“I brought you breakfast,” he says, “even though it’s technically lunchtime.
And even though I’m pretty sure you didn’t eat dinner last night. Did you know there’s a place down the street that sells every sandwich you could imagine? I literally couldn’t choose. An entire wall of sandwiches.”
“Are you talking about Pret?”
“So I brought you this instead. It looks bad, I know. But trust me, it’s delicious—and vegan. I’ve already eaten three.”
I sit up to see what he’s set on my lap. “That’s a sausage roll.”
“It’s like a very mushy pig in a blanket.”
I glare at him. “I’ve eaten a sausage roll before.”
“Oh, good, then you know the drill. I brought you orange juice, too. If I’m going to be bringing all of your meals to you, you should probably give me a heads-up about your allergies, dietary preferences, and religious beliefs.”
I rub my eyes. I still feel just as terrible as I did when I fell asleep. And just as clueless about my life. But significantly hungrier … I can’t believe I’m going to give Shepard the satisfaction of eating this sausage roll he brought me. I take a bite. “Have you been wandering around London again?”
“I considered sitting alone in your living room for another day, but—”
“You can’t just walk around. You’re an illegal immigrant.”
“I really don’t plan on immigrating…”
“You didn’t talk to anyone, did you?”
He tilts his head at me.
Right, that’s a stupid question. I need to get him out of here. I’ve been licking my wounds since Simon left, ignoring Shepard completely. I can only confront a limited number of my mistakes at once—there are too many for me to cope with concurrently. But this has got out of hand.
“Thank you for breakfast, Shepard.”
“Don’t thank me,” he says. “I took money from the kitchen table. I hope that wasn’t your rent. It was either that or steal your gem and try to Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo us some breakfast. I’ll pay you back. Unless it was more fake money.”
“It’s fine,” I say.
“This is such a great neighbourhood. There’s a family of either/orcs living downstairs, have you met them?”
“In this building?”
“Yeah, the young couple? With the schnauzer? I’ll introduce you later.”
“You talked to my neighbours?”
He tilts his head in the other direction.
Right. Completely out of hand.
I haven’t even been trying to help Shepard. I erased the blackboard. I’ve been watching Norwegian soap operas and reading fanfiction and occasionally heating up Cup Noodles. Meanwhile Shepard’s been doing magic-knows-what with magic-knows-who.
I can’t let Shepard set up shop in my living room. What will he bring home?
“Shepard, I’ve been thinking.”
“So have I.”
“When I brought you here—”
“Penelope, I have been so ungrateful.”
“What? No, you haven’t.”
He nods, emphatically. “I have. To be honest, I didn’t really think you could fix my whole demon situation.”
My head is hanging forward. “Shepard, you were honest. You told me you didn’t think I could fix it.”
“But I still came home with you,” he says. “Just to see what would happen. You and your friends are the most interesting people I’ve ever met— and that’s saying something. I came along because I wanted to see what would happen next.”
“Shepard—”
“But the other day, after Simon left, and you broke all your chalk, it got me thinking…” He pushes up his wire-framed glasses. “I have met so many magickal creatures. And none of them have ever offered to help me before.”
“I’m not a creature—”
“I showed my tattoos to a genie once—”
What? “Where did you find a genie?”
Shepard grins. “In a lamp.”
“You found a genie trapped in a lamp?”
“I found a genie who lived in a lamp. In South Sioux City. The point is, he didn’t offer to help me. He said, ‘I’ve got two rules: You can’t wish for more wishes, and I don’t fuck with demons.’”
“Morgana preserve us.”
Shepard’s grin goes warm. “But you didn’t say that, Penelope.”