Watford Tales

London After Midnight

Simon

Baz's warming charm and his cloak help at first, but the wind is fierce and the snow is flying in our faces. After a few minutes the cold penetrates the cloak and the wind blows away the magic. After about an hour I'm colder than I've ever been. All my magic is going into maintaining my wings and staying aloft. Niall is using all his to navigate us to London, using his wand as a compass, as there is zero visibility in the driving storm. By the time we see the lights of London glowing through the snow we're both shivering uncontrollably and by the time I land in the play park near his house I'm not sure that I'm capable of speech.

London is beautiful in the snow, every tree branch looks like it's been sugar coated with a thick layer of frosting, every light has a glowy halo of snowflakes around it. Niall jumps off my back and nearly falls over into a snowbank. He rights himself, brushes off the snow, and goes to shake my hand in his posh way. I'm standing there, shivering in the snow, my wings unfurled. I can't really feel my legs. "Thanks, Snow," he says, and grins at the joke of my name. Simon Snow, flying through the snow, har, har, har. It's completely weird that we're allies now. Baz is one thing, I'm getting used to that, but Dev and Niall? I've been fighting with them as long as I've been fighting with Baz. I invited them in, but still.

There's nothing to do, though, but take Niall's hand. I can hear a church starting to toll off in the distance. Midnight, then. The meeting will be starting. "Will you be Ok?" Niall asks. It goes without saying that he can't invite me into his house, to the Coven meeting. Most of those people hate and fear me, the Mage's Heir, especially now.

"I've got something I have to do, actually," I say, shivering. "You'll make it back to school okay, yeah?"

"I'll take the train in the morning," he says. "How're you getting back?"

I shrug, my wings flapping, my tail lashing. I focus for a moment, and pull it all back into my body. I feel my core temperature dropping about ten degrees, and my teeth chatter. I turn to go but he calls me back. "Snow," he says. "Do you have any money?"

I don't have a cent on me, but I don't really want to admit that to him. I shrug, noncommittally.

"Here." He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his wallet and extracts a 20 quid note. "Go someplace and warm up. You can pay me back at school."

"Thanks," I say. I'm embarrassed, but it is pretty decent of him. I watch as he turns away, up out of the play park, and into a quiet residential street. The snow muffles any sound, his movement completely silent, and he's gone.

********

I actually am a bit early for what I have to do, even though the streets of London feel all buttoned up at this snowy midnight hour. I pull Baz's cloak tightly around me (it smells of him, comfortingly, of that fancy soap he uses) and walk swiftly through the deserted streets, passing dark storefront after dark storefront, the snow muffling my footsteps, looking for a tube station. I don't know this part of London very well. At last I see the harsh white lights and the red and blue Underground logo. The heat coming up from the stairs feels tropical. In the sheltered alcove just next to the escalator is one of those Halal stands. I stand there in the warmth and order lamb and rice and a cup of mint tea. The proprietor, an older guy with a grizzled beard and a thick middle eastern accent smiles at me as he takes my money and hands me my change. He makes my tea and I take it gratefully, holding the cup in both hands to warm them, drinking the sweet scalding liquid greedily while my food cooks on his grill.

"Bad weather," he observes, smiling. His teeth are bad but his eyes are warm and crinkly. The harsh lights of the tube station highlight every line in his face.