“I don’t much care,” he says. “I want my clothes. And my sunglasses. And my mother’s scarf.”
“I suppose I’d like my phone back,” she says.
I’d like them to summon the entire classic convertible, but I don’t think they’d be into the idea.
Penelope and I are sitting on the ground, eating some turkey jerky we found in the Silverado. (I quite like jerky.) Baz walks over to us, buttoning his wet and mangled shirt.
“What are you thinking?” Penny asks, holding out some jerky for him. “‘Lost and found’?”
“How would that even work?” I ask. “Is your stuff going to fly from Nebraska?”
“Maybe,” she says. “I’ve only used ‘Lost and found’ for things that were close at hand, like when I’ve set my keys in the wrong place.”
“Baz,” I say, “what if your flying suitcase kills someone?”
“I don’t think we could summon something that far anyway,” Penny sighs. “Especially not right now. I’m clapped out.”
Baz settles between us on the ground. “I’ve got a better idea.” He holds his wand out to Penny. (He must have rinsed that off, too. Last time I saw it, it was covered in goat blood.) “Give me a hand.”
Penny raises an eyebrow, but she wraps her ring hand around his wrist.
“Follow my lead, Bunce.” Baz closes his eyes. His eyelids are dark grey. He takes a deep breath and then he… starts to sing?“A-ma-zing grace—”
Penny yanks her hand away. “Ahymn,Basil?”
Baz sighs.
“We can’t cast a hymn!” she says.
“Not with that attitude…”
“It’s sacrilege!”
“Superstition, Penelope.”
She shakes her head. “And it’s too general. That song’s more of a vibe than a spell.”
“It’sold,” he says. “It’s powerful. The Americans know it.”
I bang my shoulder against his. “Are you guys trying to summon Jesus?”
Penny points at him. “You know I’m tone-deaf.”
“Fortunately,” Baz says, catching her forearm, “the goal isn’t to sing well, just to sing together. Our ancestors cast inchoirs.”
He’s got her attention now; Penny’s a fiend for magickal history. “But we’re both spent, Baz.…”
“Harmony is power,” he says.
Penny sighs and wraps her hand back around his wrist. “If this works, my mother will be so impressed, she might grant me a last meal.”
“Lean into it,” he says. “And hit ‘found’ hard. You know intention counts.”
Baz closes his eyes again.“Amazing grace, how sweet thesound!”His voice sounds lush when he sings. Deeper and heavier than when he talks. The last time I saw someone cast a song—theonlytime I’ve seen someone cast a song—it was the Mage. That day. Over Ebb.
Ebb…
The Mage, he—
