“Don’t like talk.”
I let the fire in my hand go out, and they make a noise like ten thousand teeth grinding.
“More fire,”I hear.“More firrrre.”
“I’ll give you more fire when you answer my question!” They’re vibrating. I’m not sure whether it’s from anger or impatience or something else. “Who sent you? Who paid you to take me?”
“Warmed us,”I hear.
“Who?”
“One of you.”
“Magic ones.”
“Which one of us? Was it a man? What did he look like?”
“Like a man. Soft.”
“Warm.”
“Wet spot on the pavement.”
“Green.”
“Green?” I say.
The largest numpty unfolds, then crunches down into a pile right in front of me, forcing the others away.“Your headstone!”
“One of you.”
“Warm.”
“Take the vampire brat,”the big one grinds, “keep him in the dark, give him blood.”
“Hold him till the cold comes and stays.”
“Fire. Warm. You promised.”
They’re pressing closer again.“You promised.”
I restart the fire in my hand, but instead of backing off, they crush closer to it; I can’t even see my wrist.
“Get back!” I yell. My left arm is sucking away from my shoulder, and my wand arm is pressed up against my ear.“Back off!”
“Cast ‘Paper beats rock,’” someone shouts. Not a numpty—a man!
“What?!”
“‘Paper beats rock’—do it.”
I call out,“Paper beats rock!”And then a specific kind of chaos erupts:
There’s someone hopping on top of the numpties, slapping them with sheets of newspaper like he’s playing whack-a-mole. They try to heave away, but when he thumps them, they go still. Actually still. The pressure around me stops.
I look up and see none other than Nicodemus himself standing on top of the biggest numpty, catching his breath.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask him, my mouth surely hanging open.
