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“You’ll take the money because it’s yours, Simon. Legally. And—” Dr. Wellbelove’s face is getting red. “Justly. The man misused you. We all know that now.”
(Imagine bringing Lamb the Vampire King home for dinner…)
And I think you’d like the twins. All they do is eat jam and butter sandwiches and throw things at each other. It takes me back to our first year at Watford.
I’m already covered in scars.
It’s hard to hide from someone who loves you.
“Pretending what?” I shout. Like I don’t know. Like it isn’t already killing me.
Simon’s in my stomach, he’s in my heart, and he’s punching.
His throat is bright. His throat is mine. There are scars beneath his hairline. I’ve fit my teeth over them.
“I can’t even be with you! I hate it.” “You hate being with me?” “Yes, all right?” I’m screaming. “Are you happy? I hate being with you! I hate your fucking wand! I hate how easy it all is for you! I hate looking at you!” “You hate looking at me.”
“You can’t just give up on this. On me. Don’t you know what we have? It’s the sort of thing people dream about. They make potions to steal it.”
“I never thought I’d be the first thing you ever gave up on.”
Baz is shaking his head, too, just slightly, like he’s quietly rejecting every word. “I thought you’d go down fighting if you believed in something…” He’s right, he’s always right. I look him in the eye. “I never believed in us.”
“You can’t put me through this again, Simon. I don’t want to spend my whole life, losing you. Watching you slip away. I never want to come home to another note.”
“Oh, fuck!” he says, turning away from me and covering his mouth. “That’s rat blood. I got rat blood in your mouth.” I try to pull him back by the shoulders. “Hey, I don’t mind.” “You don’t mind rat blood?” I shrug. “I’ll brush my teeth.” “Fat lot of good that’ll do against the plague.”
What a ridiculous creature. Happy that I put butter on his sandwich. As if I wouldn’t make the world spin backwards if I thought he’d like it better that way.
“I’m right here, love, I’m yours.”
“I love you,” I say. “I’m here.”
“Simon,” I slur, “my darling, my love…”
“You wouldn’t have to steal it.” “Good idea, I’ll find a blood bank and open an account.” “Come on, don’t be thick—you know I’d give it to you.” He stands up abruptly, facing me. “Don’t say that, Simon.”
Baz’s eyes are wide. He’s shaking his head. “Fuck you, Snow.” “Someday, perhaps. I’ve been told there’s hope.”
“What’s there to think about? I’m with you. And you’re a…” He trails off. “Man,” I say flatly. Simon shrugs. “I was going to say ‘boy.’” “I’m twenty years old. I could go to war.”
“Plus ça change…” “Fuuuck you,” he says, extravagantly. “I know that’s French for something smug.”
“Yes. People talk about previous partners.” “You’ve never mentioned any.” I lash out: “I don’t have any, you halfwit! Don’t you think you’d have uncovered them when you stalked me for three years?”
“I want to kiss you,” I say. “I always want to kiss you, Baz.” He steps closer. “I always have.”
I like having four arms to hold him.
What’s gender to a demon?”
Simon took the napkin, then licked the butter off his arm.
“Circe,” I say. I’m trying to stop saying “Crowley”—Bunce says he’s problematic.
He looks too handsome in my clothes.
“Hmm,” Baz says, looking down his nose at me. “I think I might be a Snowvian.”
They aren’t halfway down the walk before the Pitch boy is taking the Chosen One’s hand.
“A magickal coffeehouse?” Shepard is thrilled. “Yeah,” the tree says. “Costa.”
“That’s not even, like, from this dimension, you know? Like, this is not from Earth-616.
It was like boy–Romeo and Juliet.” “Romeo was already a boy.”
I unloop his tail from around my arm, then slowly work my hand up the length of it, partly massaging it and partly just feeling it.
Like, touch me or don’t—but don’t, like, whisper on me.”
“I can touch you less gently, but I won’t love you less kindly.”
“I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want you to think I was in a relationship!”
“Is your aunt home?” Snow asks, hiding behind me while I unlock the door. “I don’t think so,” I say. “I don’t hear Joe Strummer, so probably not.” “Is that her boyfriend?”
“Who are you texting?” I ask. “My other boyfriend. The one who texts back.”
“Shut up, Snow, I’m going to have my way with you on the Mage’s bed.”
I want to come on him.
“How can you be insecure, Baz? You’re the most arrogant person I’ve ever met.”
This was our place. Watford. Ours like no one else’s.
He’s got his arms around my waist, and his chest and hips against mine. This is all my fifth-year fantasies come true: Simon Snow manhandling me in the library, in the Catacombs …
“I can’t believe I had you in my room every night,” he says, “and I didn’t take advantage of it.”
I hold his jaw in place and kiss him squarely. Simon’s lips are thin. His mouth is wide. We kiss with our teeth. It’s everything I ever wanted.
“Do none of you know about the Goats of Watford?” “Snow knows all about them,” Baz says. “They’re practically his siblings.”
“I thought those were pegasus,” Simon says. “Pegas-i.” “A-ha!” I say. “See!”
She puts her hand on Snow’s arm and squeezes. “Thank you. That really was brilliant.” He lays his hand over hers and smiles at her.
