Carry On

“No. I’m here because I have something to tell you—but you did invite me.”

He shakes his head like I’m an idiot. “Just tell me. Is it about my mother?”

“I found out who Nicodemus is.”

That gets his attention. He stands up again. “Who?”

“He’s Ebb’s brother.”

“Ebb your girlfriend?”

“Ebb the goatherd.”

“She doesn’t have a brother.”

“She does,” I say. “A twin. He was stricken from the Book when he became a vampire.”

I swear Baz’s face gets even whiter.

“Ebb’s brother was Turned? They struck him from the Book for that?”

“No, he joined up with the vampires himself. Voluntarily.”

“What?” Baz sneers. “That isn’t actually how it works, Snow.”

I step into his space. “How does it work, Baz?”

“You don’t fucking join up.”

“This Nicodemus did. He tried to get Ebb to go with him.”

“Ebb. The goatherd. Has a brother named Nicodemus that nobody’s ever heard of—”

“I told you—we haven’t heard about him, because he’s stricken. That’s why Ebb lives at Watford. Your mum gave her a job, so she wouldn’t join her brother. They’re both bloody superheroes, I guess, and everybody was afraid they’d team up and be supervampires.”

“Ebb knew my mother?”

“Yeah. Your mum gave Ebb her job.”

Baz is just standing there like he wants to punch something—or suck it dry.

“Well, where is he now?” he asks. “This Nicodemus?”

“Ebb doesn’t know. She’s not supposed to talk to him. She’s not supposed to talk about him, even.”

Baz sneers again, then reminds me that he actually is a supervampire—a supervillain: “Doesn’t know, does she? Well,” he says, “we’ll see about that.”

I put my hand on his chest. I don’t have to step any closer to reach him. “No,” I say firmly. “Ebb doesn’t know where Nicodemus is. We’re not talking to her again.”

Baz swallows and licks his grey-pink lower lip. “I’ll talk to the goatherd if I want to, Snow.”

“Not if you want my help.” I keep my hand on his chest because I feel like he still needs to be held back, but I can’t believe he’s letting me do it.

His hand flies up and closes over my wrist. (As if he’s read my mind.) (Is that a vampire thing?) “Fine,” he says, shoving my wrist down. “Then how do we find Nicodemus?”

“I haven’t thought it through that far. I came here as soon as I left Ebb’s.”

“Well, what does Penelope think?”

“I haven’t talked to her yet.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know—I told you, I haven’t talked to her. I came straight here.”

Baz seems confused. “You came straight here?”

“Would you rather I waited to tell you after Christmas break?”

He narrows his eyes and licks his lips again. I put my hands on my hips, just to have something to do with them. “What about you?” I ask. “Have you made any progress?”

He looks away. “No. I mean, I’ve been reading a lot of books about vampires.”

I stop myself from saying, “Self-help?” “What have you found out?” I ask instead.

“That they’re dead and evil and like to kill babies.”

“Huh,” I say. “Did it say anything about salt and vinegar crisps?” Baz eats them on his bed when he thinks I’m asleep, then brushes the crumbs between our beds.

He glares at me, then moves away, walking towards his desk. “No one knows anything about the vampires,” he says, fiddling with a pen. “Not really. Maybe I should just go talk to them.”

There’s a knock at his door, and it swings open.

“You’re supposed to knock!” Baz snaps before the girl even steps inside. It’s his sister, I think. She’s too young for Watford yet. She looks like his stepmother, dark-haired and pretty, but not like Baz and his mother—they’re drawn in bolder lines than this.

“I did knock,” she says.

“Well, you’re supposed to wait for me to say ‘come in.’”

“Mum says you have to come down for dinner.”

“Fine,” he says.

She stands there.

“We’ll be down soon,” he says. “Go away.”

The girl rolls her eyes and lets the door close. Baz goes back to thinking and fiddling with the pen.

“Well,” I say, “I’d better head back. Send a message if you hear more. You can try to call, but I don’t think there’s anyone answering the school phone over break.”

“What?” He scowls up at me.

“I said, send a message if—”

“You’re not leaving now.”

“I told you everything I know.”

“Snow, you came in on the last train, then you walked for an hour. You haven’t eaten all day, and your hair’s still wet—you’re not going anywhere tonight.”

“Well, I can’t stay here.”

“You haven’t burst into flames yet.”

“Baz, listen—”