Wayward Son - Rainbow Rowell Page 0,41
incredibly stupid of you,” I say.
“I know.”
“We could have killed you.”
“Right, I know.”
“We could still kill you, at any moment.”
“Trust me,” he says. “I get it.”
“Then, why? Do you work for someone?”
“Dick Blick.”
“Who’s that? Another skunk enforcer?”
“No. It’s a shop. We sell expensive paints and pencils.”
“This is so frustrating—you’re not telling me anything!”
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’re not fine.)
“I’m telling you everything,” 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 about us?”
“I don’t know about you, Witch Girl. I want to. It is actually killing me not knowing. Three new Maybes show up, practically in my backyard, and go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer in front of 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 a name for 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 about magic. 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, just imagine—”
“It’s unimaginable! It’s like asking me, ‘How would you feel if you were a frog?’ Well, I wouldn’t be me then, would I? I’d be a frog. Do frogs even have feelings?”
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.”
“I notice 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.”
It’s my turn to shake my head.
“Does that bother you?” he asks.
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“Because … it’s none of your business. It’s not your world—it’s ours. You have no right to our secrets!”
“What makes it yours?”
“What do you mean? It’s obvious.”
“Not to me. What makes magic yours?”
I laugh. “We’re magickal. And you’re not.”
He turns his head completely to look at me. “We are made of magic. Without our magic, you’re worse than Normal. You’re useless.”
31
SHEPARD
Welp. I screwed that up.
I was supposed to charm her. Some people do find me charming, believe it or not. When I was 18, I got a creek dryad to tell me her life story. She gave me mulberry cakes and dandelion wine. It’s the first time I ever got drunk.
How did I learn so much about magic?
My strategy is simple: I tell the truth.
I always use my real name (even though fairy tales tell you not to). I always say exactly what I want from a situation and exactly what I mean.
These magical beings are always running a con.… They’ve been lying low for so long, they only know how to talk in tricks and riddles.
If you come in