“No, but on that note: Remember to lookrightwhen you cross the street. Americans are always walking into traffic . . .”
“Penelope. I’ve already been living like this for two years.”
“Which is why we’re going directly to my parents’ house. Then you’ll have your soul back, and you can die whenever you want.”
“Your parents are going to unbind me from a demon over dinner?”
“Well”—she’s looking through a stack of mail, twirling the end of her long, brown ponytail in her fingers—“there probably won’t be dinner unless we bring it. No one in my house likes to cook. But otherwise, yes. My mother is the smartest and possibly the most powerful mage in all the World of Mages.”
“Is she some sort of queen?”
“What? No.” Penelope looks up at me, disgusted. “Mages don’t have queens.”
“Oh, right, pardon me for making that assumption in a country that actually has a monarchy.”
“My mother is a magickal historian, and a headmistress, and an elected official.”
“And she’s really the most powerful magician in the world?”
“In the World of Mages.”
“Which is . . . the world?”
“Which is the United Kingdom. And Ireland. And various islands.” She drops the mail back on the table. I kind of hoped Penelope and Simon’s apartment would be full of magical devices and artifacts. Like crystal balls and mystery boxes. But so far it looks like any other college student’s apartment. They’ve got the same Ikea couch my sister has.
“Let me call and make sure Mum’s home . . .” Penelope kicks off her chunky black Mary Janes. Doc Martens. I like them. She’s wearing argyle knee socks. I like those, too. I like her wholeVelma from Scooby Doo, but make it lazylook. Her plaid skirt and baggy purple T-shirt. The tortoiseshell eyeglasses.
“Are you sure your mom will want to help me?” I ask.
“Of course she’ll want to help you.”
“In my experience, Speakers don’t go around helping Talkers out of traps . . .”
Penelope folds her arms and frowns at me. “Your experience with magicians is extremely limited and doesn’t include my mother. It justbarelyincludes me.”
I return her frown with my warmest smile. (Which isverywarm.) “Let’s do it,” I say. “I’m up for anything.”
She frowns more deeply at me. “Thatisthe problem, you know.”
“I do know that. Yes. Indeed.”
4
BAZ
“You here to bust me out, Basil?”
My aunt is sitting on a velvet-upholstered chair in the corner of a stone cell. The Coven summoned a tower to lock her up. The guard outside had to wait till dusk before he could cast the spell to open the door.
“I’m here to bail you out,” I say. “For snake’s sake, Fiona, what were you thinking?”
“Bail? Pitches don’t pay bail. Or ransom.”
“Well, that’s fine,” I say. “My father paid it, and he’s a Grimm.”
She leans back and rests her boots on a writing table. “Come back when you’re ready to break me out properly.”
“This isn’t a joke. They’re only letting you out because Dr. Wellbelove and Headmistress Bunce vouched for you.” I only found out Fiona had been arrested because Penelope decided to call her mother before we left San Diego. When Penny came running down the beach yesterday afternoon, I thought someone had died.
