Chapter 60

SIMON

Baz and I are currently flying somewhere over France, on our way back to London.

The vote took place two days ago now. Baz wanted to leave Paris straight away, as soon as my banishment was rescinded, but we had to clear up and wait for available flights seeing as I wouldn't let him book anything before.

I could have flown myself all the way back to London with the way I was feeling that night my banishment was overturned, and the way I've been feeling ever since, but Baz says he wants to be with me when we land on UK soil and there's no way he's ever going to fly that far with me. He hardly flies with me as it is these days because as he says, we have a car, but I really think it's because we have a car and he loves driving it.

We had to clean up the apartment anyway, as well as empty the fridge, pack our stuff, and cancel and redirect the mail, and buy a gift for Victor the doorman so he doesn't send Interpol after me. (He looks at me like I'm a wanted criminal these days.) We had to buy a bunch of gifts for Baz's family and the Professor Bunces and Doc Wellbelove and Lady Salisbury as well. And Fiona – she was a big help with The Magickal Record after all. Baz was reluctant to get her anything but he finally relented and bought her a Stinky Toys tee shirt. In black.

I'm finally going home.

Home.

I'm a little nervous right now. It could be at the idea of going home, or the possibility of getting spelled into the dirt when we land even though Baz and everyone says the curse has been lifted, or it could just the flight.

I think maybe it's all of those things.

And I'm more than a little nervous, I'm shaking in my fucking shoes here.

Baz is holding my hand loosely in his, every now and then brushing his thumb across my knuckles. He has his head against the headrest and his face is turned towards me. His eyes are closed and I'm guessing he's trying to catch up on some sleep.

We hardly slept that first night after the vote. I was so hyped up from the news that I couldn't stay still. I was bouncing around all over the flat, talking a mile a minute about all the things I was going to do when I got back to London. Most of it revolved around food, (A curry from that place we like to get take away, fish 'n chips from our local, a coffee from Alex's old café.) and a beer. (A pint of lager at the pub, and maybe even pay The Headless Goblin a visit.)

After an hour of my ranting about food and my wings and tail knocking things over and making a mess of the apartment that Baz had already spent so much magic tidying, he decided I needed to channel all that manic energy I had into something more productive. (And I suspect more entertaining for both of us.) He dragged me upstairs and practically threw me onto our bed and climbed on top of me, tearing off my clothes along the way, ripping seams and buttons as he went, (He said I'd been wearing those pyjama bottoms for long enough anyway.) and we had the most incredible victory sex ever. I don't know when Baz got that resourceful but fuck he was creative – it still sends shivers up my spine right now thinking about it. It was fucking inspired.

After we both recovered I told him we're doing exactly that all over again as soon as we get back to our flat in London. He agreed wholeheartedly.

The next day, after a relaxing breakfast, and a longer, more leisurely shag, I started to pace the flat again, trying to figure out what to sort out first. I'd been here in the apartment for so long that my stuff was strewn all over the place, and I was working myself into a right state when Baz finally took over the job. He magicked our belongings into his suitcases and my duffle, then set about sorting the kitchen. After our stuff was sorted and packed, he dragged me out shopping for gifts for everyone. I didn't want to go but I think he'd worked out that I needed to keep moving otherwise I was going to go completely bonkers.

We haven't talk about me re-joining the Coven yet. That was a bit of a bombshell he dropped on me the night before and I'm not ready to deal with that right now. Baz must have figured that out because he hasn't brought it up again. He knows I need to think it through for a bit, and right now my head is full of just going home. That's enough to think about.

Penny had no problems calling me and discussing it though. She says I should not only join the Coven but then join every other magickal committee and club there is just to "Stick it right up those fucking arseholes that had me banished." I made a mental note to never get on the wrong side of Penny because she's scary as shit when she's pissed off.

"Imagine both you and Baz on the Coven!" she shrieked into the phone. (She's been shrieking a lot lately, I think she's been spending a little too much time talking to Trixie.) "You two and Trixie. You'll be the next generation of young leaders, ready to lead the realm into the modern magickal age. A diverse and unified group, challenging the magickal norms and inspiring other potential leaders and marginalised mages to . . ."

"Yeah, I gotta go Penny," I said. She was starting to waffle on a bit.

"I'd join the Coven as well if I was back home," she went on, ignoring me as usual. "Maybe I will one day. Imagine. We could unify the realms and find the fairies and probably convince those stubborn unicorns come down from the mountains and stop stalking virgins while we're at it–"

"Bye Penny. I'm hanging up now," I said right before I hung up on her.

The plane has started its descent. I squeeze Baz's hand again, to make sure he's awake, because I don't want to do this alone. He turns to face me and opens his eyes lazily, giving me one of his signature stunning smiles. I give him a small, nervous smile back, that's all I can manage right now. He must know how tense I am because he locks eyes with me and rubs the back of my hand with his thumb and doesn't stop until the plane is on the ground and we're ready to disembark.

"Ready?" he asks, still not taking his eyes off mine.

I take a deep breath and nod. "Yeah, yes. Yes I am."

We head to the front of the plane and when it's my turn, I hesitate before taking my first tentative step onto the aerobridge. I'm a little nervous that the curse is still on me, but Baz takes my hand and gently pulls me out with him.

I place my foot on the bridge.

And keep moving.

I'm not stuck to the aerobridge or the arrivals lounge or anywhere else in the airport. We walk towards the exit like every other Normal and I let out a breath of relief because I finally believe once and for all that I'm not going to get stuck to the ground. Baz holds my hand the entire time and gives me a reassuring smile as we head towards the luggage carousel.

The drive home is long but relaxing. Baz left his car at the airport long term parking this time, and when he hands me the keys I grin back at him and climb straight into the driver's seat. I haven't driven since I left London and it feels unusual and familiar all at once. After a while I settle into the drive and hammer it down the motorway, grinning like a maniac.

When I turn off and head into our neighbourhood, everything feels so right. The cars are finally driving on the correct side of the road for one thing (and the steering wheel is in the right place), British accents are everywhere –in the airport, on the radio, in the streets even. The shops and pubs and cafés I know pass us by and it's all so familiar. It even smells like home if that's even possible, or maybe that's just our car. By the time we make it back to our flat, my head is so full of London sights and sounds and smells that I can't stop grinning. I pull into our carpark and cut the engine but don't move. It's already dark out and I sit for a moment in the quiet, grinning at nothing.

I look up at the London night sky and see nothing but clouds. It's also raining and cold and miserable. In other words, home.

We unload our bags from the boot and head for the stairs, dragging our carry-ons, Baz's suitcase, a suite bag for our Italian suits, my duffle and a pile of gift bags along with us. Baz must be just as excited as me because he doesn't even use magic to help carry them. Not that I have a lot of stuff – I've been away for more than seven months but I have surprisingly little luggage. Baz has more than me and he's only been in Paris this last month. (Only Baz would insist he needs that many suits while joining me in exile.) (And don't get me started on the amount of shoes he packed.)

We finally reach the door of our flat. I'm sweating a little from lugging everything up the stairs but Baz looks perfect as always, not a hair out of place. He fishes around in his pocket for the keys and when he finds them, he hands them over to me.

It's been more than seven months; seven months of doing nothing but standing by and watching on, helpless while everyone else worked their arses off to fix this. Seven months of watching Gran and Dr Wellbelove, Fiona and Penny and Penny's parents work like mad to sort my mess out peacefully and legally, of Daphne and Mordy and even Baz's dad standing up publically to back me, of Baz and Penny and Micah and Agatha willing to risk their own magickal reputations to help me carry out my stupid plan, of friends I didn't even know I had supporting me, of finally realising I'm not alone and won't be alone ever again. And above it all, of trusting Baz to fix this. Baz, who crossed every line for me – with his family, with the magickal realm he loves, his club, his friends, the Coven. Baz.

I turn to look at him – at the man I love and probably have loved from the moment the crucible first cast us together. The man I trust with my life, the one who's done everything for me and the one I would do everything for.

He watches me, a faint smile on his lips, and a memory flashes through my mind of that night at the leaver's ball, of our first dance together when he told me he wanted to be with me, mage or not. He said everything's a story that night and I didn't believe him then. But after everything that's happened over the last seven months, I'm starting to see things a little differently, and if everything is a story like Baz says, then I reckon ours is not even half written.

I wonder what's going to happen next.

Baz has been watching me, his blue-grey eyes are shining bright in the hallway light. "Welcome home, love," he murmurs. "Want to go inside?"

"Yeah, I do," I say.

He tips his head at the door and gives me a small nod, I slide the key into the lock and twist. What ever happens next, we're going to face it head on, together.

I push the door open and step inside.