Chapter Text
Baz
I’m mercifully alone in the lab for once, which means, if I’m quick, I can get my experiments for the day started without Snow bursting in here and distracting me.
I’m sitting at the lab bench, perched up on my stool and trying to warm up a little frozen vial of reagent between my palms. It’s counterproductive, and I’m letting the friction do most of the work, but I swear my hands are getting warmer and the vial’s getting colder. Snow could’ve gotten this done by now. Instead, he’s off somewhere, either in the basement or the greenhouse, watering the Compass Rose plants we use for our research. He only gets to water because I don’t trust him enough to pipette. Nobody thinks of Snow when they think of steady hands.
When the door bangs open, it’s not Snow. It’s not even our professor.
“Where’s Simon?” Bunce says, which apparently passes for hello these days. Bunce thinks that because she’s a PhD, she can walk around like she owns the place, even though this isn’t even her lab.
“He’s working. Same as me. What do you want?”
“I’m extending an olive branch. From the demon lab.”
I roll my eyes. Even a peace offering from Bunce’s lab is bad news.
“A conference invitation!” she says.
I look up.
“In Houston!” she finishes.
“America? No. Again? Bunce, no.”
“It’s educational. Simon’s going.”
“You haven’t even asked Snow.”
“Well, I’m going. Shepard’s going. I think the goat lab is, too. Simon’s not going to want to miss out. You wouldn’t stay here by yourself.”
She says it so confidently. She’s probably right. I think I would follow Snow anywhere. No matter how disastrous the last trip was. At least Bunce got Shepard out of it.
I try not to think of any wild fantasies where, how maybe, this time, I could end up with Snow. It’s gotten easier to ignore said fantasies now that we don’t live together. Outside of Watford, in places where they actually offer real classes, psychology classes, they’ll tell you that the more you try to avoid thinking about something, the more you think about it. The six intervening years since we left Watford have proved that true. Some days, like when I have three hours of class and then sit in the basement on a microscope until midnight, I can almost forget that I’m going to be pining after Snow for the rest of my life.
It's really not that bad. Old Haven University, where we’re all at now, is nice. It’s basically the same as Normal uni, except even more underfunded. And entirely full of non-mage magical beings who are all willing to study magic more deeply than we ever got to at Watford. I thought it would be a difficult transition, coming to Old Haven after leaving the London School of Economics. After all, Old Haven started letting in Normals years before mages could be admitted. But Bunce followed her husband here the second they convinced admissions to let her apply. And Simon followed Bunce. So, I followed Simon, even though my econ degree is useless to the magickal plant biology research Snow and I do now.
Maybe Bunce can read my mind, because she’s saying, “Who knows, maybe we can even find you a cute American boyfriend, too.”
“Who’s looking for an American boyfriend?” Snow, I think, will never learn the art of a subtle entrance.
I say, “Literally nobody,” at the same time Bunce says, “Baz. You, too, if you want one.”
“Sure,” Snow laughs. “Worked out well for you.”
He sets a tray of Compass Roses on the lab bench in front of me. They’re supposed to point the way to the true love of whoever they bloom in front of. Another reason why I make Snow do the watering. Currently, they’re all spinning wildly, the way they do when they bloom for someone who isn’t in love. Another pleasant reminder that all this is unrequited. At least it serves as a reassurance that Snow hasn’t fallen for anyone else. Yet. Thanks to the magic-forsaken flowers, I’ll be the first to know when it happens.
I don’t bother listening to Bunce’s sales pitch a second time. She’s talking about American mages getting organised and solidarity with magickal creatures. I’m trying to look busy, but at some point, Snow took the tube away from me so I’m really just sitting there, tapping my pen against my lab notebook and pretending to not care. I have no need to hear about Snow’s plans to find himself an American boyfriend, of all things.
Sometimes, like now, while I watch his absentminded fingers roll the warming tube across his palm, I think that I should have given in and kissed him already. Maybe eighth year, when he came home with me for Christmas. Or at the Renaissance Faire, when I actually did let Bunce drag us both halfway across the world. I think I would have melted, too, like the reagent in the tube under his hands. Or thawed out a little, at least.
Instead, I think I’m better off this way. I only get to keep him around because I didn’t. We’re only friends because I’ve never said something that scared him off. I’m only at Old Haven because he got me in. He works in the admissions office, even though he doesn’t need to after he got the inheritance from the Mage. He told me to write my personal statement about being a vampire. I didn’t listen.
So, we’re friends, and I’m in his debt multiple times over. And I’m not going to repay that debt by coming onto him and forcing him to awkwardly avoid me for the rest of our academic careers. It’s not really that hard. If I wasn’t already so practised at resisting Snow, anyway, being a vampire has made me an expert in self-control.
“Baz,” Simon says, loudly, like it’s not the first time he tried to get my attention.
I pretend to finish writing something before looking up at him.
“You’re coming with us, right? Penny already booked the house.”
I groan. Typical Bunce.
Simon
America is a lot hotter than I remember. It’s nearly 38 degrees out, and humid. I felt sticky just getting off the plane. I still feel sticky now that we’ve made it to the convention centre for the opening gathering, even after changing into a new shirt.
This wing of the convention centre is packed, which doesn’t help, even though the A/C is cranked up so high it could be autumn in here.
The last time we were in America, nobody wanted to leave me alone for longer than it took for me to piss. I felt like I was going crazy, which, I was, but that made it worse. Penny was having a rougher go of it than I was that week, anyway. She’s mellowed out, now. So’s Baz. I feel kind of stupid thinking about how much time I spent trying to avoid him at Watford. Now that we’re done, I’m glad he’s still around. Even if I can only take him in small doses, sometimes.
Anyway, nobody’s keeping me on a short leash this time. Penny and Shepard ran off to say hello to someone and our PI, Professor Laveau, had a Voodoo Round Table to go to, so it’s just Baz, Agatha, and Niamh crowded around a table with me. I’m exhausted from the flight. (I think we’re all exhausted from the flight.) But Professor Laveau wanted us to show up and Penny said it was better for jet lag not to sleep, so we dropped our stuff off at the house and came straight here.
I still don’t really like being out in public. Going to class is one thing. They have special chairs for people with wings at Old Haven. Everyone’s used to me there, too. But I keep meaning to have my wings off. I really did go to Dr Wellbelove four times to try and have it done. I haven’t seen Niamh since the last time I went in. I nearly took her eye out with a wing that time, and I didn’t get over the humiliation to go back since.
I don’t think Niamh’s mad at me, but she is giving me a lot of space. Everyone here is, but it’s not in the nervous way I’m used to. I go to get more cheese cubes and I don’t knock into anyone. Nobody’s even looking at me. It’s like I’m actually Normal. Which, I guess I sort-of am, with this crowd. There’s a Chupacabra at the table next to us, and I’m pretty sure I saw a Mothman in the check-in line earlier. (I’m pretty sure the Normals think we’re all in costumes for an anime convention. I’m happy to go along with it. Anything to avoid wearing a jacket to hide my wings in this weather.)
Baz is looking at me. He goes through phases of it, but I don’t hold it against him. Sometimes, I think he actually might have a crush on me. But then I remember how we used to watch each other back at Watford, and I know he didn’t have a crush on me back then.
He smiles at me when I catch him, then looks back down at the plate of cheese and grapes he’s been picking at all evening.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just wondering how much longer until you go get a fourth plate.”
“Maybe I should just take yours.”
Baz pulls his plate closer to himself and glares at me. Which is stupid, because I only ever stole his lunch one time. He made Professor Laveau add “only eat your own food” to the lab safety rules, right after “specimens only – no food in the lab fridge,” even though I told him it wasn’t actually good enough for me to ever steal from him again. And it happened last term, so he should be over it by now.
I swipe one of his cheese cubes, but he manages to pluck it out of my hand and pop it into his mouth before I’ve even leaned back across the table.
“Baz,” I say, “come on. You’re not even eating them.”
Baz grimaces as he chews. He let it get sort of soft and sweaty on his plate. (I feel sort of soft and sweaty right now, too.)
“I’m eating them,” Baz says, putting another cube in his mouth. “Go get your own.”
“Come with me,” I say, because as much as I hated being kept on a short leash, it’s kind of nice to have someone next to you. Another set of eyes.
“I will,” Agatha says, and I’m pretty sure I sigh in relief. I swear walking around with Agatha is easier than walking alone. People just get out of her way. Once, I saw a guy actually tip his hat to her as he stepped into the street. Agatha didn’t even notice.
Walking with Baz is pretty similar, but I think it helps that people are afraid of him. Plus, he’s tall. I think people just expect me to get out of their way.
Case in point. I’m walking with Agatha over to the food, and this guy is staring so hard at Agatha that when he steps out of her way, he nearly walks into me. And then, he’s so busy looking at her that he trips over my tail.
Everyone else here can manage to avoid it, but what really makes me mad is how he’s still staring. He looks a little familiar, like he’s someone who was important to one of my friends, once. He could be one of Agatha’s American ex-boyfriends. Or another exchange student from Watford. Either way, if Agatha were still my girlfriend, I’d probably fight him for her. I’m really thinking about fighting him for her, anyway. Except when I glance at her, she’s staring at him, too.
I wouldn’t have pegged him as Agatha’s type. But I’m not sure I would have pegged myself as Agatha’s type either.
“Maybe we should leave,” Agatha says.
I’m about to ask why, or if she knows him, when I realise. He looks exactly the same as when I first saw him in the Nevada desert, back when that guy I was pretty sure Baz was hooking up with in Vegas sold us out to the Next Blood.
I’m pretty sure the guy staring at Agatha shot me.
“Do we know you?” I ask. Agatha’s got both hands on my arm and is tugging me away from him. I don’t budge.
To his credit, he falters before he responds. “Probably. I run a pretty popular start-up.”
I’m not good with words. Lucky for me, most people aren’t good with silences. If I don’t respond, people start talking for the sake of avoiding a lull. I swear Baz is the only person who’s willing to just raise an eyebrow or glare at me until I break the silence first. This guy isn’t Baz, though.
“Right now, we’re just doing crypto. But we’re launching NFTs, soon, too. It’s all super exclusive, but I can get you an invite to the Discord. Have you heard of Bitecoin?”
“Have you heard of NowNext?” I ask. Agatha is really pulling at me, now.
“Who hasn’t? That group’s pretty exclusive, too, but I don’t think I can score you an invite. Y’all really wore out your welcome last time.”
Baz has come over to put a hand on my shoulder. It’s cool and firm and at least thirty seconds too late to stop me.
I stop thinking when I get into fights. The Mage encouraged it; Penny hated it. I can’t seem to learn how to start thinking properly, though, because the last thing I actually think before I swing back and punch the guy is, I’m glad Niamh is still saving our table.
Baz
I’m lucky that, without his magic, it’s not too hard for me to hold Snow back. So, at least we didn’t start an all-out brawl in the convention centre. The vampire Snow hit ran off, and I wanted to leave, just in case he came back with others. But Snow and Wellbelove immediately turned around and got in line for the open bar, and I couldn’t even blame them.
Sometimes, even remembering the existence of other vampires is enough to make me want to drink. These days, I’ve been pretending not to notice them. Which is hard when Snow goes ahead and sucker punches the first one he sees. (Other than me. Is it wrong that I miss when we used to fight? Yes. Clearly. But I miss the excuse to touch him.)
Snow has his hand on the small of Agatha’s back, and Shepard has his hand slung over his shoulders. But the two of us aren’t touchy like that. We’ve never been.
Drunk Snow is different. He’s different even from how he used to be when he drank, before the road trip and the antidepressants and the learned independence that came with the new apartment. I still hate drinking. It makes my gums itch the next morning, and no amount of blood makes the feeling really go away. It’s not fun to be drunk, and it’s really not fun to be around drunk people when you’re sober.
It takes me all of ten minutes to get tired of their increasingly inebriated conversation.
“I’m going to take a look at the posters.” I walk off without checking to see if anyone heard me.
I’m trying to read a poster about the heritability of magickal aptitude (They’re doing another twin study. The American mages, apparently, truly despise the fact that powerful parents have powerful children.) when I realise Snow followed me.
He slings an arm around my shoulders. That’s new.
He’s warm as ever. I lean into him a little, even though I really shouldn’t. I’m not reading the poster anymore. I think I could get drunk off this. Or maybe off his breath. Or probably his blood. (Don’t think about his breath. Don’t think about his blood.)
I steer us back to the group. The Bunces are already looking our way. No doubt Wellbelove filled them in on Snow’s behaviour already. When we’re close enough to see them, Simon’s arm drops from my shoulders. I take a step away from him.
***
Everyone but Bunce wanted to go out drinking, so we somehow got stuck on grocery duty.
“Come with us,” Simon said, midway through his third free beer from the convention.
Why any of them had the desire to go pay money for more was beyond me. If there’s one thing I like about Bunce, it’s that she can always be counted on to stand around with me, being exhausted with everyone else getting drunk.
“I’m not going to a bar with you just to be your designated driver,” I said. “Plus, we don’t have any food at the house.”
That was true. But now I’m with Bunce, an hour before midnight, and the only shop still open is a Walmart. Of all places.
Bunce is, at least, quick about it. The shop is basically empty, and I’m nearly jogging to keep up with her.
“Is this pace really necessary?” I’m clutching a carton of eggs to my chest. I couldn’t trust them in the trolley, with everything rattling around.
“Everything I do is necessary,” Bunce snaps. She slams a jar of jam into the trolley. I’m pretty sure I hear the glass crack.
“Right,” I say, because that’s usually true, and seems less unhelpful than reminding her that it’s just Walmart. “Are you feeling okay?”
Bunce looks at me for a second, then bursts into tears. I step around the trolley and pull her against me, letting her sob into my shirt.
“I’m pregnant,” she finally chokes out.
“Oh,” I say.
Bunce is young, sure, but she’s married. Her attitude is so weird that I don’t think I should even tell her congratulations. I’m not sure why Snow didn’t bother to tell me. I could have been more sensitive with her.
“Is Shepard…?” I start again. I’m not even sure what I’m trying to ask.
“Yes,” Bunce says, emphatically.
She’s pulled away from me now and is back to shopping frenetically. “And he still hasn’t managed to get his last name back. All the more reason to give the kid mine.”
Bunce is back to doing that infuriating thing where she assumes everyone already knows everything she knows.
“What did Snow say?” I ask.
“He doesn’t know.”
That stops me in my tracks. Someone comes on the intercom and announces the store is closing in 10 minutes. Bunce is throwing a frozen pie into the trolley. I don’t think she’s even paying attention to what we’re buying anymore.
“I thought he’d panic,” Bunce says. She’s probably right.
“Is this some sort of test-run, then?”
“Something like that.” She sighs. “It’s also that Shepard owes his firstborn child to an imp that we haven’t managed to track down, yet.”
“Penelope Bunce!” It comes out scolding, like I’m her mother.
“I think it’s here, somewhere,” Bunce says.
I look both ways over my shoulder. The aisle is empty, save for us.
“At the conference,” she corrects. “Not the Walmart.”
“Tell me we didn’t come to America just to track down an imp.”
“No. We came to America to participate in an important milestone of coalition-building among the American magical beings. The imp thing will sort itself out.”
I shake my head. “We’re finding that imp tomorrow.”
“Don’t tell Simon. I don’t want him doing something rash.”
Since when does Bunce keep secrets from Snow? Even I don’t keep secrets from him anymore. (Except for the big one. The fact that I’m in love with him. That’s for his own good, though.)
“I wouldn’t,” I say instead. “It’s yours to tell.”
***
“We divided up the beds,” Wellbelove says when Bunce and I get back to the house, pushing my bag into my arms. “You’ve got the upstairs room with Simon.”
It makes sense. Bunce and Shepard sharing, obviously, and the other girls together. I should’ve been expecting this. I should have prepared myself.
Snow is looking at me with this irritating, hopeful expression. Fine, I’ll take one for the team.
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” I offer.
Wellbelove grimaces. “Niamh already claimed the couch.”
Brody doesn’t have wings, so it seems unnecessary that she needed to claim the couch for herself. But I’m not going to throw a fit. I’ve made it through worse than having to share a bed with Snow.
I have had a long time to imagine sleeping in the same bed as him. I think I almost hoped that he would be terrible to sleep next to. That he would kick me constantly, throughout the night. Or that he would roll over and hog the blankets. I expected to wake up alone, early-rising Snow already starting his morning and leaving me enough time to gather my wits.
I could never be so lucky.
When I wake up, he’s facing away from me, and his tail is wrapped around my arm. The spade rests in my palm, heavy. I run my thumb over the leathery skin there, and it reminds me, strangely, of the skin over a ripe orange slice. It shouldn’t surprise me that it’s warm. That it feels foreign and like flesh. I keep expecting his dragon parts to feel like plastic. Silicone and clingfilm and thick water bottles. Like a costume. But it’s not. It’s him. I want to squeeze it. To see if it’s as soft and malleable as it feels. I don’t. I let my fingers fall open and I force my eyes shut and I hope that the next time I wake up, Snow will be gone.
Simon
I wake up holding Baz’s hand with my tail, and it’s an effort not to panic. I’d already embarrassed myself last night, putting my arm around him while looking at the posters. But I felt like I was going to run off after that vampire if I didn’t have someone to hold me back. And Baz can always hold me back.
He hated it. I knew he hated it. He wanted to get away from me as soon as possible. He’d rather get groceries with Penny than come to the bar with me.
But all the same, I woke up with my tail wrapped around his arm like a Dead on the Vine. (They’re invasive. We took a trip out to the field station, and when our professor saw one, she derailed the whole lesson to teach us to identify them before setting it on fire. She made us promise to do the same if we ever came across one again.)
I think, maybe, all of me is like an invasive vine. Like I need to grab onto my friends to survive. Like I’m consuming them, suffocating them, until there’s nothing left. Until it’s just me.
That’s what I was doing before, too, when I was still the Humdrum. Stealing everyone’s magic. At least then, I had the excuse of not knowing what I was doing.
I unwind my tail from Baz as gently as I can. I really don’t want to wake him and have to explain.
***
It takes me until we get back to the convention centre to notice how weird Baz is acting. At first, I think he’s worried about the vampires again, because he keeps looking over his shoulder like we’re being followed. Which makes me keep looking over my shoulder, too, even though there’s never anything weird there. (Well. There’s plenty weird, actually. I turned around once and made eye contact with a group of Fresno Nightcrawlers. But I don’t see anything that seems dangerous.)
It's making me paranoid, though. It’s not even 9:00 and I’m constantly on edge. The last time I was around so many strangers was at orientation at Old Haven. Which turned out well, admittedly. But the time before that was when I first started going to those Smith-Richards meetings. And that turned out as one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life. (Smith cast his spell on me in front of everyone, and then accused me of faking when it didn’t work. Baz was only there to collect his stepmum, but he ended up having to drag me out, too.) So, you never really know with big crowds.
“Want to go to the session on ‘Internet Culture, AAVE, and the Politics of Dialect’?” I ask. Mainly because I’ve never been able to sort out my elocution, and I feel like it’ll vindicate me. But also, because it’s the kind of thing that would make Penny’s mom flip, so I’m pretty sure she’ll want to go.
Instead, Penny says, “Shep and I are headed to the session on oaths and cursebreaking.”
Which makes sense, actually. And Agatha and Niamh already split off to go prepare for their talk on the Watford Goats during the Endangered Species and Conservation session.
I know Baz doesn’t have any good reason to want to go to a session on speaking. His elocution is perfect, and the whole time I actually had magic, he never let me forget that mine wasn’t. I really don’t want to go alone, even though I probably could.
But Baz says, more to Penny than to me, “I’ll go with you, Snow. We should split up. To cover more ground.”
Which doesn’t make sense, because this is a conference, not a Scooby Doo mystery. Not that I’m complaining. I like having Baz around, and I think Baz likes having me around, too. We’re still friends, after all these years. I wish we didn’t have to keep making excuses like this.
It’s the first block of sessions for the day, so the conference centre isn’t packed with people yet. Splitting off into a room for the session makes things even more bearable. Baz and I sit together, near the front but not too far forward, and I feel like I can breathe again. This is like being at school. This I can handle.
It’s actually Baz, of all people, who seems like he can’t handle it. He’s still looking around the room the whole time people are presenting, which seems kind of rude. And he doesn’t even ask a single question during any of the Q&A sessions. By the time we get to the third speaker, his leg is shaking so much that I’m considering offering him one of my just-in-case anti-anxiety pills.
Baz and I aren’t touchy. But we did sleep in the same bed last night, and I felt better yesterday, with my arm around his shoulders, even if I did have to stretch a little to reach. There’s no good reason why we shouldn’t be touchy. Shep and I are touchy, and I’ve known him for way less time than Baz. If he didn’t ever want me to touch him again, I hope he would have said so. I press my foot against the side of his and Baz freezes. Fully. It’s an unnatural stillness even on Baz. I don’t even think he’s breathing, and if he was listening to the speaker before, he’s definitely not, now.
I move my foot away. His follows.
Baz
Simon Snow is playing footsie with me in this convention centre and it’s making it extremely hard to look for imps. He’s not doing it on purpose. The chairs are close, and they don’t leave much space. It’s taking up all my thoughts.
The Bunces won’t be happy. Fiona would tell me not to bother helping them. That they’re not family. They’re not even from the Old Families. But I’m closer with Penny that I am with, say, Dev, so she’s family in that way.
Regardless, I think Bunce would curse me if I let myself get distracted by Snow. I’d probably curse myself, for that matter.
The session is nearly done and I’m going to have to meet up with the Bunces with no leads and without any information from the presentations to show for it.
I break contact first. I even cross my ankles for good measure.
Simon gives me the most wounded look. It reminds me of being twelve, and it’s all wrong on his older face. I hate it enough that I push my leg back towards his, but Snow doesn’t touch me again.
It’s probably for the best. I want to tell him, more than anything, about Penelope. I want to explain myself to him, over and over. To beg for his help and his attention. If there’s one thing I’m good at, though, it’s keeping my mouth shut. If Bunce thinks she can do this without Snow’s help, I’m not going to be the one to mess that up.
When the session ends, Snow springs to his feet even faster than I do. Which is a relief, because now I don’t have to explain why I want to hurry to the next session. If we’re quick, I can check the bathroom for imps before meeting the rest of the group for Agatha and Brody’s talk.
“Sorry,” Simon says as we leave, which throws me off enough to make me pause in the crowded hall. People stream around us, lined up like ants headed to their next destination.
“For what?” I think about tugging him along. I already see lines forming outside the bathroom.
“I think I’ve been doing a bad job with spatial awareness.”
“You’re never good with spatial awareness,” I say, watching his tail flick. I can’t stop thinking about the feeling of it in my hand. “If I minded, we wouldn’t still be friends, would we? Come on. You’ll make us late.”
We go straight to the goat talk. I just hope Penny and Shepard had the presence of mind to check the bathrooms.
They’re already waiting for the presentation when we get there, sitting in the front row. Snow takes the seat next to Shepard, so I end up sitting between him and someone who I’m pretty sure is half-owlbear. The situation involves a lot of wings and means that I really can’t see much of what’s behind me.
I’m happy to just listen to Agatha and Brody present.
Snow is leaning away from me, up into Shepard’s space. I’m leaning towards Snow, partially because I think he’s like my personal magnet, even after all these years, and partially because I hate touching strangers.
I move my foot towards Snow’s because I feel bad about earlier and because I really do hope I can get him to touch me again.
He doesn’t make me wait. He pokes my heel with his toe. I pause for a beat, just to be sure he did it on purpose. Then I slide my foot backwards to fit against his.
I don’t know which of us is responsible, but by the end of the talk, Snow’s leg is fully pressed against mine and I don’t have enough brainpower to think anything other than Simon.
Agatha will forgive me. We’ll catch up about her goats later.
Simon
The second the session ends, Baz, Penny, and Shepard hop out of their seats and start looking around. At first, I think they’re looking for Agatha and Niamh, but Baz startles when the girls come up to us.
“Beautiful talk, Agatha,” he says. “You’re doing such important work.”
Agatha blushes, then hugs me. I don’t know the last time I saw her so enthusiastic about anything, if ever, so I hug her tight enough to lift her just a bit off the ground.
“We should get lunch,” I say, “to celebrate!”
Baz isn’t looking at us at all. He’s busy glaring out into the distance. I thought he was over Agatha by now. I actually thought he was gay. I think I was starting to hope he’s gay. Which is a weird thought to have.
“There’s an area nearby with a bunch of food trucks,” Niamh suggests. She’s got an arm around Agatha’s shoulders.
It’s crowded when we get there, but at least it’s outdoors. I still feel like I’m swimming in humidity, but it’s less stifling than the centre.
“Keep your eyes open around here,” Shepard says. “Lots of Maybes frequent the area.”
“We’re at a convention for magickal beings,” I say. “Stop gawking at them and let them live their lives.”
I know I’m being too sensitive, but I can’t help it. I swear Penny, Baz, and Shepard have kept their heads on a swivel for the past 24 hour straight, and it’s exhausting me. It reminds me of being in rooms with mages back home, where everyone barely even tries to pretend to not look at you.
“That’s not what I meant,” Shepard says.
“Really?” I say. “Isn’t that your whole thing, Shep? Or did you already forget the way you met your wife.”
“Simon,” Penny chastises, and I know I’m being mean. I like Shepard. I like having a Normal friend who invites me to board game nights and who teaches me all the tips on blending in that I wish I could have figured out on my own.
“You’re all acting like you’re at a freakshow,” I say. “This is the first time I’ve been able to be normal with mages around too, and you can’t stop being mages for long enough to see how weird you’re being.”
We’ve all stopped walking. Agatha and Niamh have disappeared somewhere, who knows. Fine. It’s not about them.
“We need to tell you something,” Penny says, in the sort of voice people say, “we need to talk.”
“You probably don’t,” I say.
“It’s good news. We’re having a baby,” Penny says.
“What?” I ask, before I realise how rude I sound. “I mean, congrats. Why?”
“I’ll explain to you where babies come from later tonight,” Baz says.
Baz is incapable of not being an arse, even in serious situations, so I’m extra angry about the fact that he’s making me blush right now. There’s no way I’m going to sleep in the same bed as him tonight. I’d rather sleep on the floor.
“You being pregnant doesn’t have anything to do with how weird you’re acting,” I say, even though I know I sound ridiculous as I say it. I’m trying to keep my voice down. I don’t think I’m succeeding. “Unless what you’re all looking for is pregnancy cravings or something. Because I really will go find you pickle flavoured ice cream or whatever you need, Pen.”
Penny pauses for a moment, and when I’m finally able to look her in her eyes, I realise she’s tearing up.
“Don’t freak out,” she says, which doesn’t help my currently-in-progress freak-out, “but Shepard accidentally made a bad bet a few years back.”
“Closer to a decade ago at this point,” Shepard says, like it matters.
“An imp technically owns the right to his firstborn. But don’t worry. We’ve been looking. And Baz is helping,” she says.
“Baz is helping?” Now I’m definitely panicking. Shepard’s already replaced me as the most important person in Penny’s life. Apparently, Baz has moved up, too. And now the baby will be more important because most people actually love their babies.
Now I’m jealous of a baby. A baby who doesn’t even exist yet. I feel helpless, too full of energy, like I’d go off, if I could. (I’d never go off on a baby.)
“Let’s get food,” Shepard says.
I don’t even notice he’s led me away and into a line until we’re already nearly at the window. I don’t even know what they have here.
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you what’s good.” He sighs, then runs his hand up over his hair. “I mean, Merlin, shit, after all these years, please don’t tell me you think I’m only your friend because you’re not normal.”
Shepard’s cursing like a mage is something he borrowed from me, and it makes me like him more every time.
“I am Normal.”
“So am I,” Shepard says.
If I hadn’t lost my magic, Shepard probably wouldn’t be able to stand to be around me. Instead, we’re in line together. He’s having a baby with my best friend and he curses like a mage. I’m an outsider to the World of Mages and to the Normal world. Shepard is, too.
I swallow. “Congrats on the baby. The upcoming baby.”
Shepard shakes his head. “Pen really didn’t mean for it to be a surprise like this. She wanted to wait until we got the imps sorted out. So you wouldn’t have to worry.
Penny and I aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other. Penny isn’t supposed to trust Baz with her secrets before me.
“I wouldn’t have worried,” I say. “I trust Penny.”
“We trust you, too, Simon.”
Funny way of showing it.
“Let me help, then. This is what I do. This is what the Mage was training me to do.”
The nice thing about Shepard is that he’s the one person on earth who doesn’t flinch when I mention the Mage.
The Mage. Talk about a deadbeat dad. Emphasis on the dead. They stuck his body in the Catacombs after the investigation ended. Baz keeps threatening to piss on his grave, which Penny says isn’t funny. It probably shouldn’t be. But at least it would be payback.
“Real payback,” Baz said, once, “would be if we dumped his body in the moat and let the merwolves have a go at him.”
That would’ve honoured Ebb’s memory better than the gravestone they hid away in the Wood. As if they’re ashamed of her. (I still visit at least once a year, and whenever Baz goes to see his mum. Sometimes Penny’s mum lets me make a field trip of it, for the littluns, if I promise to make it educational. I usually err on the side of entertaining. But she hasn’t told me to stop.)
Shepard’s nothing like the Mage.
“We’re trying not to kill anyone at the convention,” Shepard says, which is definitely not something the Mage ever said to me. It almost sounds like Shepard’s reprimanding me. I wonder if he’s mad about that vampire I punched. (I’m not. He had it coming.)
“That doesn’t sound like Penny. It’s usually easier just to kill dark creatures. Is being a mum making her turn over a new leaf?”
“Nah, it’s my rule. What they’re trying to do here—it could change a lot of things.”
I nod. “I can do infiltration and non-violent intimidation. Did Baz ever tell you about the time we walked right into a vampire club? Nobody died. Well. Baz almost died. But that was more about the situation and less about my technique.”
I still remember the first Christmas holiday I spent with Baz. The time he set the trees on fire and I had to stop him from burning himself with them. It felt like going off in the weirdest way, like giving in, like I pulled the fire into me and kept it there. The fire went out so suddenly that the rush of wind it caused knocked us both over. Baz and I were dripping with sweat when it was done.
“Let’s not speak of this,” Baz said.
“I won’t tell anyone,” I promised. (Oops.)
“Don’t speak of it to me, either. I don’t want to ever talk about it.”
I offered him a hand and pulled him back to his feet.
“That doesn’t sound healthy,” I said. I let Baz lead the way back to his car, just in case he decided to run off again.
“What about me, at all, sounds healthy to you? Leave it alone.”
“Okay. You can’t turn around and set yourself on fire as soon as I look away, though.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because we’re friends. And because I don’t have anywhere else to spend Christmas. I think it’s against the Truce rules.”
That was good enough for Baz for the night, and for Christmas Eve. By the time Christmas Day came around, we had bigger things to worry about.
“Right,” Shepard says.
“I’ll help,” I say again, more forcefully. If Baz can help, I can help, too.
“You’ll help,” Shepard agrees.
We end up ordering from a food truck selling BBQ. Shepard orders for all of us, even though I’m right there, and we get too much food. (“Penny’s eating for two!”) He buys me a baked potato with five little melting pats of butter, and I can’t even stay mad. Maybe I’ll be mad at Penny again, once we get home. I just won’t think about it for now. Imps I can handle. I can wrap my head around imps in a way that I can’t wrap my head around Penny being a mum soon. Instead, I have a mission, and being on a mission is what I do best.
For now, I sit outside in the sticky Texas sun and I eat lunch with the people who matter most to me. Baz slides some of his food onto Penny’s plate and she squeezes his hand. I wish she’d told me sooner, but I’m glad she told Baz. She’s in good hands.
Baz catches me watching them, and I don’t even bother looking away.
“Let me warm that for you?” He sounds almost nervous to offer, tapping his wand against the table and looking at my uneaten food.
“Thanks.” I push the plate closer to Baz and I let him spell it warmer. Penny leans against Shep’s arm. Agatha and Niamh are arguing about the answers they gave after their presentation. Baz smiles at me while I finally take a bite of my potato.
It’s good.