But then Bunce was at the door again. She came into the bath and made it rain magickally counterfeited hundred-dollar bills over my head. “Go buy something to wear on your vampire date,” she said. “Hurry. I have to pee.”
So now I’m walking up the Strip, dipping in and out of casinos to see what’s on offer. There are luxury boutiques in nearly every one. I’m not sure who shops at these places—none of the tourists are wearing Gucci. Perhaps this whole street caters to vampires.…
I buy myself a few more suits. Plus clothes for the drive. A few changes for Simon. I see a dress that would look lovely on Bunce, but they don’t carry her size. I buy it anyway. We can alter it with a spell.
I’m stealing.
We haven’t paid for anything in a real way since Omaha.
Will the bills fade away in the register? Or on the way to the bank? Will this very nice shop assistant be fired? Will they trace any of it back to me, to us? Does it matter?
My father would be so ashamed.
Wouldn’t he? Or would he perhaps understand? What would he say if I called him right now? Would he swoop in to help us?
No.
He’d summon me home.
“Let Agatha Wellbelove’s parents worry about whatever nonsense she’s got herself into. You can’t be tangled up in this sort of thing, Basilton—with these sort of people. You’re—well, you’re vulnerable. It’s bad enough that Nicodemus Ebb has shown his face again. We don’t need anyone asking questions about you.”
Aunt Fiona might listen.…
I call her instead, on impulse. Standing outside of a Prada. Standing next to a giant ornamental vase.
She doesn’t pick up.
It doesn’t matter. What could Fiona do? She couldn’t get here before 2P.M.
I walk back to the Katherine Hotel, laden with bags. A pale young man holds the door for me. I’m about to step in when I see something blue tumbling towards me on the wind—my mother’s scarf.
I drop my bags to catch it.
When I get back to the room, Bunce and the Normal are having a séance. Holding hands on the bed, with a candle floating between them.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I say.
Bunce falls back on the pillows, frustrated. Shepard catches the candle before it hits the bed.
“It’s fine,” she says. “It’s not working. Wherever Agatha is, she’s too far away for my spells to snag.”
Bunce doesn’t mention the other possibility, so I don’t either. “Where’s Snow?” I ask. He was still asleep when I left this morning.
She picks up her mobile. “He said he needed some fresh air. I told him he’d have to leave the state to find some—”
“You let him leave the room by himself?”
“I’m not his keeper, Baz.”
“You bloody well are! It’s your one job, Bunce.”
“I couldn’t stop him!”
“This city is literally crawling with vampires, Penelope. It’s not safe for anything that bleeds.”
“Which is why I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours in this hotel room. But you know Simon—he still acts like he’s got an A-bomb strapped to his chest.”
“Next time, spell him to the bed. Use a ‘Stay put.’”
