“No. It’s a shop. We sell expensive paints and pencils.”
“This is so frustrating—you’re not telling meanything!”
Baz hears me raise my voice and looks in from the back. I shake my head. Baz nudges Simon, and Simon looks in on me, too. I give him the thumbs-up, which is our personal code for“Everything’s fine.”(It’s a very obvious code, but you only need a sneaky code for when you’renotfine.)
“I’m telling youeverything,” the Normal says. “I’ve answered every single question.”
“So—how do you know about witches and vampires?”
“Everyone knows about witches and vampires!”
“How do you know aboutus?”
“I don’t know about you, Witch Girl. I want to. It is actuallykillingme not knowing. Three new Maybes show up,practically in my backyard,and go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer in frontof half of Sarpy County—oh my God, is that what you are—slayers?”
“No, and what did you just call us—‘babies’?”
“Maybes.Magickal beings. It’s what people like me call people like you.”
I’m holding my forehead to keep it from exploding. “American Normals have anamefor us?” For the Grace of Slick, this is an actual catastrophe.
“Not all Normals. Normals like me.”
“Like you.…” I purse my lips. “Do you mean irritating or foolhardy?”
“Normals who know aboutmagic.I’m part of an online community—”
“Fuuuck meee.” I droop back against the seat.
“Hey.” He looks over at me. “Are you all right? What’s wrong?”
“Everything, apparently. My mum was right about America. Also the Internet.”
“Did you think you could keep us in the dark forever?” The Normal’s getting passionate. Either this is coming from his heart, or he’s extremely cunning. “The world is full of magic! Look around you, these fields are full of pixies! You expect us to just ignore it?”
“Yes! Our safety basically depends on it!”
“Would you? If you were Normal?”
“I could never be Normal.”
“You could—”
I sit up again. “No. I wouldn’t be me.”
“I’m saying, justimagine—”
“It’s unimaginable! It’s like asking me,‘How would you feel if you were a frog?’Well, I wouldn’t bemethen, would I? I’d be afrog.Do frogs evenhavefeelings?”
He shakes his head. Like I’m the one being ridiculous. “Normals have feelings, I can assure you. We may not be like you, but we have eyes and ears. We notice things.”
“In my experience? Not usually.”
“Inotice things,” he says, pointing at his chest and looking at me over the top of his glasses. He’s apparently forgotten he needs to watch the road. “Look, I don’t know anything about you, personally. Because you’ve answered exactly none of my questions. But if you didn’t know about magic, if you were born Normal or just ignorant, and then you saw some magic—if you witnessed a miracle with your own eyes—would you just leave it be? If you got a glimpse into a secret world, would you pretend it hadn’t happened? Or would you spend the rest of your life trying to find a doorway?”
I can’t really process what he’s saying. All I can think about is the danger we’re in. “So that’s what you do, you go looking for ways into our world?”
“Hell, yes, and I’ve found a few.”
