“Agatha,” I say, “what else have you heard at home?”
“I don’t know,” she says, frowning and fiddling with her skirt. “Father’s had lots of emergency Coven meetings. Mother says they can’t meet at our house anymore. She thinks our Normal neighbours are getting suspicious.”
“All right,” I say, “maybe we should move on to questions now—whatdon’twe know?”
I start a new column in the air, but Agatha stands up and starts walking out. “I really need to study.”
I try to stop her—“Agatha, wait, you’ll get caught if you leave by yourself!”—but she’s already closing the door.
Simon exhales loudly and runs his hands through his hair, making it stand up in curly bronze chunks. “I’m going for a walk,” he says, marching towards the door, leaving his wand on his bed.
Part of me wishes he were following her, but I don’t think he is.
I sigh, then sit down on his bed and look at our meagre lists. Before I leave, I blow my words out the window with a“Clear the air!”
24
AGATHA
I don’t know what I’m hoping for.
That he’ll see me standing at the wall, my hair whipping in the wind and my dress billowing out around me…
And that, what?
That it will mean something to him?
That he’ll see me up here, waiting for him on the ramparts, and reallyseeme for the first time—There’s the answer,he’ll think. And he’ll unfasten my ribbons and tie them around his arm, or his thigh. And, Morgana, what would that even mean?
Something.
Somethingnew.
I know that Basil, I don’t know…thinksabout me. Or at least thought about me. That he used to watch me. Especially when I was with Simon.
I know that he hated what Simon and I have. And wanted it. That he’d do anything to get between us.
Baz was always there, cutting in at every dance. Teasing me away from Simon, then just teasing me. Disappearing. Sneaking away.
I played along sometimes—maybe I should be grateful that Baz never called my bluff.
Because maybe it wasn’t a bluff. Maybe Iwouldwalk away with Baz. I followed him into the Wood that day; I still don’t know what I was thinking.
I mean, Iknowwho Baz is. I know what he is.
I can’t break up with Simon for a Tory vampire—my parents would disown me. And I don’t even know what that would entail. Would I have to be evil? Slip poison into people’s drinks? Cast dark spells? Or would it just be sitting next to a different boy at a different table… Being beautiful on another side of the room.
I’d be gold to his black. Both of us pale as snow.
Maybe I wouldn’t have to be evil—but Baz wouldn’t expect me to be good, always sogood.
And maybe I’d live forever.
I walk the ramparts at night in a white dress and a knee-length woven cloak. The weather’s turning. I feel the roses in my cheeks.
Maybe he’ll see me up here before I see him.
Maybe he’ll want me.
