chapter 1

Baz:

“Simon?”

He hums in acknowledgement, but doesn’t turn towards me. I can sense Bunce standing just outside our door.

“Are you ready to eat?”

No answer. That’s a no, then.

“Do you want to see Penelope?”

One shoulder rises and falls slightly, but his eyes stay glued to the window. I try to stand up, but his grip on my hand tightens. I sigh and sit back down on Simon’s bed. “Come in, Bunce!” I call.

She hesitates but steps inside after a minute, closing the door quietly behind her. She leans against it, staring at her feet. For a minute, I think she might cry, but she straightens up and lifts her chin to look at Simon. “How are you doing today, Simon?” she asks, voice barely raised above a whisper.

He blinks, watching a crow fly by.

“That good, huh?” she mutters, letting out a sigh. I gesture to my bed, and she sits down. It’s not like I’ve been able to use it at all this week. Somebody might as well.

The silence hangs in the air, the combined presence of all of the things we aren’t talking about. After a few minutes, I gently shake off Simon’s hand and stand up. “We’ll be back in a few minutes, okay? I’ll bring back some food for you.”

Simon just shrugs. I motion for Bunce to follow me, and we head down the steps from the tower. “I don’t know what to do,” she admits. “I feel like he’s just fading. I can’t reach him anymore.”

“I don’t know, either.” It scares me more than I’d like to admit. “I think the best we can do right now is just stay here, and… Well, keep him alive, really. I’ve been bringing all of his food up to him. He’ll eat, but he won’t leave the room. He barely lets me leave.”

“I’m here to stay,” she replies resolutely. “And if he’s eating, at least that’s… something.” I know that neither of us want to think about what the alternative would mean.

“Let’s hurry and get back,” I say. I don’t like leaving Simon alone for any longer than necessary.

-----

After Bunce leaves and Simon finishes eating, he finally turns away from the window. It’s the first time he’s looked at me today, but his eyes are still distant, like he’s staring straight through me.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, swallowing, and my heart leaps. I haven’t heard his voice since the last battle with the Mage, and it makes me wonder if we’re making some progress. He takes a deep breath and finally manages to force out the words, his voice hoarse. “When will you make good on your promise?”

“What promise?” I ask, confused.

“You told me I’d live with you forever,” he answers. It takes me a minute to read between the lines.

“You actually want me to Turn you,” I say disbelievingly. It isn’t a question.

“My magic was everything. I feel so fucking empty without it,” he says, voice cracking. A part of me is worried he’ll start crying. A part of me wishes he would. It would be the first emotion I’ve seen from him in a week. “I have nothing left. Just give me something back, please…”

“Snow,” I say warningly. “It would be the worst mistake of your life. It would be the worst mistake of my life. I’m not doing it.”

“You told me you would,” he says, voice hardening again. I can already tell he won’t give up until he gets what he wants. That doesn’t mean I won’t put up a fight.

“I refuse to turn you into a monster, Snow.”

“You’re not a monster.”

“I would be if I bit you.”

“Not if I asked for it.”

“Simon. No.” I try to keep my voice steady and end the argument. It probably sounds more like I’m pleading with him not to make me do this. I am.

“Please, Baz.”

“You have no idea what it’s like. You don’t know how it feels to crave blood all the time, to be scared of yourself.”

“I know exactly what it’s like to be scared of myself!” Simon argues. “Do you think I was never afraid of losing control of my magic and hurting myself, or worse, someone else?” He’s yelling now. It’s strangely satisfying. I’d rather hear him angry than emotionless. I’d rather hear him angry than not hear him at all.

“It would literally kill you!” I know I’m going to lose this battle.

“I don’t care! Can’t you see that I’m already dead? I just want some bit of that power back!” I’d give anything to bring the life back to his eyes again.

“Please don’t make me do this.” Even if that means stealing his actual life.

“Please, Baz,” he says one more time, softer. He knows he’s won.

“You’re going to regret it.”

“Regret is better than nothing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

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