She jerks away from me. “Simon—no. You can’t talk to him about this.”
“Pen. It’s the Mage. He’s not going to hurt your family. He knows you’re good.”
She shakes her head. “My mum made me promise not to tell you, Simon.”
“No secrets,” I say, suddenly defensive. “We have a pact.”
“I know! That’s why I’m here, but you cannot tell the Mage. My mother’s scared, and my mother doesn’t get scared.”
“Why didn’t she just let them search the house?”
“Why should she?”
“Because,” I say, “if the Mage is doing this, he has a reason. He doesn’t just hassle people. He doesn’t have time for that.”
“But … what if they found something?”
“At your house? They wouldn’t.”
“They might,” she says. “You know my mum. ‘Information wants to be free.’ ‘There’s no such thing as a bad thought.’ Our library is practically as big as Watford’s and better stocked. If you wanted to find something dangerous in there, I’m sure you could.”
“But the Mage doesn’t want to hurt your family.”
“Who does he want to hurt, Simon?”
“People who want to hurt us!” I say. I practically shout it. “People who want to hurt me!”
Penny folds her arms and looks at me. She’s mostly stopped crying. “The Mage isn’t perfect. He’s not always right.”
“No one is. But we have to trust him. He’s doing his best.” As soon as I say it, I feel a pound of guilt settle in my stomach. I should have told the Mage about the ghost. I should have told Penny. I should have told them both before I told Baz. I could be spying for the wrong side.
“I need to think about this,” Penny says. “It’s not my secret to tell—or yours.”
“All right,” I agree.
“All right.” A few more tears well up on her, and she shakes her head again. “I should go. I can’t believe Baz hasn’t come back with the house master yet. They probably think he’s lying—”
“I don’t think he’s snitching on you.”
She huffs. “Of course he is. I don’t care. I have bigger worries.”
“Stay for a bit,” I say. If she stays, I’ll tell her about Baz’s mum.
“No. We can talk about this tomorrow. I just needed to tell you.”
“Your family will be safe,” I say. “You don’t have to worry about it. I promise.”
Penelope looks unconvinced, and I half expect her to point out how worthless my words have been so far. But she just nods and tells me she’ll see me at breakfast.
40
BAZ
I could watch Bunce swing for this.
(I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to get past the residence hall’s gender barriers. Trust Bunce to find a way. She’s incessantly fiendish.)
But I don’t even care.
I find my way down to the Catacombs and hunt mindlessly.
My mother’s tomb is here. I hate to think that she might be watching me. Can souls see through the Veil? Does she know I’ve become one of them?
I wonder sometimes what would have happened if she’d lived.
I was the only child in the nursery who was Turned that day. The vampires might have taken me with them if my mother hadn’t stopped them.
My father came for me as soon as he heard. And he and Fiona did everything they could to heal me—but they knew I was changed. They knew the blood lust would manifest itself eventually.
And they just …
They went on acting like nothing had happened. Crowley, they’re lucky I didn’t start devouring people as soon as I hit puberty. I don’t think my father ever would have mentioned it, even if he’d caught me draining the maid. “Basil, change into some new things for dinner. You’ll upset your stepmother.”
Though he’d much prefer to catch me disrobing the maid.… (Definitely more disappointed in my queerness than my undeadness.)
My father never acknowledges that I’m a vampire—besides my flammability—and I know he’ll never send me away because of it.
But my mother?
She would have killed me.
She would have faced me, what I am, and done what was right.
My mother never would have let a vampire into Watford. She didn’t.
I end my walk at the door to her tomb. At the stone in the wall that marks it.
She was the youngest person ever to lead Watford—and one of three headmasters in history to die defending it. She’s kept here, in a place of honour, part of the school’s foundation.
My mother came back.
She came back for me.
What does it mean that she couldn’t find me?
Maybe ghosts can’t see through coffins.
Maybe she couldn’t see me because I’m not fully alive. Will I get to see her when Simon finally finishes me?
He will … Finish me.
Snow will do the right thing.
* * *
I stay in the Catacombs until I’m done feeding. Until I’m done raging. Until I can’t stand staring at that photograph of myself anymore. (Chubby, lucky bag of blood.)
Until I’m done crying.
You’d think that’s something you’d lose in the change—tears. But I still piss, and I still cry. I still lose water.