Chapter Six

Simon

I go for Baz's wand first. I'm not sure why. Just old lessons from Watford, beaten into me for eight years straight-you keep your wand by you, you keep your magic strong.

("Close your eyes and light a match," Baz said.)

And then I'm picking it up and feeling the familiar emptiness, the ache, the nothing where there used to be something, and for some reason my magic won't come now-of fucking course-and so I throw the wand down again.

Something in me knew, as soon as Baz set his wand down. The way Nicodemus looked at him. Hunger. Calculation. He was waiting for his moment. I'm not sure why I didn't move then. I might be too late now.

Nicodemus is at his throat, scratching, biting. He hasn't got his fangs, but he's still got a full set of teeth, and he's making use of them. There's blood on Baz's neck and his chin, his head angled away from me, his mouth open. And Nicodemus forcing him back, back, back.

I can see them both shuddering, twisting, even Baz with his iron self-control. Blood spilled. Open wounds. There's so much destruction, right here. Raw hatred and jealousy and blame. The dark and the light.

I hit Nicodemus running, with everything I've got. Super-strength be damned; I can feel the wind go right out of him. We go flying, my wings tangled between us, the point of my tail lodged somewhere in his thigh. Hand, knee, stomach, forehead. I can feel every part of me hit the ground. Even with Nicodemus beside me, losing precious time, I reel for a moment, seeing stars.

"Snow!" Baz screams, somewhere off behind us.

I want to respond, to tell him I'm okay, but I can barely breathe, and also, Nicodemus has just recovered himself. He vaults to his feet, a cut sickly red on his cheekbone. I roll away, but it's not necessary. He's going for Baz's wand.

Baz

It is Snow. What the hell is he doing here?

Merlin. He's going to get himself killed. I thought he was dead, right in that moment where he tackled Nicodemus and they lay side by side and still just under the curve of the bridge.

But he's up now, bleeding, and for a second the vampire in me takes over and all I can see is that patch of red spreading on his forehead. I have to choke it down, the bloodlust. I have to remember who I am.

Simon

I dive after Nicodemus again. Get my arms around his legs and haul him backwards.

"Get your wand!" I shriek in Baz's general direction.

Baz looks like he's in shock. He's pale, paler than usual, and a vein stands out in his temple. His hands clench in and out of fists. He isn't moving from his position on the ground.

"Get your wand!" I scream again.

This time he jolts to life. Scrambles over Nicodemus to the wand. Gets his fingers around it. He has to try three times before he can pick it up.

And now-now-finally-my magic comes streaming back.

Baz

Snow's wrestling Nicodemus. The blood's all over both of them, and Nicodemus is shaking, arching, going for Snow's brow, where the gash is. He's completely given in. There's barely a trace of Nicodemus Petty left in him at all.

Simon

I get a hand on Baz's leg. He looks at me like I'm crazy, but then his eyes widen. He feels it. The power. The magic.

Baz

Aleister-Crowley.

I can't even breathe with the shock of it, but then he's gripping my ankle, and pushing, pushing his magic into me, and I'm drunk on it. Insane. This must have been the way the Humdrum felt, before Simon filled him up.

He's giving it up for the second time. He knows he can't use it safely on his own-knows he'll end up killing the three of us, or blowing up Blackfriars Bridge. So he's forcing it all into me. I can't imagine what this is costing him. To give up this part of himself again.

Simon

I'm crying. Grappling Nicodemus, shoving power into Baz, and bawling. I'm a nice excuse for a bloody Chosen One, aren't I?

But it hurts. It hurts worse than filling up the Humdrum. Worse than waking up in Lucrezia's car without it. The first time, I was saving the world. The second time, I couldn't do anything about it. This time, I'm choosing it. I'm pouring it into the boy I love to give him a chance to survive.

Sometime in the future, Penny will have some brilliant theory as to why it came back in the vampire bar. Sometime in the future, we'll all sit before the fire and laugh. But right now, I'm losing myself. I'm losing the fire. I'm losing the Chosen One.

When I'm done, I'll be even less than I was before.

Baz

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star!"

It's the first thing that comes into my power-drunk mind. The spell-not even a spell-that I used after Snow and I banished the dragon.

Nicodemus cries out as the light vanishes. Suddenly I'm floating, untethered. Stars all around me. Snow's magic still racing through my veins. His hand leaves my leg, and there's a grunt from Nicodemus. Snow must have caught him in the stomach. Good man.

Simon

For a second I'm blinded, dizzied by the stars. Then I turn from Baz, the last of my magic gone, and back to Nicodemus. I was in plenty of scrappy orphan fights as a kid, before I ever knew I was a magician. I can win this one.

Baz

"Nonsense," I say, and the swirl of night vanishes.

Simon

My fist to his face. Roll over. A punch to the gut. He groans, a low, primal sound. His eyes are closed. He's given up.

Then Baz is looming over both of us, face unusually flushed, wand held high. He swoops down towards Nicodemus like a bat, and my magic erupts from every part of him.

"Goodbye!"

It's not a real spell. It's not even on the edge of being a real spell. It's a command. I've given him enough power that he can lace any word he wants with magic.

Nicodemus screams. And screams again.

And then he's gone.