Carry On

“I don’t know, I guess so.… Why would the Pitches blame the Mage for this?”

Pe

“I was fighting the Humdrum! I mean, I was trying. The Humdrum did something to Baz—he sent him after me like he does the dark creatures.”

“So you fought Baz?”

“No! I gave him my magic, so he could fight the Humdrum off. It was like a spell. The Humdrum was there, Pe

Pe

“I—I needed to get out of there.” I’ve got my hands in my hair. I try to remember it, clearly, how it happened. “When Baz was himself again, we walked out of the forest right into a dead spot. His parents were freaking out, and Baz told me to go. So … I did. I didn’t have any other way to get here.”

“So you flew.”

“Yeah.”

She looks more worried than I’ve ever seen her outside of a kidnapping situation. “What spell did you cast, Simon?”

“Pe

She’s watching herself wring her hands in her lap.

“Pe

“Yeah?” She doesn’t look up.

“What should I do?

She sighs. “I don’t know, Simon. Maybe Agatha’s right.” She finally meets my eyes. “Maybe it is time to talk to the Mage.”

*   *   *

Pe

Her parents are gone, and there’s nothing in the fridge but a raw turkey. Pe

Her little sister wanders in. “You’re the reason that Father Christmas didn’t come,” she says to me. “You scared him off.”

“Father Christmas will come, Priya,” Pe

“Father Christmas is a lie,” Pacey calls from the living room. “So is God.”

I don’t know Pacey well. He’s at Watford, year five, but he and Pe

I still feel terrible: cold and wet, even though I’m perfectly dry and wearing some of Pacey’s clothes. (I woke up in ladies’ trackie bottoms.) And even though I couldn’t feel that weird dragon tail when I had it, now that it’s gone, it kind of aches. My Weetabix keep lurching up my throat, and I swallow them down hard.

I’m trying not to worry or think about what I should do next. Pe

When someone knocks at the door, I think it must be him. Priya goes for it, and Pe

It’s Baz.

Standing on Pe

“Don’t you have to be invited in?” she says.

He sneers, and she waves him in. “Come on.”

Baz shoves past her and looks around the living room. “Where’s your dad’s office?”

“My dad isn’t here—he’s at your house. And what makes you think I’d let you in his office? Why are you even here?”

“I’m here,” Baz says, looking over at me, then looking me up and down, “because we have an agreement.”

Penelope steps between us. “If you make a single move towards Simon—even a gesture—in my house, I will slaughter your whole family, Basilton. I’ll kill them so hard, they won’t even be able to find the Veil. Simon didn’t do this.”

He sneers at her some more. “That’s where you’re wrong—show me your father’s office. Are there maps? I’m assuming there are maps.”

We both stare at him. Me, because I can’t help it. Pe

“Truce!” he says. “Come on, we’re still on truce. Make haste!”

I nod. “Come on, Pe

She sighs and unfolds her arms. “Fine, but you can’t touch anything up there. Either of you.”

We follow her up the stairs. Baz knocks against me with his shoulder and elbow. “All right, Snow?” he asks softly.

“Yeah. You?”

“Fine,” he says.

“Your magic?” I whisper.

“Fine.”

He touches my back so lightly, I’m not sure it’s not an accident.

We take the last step up into the attic, where Pe

“Lovely,” Baz says. “You come by it honestly, Bunce.”

He walks around the room until he finds what he’s looking for. “There,” he says. “Already labelled.” I step up behind him. It’s a map of the South East with a red string around Hampshire. The flag on the pin says, CHRISTMAS EVE 2015.

“Last night, the Humdrum attacked Simon—and the biggest hole in Britain opened up.” He glances back at us. “When did the dragon attack Watford? What day?”

I shrug.

“It was after our Magic Words exam,” Pe

“Right…” Baz walks around the room, reading the flags. He stops in front of a map of Scotland. “There,” he says. “November fifteenth. The Isle of Skye.”

“Are you saying that the Humdrum is linked to the holes?” Pe

“I’m getting there, Bunce.… Now, when did the holes first appear?”

“Do we really have to do this by Socratic method?”

Baz frowns at her.

Pe

He nods quickly, cutting her off. “And when were you born, Simon? You’d think I’d know, but I can’t remember you ever celebrating your birthday.”

I shrug again. Then clear my throat. “I don’t know. I mean … Nobody knows. They just guessed when they found me.”

“But you’re probably eighteen now. Maybe nineteen?”

“They put 1997 on my papers.”

Baz nods. “Good—1997, shortly before the holes were discovered. And when did you realize you were a magician?”

Pe

“I didn’t realize it,” I say. “The Mage told me.”

Baz is pi

I clear my throat. “I went off.” They both know what that means. But I didn’t, not at 11. I woke up in the middle of the night, during a vicious nightmare—I’d gone to bed hungry, and in my dream, my stomach was on fire. I woke up, breathless, and magic was pouring out of me. Blasting out. The children’s home was burnt to the ground, and everyone in it woke up streets away. Unharmed, but still, streets away. (Once I watched a show about tornadoes in America, and they showed furniture that had been picked up and set in a yard miles away without breaking. It was like that.)

“You lit up the magickal atmosphere like a Christmas tree,” Baz says.

“Like a carpet bomb,” Pe

“When?” Baz says. “When did it happen?”

“August,” I say. I know he already knows this. “The year we started school.”

“August,” Baz says, “2008.” He walks around the room. “Here,” he says, pointing at a dead spot on the map. “And here.” He points at another.