Carry On
Page 86“You’re not.”
“Haven’t you been trying to prove I’m a monster since we were kids? Crowley, you have your proof now. Go tell the Mage—tell everyone you were right!” His face is dancing with firelight. I feel the heat at my back. “I’m a vampire, Snow! Are you happy?”
“You’re not,” I say, and I don’t know why I say it, and I don’t know why I’m crying all of a sudden.
Baz looks surprised. And irritated. “What?”
“You’ve never even bitten anyone,” I say.
“Fuck. Off.”
“No!”
He drops his head in his arms again. “Seriously. Go. This fire isn’t for you.”
I grab his wrists and pull. “That’s right,” I say, “it can’t be. You always said you’d make sure there was an audience when you finished me off.” I pull on him. “Come on.”
Baz doesn’t fight me, just slumps forward. A cloud of sparks settles near him, and I growl at them, blowing them out.
I lift up his chin. “Baz.”
“Go away, Snow.”
“You’re not a monster,” I say. His face is cold as a corpse in my hand. “I was wrong. All those years. You’re a bully. And a snob. And a complete arsehole. But you’re not one of them.”
Baz tries to jerk his face away, but I hold it fast. He opens his eyes, and they’re pools of grey and black and pain. I can’t stand it. I growl again. The fire blows back.
“This is what I deserve,” he says.
I shake my head. “Well, it isn’t what I deserve.”
“Then go.”
I see the fire flickering in his eyes, which means it must be all around us.
61
BAZ
That’s it. I’m going to have to spell this imbecile away from me. My last deed will be to save Simon Snow’s life, and my whole family will be ashamed.
He’s holding on to my face, expecting me to stay alive just because he’s told me to—because he’s Simon bloody Snow, and he gets whatever he wants if he growls loud enough.
I think I might kiss him before I send him flying.
(Can I get him away from me without breaking any of his bones? What spell will keep him away, so he doesn’t come running back into the fire?)
I think I might kiss him. He’s right here. And his lips are hanging open (mouth breather) and his eyes are alive, alive, alive.
You’re so alive, Simon Snow.
You got my share of it.
He shakes his head, and he’s saying something, and I think I might kiss him.
Because I’ve never kissed anyone before. (I was afraid I might bite.) And I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone but him. (I won’t bite. I won’t hurt him.)
I just want to kiss him, then go.
“Simon…,” I say.
And then he kisses me.
SIMON
I just want him to shut up and stop talking like this. I just want him to get up and follow me out of here. I just want to be back at Watford in our room, knowing he’s there, and that he isn’t hurting anyone, and no one is hurting him.
BAZ
Snow’s mouth is hot. Everything is hot.
He’s pushing me, so I push back.
His cross is rattling in my tongue and jaw. His pulse is beating in my throat. And his mouth is killing everything I’m trying to think.
Simon Snow.
SIMON
Baz’s mouth is colder than Agatha’s.
Because he’s a boy, I think, and then: No, because he’s a monster.
He’s not a monster. He’s just a villain.
He’s not a villain. He’s just a boy.
I’m kissing a boy.
I’m kissing Baz.
He’s so cold, and the world is so hot.
BAZ
I am going to die kissing Simon Snow.
Aleister Crowley, I’m living a charmed life.
SIMON
If Baz thinks I’m ever letting him go, he’s wrong. I like him like this. Under my thumb. Under my hands. Not off plotting and scheming and talking to vampires.
BAZ
Snow has done this before.
He’s doing this nice thing with his chin. Moving it up and down. Tilting his head. Pushing me back even farther.
I don’t try to mimic him. I just let him go.
I’m going to die kissing Simon Snow.…
Simon Snow is going to die kissing me.
SIMON
Baz grabs my shoulders and pushes me off him.
It only works because I’m not expecting it.
He reaches into his sleeve and pulls out his wand, then points over my shoulder, screaming, “Make a wish!” There’s fire all around us now, slithering closer through the grass.
Baz’s spell lands, and one of the trees goes out, then quickly catches fire again. Baz takes a breath, and I put both hands on his chest, letting him take what he wants from me. “Make a wish!” he shouts, and his voice is thunder.
The fire dies in one breath—more like it was sucked in than blown out. My ears pop, and smoke pours out of the trees.
I look at Baz.
Was that it? Did he just need me to kiss him to snap out of his suicidal funk?
He drops his wand and reaches up to my jumper (his jumper), then pulls it down at the neck. With his other hand, he tears open my shirt collar, popping the top button, and grabs at my cross, eyeing the chain. He gives the cross a good yank—the chain snaps—and he tosses it away.