Chapter Eight
Baz
I don't know what I just did.
I was high on all that power. I was full to the brim with it, drunk on it. It was like being filled with fire. Burning down to nothing, and then rising up to burn again.
And he was hurting Snow (well, actually, Snow was hurting him, but it wouldn't have lasted). And every spell that Watford's ever taught me just flew right out of my head.
All I could think was goodbye.
Like I was bidding farewell to a loved one. Like I was sending Nicodemus off at the fucking train station.
And the goodbye did something, infused with Snow's magic. It worked like a spell. The Magic Words teacher at Watford, Ms. Possibelf-she's told me single words ordinarily can't be used like that. After all, the is probably the most common word in the English language, but if you go and shout The! and put all the power you can into it, it still won't do a thing.
Somehow, though, I defied the rules. I said Goodbye, and it made Nicodemus disappear.
So is that what it feels like? To be Simon Snow?
I could have done anything with that power. I could have split the moon in two. I could have turned back the tide.
And all I did was say goodbye.
Simon
We drive to a local coffee shop, three blocks from the flat, and I go in amongst the Normal commuters so I can use the loo. It's only when I'm zipping up my fly that I realize I'm not sure what happened to Lucrezia and Damien.
I'm going to tell Baz, but then he's on the phone with Penny and Micah when I come back, and I forget. There's kissing and apologies and Penny crying, and then they start talking about my magic, and I push my head into Baz's shoulder and refuse to come out. He strokes my hair as he listens to them.
"You're not a monster," I say again, after we've all said our goodbyes.
He slides my phone into the glove compartment with his free hand. "I eat animals. I wanted to drink your blood. I left you."
"You wanted to drink my blood?" This makes me raise my head. Not in disgust: in fascination.
"Yes," he says. Matter-of-fact. He turns the key in the ignition, but doesn't put his foot on the gas. Just lets the car idle outside the shop. "As long as I've known you. But more so, in the fight."
I look up at him. "I saw when you were wrestling Nicodemus-"
"That was bad. You're worse."
My hand goes automatically up to my forehead, and I press the edges of the scratch. "Do I hurt you? Every time I bleed?"
"Simon…" he says. "It's not your fault."
"So yes. I do."
"Christ, Snow." (Simon.) "Not more than anyone else. Nicodemus's blood is diluted, like the rest of him. Your blood's just like any other mage."
"I'm not a mage."
"Whatever!" He lets go of me. "It's not like-it's not like you're special. Not like your blood smells any better than, oh, I don't know-Bunce's. I'm just around you more. I've been around you for eight years. Nine years. It's how it is. Usually, I can keep myself in check, but I had to let myself go, to fight Nicodemus."
His hand drops. He slumps back against his headrest. "I told you. I'm a monster."
"Baz, no."
"Baz, no."
"Stop that."
He stops. Then he reaches down into the glove compartment again and pulls out a Band-Aid. "I'm sorry," he says.
He holds it out like an offering, and I take it.
Baz
We go home. Snow curls up on the couch, and I go to the kitchen to make tea. It's once again offensively Normal.
Simon
From the couch, I can see Baz's expression. He's pissed at the dishes, the tea, the fridge. Everything ordinary about this flat. I get up from the couch and go into the kitchen.
"All right?" I say, touching his shoulder.
He turns, and his expression eases into a sneer. "Yeah. You?"
"Look," I say, not meeting his eyes. "If Nicodemus isn't dead-if he comes after you again-"
"Don't start this again."
I shake my head. "I just meant-after. After we've gotten rid of him. We can travel. Move. Hunt goblins. I hear they're coming back to Essex. Stay with Fiona, if that doesn't expose you. You know? We can...we can live a little more. I know you want that."
Baz
He's so selfless it bothers me. I know more than anyone that Snow just wants to forget. Forget the Mage and the Humdrum and the years before the two of us. And now he's offering me this?
"I know you'd be unhappy," he says.
And the way he looks at me-so trustingly. It's a punch to the gut. It's knowing I'll never be good enough for this boy.
I let my guard down a little. "You don't have to worry about me," I lie.
"Yes, I do. Look what you did when I stopped."
He's smiling, but somewhere in there is an accusation. I wish I was better at apologies. I wish I was better at pretending this life he's promised, this life of hunting and adventure, always on the move, doesn't appeal to me.
"Okay," I say.
"Okay."
And his smile grows. It doesn't look fake at all. That's all he really wants to do-make me happy.
I can't help it. I smile, too. It probably looks more like a sneer, but Snow doesn't seem to mind. He grabs my biceps and tugs me close to him and kisses my smiling lips.
