Carry On SnowBaz

Snowday (8)

Baz

I hear Bunce chatter about something she started to talk about ten minutes ago but I don't listen. I actually haven't the slightest idea what she's babbling about. I keep staring at my phone, try to find the way to this cryptic pub, because Bunce sense of orientation is lousy and Simon doesn't even have something like this. At least not today, because he's constantly complaining about the long way and every time we make a wrong turn he puts the blame on me. And because Snow's whining and Bunce's babbling at once are too much, I just switched my ears off a couple of minutes ago. So now, I run in front of them – in the one hand my phone, in the other one Simon's hand – and lead us in a zigzag through the streets.

"I don't think this is the right way," Simon growls the fiftieth time as I take a corner and am about to cross the street. The traffic light turns red abruptly and if I hadn't have his hand in mine, Simon would just go on and get hit by a car. He stumbles back and starts to complain about the unequal treatment of cars and pedestrians and the lack of crosswalks. Bunce immediately joins in. I ignore them and try to understand this stupid app, which is supposed to lead me the right way, but nothing is there where it should be. Nevertheless, I still have to admit how relieved I am that Simon speaks again. I mean he's still grumpy – but that's just normal tired and freezing Simon. Maybe his breakdown at the store really tore one of his walls down he built around himself this night. This morning I honestly haven't thought this would be possible...

I try to concentrate on the streets again, but these freaky shops with their odd facades that are typical for Camden Town look all identical and at the same time completely different. When we crossed the street and I still haven't the slightest sense of orientation, I give up.

"Let's just use this goddamn orientation spell," I say and stop walking. Bunce almost runs into me. "This app is total bollocks."

"My word!" Simon moans fretfully while he clings to my arm. (He always does this when he's freezing, even when I'm not any warmer.) "Why use magic when you want to find a magickal place? But no, only morons would come up with this dim-witted idea." He pokes my shoulder. "No. We make our lives complicated and forgo a This way, please."

"Only because we want to prove you that we can navigate ourselves without using magic," Bunce responds impatiently and rips my phone out of my hand. (I scowl at her.) "And so do you."

"Okay wait," I say and try to snap my phone back but she moves a step away from me and I can't really follow her because Simon sticks to me like I'm his warm heating. (Which I'm not. I'm a vampire. I'm cold.) "I'm pretty much the only one here who is navigating. You don't even try to orientate yourself!" I hiss at Penelope.

"Well, obviously you both can't," Simon mumbles and grabs my now free other hand and uses it to warm his own ones. It only works because my recently removed phone was overstrained and hot.

"Merlin, I hate this dependence on electrical devices," Bunce mutters – ignoring me – while she compares the street name on my phone with the one we're standing at. On the basis of her facial expression, I'm sure it isn't the same one. "Why couldn't we just use a normal map. Like one out of paper."

"Why," Simon replies – now even leaning against me and trying to warm his cheeks with the heat of my hand, "couldn't we just use magic?"

I groan loudly and lean against the wall next to me, which forces Simon to stand by himself again. But suddenly something moves behind me. Hasty, I jump back. And for real, where I touched the stonewall, materializes a door. Right above it a sign with the word Pub on it.

"Nicks and Slicks!" Bunce almost drops my phone. "That's it! The pub only reveals itself if you prove you are magic. Why haven't we thought about that before? It's so obvious." She rushes to the door and presses her palms on it. Where she's touching it, the blue wooden door gleams. I do the same and my hands start to sparkle, too. Immediately, I feel the magic rushing through my veins, filling me with life.

I glance at Simon and for a brief moment, I'm really anxious that he can't see it. That he stares at us this confused and unsettled, because he can't see the door – can't see the magic. But then he steps next to us and lays his hand on the richly ornamented wood. He can see it – Thanks, Merlin. I don't know what we would've done if he couldn't. But unlike ours, his skin doesn't shimmer or shine. There's no magic which is connecting – no magic which flows right through him.

He swallows and slowly drops his hand again. But Penelope takes his in hers and pushes them against the door. The magic flickers around their fingers and it almost looks like her magic would run right into him. (But of course, it isn't like that.) Together they push the door open and one second later we are surrounded by magic. It's not only the feeling of the magic that is floating around you – like the feeling you always had at Watford. It's also the fact that every corner is filled with something magickal. Even the number of tables and chairs seems manipulated by magic because you would never think that they would all fit here. But they do. And it's so crowded that it should be loud and stuffy but it isn't. The air has perfect temperature and instead of deafening chatter you only hear a relaxing buzzing of blurring voices.

There are flying trays with the weirdest drinks and meals on it that I've never seen like this at Watford before, which transport the orders to their owners. One of them almost hits my head as I stand stunned next to Simon while Bunce already heads towards a table.

The next thing attracting my attention are levitating lights all over the place, which change their colour according to the state of mind of the guest closest to them. (I recognize it because of a grey flame right next to sorrowful looking dwarf and a magenta one right next to a couple of witches which obviously is in love.) Just above Simon and me hovers a green flame. Maybe it expresses our excitement about this place. While we both still try to take this all in, Bunce waves us to a table in a slightly isolated corner.

I grin at Simon, who looks like he loves this place just as much as I do, because his eyes sparkle in a way I haven't see them for quite a while. There's also something sad about it, which I wish I could swipe away, but I guess it's inevitable – we can't go to a magickal place without reminding him of his loss. I want to kiss his cheek to assure him it's okay, but then he turns around and kisses me properly instead. I feel his smile on my lips before he pulls away and runs to Bunce's table – pulling at my hand. I stumble after him – feeling a bit drunk of all the magic which roars like waves around me – and at this moment there isn't even the slightest doubt that Simon isn't a part of this world anymore. That this isn't the place where he belongs. Where we belong.