“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. Sheiscrying. 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. Escapingoncedoesn’t enhance your odds of escapingagain.
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.
