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Baz drives calmly now, eyes glued to the dark country lane in front of us. I need to take stock of what just happened. A list should help.
This whole thing started because Nicodemus would not give us the name of the person responsible for Baz’s mum’s death. That upset Baz a lot, understandably, and started a rollercoaster of events that I barely kept up with.
First, Baz drove into the middle of nowhere as fast as he could, only to stop by a random (at least I think it was random) forest.
Second, he tried to kill himself. Baz tried to kill himself! This is definitely the most concerning event of all. I didn’t know he hated himself like that. That needs to be addressed.
Third, I kissed him. I kissed him out of desperation. But not only desperation. I realised in that moment that I really wanted to kiss him and probably have for a long time now.
Fourth, he kissed me back! I can reasonably conclude from this that Baz also wanted to kiss me, in that moment at least.
Fifth, we put out the fire, thank Crowley. He may have wanted to die, but I certainly didn’t.
Sixth, he drained a deer.
I should also mention that the whole magic-sharing thing was used a lot. With Baz’s control and my power, I bet we could take out the Humdrum. But for once, that’s not the most pressing issue. No, we definitely need to sort out why Baz was trying to kill himself, and then I would also like to know if the kissing can happen again.
“Baz..” I say tentatively. “Can we talk?”
“Not now, Snow.”
Well, that isn’t very encouraging, but I didn’t exactly expect an immediate heart-to-heart, what with our history. I don’t push him. Instead, I bide my time watching the dark countryside whiz past and thinking of how best to approach our problems.
Baz’s top priority is likely still finding his mum’s killer. My top priority is making sure he doesn’t hurt himself again. We likely need to address the next step of the murder mystery first, so that he’s more willing to address the issues he sees as secondary. After that’s out of the way, maybe he’ll let me ask about the whole suicidal funk and the kissing. Okay, that’s my plan.
Step one: Figure out what we can do next to find the killer.
Step two: Ask about the self-hatred and see if we can keep kissing.
Before long, we pull into the driveway of Pitch Manor. When we enter the house, Baz, ever the gracious host (and probably because he knows me so well), asks if I’m hungry. He grabs leftover shepherd’s pie and milk from the fridge, and I help him carry it up to his room. He casts a warming spell, and I begin to fill my belly. It’s delicious, just like all the food at Baz’s house.
He nibbles on it, at my insistence, and I try my hardest not to look for his fangs. I’m attracted to a vampire. I’m attracted to a boy. A tall, beautiful boy, with whom I have an ongoing rivalry. That’s probably not a problem. I’ll have to consult Penny. He looks so lovely in the firelight, with the deer blood and firelight making his cheeks almost rosy. I wonder how he’d look if he drank my blood.
Now is not the time for daydreaming. Focus, Simon. You have a plan.
“Baz?”
“Yes, Snow.”
“I know it’s really important that we find your mum’s killer. I want you to know that I haven’t given up.”
“We can go visit the numpties next. Surely, they’ll know who hired them.”
“Okay, that’s a good idea.”
Step one complete. Now, how do I ask a porcupine of a human about his emotions? I have no idea. I’ve never been good at emotions myself. I do know how to talk to kids, though. The little ones in the care homes weren’t so scared of me. If you wanted a difficult answer out of them, you had to make them think it was their idea to tell you. The same probably goes for adults.
“It was scary to see you so upset out in the forest. But I’m guessing it was worse for you.”
Baz simply hums and gets up to put another log on the fire. Not a bad response, per se. I guess I’ll have to be more direct.
“Have you ever felt that way before?”
Baz sighs and sits back down beside me.
“A few times, yes. It’s never pleasant.”
Maybe if I share something similar about myself, he’ll be more willing to open up.
“When I get really upset, I go off. You know that, obviously. But what I don’t often tell people is how that feels. It’s terrifying every time.”
Baz reaches out a hand and covers my bouncing knee. I take a deep breath and try to explain.
“There’s a point where I lose control, and I know I’m going to go off, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I barely have control of my body, and my magic just runs away from me. It builds up inside me until I can’t breathe anymore, and then all of a sudden it explodes out of me and I… I can never remember what happens right after, except that I feel terribly, hopelessly, empty.” I turn my head away from the fire, away from Baz. That was harder to say than I expected.
“Simon… that’s terrible. I’m so sorry you have to go through that.” Baz sounds genuinely upset for me.
“I guess. I was just wondering if you ever feel that way, too.” I look back at him and move my hand to cover his, hoping that this will be enough to crack his shell.
He takes a moment to gaze into the fire, thinking before he speaks.
“I do know what it feels like to lose control after holding on for as long as I can. I despise that feeling.”
“Yeah, it really fucking sucks.”
That gets a snort out of Baz. You don’t hear a lot of Normal swear words in the World of Mages, so using one usually lightens the mood.
“I just… I don’t want you to feel like you want to die, Baz. I don’t want you to die.”
“Snow, you’ve spent the past seven years saying the opposite.”
“And I was an idiot, just like you’ve always called me.”
We’re looking at each other now, and I want to kiss him again, but I don’t know if we’ve solved anything yet, and I don’t know if I’m allowed.
“You’re not an idiot,” Baz whispers. “You’re courageous and smart, and I don’t want you to die either.”
I think saying we want each other alive counts as solving something. I reach up my free hand and gently push Baz’s hair behind his ear, then fiddle with the collar of his shirt. I can’t quite meet his eyes anymore, but I want to.
“Simon,” he murmurs. God, I love it when he uses my first name.
I flick my eyes up to his. Does this mean I’m allowed to kiss him? I don’t want him to run away.
“Kiss me,” he answers for me.
I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull him down to my level, pausing briefly to admire his dark grey eyes before pressing my lips to his.
This time it’s so much softer. There’s no ring of fire, or screaming, or desperation. Instead, my chest wells up with love and desire for Baz, of all people. It occurs to me that kissing Agatha never made me feel this way, and I briefly wonder if I ever loved her properly, before my thoughts are whisked away by Baz placing a hand against my chest and gasping against my lips.
We kiss for a long time. Until the fire burns low and I can barely make out Baz’s features in the darkness. I can feel them, though. The soft skin of his neck, the faint stubble on his jaw, and the place where I broke his nose with a well-timed punch.
I never want to do that again. I never want to hurt him.
“I never want to hurt you again,” I whisper into the darkness. And the darkness cradles me in his arms, kisses my curls, and tells me he never wants to hurt me either.