Carry On

“Tell me again.”


I look back down at my notes. “Her killer walks, but Nicodemus knows. Find Nicodemus and bring her peace.”

“Who’s Nicodemus?” Baz demands. Fierce and imperious, just like his mother.

“She didn’t say.”

“What else?” he asks. “Was there anything else?”

“Well … she kissed me.” My hand jerks up, and I brush my fingertips over my forehead. “She told me it was for you, to give to you.”

He clenches his fists at his sides. “Then what?”

“Then she left,” I say. “She came back one more time, that same night, the last night before the Veil fell”—Baz looks like he wants to choke me—“and she was different, sadder, like she was crying.” I look down at my notes. “And I couldn’t see her that time, but she said, ‘My son, my rosebud boy.’ She said that a few times, I think. And then she called me by my name and said she never would have left you. And then: ‘He said we were stars.’”

“Who said? Nicodemus?”

“I guess, I don’t know.”

Baz squeezes his fists tight, and his voice comes out of him in a tight roar. “Who. The fuck. Is Nicodemus.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I thought you’d know.”

He gets off the bed and starts prowling about the room. “My mother came back. She came back to see me. And you talked to her instead. Unbelievable.”

“Well, where were you? Why couldn’t she find you?”

“I was indisposed! It’s none of your business!”

“Well, I hope your secret trip was worth it!” I shout. “Because your mother came for you! She came and she came and she came—and you were off planning your hopeless rebellion!”

He stops pacing, then charges towards me, his hands reaching for my neck. And I’m more scared for him than I am for myself, even though I know he wants to kill me. Because if he touches me, he’ll be cast out. The Anathema.

I jump to my feet and catch his wrists. They’re cold. “Baz, you don’t want to hurt me. Do you.” He strains against my grip. He’s panting with rage. “You don’t want to hurt me,” I say, trying to push him back. “Isn’t that right? I’m sorry. Look at me, I’m sorry.”

His grey eyes focus, and he steps back, snatching his arms away. We both glance around the room, waiting for the Anathema to kick in.

There’s a knock at the door, and we both jump.

“Simon?” I hear Penny say.

Baz arches an eyebrow, and I can practically hear him thinking, Interesting. I shove past him and open the door. “Penny, what’re you—?”

She’s been crying. She starts again—“Simon”—and rushes into my arms. I slowly put my arms around her and look up at Baz, waiting for him to raise the alarm.

He shakes his head, like it’s all too much for him. “I’ll leave you alone,” he says, sliding past us out the door. I hate to think of how he’ll use this against Penelope, or me—but right now I’ve got Penny sobbing into my shirt.

“Hey,” I say, patting her back. I’m not good at hugging, she knows that, but she must not care right now. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She pulls back and wipes her face on her sleeve. She’s still wearing her coat. “My mum…” Her face is all crumpled. She wipes it on her sleeve again.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s not hurt—nobody’s hurt. But she told me that Premal came yesterday.” Penny’s talking too fast, and still crying. “He came for the Mage with two more of his Men, and they wanted to search our house.”

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