Baz is there too. Three vampires surround him, trying to attack him, while a goblin approaches from behind. He sets the vampires on fire, and I'm terrified that he'll manage to catch fire too, but he's so skilled that he manages to get to safety.
Almost without realizing it, I'm in there too. Fighting. I use the sword to get rid of several trolls, and despite the lack of practice, I feel good, I feel alive.
I get a few wounds as I fight, but nothing is serious. I feel like I'm doing something useful after so long, and I can't stop. The adrenaline returns to my blood, and for the first time in months, I don't think about anything.
Until I turn around, and I see Baz lying on the ground, holding his abdomen.
The world stops.
Baz.
Snow is here, in battle. And he's as beautiful as ever, as if he'd never lost his magic.
Perhaps I didn't know that the new Simon Snow is still a capable and powerful fighter, ravaging the monsters at his side.
I'm so distracted by him that I don't even notice the vampire coming at me from the side. A metal object shines in his hand, and he tries to attack me with it. I do the same thing I did in the desert, and I break his neck before setting him on fire.
Until I realize the pain spreading through my belly, throwing me to the ground.
Maybe this how it ends.
Simon.
I run to his side, getting rid of the creatures around us. It's only been a couple of seconds, but Baz is as pale as snow, and the blood has spread quickly.
I cannot lose him. Not like this. Not now.
I'm trying to put pressure on the huge wound to stop it from bleeding. He looks at me, and a smile spreads across his lips.
"Simon" whispers. I missed the sweetness of his voice so much, and now I feel it's going away.
"Hush. I'm here, you'll be fine."
The blood doesn't stop running. Next to him, on the floor, there is a dagger that glows with a strange reddish glow. As if it were enchanted.
No.
It’s not possible.
I look around for someone, but they are all too far away from us. There is no one who can help Baz.
"You are beautiful."
Baz is in my arms again, but life is slipping away from him. This is not what was meant to happen.
I'm holding on to him as if my life depended on it. As if my presence is enough to keep him with me, safe and sound.
I want to repent for all the times that I pushed him aside, that I hurt him and that I broke his heart. I want to go back and give him all the kisses he deserves, tell him how much I love him, and keep him with me.
When I see him again, it's worse. His eyes have lost all trace of brightness, and his eyelids are getting heavier and heavier.
"Baz, no, no, stay with me. I promise you that things will be better, that we will be together, and that we will get through this. But please don't leave me. Baz, don't leave me."
Baz.
Simon is here, worried about me.
I'm dying in his arms, and I can't help but think how lucky I am to be leaving like this.
His tears fall on my skin, and his hand caresses the skin of my face. In my little lucidity, I am still aware of how beautiful, strong and brave he is.
I love him, I’ve loved him for years, and I will love him in the next life. His soul and mine are laced together.
I will find him in another life. In this one we had no luck.
Goodbye, my love.
Simon.
"Can you kiss me?" he whispers, in a heavy, cut-off voice. I do.
If I kiss him enough, I'll save him. It happens in films and fairytales: the kiss of true love that is capable of breaking any spell.
But instead, his lips gradually stop moving against mine. I separate from him, and it's all over.
Baz is gone.
"I love you" I still murmur against his lips. Because I couldn't tell him while we were together, and although he can’t listen to me anymore, I need to get it off my chest.
I embrace his body, even though I'm stained with his blood. My wings surround us, wrapping us in red light.
This is just a nightmare. I need to wake up.
It’s then when I feel a hand sliding over mine. Now more than ever, I feel as if I were dreaming.
I raise my face, moving away from Baz's neck and looking at his face. His eyelids move again, until they allow me to see his eyes again.
What has happened?
Baz.
I must be in paradise. It's the first thing I think about as I open my eyes. That I’ve died, and my soul has been blessed with Snow's presence.
But my body still feels mine, I can still move at my will.
The wound in my abdomen still hurts, it burns.
My heart has the slow beat that has characterized me since I was Turned.
"Simon?"
It seems that that little trace of life is enough for him to kiss me. And I'm definitely not dead, because this feels very real.
"I love you" was the last thing I heard before I lost consciousness. Or dying, and then coming back to life.
When he stops kissing me, his expression of happiness and surprise makes me smile heavily. I feel exhausted, and the pain does not stop.
Penny.
We're done with them. My mother has thrown herself on the floor exhausted, but she made it.
Agatha —who I didn't even know was here— comes over to hug me, before dropping into a tree.
In the distance, I see a rather familiar figure, a pair of red wings.
"Simon!"
I run to him, who is kneeling on the ground. Baz is lying on the ground, his shirt stained with blood, and a wound on his abdomen that has already stopped bleeding.
Simon is holding him carefully, but letting him know that he is there.
"What has happened?"
"Baz is alive, Penny.” Says, with tears on his eyes.
Alive?
That's when I see the sword next to Simon. It's the Sword of Mages, just like before.
But...
"Bunce, would you mind casting a pain spell on me?"
I guess we can worry about the dragons later.
Simon.
The afternoon sun caresses my face. It feels almost as warm as that day on the beach in California.
I tilt my head back, finding Baz at the doorway, looking at me.
"Hey."
"Hey" he answers. I pat the floor next to me, and he sits down.
I lay my head on his shoulder and hold his hand. My feet are hanging from the edge of the balcony, in the flat. I can hear Penny arguing with Shepard inside.
"How's your wound going?"
Baz lifts his shirt a little, letting me see his exposed skin. There is only a white line, a scar.
"I think it's healed now, although I have no idea what the hell you did to me."
I don't know either. It felt like magic, after all this time. And the next morning, there it was again, a little more.
I don't know if I'm getting my magic back, but I'm sure I've felt better.
Having lost Baz, even if it was only for a couple of seconds, made me react. Fate gave us another chance, and this time I want to do it right.
He told me about The Mage's diaries. Knowing that he was my father —I mean, my real father — was a bittersweet thing.
I had a father. One who treated me like a weapon and not like a son, but who had the same blood as me.
I still can't explain how he was able to see my face all these years, knowing that he had abandoned me.
But I also had a mother, one who loved me, and who tried to stay with me.
I guess I'm still in shock. So many things have happened in such a short time that perhaps everything seems unreal.
But what is absolutely real, is the feeling of Baz's body next to mine. I lift my face, kissing his cheek.
His touch no longer makes me want to run away. I think I am healing.
Although Penny told me that I must go back to therapy to be completely healed. I know that I will listen to her, and because I need help.
Anyway, I'm not going to do it alone. I have a family here, with me, and we're going to get through this together.
I promised Baz. And I'm not going to break another promise.
I don't know if he listened to me that day, when I told him I loved him for the first time. I'm holding on to believe that he didn’t.
I'm going to tell him.
"Baz?"
He turns his face towards me. Under the sunlight, I notice the pinkish shade on his lips. I can't resist, and I kiss him gently.
"There is something I want to tell you." I feel nervous, but I need to do it. "That day, when I saw you dying in my arms, and then waking up, I knew that it was a mistake to take you away from me. All this time you have been here, for me, and I only hurt you. But I did it to make you safe, not to hurt you. I did it because I love you, Baz, and for that very reason, I now know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’ll love you, more and more from now.”
The words slide easily between my lips. Baz looks at me, with astonishment and fragility.
"I love you too, Simon Snow. The world may be terribly cruel, but I will always love you. In this life, and in all the lives that will follow.”
Hearing him talk like that makes me cry. I dry the tears in my eyes, until his hands do it for me.
This is the proof that everything will get better. That we have a future together, more possible than ever.
His lips catch mine in a kiss, and the touch still makes me see the stars in broad daylight.
"Well, Baz, carry on. Let's start with this life." He smiles at me, shaking his head before kissing me.
All we have to do is to carry on.