Wayward Son - Rainbow Rowell Page 0,61

going to know everything soon, and you could help us—you could make it so much more efficient. And it would benefit you, too. You’d be one of us. Strong. Well. Ageless.”

I stared at the wall. “If you’re quite finished—”

“Agatha.”

“If you’re quite finished, I think I’d like to—”

“It’s an invitation. But it isn’t a request.”

“Ginger will be looking for me.”

He touched my arm then. Probably with one of his infinitesimal needles. “I hope you consider it,” he said. By the end of his sentence, my head felt heavy.

* * *

But I’m awake now. My eyes are open.

I can’t open my mouth.

I can’t remember why not.

I think I’m waiting for Braden.

43

SIMON

Baz is standing in front of a full-length mirror, wearing—I swear to Merlin—a flowered suit. It’s some slick material, dark blue with blood-red roses. With a white shirt. No—a light pink shirt. When did he start wearing all these flowers? When did his hair get so long? He’s put stuff in it, and it’s hanging over his collar in thick, black waves.

“You can’t be serious,” I say.

He cocks an eyebrow at me in the mirror.

“It’s perfect,” Shepard says. “Vampires are always way over the top.”

Baz shifts his evil eye over to Shepard. “No, it’s perfect because it’s perfect.”

If Shepard could see Baz’s house, he’d know that it isn’t just vampires living the goth life; it’s also stupidly rich magicians.

Baz didn’t blink when we walked into this hotel, the theme of which seems to be What if Dracula opened a hotel and didn’t care whether everyone guessed he was Dracula?

Everything is black. The walls, the furniture. Everything but the carpet, which is the colour of spilled wine. Or spilled blood, I reckon.

Penelope walked in and nearly walked right out: The centrepiece of the lobby is a bunch of hanging birdcages. At least a dozen of them, all painted black, with only black birds inside. Black parrots and black—I don’t know—cockatoos or something.

“Do you think they dye them?” Penny asked, walking along the wall to avoid the cages. (She’s hated birds ever since fourth year, when the Humdrum sent cravens after us, and they tried to peck out our eyes.)

We all kept our distance from the front desk while Baz secured our room. I’m not sure if he had to use money or magic, or if the employees just recognized him as one of their own. Everyone who works here is pale and incredibly good-looking. The men wear black suits, and the women wear black leather dresses cut into lace. (Leather and lace.) (Are they vampires? Is everyone a vampire here? You’d think I’d know, from living with one. But it took me years of very close study to figure him out.)

Our suite is slightly more cheerful, at least. It’s only mostly black. The walls are the colour of Baz’s new shirt (maybe vampires love pink?), and the beds are grey. Everything that could be leather is.

We got here this morning, and spent the rest of the day washing the sand out of our hair, taking naps, and ordering room service. Baz went out for a while and came back with this suit and a change of clothes for Penelope and me. He was the only person Shepard would allow to leave the room.

“Las Vegas can’t be that dangerous,” Penny says. “Some of the most famous magicians in the world live here.” She’s lying on one of the beds, wearing a pretty yellow sundress—Baz should pick out her clothes more often. (And he should never pick out mine. He brought me back a shirt with buttons. Like I work in a bank.) Penelope sighs. “I can’t believe I came all the way to Las Vegas, and I’m not gonna see Penn and Teller.”

“Please,” Baz mutters. “Sellouts.”

Shepard’s eyes light up. “Penn and Teller?”

Baz finishes adjusting his cuffs and collar, and turns away from the mirror. He really does look perfect. Whatever strange look he’s going for—Gothic pop star—it works for him.

Penelope sits up, looking serious. “Right then, Basil, we’ll be here listening, and your phone—”

“Will be in my pocket, Bunce,” Baz says. “I’ll call you before I leave. You’ll hear the whole thing.” He’s all set up for international calling now.

Thinking about him in a room full of vampires makes me itch all over.

“If they start asking too many questions—” Penny says.

Shepard takes over: “Be as honest as possible. You’re not from around here, you’re on holiday, you heard there was a party.”

“That’s … actually a decent plan,” Penny says. “And if they don’t buy