Right, of course.
It takes both Baz and Simon to lift the duffel bag off the floor. Baz wraps both arms around it and rushes back through the swinging door. “Come on!”
We run out of the kitchen, trying every door in the hallway. Some of them are locked. “Any of these could lead to stairs,” I say.
“Here!” Simon’s already at the end of the hall, shaking a door by its knob.
“Listen. It’s that music—”
“‘Pour Some Sugar on Me,’” Shepard says.
I frown at him. “What? ”
“Come on, Penny,” Simon says, rattling the door. “‘Open Sesame!’”
I catch up with him and hold out my fist. “Open Sesame!” The door swings open in Simon’s hand. The music gets louder. It is a stairwell.
“Me first,” I say. “I have magic.”
“So?” Simon says, running ahead of me down the stairs.
“Simon!”
The music is thundering down here—and terrible, some old hard rock music from when my parents were kids. I glance over my shoulder to make sure Baz is still with us. He’s coming down the stairs behind me, leaning way back so that the bag won’t pull him into a dive.
“Is this where it wants to go?” I ask.
“I think so. It mostly just wants to get away from me. Keep up with Snow.”
I nod and hurry down the stairs, pulling Shepard along with me. We end up in another hallway. Dark. Old. Walls of crumbling brick. We follow the music and find Simon standing outside another locked door, trying to muscle it open. “Penelope!”
Morgana below, has anyone ever cast so many “Open Sesame”s? I hold my gem over the lock, and do it again. Simon wrenches the door open, and the music is suddenly unbearably loud.
There’s a middle-aged white man inside the room, drinking tea and watching television. He’s got stringy blond hair and a patchy beard. He fumbles for the remote. “Sorry! I thought everyone was—” He stops fumbling and stares at Simon. “Is that—Are you— Simon Snow!? ”
Simon is staring back. “Jamie?! ”
67
BAZ
Jamie Salisbury has been locked in a basement, listening to hair metal. He looks hale enough. He was sitting in an armchair, drinking tea when we barged in. Now he’s standing and staring at Simon.
“How do you know who I am?!” Salisbury shouts over the music.
“We were looking for you!” Simon shouts back.
Shepard walks past them and picks the TV remote up off the floor. He turns the music down.
Salisbury looks at the TV, then back at Simon. “Why is Simon Snow looking for me?”
“Because your mum is worried about you,” Simon says.
“My mum knows Simon Snow?”
“You can just call me Simon.”
“Really?”
“Jamie”—Simon touches the man’s shoulder—“who locked you in the basement?”
Salisbury pulls his head back, surprised. “They didn’t. I mean, I’m not locked down here. I mean, well, I am—but not like that. Smith is letting me stay here. He’s letting me lie low.”
“Why do you need to lie low?”
Salisbury looks down at his feet and scratches the back of his head. “If I could talk about that, I wouldn’t need to lie low.”
Simon looks around the little room. There’s a bed and the easy chair and a bare lightbulb hanging over our heads. The walls are brick and held together by spiderwebs. “If you want to be in here … why was the door locked from the outside?”
Salisbury shrugs. “Well, there is no lock on the inside, so Smith had to— Wait, how did you open it?” His eyes get big. “Did Smith fix your magic?”
“No,” Simon says. “I—”
“Smith said he was going to fix your magic.”
This is ridiculous. Jamie Salisbury hasn’t been kidnapped. He’s just hiding from his mother. I need to find Philippa. She’s here somewhere—the bag is pulling towards the far wall of Salisbury’s cell.
I step in front of Simon before he tells Salisbury the whole story.
“Where’s Pippa?” I demand. “Pippa Stainton?”
“Pippa?” Salisbury says. “She’ll be at Watford by now, with Smith.” He looks at Simon. “You’re supposed to be there, too.”
He’s useless. I head for the door.
Once I’m in the hallway, I try to let the bag lead, but it wants to move as the crow flies, not down hallways and through doors.