“Well, they’re mostly gone now, is my point.”
“It’s too little, too late.”
“Fine then,” I say, “maybe you should run for the Coven and change things.” （This is a terrible idea, I’d never vote for Fiona. And I can vote now —the injunction against my family was dropped. All the Mage’s laws targeting specific families were overturned. We’ve got Bunce’s mother to thank for that.）
“In the old days,” Fiona pouts, “Pitches didn’t have to run. We were guaranteed three spots on the Coven.”
How am I supposed to reply to that? The woman is ridiculous. I roll my eyes and try to change the subject. “What were you trying to find at Watford?” I ask again, more gently this time.
She shakes her head. “Something of your mother’s.”
“Headmistress Bunce said there’s nothing of my mother’s left at Watford.
She already gave me all of her books.”
“Then why are they still on the shelves in Bunce’s office?”
“That was my decision. I thought Mum would want them to stay at Watford.”
“How do you know what she’d want?” Fiona scoffs. “You never even knew her.”
I sit back. Away from my aunt.
Her eyes jump up to the mirror. “Fuck. Basil. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.
I’m just—I haven’t had a cigarette in three days.”
And she isn’t having one now. Fiona isn’t allowed to smoke in the car with me; I don’t trust her with fire in close quarters. I look out the window, ignoring her.
“Basil. Don’t pout.”
“What were you looking for?” I ask again. Less gently.
“Nothing.” She’s holding the steering wheel too tight. “Something I need.
Something I know Natasha would give me.”
“You need to leave it be. If they catch you at Watford again, they’ll lock you up without a trial.”
“I’ll go back to Watford when I please—I’m an alumnus! The observatory is named after me!”
“The observatory is named after your grandfather.”
“So were you, boyo. It’s Pitch blood in both our veins.”
It’s rat blood in my veins. Currently. I ducked into an alley and fuelled up as soon as I got back into town.
“Stay out of trouble, Fiona. You’ll drag me down with you. And that’s the last thing my mother would want—I know enough to know that.”
5
PENELOPE
My mother didn’t seem too upset when I called her from America. She was so happy to hear that I’d broken up with Micah—and so eager to complain to me about Fiona Pitch—that there wasn’t really time to tell her the whole story …
All right, I swear I’m going to tell her about the vampires and Las Vegas and definitely the NowNext. I just need to figure out a way to do it that won’t get us all dragged before the Coven.
I can’t overstate how many laws we’ve broken in the last week.
Theft, more theft, counterfeiting. Flagrant misuse of magic. Criminal indiscretion. Manipulating Normals, exploiting Normals, exposing Normals to magickal secrets.
Exposing one particular Normal to all of the above.
Maybe I shouldn’t have brought Shepard to England; he’d be the most valuable witness in a case against us.
But I couldn’t just leave him as he was. He risked his life to help us in America, knowing that he’d go straight to hell if the risk didn’t pay off. I wouldn’t abandon anyone who was trapped by a demon.
And Shepard, much that I regret meeting him, isn’t just anyone. He saved my life in the desert. And Agatha’s, too. We were about ten seconds away from Joan-of-Arc territory when he intervened.
We take the Tube to my parents’ house. Shepard talks too loud and points at everything. “Londoners don’t talk on the Underground,” I tell him.
“But I’m not from London,” he replies.
I haven’t asked him much about his demon problem yet. I want Mum and Dad to hear the whole story. I know for certain that Mum’s done a course in demonology, and Dad knows a lot about magickal law; it was part of his linguistics training.
I’ve only got the usual demon training: Don’t talk to them. Don’t take sweets from them. Never, ever get in their vans.
It’s not usually a danger. Demons don’t just show up—they have to be summoned.
“All right,” I say, when we’re off the Tube and walking down my street, “we’re almost there. Remember, you promised not to ask impertinent questions.”