Penelope pouts, but not for long. The night is too good for pouting. I find Agatha’s hand in the blanket, and when I squeeze, she squeezes back.
This day, this night, it all feels so right. Magickally right. Like a portent. (I didn’t used to believe in portents—I’m not superstitious. But then we did a unit on them in Magickal Science, and Penny said not believing in portents was like not believing in beans on toast.) After an hour or so, someone crosses the Veil, right out onto the Lawn. It’s somebody’s dead sister; she’s come back to tell him that it wasn’t his fault— I put my blade away on my own this time, without Penny telling me to.
“It’s amazing,” she says. “Two Visitings in one day, and the Veil is just beginning to open.…”
When the ghost leaves, everybody starts hugging each other. (I think the seventh years have been passing around dandelion wine and Bacardi Breezers. But the three of us aren’t class monitors, so it’s not our problem.) Somebody starts singing the school song again, and we join in. Agatha sings, even though she’s self-conscious about her voice.
I’m happy.
I’m really happy.
I’m home.
*
I wake up a few hours later, and I think Baz must be back.
I can’t see him—I can’t see anything—but there’s someone in the room with me.
“Penny?”
Maybe it’s the Mage again. Or the Humdrum! Or that thing I dreamt I saw by the window last night, which I’m only now remembering …
I’ve never been attacked in my room before—this would be a first.
I sit up and turn on the lights without trying. That happens sometimes, with small spells, when I’m stressed. It’s not supposed to. Penny thinks it might be like telepathy, skipping the words to get straight to the goal.
I still don’t see anything, though I think I hear a rustling sound and a sort of moaning. The windows are both open. I get up and look outside, then close them. I check under the beds. I risk an “Olly olly oxen free!”—then a “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” that sends all my clothes flying out of the wardrobe. I’ll put them away tomorrow.
I go back to bed, shivering. It’s cold. And I still don’t feel alone.
15
SIMON
Baz isn’t in our room when I wake up.
*
I look for him in the dining hall at breakfast, but he’s not there either.
His name is called during my first lesson—Greek with the Minotaur. (Our teacher’s name is Professor Minos; we call him the Minotaur because he’s half-man, half-bull.) He calls out Baz’s name four times. “Tyrannus Pitch? Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch?”
Agatha and I look around the room, then at each other.
Baz is supposed to be in Political Science with me, too. Penny makes me take Political Science; she thinks I might end up a leader someday after I beat the Humdrum.
I’d be happy to spend my days helping Ebb herd goats if I live through the Humdrum, but Political Science is interesting enough, so I take it every year.
Baz always takes it, too. Probably because he expects to reclaim the throne someday …
Baz’s family used to run everything before the Mage came to power.
Magicians don’t have kings and queens, but the Pitches are the nearest thing we have to a royal family—they probably would have crowned themselves at some point if they’d ever expected anyone to challenge their authority.
Baz’s mum was the headmistress at Watford before the Mage, which made her the most important person in magic. (There’s a hall near the Mage’s office with portraits of previous headmasters; it’s like a Pitch family tree.) It was actually her death that changed everything—that brought the Mage to power.
When the Humdrum killed Headmistress Pitch by sending vampires into Watford, everyone saw that the World of Mages had to change. We couldn’t just keep on as we were, letting the Humdrum and the dark creatures pick us off one by one.
We had to get organized.