“I used to come with my father to visit.”
“Oh. That makes sense.”
The door slides closed behind us. It’s dark, but I can still see. “How did you think I found it?”
“I thought it was a creepy vampire thing.”
“Well, it was … eventually.”
“Do you think other Watford kids wander around down here?”
“I only ever saw you.”
Simon giggles. “I can’t believe we’re in the Catacombs together.”
Before I can say anything, he’s pushing me against a stone wall and kissing my neck.
“For fuck’s sake, Snow, this is hallowed ground!”
“I’m not doing anything to unhallow it.” He keeps kissing me.
I rest my arms over his shoulders, letting the roses droop.
“New plan,” he says. “We retrace our old steps, and do this all of the places we used to fight.”
“That’s everywhere.”
“Everywhere, then.”
He’s got his arms around my waist, and his chest and hips against mine.
This is all my fifth-year fantasies come true: Simon Snow manhandling me in the library, in the Catacombs …
“We could go up to the tower,” he says.
“That’s someone else’s room now.”
“It will always be our room more than anyone else’s.”
I close my eyes and drop my head onto his shoulder. The wall behind me is cold and damp. Simon is warm. He’s pushing his nose into my collar and biting my throat.
“I can’t believe I had you in my room every night,” he says, “and I didn’t take advantage of it.”
“You could have had me in your room every night for the last year.”
He groans into my collar. “I’m such a twat.”
I lift my head up and get my free hand around his jaw. I can see his eyes, his pupils wide as saucers. Can he see me? “Kiss me in the Catacombs, Snow. Unhallow the ground.”
“I’ll unhallow your ground,” he says, kissing me.
I don’t think he can see me—his mouth lands halfway onto my chin. I’m laughing, making it worse. “You’re absurd,” I say.
“Look. I already said I’m a twat.”
I hold his jaw in place and kiss him squarely.
Simon’s lips are thin. His mouth is wide. We kiss with our teeth.
It’s everything I ever wanted.
He’s better than I hoped.
Even though he’s more fucked up than I could have imagined …
I don’t want him to lose control down here. I don’t want to have to sit in the dirt to comfort him, with all of my ancestors watching. When he starts pulling too hard on my shirt, I ease him back.
“Come on,” I say softly. “It isn’t much farther.”
50
SIMON
Baz lights a fire in his hand, so I can see.
“I hate it when you do that,” I say.
“What?”
“You’re going to start yourself on fire.” I saw how quickly the vampires went up, in the desert.
Baz scoffs. “I’m completely in control.”
“Seriously,” I say. “Use a torch. There are a thousand of them down here.”
All along the walls.
“Fine.” He waves a hand, and the whole row of them lights up. He shakes the flame out of his hand.
“Look.” I stop walking. We’re standing right by the portrait I remembered.
Of the blond girl. “It’s Lady Ruth’s daughter, isn’t it?”
“It certainly looks like her,” Baz agrees.
Someone has painted her right on the wall—and cast a spell to make it look like she’s crying. “Do you think she died here?”
“Lady Salisbury says she’s still alive.”
“Huh.”
We both stand there for a moment, watching her cry. Then Baz takes one of his roses and sets it on the ground below the portrait.
“I’ll wait here,” I say. It didn’t occur to me until just now that he might want to be alone with his mum. “You go on.”
Baz looks at me, one eyebrow cocked low, then nods. “I won’t be long.”
He kisses my cheek before he walks away. I like that. All the easy kisses he’s giving me. All the checking on me and checking in with me. You might think it would be irritating, but it really isn’t. It makes me think it would have been nice to have someone looking out for me like this all along.
I lean against the wall across from the portrait and slide to the ground.