“I’ll go get him,” I say. “We need to go.”
“Freshen up his…” She flaps her elbows. “If he needs it.”
I nod, touching my wand. It’s under my shirt, tucked inside the waistband of my (cheap, horrible) jeans. I’m lucky to still have it. And my mobile. Everything else is gone.
None of us have called home yet. But we’ll have to talk to our parents eventually about what happened—about the Next Blood, at least. Lamb said there were more of them. And Agatha thinks they really do have a lab in the desert.
It’s telling that not one of us suggested we go and find it. Not even Simon.
He slept all the way to San Diego. I think he had internal injuries after the battle. Bunce thinks she’s fixed him, but we’re taking him to see Dr. Wellbelove as soon as we get home, just in case.
PENELOPE
Agatha’s friend Ginger is crying because she missed her chance to become a douchebag vampire, and Agatha’s being nicer than I’ve ever seen her be to anyone. Is this why she doesn’t reply to my texts? Because they’re not idiotic enough?
I find Shepard on the balcony. You can see the ocean from out here. He’s looking down at his phone.
“Writing this up for your blog?”
“Nah,” he says. “I’ll do that when I get home. I can’t type on my phone.”
“Ha-bloody-ha,” I say, glancing down at his screen. He’s looking up bus tickets. To Las Vegas. “Shepard,no!By no means!”
“I’ve got to get my truck, Penelope.”
“Thevampireshave your truck!”
“It’s in short-term parking,” he says. “I’m paying forty-three dollars a night.”
“There are other trucks, Shepard.”
“Yes.” He shrugs. “But none that I’m entitled to drive.”
I see them when he shrugs—two fang marks under the collar of his jacket. Just as Baz said.
“Hey,” I say, fishing my amethyst out of my bra. (Very happy to have it backoutsidemy digestive tract. Sweet Circe, that was an unpleasant task.) “Let me see that bite.”
“I’m all right,” he says. “Save your magic.”
“You can’t save magic,” I say. “It’s not like spare change.”
“It’s not?” There’s that infuriating light in his eyes.
“No. Come on. We should have done this yesterday.”
He scoots his chair closer to mine, and I pull back his collar. There are two scabbed-over puncture wounds and bruises from the vampire’s non-fang teeth. I can’t help but shudder. “Are you worried that they might have…”
“Turned me?” He finishes my question. “No. I haven’t felt especially bloodthirsty. And… and anyway, no, I’m not worried.”
I hold my gem over his wound and say,“Good as new!”
When I pull my hand away, the scabs are still there. I frown. “Shepard… are you immune to magic?”
“No,” he says, running his fingers over the wound like he’s curious. “Not immune.”
I sit back. “Baz said that a vampire bit you, and it made the vampire sick.”
He looks out towards the water. “Maybethe vampirewas allergic.”
