Ebb …

  The Mage, he—

  Well, he never taught us music. How much did he leave behind when he took over Watford? There used to be a drama society, I know, and more of an emphasis on history. Was there a choir, too? It’s like I never got to know the World of Mages, because my mentor turned it upside down before I got there.

  I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’m not a part of that world anymore.

  Penny is singing now. Sort of. Her voice is flat and talky: “I once was lost, but now am found.”

  Baz sings louder, like he’s trying to fill in her gaps. “Was blind, but now I see. Again, Bunce. Amazing grace…”

  Baz hunted just outside of Denver, but he’s as grey as I’ve ever seen him, and his nose is still sooty from those days in the sun. (He went black instead of red.) Penny tried to spell away the skunk spray, but he still smells of brimstone. All his clothes are lost or ruined.… It’s like America is taking bites out of Baz. Taking a swing at him every time it gets a chance.

  He makes Penny sing the verse three times. (Her voice gets looser every time.) Then they open their eyes and look at each other. She smiles. “All right, you win. That was cool, even if it doesn’t work.…” She looks around. “Are we supposed to wait?”

  “I don’t know, maybe for a minute.” He looks around. “Come on, stuff, find us.”

  The forest is quiet. Or, I suppose, it’s noisy like a forest—wind and branches and moving water. This place is probably crawling with dryads.

  Then we hear it—something whizzing closer.

  Penelope’s mobile drops between us. She laughs. “It worked!”

  Her hand darts over the phone, and she casts, “Without a trace!” before picking it up. “Hopefully that’ll keep anything from tracking us.”

  Baz stands and looks out in the direction that Penny’s mobile came from.

  Penny is checking her texts and missed calls. “No one seems to have tampered with it. I mean, who knows, maybe it’s been sitting in the Mustang this whole time. Or they could have magickally hacked it. Oh—finally, Agatha.” Penny puts the phone to her ear.

  Baz is frustrated. “Be fair,” he says to the forest, hands on his hips. “The hymn was my idea.”

  “Oh, no. Oh, Simon—”

  Baz and I both turn to Penny, who’s let her hand drop to the ground. She looks as pale as Baz.

  “What’s wrong?” Baz asks, as his suitcase hits him squarely on the back.

  * * *

  Penny puts her mobile on speaker, and plays the voicemail so we can all hear it:

  “Penelope? It’s me. Agatha.”

  She’s whispering.

  “Sorry I haven’t got back to you. I know you’ve called … a lot. I mean, I’m not that sorry because I did tell you not to call so much. I don’t even like to talk on the phone. But…”

  Agatha’s voice sounds cornered. Like she’s calling from inside a wardrobe. Or a bathroom. Maybe a car.

  “I just thought that I’d check in. I’m at a fancy retreat. I think I told you about my friend? Ginger? It was her idea. It’s this group—I don’t know if it’s a group or a programme—they call themselves NowNext.

  “I thought it was all self-help bollocks.… Maybe it is.…

  “But maybe it isn’t.”

  The way she’s whispering, so close to the phone, it’s like she’s right there with us.

  “There’s this guy …

  “Crowley. Did I really call you to talk about a boy? Never mind, Penny. I’m fine.

  “It’s just … There are just days when I wish I had my wand with me. In that security blanket way. I guess today is one of them.

  “I hope you’re not on your way to San Diego. I did tell you I’d be gone.

  “Anyway—”

  A man’s voice cuts her off. He’s not whispering: “Agatha? Are you ready?”

  “Braden.” Agatha isn’t whispering anymore. “Just a second.…”

  There’s a noise like rubbing fabric. And then the man sounds muffled. “Were you on your phone?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “You know the rules.” His voice is moving farther away. “No distractions.”

  Agatha is farther away, too: “I just needed a moment to myself.”

  “I thought I heard you talking—”

  “I was practising my mantras.”

  A door opens and closes, and then there’s silence.

  “That’s it,” Penny says. “The message goes on like that for five minutes—I think Agatha’s in trouble. Really!”

  “It sounds like she’s at some expensive yoga retreat,” Baz says. He’s gone back to looking at his suitcase. His apparently empty suitcase.

  Penelope frowns. “Where she can’t have her phone?”

  “It’s called a social-media cleanse.”

  “No.” Penny’s firm. “I know Agatha. She’d rather kiss a troll than call and talk to me on the phone.”

  “Then why do you ever call her, Bunce?” Baz is shaking out his suitcase.

  “Because I worry! Because she’s like a lamb who’s wandered away from the flock.”

  “Is the flock England?” I ask.

  “The flock is magic!” she says. “If one of you wandered away from magic, I wouldn’t just let you go.”

  “I’m not a magician anymore, Penelope.”

  “You’re still a magician, Simon. Aeroplanes don’t stop being aeroplanes when they’re on the ground.”

  Baz throws his suitcase down, in disgust.

  “Agatha wouldn’t call me just to talk,” Penny says. “She wouldn’t call me unless she was scared.”

  There’s a noise from Penny’s phone. The voicemail must still be playing. It sounds like there’s a door opening.

  “She was talking on the phone.” It’s the man’s voice again. He still sounds faraway, but his voice has a harder edge. “Find it.”

  There are more noises. “Do we have her phone number?” a different man asks. “We could call it.”

  “Find it and bring it to me. We’ll have to move up the extraction.”

  There’s a rustling sound. A hand on the phone. A third man, unmuffled: “Found it—fuck, she’s still on a call.” A scuffle. The voicemail ends.

  None of us move. We’re all staring at Penelope’s mobile.

  Then Penelope jabs her hand out and powers the phone down. She looks up at me. “Agatha is in trouble.”

  33

  AGATHA

  It’s all perfectly fine.

  I mean, I’m probably being recruited into a cult.

  And seduced by its charismatic leader.

  And I am stranded at their compound.…

  But everything seems mostly fine?

  Yes, I would rather go home than spend another minute in this place. But I can’t leave Ginger (whom I haven’t seen since yesterday). And I can’t imagine just leaving.

  Partly I can’t imagine it because I have no idea where the door is.

  I’ve been upgraded to the members-only wing. Which feels much more like a hospital than a nouveau riche mansion.

  Like a nouveau riche mansion/hospital.

  All the hallways are stainless steel, and the floors are polished concrete. And there are far fewer windows than you’d expect.

  “There’s a lot of innovation happening in this part of the house,” Braden said when he was giving me the tour. “Security is paramount.”

  He showed me his perfectly ordered labs. And then a room full of computers that felt like a lab. And then a spa that looked like a lab—with white leather recliners and a whirlpool. “Do you have scientists who give pedicures?” I asked.

  Braden laughed. “I spend most of my time on health science. Deep cleanses, detoxification, rejuvenation.”

  “My mum would love it here.”

  “Come on in,” he said, taking my arm. I let him. I was feeling charmed by him at that moment. Maybe it would be okay to date a thirty-under-thirty type. I’d get lots of excuses to dress up. And he seemed to like it when I took the air out of him.

  I’d never been able to tease Simon that way when we were dating. He was too fragile. Simon was like a nuclear missile with self-esteem issues; it was exhausting.

  I followed Braden into his stainless-steel spa, and he sat me in one of the leather chairs.

  “Grip here,” he said, directing me to a handle.

  I did.

  “Do you know your blood type?” he asked.

  “I can’t remember.…”

  He pressed a button on the chair. I expected it to start massaging my back. Instead, a touchscreen panel swung out of the side. “A-positive,” he said. “Look here, that’s your red blood cell count. Perfectly normal. Here’s your leukocytes.”

  “What— How does it know all that?”

  “It just took a blood sample,” Braden said. “You didn’t even feel it.”

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “Your glucose is higher than I’d expect. I wonder what that means.”

  “Is this your way of making sure I don’t have STDs?”

  “Ha, no, of course not. You don’t, though. Nothing out of the ordinary. I have a vaccine—”

  “Braden, what are you doing?”

  He grinned at me. “Showing you what I do.” He waved his arm around the room. “This is the most advanced medical equipment in the country. I can cure almost anything here.”

  “Shouldn’t you … tell someone?”

  He laughed again, like I was being clever. I’m never being clever.

  “I can’t wait to get some electrodes on you,” he said. “And we’ll need a fasting sample, too. Maybe tomorrow morning.”

  “Why? Am I sick?”

  “No, you’re perfect. You’re exquisite.”

  “Do you have some weird medical kink?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. A little. I just geek out over stuff like this. I like to see what makes people tick. I like to decode them.”

  I pictured Braden unravelling my DNA and selling it off for parts.

  “This is a sales pitch, isn’t it? Where you sell me juices based on my blood type? Because Ginger and I tried those. It’s a pyramid scheme.”

  Braden picked up my hand. The one that was clenched around the chair.

  “Agatha, why can’t you accept that I’m exactly what I look like? A billionaire genius who can’t take his eyes off you.”

  * * *

  That was yesterday.

  I spent most of the day with him and didn’t see Ginger till late in the afternoon. “Where have you been?” she asked. Her whole face was shining. “Don’t tell me, I already know—you like him, don’t you?”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t give me that. Josh saw the two of you in the members’ wing. You like him!”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I suppose he’s interesting.”

  “Interesting? He’s handsome and powerful, and he eats cleaner than anyone I’ve ever met. No grain, no meat, no nightshades, no dairy.”

  “What does that leave, Ginger?”

  “So much! Nut meats, plant proteins, green vegetables, algae—”

  “Right,” I cut her off. I gave up meat when I left England, as well as any animal by-product that isn’t freely given—but these people will scrape your whole plate into the trash if you let them.

  “I can’t believe Braden allowed you into the members’ wing,” Ginger said. “I’ve been cleansing for weeks to prepare. I think he’s going to let you skip some steps in the programme. He likes you so much.”

  “I’m not in any programme.”

  She grabbed my hands excitedly. “Agatha! What if we get to level up together?”

  “I’m not levelling up,” I insisted. “I’m just … talking to a boy.”

  “You’re evolving before my very eyes. You’re at least forty per cent activated.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  But I still let Braden give me another VIP tour before dinner. He showed me the grounds. Gardens, golf course, greenhouse. “You’re missing your retreat,” I said.

  “The goal of the retreat is to focus,” he replied. “I feel very focused.”

  Normally I try not to talk about myself on dates. Most guys make that easy—they’re happy to do all the talking. But Braden wanted to know everything about me. What my parents are like, where I grew up, whether I still have my tonsils and appendix.

  My answers were vague. There’s little of my life before now that isn’t magic.

  I told him my father is a doctor, and my mother attends parties. I told him that I didn’t like school, that I don’t miss England.

  “Don’t you miss your friends?” he asked.

  I don’t miss being chased by monsters, I thought, and helping my boyfriend feel straight.

  “We were thrown together at school,” I said, “and now we’re not.”

  After the tour, Braden walked me to my room to change for dinner. But it wasn’t the room I shared with Ginger; it was this suite in the members’ wing. He’d had all my things moved here.

  We aren’t supposed to use our phones during the retreat; they asked us to check them in when we arrived. “It’s a retreat from the outside world,” Ginger had explained.

  But I’d held on to mine. It was still in my bag. While Braden waited for me to change, I ducked into the bathroom and tried to call Penny. She didn’t pick up.

  When I came back after dinner, my phone was gone.

  I turned off the lights then, I’m not sure why. No, I know why—in case someone was watching me.

  I turned off the lights, and I slept in my clothes. There’s a lock on the door to this room. But I’m sure Braden has a key.

  Which is probably fine. He hasn’t tried to hurt me. He hasn’t even stood too much in my space. Or touched me with any disrespect.

  Maybe this is how dating works when you’re a pharmaceutical kingpin. You set a girl up in a stainless-steel suite and ask her how she feels about MRIs.

  A woman brought me breakfast this morning. She brought me teff porridge with sultanas and a small dish of vitamins.

  34

  PENELOPE

  I used to be very good at what’s next.

  Something terrible would happen—or maybe just something strange and mysterious—and Simon would turn to me, and I’d tell him our plan. I always knew our next move, even if it wasn’t necessarily the right move. I never got hung up on right or wrong. I trusted myself to digest the current scenario and plot the best path forward.

  Sometimes we’d get into a situation where the only thing left to do was fight. And sometimes we’d get to the point where the only thing left was for Simon to blow everything up.

  And then, when the dust settled, Simon would turn to me, and I’d tell him the new plan.

  I haven’t had a plan since we got off the plane.

  Agatha’s in trouble, I know she is. But we don’t know where. And we keep blowing all our magic in one place. And we’re leaving a trail of mistakes.

  I can’t remember the last time I made a good decision. Maybe on the flight, when I chose cheesecake over strudel.

  Simon has grabbed my mobile. “Where is she?”

  “We’ll cast a finding spell,” Baz says.

  “It won’t have any reach,” I say. “I poured everything I had left into ‘Amazing Grace.’”

  Baz did, too. He kicks his empty suitcase into the creek.

  “We can look it up online,” Simon says. “‘NowNext.’”

  “What if the people who took her phone try to call us?” Baz looks afraid. “They have our number.”

  “Should I throw away my phone?” I ask. “They could track it.”

  “No,” Simon says. “Agatha might call.”

  “Right…” I say. “Right.”

  Baz is standing at the edge of the creek. His hair is lank. His skin is grey.

  Simon is chewing his lip. I haven’t had enough magic to hide his wings today. I tried, but they just blinked off and back on. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this drained. It takes so much magic to stay alive in America.

  “All right,” Simon says. “We have to keep moving. Shepard is probably looking for us—and the magickal creatures might be looking for us. The last we knew, Agatha was in San Diego. So we keep heading west. We keep Baz out of the sun. We keep my wings under wraps. We steal food and clothes when we can—or we magick them. And we have the Internet now. We can find these NowNext people down some rabbit hole.” He glances over at me. “I mean, you think?”

  I nod. “Yeah. It’s a good plan.”

  Baz nods, too. “Good plan, Snow.” He looks into the trees. “I should hunt. So we don’t have to stop again.”

  “Not by yourself,” Simon says.

  “I’m not letting you watch—”

  Simon spreads his wings. “Not by yourself.”

  * * *

  I can’t be alone right now. I follow along after them, from a respectful distance.

  I’ve known about Baz’s vampirism for at least a year—and Simon suspected for years before that—but Baz is still self-conscious about it. He won’t ever feed in front of us. He won’t even eat a sandwich if he thinks you’re watching. Simon says it’s because Baz’s fangs pop, and he’s embarrassed, so I always look away. (Though I would love to get a better look at them, for scientific purposes.)

  I know Baz casts spells sometimes, to lure in his prey. But today he doesn’t have to. There’s a large wild cat, crouched on the ground ahead of us. I wait for Baz to strike.

  Instead he stamps his feet, shouting at it. “Go! Away!”

  The cat startles and runs away from us.

  “What on earth?” I say. “Do you prefer it when they play hard to get?”

  “I don’t kill predators,” he says.

  “Why not? Fellow feeling?”

  “They’re too important to the ecosystem. Besides, there are sheep around here, of some sort. I saw tracks.”

  He leads us deeper into the trees. “I could manage this perfectly well on my own, you know,” he mutters.