Watford Tales

Second Go

Simon

Baz's other house is this huge hunting lodge type of thing made of enormous logs and stones. Of course. It's like something out of a movie except I can't think which one. Lord of the Rings, maybe.

His stepmum is being nice to me in a different way. Like she's actually glad to see me, not just being polite. She looks different. Older, tireder. Like she's been crying. Which, considering her daughter was just kidnapped, makes sense. She makes ham sandwiches for Baz and me and pours us lemonade. I'm not sure Baz is going to eat in front of her, but he does, turning his head so she can't see his fangs. She sits down opposite me and looks me right in the eye.

"Basilton thinks you can help us get Mordelia back," she says, her gaze intense.

"Tell her," says Baz.

"What the centaurs said?" I ask.

''Yeah."

"What centaurs?" she asks, sharp.

"They came to talk to me," I say.

So I go over it again for Daphne, leaving out the part about my mum is really dead. I haven't told Baz that part either. I don't feel quite ready to say that part aloud. At the end of my tale she looks over at Baz. "Your father needs to know this," she says, a determined look on her face.

"I know," he says, rising. "Let's get it over with."

I don't particularly relish facing Malcolm Grimm, but Baz and his step mum look completely determined, and it's what the centaurs told me to do. We leave the kitchen which is kind of like an ordinary posh person's kitchen, if there is such a thing, and head out into what I guess is the lounge, except it's huge. High, high ceilings, huge glass windows lining one wall, this enormous stone fireplace with a fire blazing. There are these crazy antlers hanging over it, creepy looking animal heads on the wall (I see a deer, a fox, a bear, and something that looks like a wolf), a grand piano in one corner, and a huge bearskin rug on the floor. Baz's Dad is sitting in front of the fireplace with another old bloke, and they turn and stare at us as we enter. It feels like it takes forever to cross that huge space to where they are sitting and by the time we get to them, Baz's Dad is standing, whisky glass in hand, staring at me with open hostility.

Great.

"You!" he says to me. The other bloke hauls himself out of his chair like it's not that easy for him and stands next to Mr. Grimm.

I don't know what to say. I feel my magic, shimmering on my skin before I can swallow it back. Baz comes up next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Father," he says

"The Mage's Heir," Mr. Grimm says to me, like he's spitting. "You are not welcome here."

I spread my hands, open. I'm trying to be humble, but this suddenly feels very important and my power is rising. I feel it pouring off me, feel the electric crackle of it in the air. The magic tingles between my shoulder blades, my wings wanting to burst out, and I hold them in, consciously. Baz's fingers on my shoulder feel like they're made of steel. Mr. Grimm's friend reaches for his wand and points it at me.

"I'm on your side," I say.

"You are his weapon," Mr. Grimm replies. "His son. He has been preparing you to go against us since birth. Why would you cast your lot with us?"

I look him in the eye. What can I say? I'm in love with your son? I hate my Dad? It's the right thing to do?

"All the Mage ever wanted to do was use me," I say, trying to keep my voice even. "I'm done with him now."