Chapter Seven
Penelope
I've been ringing and ringing. Hours. It's almost one in the morning by now-six in London-and Simon still hasn't answered. The Drop it wore off long ago.
Micah makes two cups of coffee and brings me one. He looks exhausted. Poor Micah. When he sits down beside me, I can't help it. I throw an arm around his shoulders and pull him to me for a kiss.
"Well, that was nice," he says, flippantly, but he's smiling, gripping my hand. We haven't been affectionate in a while, and I forgot how nice it is.
"I love you," I say.
"I love you too."
He rubs a pattern into the back of my hand, his thumb insistent. "Any word?" he says.
"None."
"Dammit."
"Yeah."
We sit in silence for a moment, the phone belly-up on the table. Then I turn to Micah and put my other arm around him. "The shock," I say, "earlier."
He nods. Around midnight, something caught us both. A discrepancy, a change. I was on my eleventh call to Simon, and I dropped the phone. It just came right out of my hands. Would have shattered if it hadn't landed on the carpet.
"It reminded me of something," I say.
"Everything reminds you of something."
I press on. "My mum said when Simon went off for the first time, she threw up."
Micah raises an eyebrow. Disengages my arms so he can reach for his coffee and take a sip. "And?"
"And," I say, poking him. "And. Didn't you feel like throwing up? Earlier?"
He was in the kitchen, making a bowl of cereal for himself. I heard him shout from my position crouched on the living room floor.
"A little," he admits, covering his mouth with his coffee cup. Then his eyes go wide, and he chokes, sputtering dark liquid across the table. "Penelope-no! You don't think he got his magic back?"
"I don't know." I'm cautious, testing the waters. "I don't know if it was him, or something else, but it was like that. You know it was."
He sets his empty cup down. He has the same expression that I know I do-fascinated, wild. "It was. It was. Holy shit." Micah never swears. "Merlin, I think-Holy shit, Penny. We're all born with a certain amount of magic, right?"
"Yeah. I mean, that's what they tell us."
He nods. "But...there have been theories countering that. I use my magic day in and day out, and I've never been counted as particularly powerful, and yet I never run out. I get tired, sure, but the power comes back. So a bunch of mages think there's something feeding me. Us. All of us. Something giving us more magic whenever we run out. Like a well, or a spring. And...and maybe Simon's got this, too. No, of course he has. Only when he killed the Humdrum, he, oh, Christ, I don't even know, he got rid of all his existing magic, and the force of it just kind of scabbed over the entrance to this well. I sound crazy, Pen. Back me up here."
I'm nodding. "No, you're right. You're right. "
"But like I said, it was just a scab. So when something comes along, something that activates a lot of magic in all of us-"
"Love," I say, "or hate, or fear."
"Right. When that comes along, the scab just tears open."
"And his magic…"
He looks at me. "Well. It would all come flooding back."
Micah
I've been thinking about this for weeks. Months, really. I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up, though: least of all Penny's. I think she took the loss of Simon's magic harder than Simon did.
But now, I can see her getting into it. I can see the light in her eyes. She's tracing the possibilites-that little hole inside of us, that link to the free-flowing stream of magic, that unconscious connection to everyone and everything-
She slams her mug down, and I put out a hand to steady it. Her face is bright, her lips parted. "It has to be Simon. It has to be."
I shake my head. "Think of all the mages in the world."
"But who else gave up their magic like that?"
I want to have an alternative for her, someone faraway and distant and unrelated to our lives. Someone not Simon. Because anything that activates that much magic, that much emotion-
Penny's naive. She thinks, like something out of a storybook, that love can heal anything. It's not love. Love isn't that strong. It's hate. Fear. Anger. Pain.
Penelope
I prompt him again. "Who else gave up their magic like that?"
He looks at me, helpless. I know that helpless face of his. I know there's something he's thought of, and isn't telling me. Bloody Micah, stupidly chivalrous. Thinking he'll protect me by leaving me in the dark.
"No one," he says, finally.
That means he thinks it's Simon. Good. I want it to be Simon.
"Why do you look like that?" I say.
"Like what?" He blinks, trying to smile. His teeth are crooked. The only thing out of place amongst his perfectly symmetrical features.
"Like you're scared."
"Aren't you?"
I spin the phone round and round. "A little. I mean, yeah, but less so than before. He can handle himself if he got his magic back."
"He hasn't called," Micah says.
"Simon hates the phone."
I'm not sure why I'm making excuses, all of a sudden. Is it because I want him to be okay? I study Micah's hands, strong and sure on the edge of the table.
"Look," he says, stumbling. "Penelope. Love isn't...isn't strong enough, to break that scab."
I think of the other emotions I listed. "So you're saying-"
"He's got his magic back, sure," he says. "Let's pretend that at least has happened and everything's fine and dandy." (Americans.) "We still have the reason his magic came back in the first place."
"Maybe he's just worried about Baz."
"He would have gone off long before, then. Baz left at seven or eight."
"So something new happened."
"It must have."
"Don't say it must have. Nothing's for sure." My mind is whirling, my breath coming short. "Damn. Damn. He followed Baz. He found him. And...Baz broke up with him?"
Micah's brow furrows. "Would that be enough? To set him off?"
"You don't know Simon. He thinks Baz hung the moon."
"His mother did."
"That's true."
We share a rueful smile, remembering Natasha Pitch and a time before the Mage. Then Micah shakes his head. "I don't think Baz broke up with him."
"I don't want to think he did."
"He loves him."
"Baz is flighty."
Micah laughs, a quick snort. "Penny, if there's one thing that Baz is not, it's flighty."
I blush. "Okay, fine. So something else, then. Fear. Anger. Pain."
"He could have gotten hurt."
"Physically?"
"Yeah."
I purse my lips. "That would take an awful lot."
Micah's face is solemn. "He hasn't called…"
"Micah. You don't think-"
He raises an eyebrow, waiting.
I can barely finish my sentence. "You don't think he's died?"
He looks away.
"Screw you." I punch the table, and wince when my knuckles hit wood.
"Penny." He grabs my hand and pulls it against his chest. "Easy. There could be another explanation."
I'm not crying, but I'm close. "He can't have gone and died on me. He can't."
"I'm sorry I brought it up. It was dumb. He's probably not dead."
I've always thought that when Simon Snow died, the world would stop for a bit. The passing of the Chosen One would not go unnoticed. It would rock the World of Mages to its foundation.
Micah curves his arm around me. "Pen. Come back to me." He taps the phone on the tabletop. "Call him, okay? Maybe he'll pick up this time. Maybe he's just had no service."
That almost makes me laugh, because in the disaster of this night, the reality of having no cell service is just mundane enough to be funny. I reach for the phone, turning against Micah's arm so there's solid contact at my back. Simon's number is familiar. Immediate.
I put it on speaker. It rings twice, then three times. Four. Micah's arm tightens around my shoulders. Five. I reach for the hang-up button.
And then there's a click.
We both freeze. When I twist to look at Micah, his eyes are wide.
"Simon?" I say.
"Bunce?"
It's not Simon. It's Baz, and he sounds like he's been through hell and back.
"Baz!"
"That's my name."
Surely he wouldn't be so flippant, so sarcastic, if Simon was dead. I find Micah's hand and grip it tightly. "Where's Simon? What's going on?"
Baz laughs, a clipped, ugly sound. "Snow's fine. I'm fine. We're all fine. Except maybe Nicodemus."
"Nicodemus?" Ice flashes in my veins. "What the hell?"
"I went to the bar in Covent Garden," he says.
"Shit. No."
"Snow's already given me a full lecture. I don't need another one."
There's a vein pulsing in Micah's neck. He says, "You scared Penny half to death."
"Well, I'm half-dead myself, so maybe we can have a little party." He's bored, now, nonchalant, but there's an edge to his voice like he's a few steps away from breaking. "Look, Snow's coming back from the loo. Can I call you later? Can you wait that long?"
"I want to talk to Simon," I say.
"Of course you do." He sighs. "I'll put it on speaker."
Micah
I've never liked Basilton Grimm-Pitch.
The way he talks, especially. It's like every word out of his mouth is meant to insult you. Sharp and arrogant and graceful.
Yes: graceful. All of him is graceful, actually. He's a study in slender motion and gray eyes. But it doesn't improve his disposition any.
Penny's clutching my hand, her knuckles white. She's got a look on her face that could kill. Poor Penny. She should have been in bed hours ago. Not dealing with this shit. We should be lazily talking, about to fall asleep. My hand in her hair. Her bare feet chilling mine.
I have to jolt myself out of the fantasy. Simon's talking.
"-so sorry, Penny."
"It's not your fault!" She starts to cry, and I put my other arm around her. "You idiot. You absolute idiot. It's not your fault."
"I should have called."
Baz cuts in. "Were you going to do it in between punches?"
"Punches?" I say. This is a surprise. I can't picture Simon Snow fighting anyone, let alone by hand. He killed the greatest enemy of the magickal world by accident.
"Rolling around on the ground like a great filthy wrestler, too," Baz says, sounding pleased.
"Was this before or after you went to the bar?" Penny spits.
"Oh, after. Long after." There's a pause. His voice breaks. "Look, Bunce. There's no way you're going to punish me more than I've already punished myself."
Penny closes her eyes. "I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry." He's still arrogant, even when he's apologizing. "It was incredibly stupid."
"Why?" she says.
"I just wanted...to live."
"You could have told me," says Simon.
"I could have done a lot of things."
His voice has gone dangerously gentle, though, and there's an inaudible murmur from Simon, and then a sound like they're kissing.
"Morgana," Penny says, disgusted, but she's grinning despite herself. "Get a room, you two."
"Excuse me," says Simon, "but I just rescued my boyfriend from the dead, so if you'll give me a minute-"
They kiss again. Penny and I look at each other, and I grimace.
"It wasn't really from the dead, was it?" she says, when they've finished.
Baz laughs, low and throaty. It's the sort of uncomfortable laugh that makes me picture his Adam's apple as he does it. "He's exaggerating. Just the numpties. Almost."
"Oh, Basil-"
"Oh, Basil-" he mocks her. "Not the numpties."
"Leave her alone," I say, hotly.
"Bunce can take care of herself." He pauses. There's another murmur from Simon. "Snow would like me to mention the fact that Nicodemus wants to kill me."
"He's not taking it seriously enough!" Simon says.
"I am taking it seriously enough. I'm just choosing not to go around moaning about it like a total tosser."
"Nicodemus brought you to the numpties?" Penny says.
"Yeah. Got his mate to cast Stiff as a board." He says it carefully, no magic in it. "Then Simon's magic hit, and the spell broke."
"I told you it was Simon," Penny says to me, triumphant.
"You were right." Then I amend: "We were both right."
"Just me," she says.
"Fine."
"You know?" Baz says, but he doesn't sound all that surprised. He's used to Penny. "About the magic."
"Yeah," Penny says. "Micah had a theory. Basically, there was a...a clogged-up entry hole for it, and when whatever happened happened, the hole unclogged itself and let all the magic in."
Baz takes a quick breath, like he's interested. "That would make sense. He was scared, and angry, and there was some chavvy vampire after him, when he came to the bar. He says that's the first time it came back. Then they put him to sleep, because he was about to go off, and when he woke up, it was gone again. But it came back again-in-in the middle of the fight with Nicodemus. So it would make sense."
It's odd that he's saying he instead of letting Simon speak for himself.
"Can you cast now, Simon?" Penny says.
There's a rustle of fabric, and something like a whimper from Simon. Baz's voice drops in a reassuring hum. He returns to the phone. "He-Snow, is this okay?-he lost it all again. The magic. Pushed it into me so I could fight Nicodemus."
Penny's mouth opens, and she gapes for a moment. I know how she feels. It's losing a limb, regaining it, and losing it again. It's letting go of a part of yourself you're not sure will ever come back again.
"You brave, beautiful little fuck," Baz says, quietly. I'm not sure if he means us to hear.
"Will it be like this every time?" Simon whispers.
"There won't be an every time. I won't let there be. You're never doing such a stupid, brave, impossibly selfless thing again. I'm going to teach you to be a monster like me."
"You're not a monster."
"Baz," Penny says. "Maybe we'd better go."
His voice cracks again. He's clearly exhausted. "All right. You take care, Bunce. Keep your boyfriend safe."
"I will," says Penny, and we grin at each other, because Baz knows: I'm the one who needs to be taken care of. "I love you, Simon."
"I love you too, Penny. Bye, Micah."
"See you guys."
The line clicks dead, and Penny drops the phone. She's speaking all at once, a torrent of words, and crying so hard I can barely understand her. I grab her arm. "What? Pen, honey, what is it?"
She's sobbing. I'm afraid she's hurt herself, or she's pissed at Baz. I'm afraid because I don't know how to manage tears.
Then she tilts her head up to mine and kisses me, and it's just exactly right, and when she pulls away she's smiling, and her eyes are red. "It's okay. It's okay. I'm just so happy."
"Pen…"
"I'm not an idiot. You don't have to look at me like that. I know they're in danger. I know we're in danger. But can we just forget everything with Nicodemus for a second?" She pauses. Tears up again. Smiles. "He's alive. Simon Snow's alive."
Penelope
I always knew the world would come to a halt. A shock of magic just isn't enough to herald the Chosen One's passing.
He's alive.
Simon Snow's alive.
