Ginger can’t believe her luck with Josh. He’s successful, he’s ambitious, he’s fit.
(“My last boyfriend was a barista, Agatha!”
“You are also a barista, Ginger. That’s how you met.”)
She doesn’t know what Josh sees in her. I’m a little worried that he doesn’t see anything in her. That all he sees is what there is to see. That she’s young, that she’s beautiful. That she looks good on his arm.
But what do I know? Maybe they’re good for each other. They both seem to like talking about phytonutrients. And, like, meridian tapping. And Ginger really does seem at least 80 per cent activated these days.
I don’t think I’ll ever level up.
But if that’s what Ginger wants, I guess I can go along for it. She’s the best friend I’ve made here. She’ll be my friend even if I’m only ever 15 per cent activated (and less than 15 per cent magic). I sigh. “Fine. I’ll go.”
Ginger squeals. “Yes! It’s going to be so good!”
My phone vibrates, and I look down at it. Penelope, again:
“I’m going to call you, so we can discuss details.”
I slip the phone into my purse without replying.
5
BAZ
We’re meeting at the airport, and Snow’s already there when I arrive. At first I don’t recognize him—or it’s more like I recognize him from another time. He’s wearing jeans and Agatha’s old Watford Lacrosse sweatshirt. (I need to casually leave one of my old football shirts at his flat; he’ll wear anything he finds on the floor.) The sweatshirt is slit down the back for his wings, but there’s nothing there. Really nothing. Other spells only hide Simon’s wings; you can still see a shimmer or a shadow. Today, there’s nothing. I reach up to touch the space between his shoulder blades, but he spins around before I can.
“Hey,” he says when he sees me. He’s pulling on his hair, nervous.
My hand’s still stretched out, so I pat his shoulder. “Hey.”
“Penny’s checking us in. Or something. I didn’t have a passport.” He leans closer and whispers: “She stole someone else’s passport and magicked it.”
As if Bunce wasn’t already in deep water; we all know she used magic to buy these plane tickets. It’s one of the only laws we live by in the World of Mages—no magickal counterfeiting. We’d throw the world economy into chaos if we used magic for money. Everyone bends the rules now and then, but Bunce’s mother is on the Coven. “I hope she realizes her mother will happily surrender her to the authorities.”
Snow’s anxious: “Do you think we’ll get caught? This whole thing is stupid.”
“No.” My hand’s still on his arm, and I squeeze it. “No. It will be fine. If somebody looks suspicious, I’ll distract them by being a vampire.”
He doesn’t try to pull away from me. Perhaps because he’s out of his element, away from his worst habits. Bunce might be on to something with this change-of-scenery idea.…
“Speaking of,” Simon says, “will you be okay on the flight?”
“Do you mean, will I lose myself to bloodlust somewhere over the Atlantic?”
He shrugs.
“I’ll be fine, Snow. It’s only eight hours. I get through every day without slaughtering people.” I’ve got through fifteen years, as a matter of fact. Not a single (vampire-related) casualty.
“What about when we get there?”
“No worries, I’ve heard that America is overrun with rats. And other animals. Grizzly bears, show dogs.”
He smiles at that, and it’s so good to see that I sling my arm around his shoulders and think about hugging him. There’s a woman standing in line near us, giving us her most aggrieved “don’t be gay” face, but I don’t care—easy moments with Simon are miserably few and far between.
Simon cares. He notices the woman, then leans over to mess with his bag—the same duffel he used to carry back at Watford. When he stands up, he’s pulled away from me.
He pats his thigh, nervously checking his tail.
I’m still not sure why Snow gave himself a tail.…
The wings, I understand. They were a necessity, he needed to escape. But why the tail? It’s long and red and ropey, with a black spade at the tip. If the tail has a use, I haven’t figured it out. He isn’t putting it to one, anyway.
Bunce thinks that in the moment, Simon was actually turning into a dragon, not just wishing for wings.
Which doesn’t explain why he still has them, more than a year later. Snow gave up his magic—all of it—to defeat the Insidious Humdrum. So it’s not like he’s using magic to maintain his dragon parts, and most spells would have worn off by now.
“But it wasn’t a spell,” Bunce said the last time we talked about this. “He transformed himself.”
Simon’s still touching his thigh, smoothing down the back of his jeans. I try to reassure him. “No one can see it,” I say.
“I’m just nervous. I’ve never flown before.”
I laugh. (I mean, he does have wings.)
“In a plane,” he says.
“It’ll be fine. And if it isn’t—say, if the engines die—will you save me? Will you fly me out the nearest exit?”
His face falls. “Do the engines do that? Just die?”
I bump my shoulder against his. “Promise you’ll save me first even if there are women and children.”
“If the engines die,” he says, “you and Penny better fix them. Have you been practising the spells?”
“I don’t know any plane-engine-preserving spells, do you, Bunce?”
Bunce has walked up with our boarding passes. “Plane-engine-preserving?” she repeats.
“You know, in case of critical engine failure.”
“Simon can save me,” she says.
“He’s already saving me.”
“I’m saving the women and children!” Snow says.
“Technically,” I say, “you won’t have wings.”
6
SIMON
I half expect to get stopped when I go through the security scanner. “Sir, we just need to pat down your tail.” But it’s all fine, just like Baz and Penny said it would be. I wouldn’t be surprised if Penelope jammed the machine. As soon as we’re through security, Penny buys me a bag of jelly babies and a Coke. (I’m skint; she and Baz are covering the whole trip.)
I’ve never been in an airport before. I spend an hour pacing and rolling my shoulders; they feel too light. There’s really nothing back there. I keep leaning back against walls to check. I go to the men’s room and pull up my shirt, looking over my shoulder at the mirror. Nothing but freckles.
When I come out, Baz and Penny are queued up to get on the plane, and Penelope is motioning for me to hurry up. I squeeze behind her, jostling no one with my wings. I’m thinking of everything I could do like this. Get on the Tube. See a film. Stand next to someone at a urinal without knocking him over.
I would never have fit on the plane with my wings. I couldn’t have got down the aisle without clipping everyone who was already sitting.