Chambers

Three

Baz

One room for Bunce, Wellbelove, and the Normal. The second for me and Simon. Thank Morgana for that. Maybe I can get him to speak, pick up where we left off on that beach before the end of the night. The original plan of fighting Nicodemus and saving Watford is put on hold. The plan, my plan for tonight is to earn ourselves the promotion of Less-Than-Terrible Boyfriends by getting actual words out of Simon Snow.

Simon

I'm standing by the bed, which is untouched and white. Baz comes out of the bathroom, wearing different clothes, a classic black suit, and shoes. He checked himself in the full-length mirror, always adjusting his cuffs. It fit him perfectly, but we didn't have any bags. "Where'd you get those?"

"Did an 'ol' switcheroo' with a businessman that got short with one of the maids in the hallway. Those Target jeans were killing me." He pushed his hair back, showing off his widow's peak and tucking strands behind his ears like we're about to go out on a date, or he needs to investigate more vampires. He must've done 'fit like a glove' as well. He looks incredible.

Normally, I would get onto Baz for stealing, but we're already in so much trouble, and the Coven has more than us to worry about now. Months ago, I would've gotten on top of him if he were wearing that suit and if Watford wasn't being plagued by vampires and possibly burning to the ground.

"Don't stress yourself out, Snow."

Was I being that obvious? I looked up at him and sighed, which was double-sided. Is that how people say it? I just want Baz to call me Simon again. That's it. Well, no, that's not it. I don't think Baz drank before we left San Diego. He's not as white as he was in the Cheesecake Factory, but he's getting there. He hasn't even been roasted in the sun since we boarded. He's faint. I was lucky to be right there to catch him or he would've broken his nose on the pavement. Maybe that's why he got dressed. He's about to head out and hunt. Shepard said there are plenty of farms around, so he at least won't have to suck down snakes to only feel bitter and ill for the rest of the night.

I hear the thunder roll through the room and Baz's eyes widen as he turns to me. I look to the window and yanked the curtain back to find a black sky. And my heart hurts. There's nothing to see.

"Wow," Baz whispers.

The sky's the best part about America. The endless bright blues that spilled over the cornfields, the most beautiful thing that held a plethora of constellations that graced the empty red desert and dazzled above me all night. The place I looked up to with confidence, saying that I'm fine. That I'm so fine. I was fine. I gazed at the gorgeous mixes of oranges and yellows and pinks and could feel that Baz and I would be fine too.

Baz

At first, I thought it was nighttime (who knows what happens in Kentucky), but bolts lit up the sky several times a second and you could swear it was all magick. Bunce has asked the Normal already if this could be some kind of magickal storm, but he said no. Bits of the evening sunlight poked through, making the black clouds look like pollution, like heavy smoke you would see from a wildfire.

It's hard to believe when you feel the electricity in the air that this is somehow a Normal thunderstorm. Or 'tornado weather' as the Normal put it. Bunce knew what he was talking about because Micah called her that, the prat.

I put my hand on Simon's back, where his wings would be. I imagine they'll come back soon. It's already been six hours. They'll pop out and unfold gracefully like usual, as long as there isn't anything breakable nearby. But for now, I put both my arms around his waist, and his hand slowly comes across one of mine. The warmth is lovely. I'm woozy, but this helps a little bit. Back in Watford, this would be the thing that made me so woozy.