“Not you,” Lamb says. His voice carries. “The magicians.” He means Simon and Penny.

  “But there are only two of them.”

  Lamb scoffs. “One mage murdered every vampire in Lancashire.”

  “Beatrix Potter,” Bunce supplies.

  “Have you been to this facility yourself?” I ask, ignoring her.

  “No. They know my face too well. And, besides, only their top-ranked members visit the laboratory. But we know of it. We’ve been monitoring … the situation.”

  “Can they do it?” Simon asks.

  “Do what?” Lamb replies. “Keep us out?”

  Simon hunches forward. “Can they take someone’s magic?”

  Lamb looks irritated, like Simon hasn’t been paying attention. “They aren’t trying to take it. They’re trying to transplant it.”

  “Whatever—can they do it?”

  “I should think not,” Lamb says. “If they could, they’d be ruling the world.”

  “Magicians have magic,” Simon argues. “And they don’t rule the world.” You can tell as he says it that he’s not sure it’s true. I’m not sure it’s true. What do we know of the world?

  The World of Mages is a regional clique.

  Watford is an isolationist boarding school.

  My parents wouldn’t even let me use the Internet.

  “Magicians live in fear of being discovered,” Lamb says. “The Next Blood live in fear of nothing.”

  PENELOPE

  We drive through the night. Past miles and miles of barren land. I don’t understand this part of America. The heat, the sand, the small towns. Why would you live somewhere that seemed to be doing its best to tell you to go away?

  None of us feel like talking. We can’t really strategize. Not without outing Baz as a mage, anyway. He and I keep exchanging significant looks, but I’m not sure what we’re telling each other.

  Even Shepard has run out of small talk. He tried to draw Lamb into a conversation when we first set out, but Lamb ignored him, and now I think Shepard has fallen asleep—two feet away from a vampire!

  I suppose I’ve done that loads of times.

  I wish Simon would go for a kip. He really needed this fight to start three hours ago. I can tell he doesn’t know what to do with himself; he won’t stop huffing and fidgeting. And he refused to let me put his wings away, so they’re crowded against the side of the car and the roof.

  This is the moment—these are the hours—when I would normally come up with a plan. And I’m trying. There’s no blackboard, but I’ve got two columns sketched out in my head: What We Know and What We Don’t.

  What do we know in this scenario? (I can practically hear Agatha say, “Nothing.”)

  1. That vampires have Agatha.

  1b. Vampires with ambition.

  And what don’t we know? Well, that column is endless.…

  1.  Whether Lamb knows what he’s talking about.

  2.  Whether we can trust him.

  3.  Whether Agatha is okay.

  4.  How to get her out.

  I’ve come up with thirty-four additional spells for killing vampires. But all the really good ones would kill Baz, too.

  I’m far less concerned about sparing Lamb and his friends. Really, if we live through this, we should take out Las Vegas next. Maybe that would redeem us with the Coven. “Yes, we broke every rule in the Book. But we also de-vampired the American West.”

  “If we live through this” being the operative clause, unfortunately.

  Simon and I have seen plenty of action over the years. We’ve saved Agatha from more serious threats than this in our sleep. (Literally. Second year. The Humdrum sent counting sheep. It was epic.)

  But that was a different version of us. Post-Humdrum Penelope and Simon just barely survived seven drunken Renaissance Faire vampires, even with Baz’s help. And without Shepard, we would have lost to a goat and a skunk in western Nebraska. We did lose to that dragon.

  We are out of our depth and nearly a hemisphere out of our comfort zone. And it occurs to me, three hours north of Las Vegas, that we are very probably going to lose.

  Lamb isn’t expecting us to win. As he heads into the desert, following the speed limit.

  We’re just the boiling oil he’s pouring over the castle wall. He’s expecting us to take a few of the other guys down with us. He’s using us to create a diversion.

  That is in fact exactly what Shepard proposed to him. Shepard doesn’t think we’re going to win, either! He’s just hoping for a good show. He’s probably going to find a nice safe hill where he can watch and take notes. (That’s how the Americans wrote their national anthem.)

  Only Simon, Baz, and I care about finding Agatha. And now that I think about it, I’m not sure why I ever thought that was enough.…

  I’m not sure why I thought we had to do this alone.

  My mother is one of the wisest witches in the world. She’s one of the most powerful mages in England. And never once did I seriously consider asking her for help.

  Pre-Humdrum Penelope never had to. I had the most powerful mage in the world as my best friend. Together we were invincible.

  Oh, hell … that was never true, was it?

  I was never invincible. I was just in the vicinity.

  Simon has no power now, and I’m as powerful as I ever was. Which, it turns out, isn’t very powerful at all.

  55

  BAZ

  I don’t know what I was picturing. Another improbable American city jutting out of the sand. More American suburbs. Office buildings that look like they came flat-packed from Ikea. Not this.…

  The Next Blood have set up shop far from the edge of any town. It’s nearly daybreak when Lamb turns off the road, directly into the desert.

  Snow has spent the whole night on the edge of his seat, fidgeting and glaring at the back of Lamb’s head, watching his every move. (Lamb has done nothing but drive and adjust the satellite radio.) Every time Simon moves, he clips me with his wing. I keep shrugging him off. And then he pushes back, like I’m the one bothering him. He won’t let us put away his wings—which have spikes, by the way—even for the ride. He’s being relentlessly childish, and I ran out of patience for it hours ago, back in Nevada. Are we still in Nevada?

  If I’d known I was going to spend all night in a car with three bleeding hearts, I would have drunk more than one pet-store rabbit. And brought more Altoids. (They’re very good for blocking out blood smells. Especially the spearmint flavour.) I refuse to ask Lamb to stop for me to hunt—he’d probably offer me a flask instead.

  Simon pokes my ear with his wing.

  I shrug him off.

  He snaps his wing to shove me back.

  “For Crowley’s sake, Snow! It’s like being caged in with a bear!”

  “Nearly there,” Lamb says coolly.

  Simon and I both look out the window. We don’t seem to be nearly anywhere.

  But Lamb is slowing down. He checks the line of cars behind us in the rearview mirror. We park at the edge of a hill—a hill of sand—and the other cars park beside us. “All right,” he says, turning in his seat. “Are you ready?”

  Bunce nods. Even though she looks less ready than I’ve ever seen her. She tumbles out of the car, her right hand clenched in a fist. Snow and I follow. Shepard is still asleep, and I can’t think of a reason to wake him.

  The other vampires are already standing outside their cars, watching us.

  Lamb faces us, talking softly. “There’s no time to waste. You’ll be able to see the laboratory as soon as you crest the dune. It’s the only building. Signal to us when you’re in.”

  Snow is popping his knuckles, and cracking the joints in his wings. “Let’s go.”

  “Right,” I say to Lamb. “How should we signal you?”

  He frowns, clamping his hand around my arm. “Baz, I meant it. The mages will go in first—they’ve got the edge. We don’t risk our lives senselessly.”

  “Lamb—” I start to argue.

  Simon cuts me off: “It’s fine. Penelope and I have this. We’ll signal if we need you.”

  Penelope doesn’t look so sure. “I think Baz—”

  “It’s fine,” Simon says again, unfurling his wings like whips. The vampires are all watching him. They’ve never seen anything like him. No one has.

  He lifts off, flying up the hill.

  Penny keeps looking at me, both of us trying to communicate something big with our eyes. Something like—“It’s all right. I’m right behind you. We’ve got this.”

  She finally turns away, following Simon. He touches down near her, then lifts up again. He’s twitching with energy, spoiling for a fight. Penny’s wearing her tartan skirt and knee socks again. The backs of her knees are dimpled.

  It’s all right, I tell myself. They’ll be all right. They always are. The two of them are unstoppable.

  We watch them climb the hill, none of us moving, no one speaking. When a car door opens, I spin towards the noise. Lamb startles, baring his teeth.

  It’s just Shepard, getting out of the four-by-four. He looks rumpled and upset, like he’s just woken from a nightmare. “Penelope!” he says, too loudly.

  “They’re on their way,” I whisper. “Quiet!”

  “On their way,” Shepard repeats, looking at me, his face still muzzy, and then at Lamb.

  I point towards Penny and Simon, halfway up the sand dune.

  “Penelope!” Shepard gasps. And he takes off after her.

  PENELOPE

  I tried to tell Baz. I tried to signal him with my eyes—“I have a bad feeling about this. Mayday, Mayday, SOS.” But I’m not sure what I expected him to do, send for the cavalry? Tell them to bring holy water?

  I nearly cast “SOS” right then and there. But who would answer the call in this desolate place? And if someone rescued us, then who would rescue Agatha?

  This isn’t like me. I don’t feel like myself.

  The old me thought she would always prevail because she was always right. I’d like some of that confidence back now—even if it did come with a heaping helping of ignorance.

  I’d like to believe that our rightness is all that’s required to get Agatha out of this mess. That our goodness matters. That our power is rooted in those things and thus unmatched.

  But what has America done but prove otherwise?

  I look back at Baz. And ahead at Simon.

  There’s nowhere to go but forward.

  I run to catch up with Simon. He keeps flying in front of me, then circling back. He’s been wanting to kill vampires since we arrived in Las Vegas, and I think he’s eager to get down to business.

  “Simon,” I say, when we’re nearly to the top of the dune. “Come down for a minute. I can spell some armour for you.”

  “I don’t need armour,” he says, “but I’d take a sword.”

  He lands in front of me, and I take his hand, holding my gem between us, trying to think of a spell.

  “Hey,” he says, squeezing my fingers, “don’t look like that. I know we didn’t plan to get here by vampire caravan, but we’re here. And if Agatha’s on the other side of that hill, we’re going to save her.”

  “What if she isn’t?” I whisper.

  Simon swallows and takes my other hand, too. “Is that what you think?”

  “I don’t know what to think. We’re so far from home, Simon.”

  I hold his hands tight. He holds mine tighter. My stone cuts into both of our palms. I close my eyes and whisper a spell, “Steel yourself!”

  Nothing happens.

  SHEPARD

  Penelope, Penelope, Penelope.

  I catch up to them just before they hit the top of the hill, knocking Penelope into the sand.

  “For snake’s sake, Shepard—”

  “Penelope! It’s a Quiet Zone! The Vampire King tricked us!”

  She pushes me off, spitting sand out of her mouth and shaking out her ponytail. “That would have been useful information to have two hours ago, Normal. Hope you enjoyed your nap.”

  I look from her to Simon, who’s hovering in the air, face hard and arms folded. “I tried to tell you!” I say. “Lamb did something to me. Hypnotized me or something.”

  They’re both looking at me like I’m something stuck on the bottom of their shoes. Which I guess I am.

  They turn away from me, heading back up the dune.

  I scramble after them. “Wait! You guys. This is a trap!”

  “We know,” Penelope says.

  “So?” I try to catch her arm.

  She turns on me. “So, it’s a trap if we go, and a trap if we go back.” She’s looking over my shoulder. I glance back at the line of vampires at the bottom of the hill.

  “You can go back,” Simon says to me. “We’re going to save Agatha.”

  “Yeah, but how?”

  “We fight,” he says, lifting higher in the air.

  Penelope looks less sure.

  “Okay.” I’m still a little hungover from my vampire thrall, but my brain is racing through all the possible scenarios here. “Okay, okay, okay—maybe we can talk our way out of this.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Shepard. Just go back! Or go sideways. Go away.”

  I should. I might have a chance with Lamb. I could still make myself useful to him. Or I could try to warn Baz somehow. I could try my luck alone in the desert—I’ve got a whistle, and if I blow it, it’s supposed to summon a giant eagle. (But I’m not sure whether the eagle’s meant to save me or eat me.) (A gerrymander gave me the whistle, it’s probably fake.)

  Penelope is walking away. Simon is flying beside her.

  I led them here.

  I brought them to Las Vegas, I talked Lamb into helping them.…

  I run to catch up with them, taking left flank.

  PENELOPE

  I don’t know what I’m expecting to find when we crest the hill. But it isn’t Agatha herself, standing right there at the bottom, between two dark green four-by-fours. Her hands are bound, I think. We’re too far away to see her face, but it looks like she’s crying.

  “Agatha!” Simon shouts. He’s already shooting towards her.

  “Wait!” I call. “Simon! We have to stay together!”

  “They’re baiting us,” Shepard says.

  Obviously. But we have to take the bait to see what happens next. We have to take the bait because it’s what we came for. I start running.

  Shepard runs after me. “You should really let me handle this, Penelope!”

  This Normal really thinks his voice is the last thing I want to hear on this earth. “Honestly, Shepard. Shut up.”

  I’m making plans. And backup plans. I’m thinking of spells. I’m clutching my stone in my right hand. I’m telling myself we might catch a break, even though I’ve never felt so far from one. Agatha’s alive, that’s something.

  We’re close enough to see her face now. She is crying. She’s shaking her head no.

  I push my gem in my mouth and swallow it.

  AGATHA

  I knew it. I knew they’d come for me, they always do—they can’t help themselves.

  Idiots!

  They think they can keep sticking their heads into the lion’s mouth, just because they haven’t lost their heads so far. It’s flawed logic! I’ve told them it’s flawed logic—I’ve told them so many times!

  Surviving monsters doesn’t make you monster-proof. Escaping once doesn’t enhance your odds of escaping again.

  Penny always argues with me. “The past is the best predictor of the future.”

  Simon refuses to engage on any discussion of logic. What did he say to me seventh year? “Ease up, Ags, I’ll always save you. I’m good at it. And I get better every time.”

  “You think luck makes you lucky,” I told him. He’d just found me in a well. My hair was still wet. “But you’re just a cat burning through his nine lives. And mine, as well.”

  He didn’t listen. They never listen.

  And now here we are again.

  Here we are, finally.

  Fresh the fuck out of luck.

  BAZ

  Shepard ran after them before I could stop him. Lamb didn’t care. I watched them all climb to the top of the dune—Snow flying beside Bunce like her pet dragon. When they got to the top, he turned back and waved at me.

  I waved back.

  A moment later, there were gunshots.

  PENELOPE

  It happens fast.

  Simon reaches out for Agatha, and she shakes her head so hard, she falls over.

  The vampires step out from behind the cars then. They weren’t even hiding, really. Just standing back there, holding automatic weapons.

  I want to laugh. We wouldn’t have been ready for those guns, even if we still had our magic. Would I have got out a single spell?

  Simon fights anyway.

  The vampires—youngish men, mostly white, dressed like they’re on safari—fire their guns in the air, presumably at Simon.

  I don’t see it happen—they already have me. They tape my mouth, tie my hands. Throw me into the back of a four-by-four with Agatha. She kicks me in the ear, trying to push them off of us.

  That’s it. That’s all that happens. Then it’s over.

  Then we’re done.

  56

  AGATHA

  The guns keep firing. Like there were more than two people to shoot down.

  I thought the guns might be for show—that the NowNext creeps would want to take us all alive. But maybe Penny and I are enough of a score.

  She’s sitting next to me in the back of Braden’s Mercedes.

  I look in her eyes, half expecting her to have a plan—is anyone else coming? I wonder if Penny even realizes how bad this situation is. I try to tell her with my glued-closed face:

  It’s worse than you think, Penelope. It’s worse than we ever thought to fear.

  She looks wildly back at me. There’s no plan. There’s no hope.