If You Must Follow

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After dropping Simon off at home, I drive to Fiona's last known location-- a shoddy pub in Swansea. The pounding rain slashes across the underside of the Jag, making the tyres slip a little. Gritting my teeth, I white-knuckle the steering wheel and keep going.

Three and a half hours later, I've managed to survive the treacherous downpour, which is still raging on outside the car, the wind howling against the windows. Great. Perfect weather for vampire hunting.

Fishtailing into a car park by the pub, I try and force my racing heart to slow. Giving myself little instructions to calm myself down.

Park the car, Baz.


Breathe, Baz. Breathing is important.

Is it really that important?

Text Si, he's probably worried out of his mind.

Simon. I feel so horrible for leaving him at home in London; he's my partner in crime (my partner in everything). We determined a long time ago that when one of us waltzes off to their probable death, the other will follow.

But Simon can't. Not this time. He hasn't got any way to protect himself, and if he were to die while looking for my aunt-- I wouldn't be able to live with myself. And we all know where 'not being able to live with myself' got me last time (fire, smoke, Snow kissing me instead of being a proper super villain and ending me)...

Shaking the thoughts of that damned Christmas out of my head, I scoop up my mobile and text my idiotic (although adorable) boyfriend.

'Got to Swansea alright. You okay?'

Snow answers almost immediately, which worries me. Did he just happen to be dicking about on his mobile, or has he been carrying it around, waiting for me to text? He usually hates carrying his mobile (I think Watford's 'no electronics' rule brainwashed him)(he insists it wasn't brainwashing).

'Hey. Glad to hear you got there okay. Nothing's exploded here yet, so I guess that's good...'

And then, in quick succession,

'I miss you. I love you.'

The first text makes me laugh. As most of his texts do (laughing and blushing at my phone are just a few of the things Simon Snow makes me do on a regular basis). The second text shatters my heart. What was I thinking, leaving him behind? Why do I regret it so much, when I know his coming with me would only put him in danger?

I sigh, resting my forehead against the cold glass of the window. It's only ten in the morning, but the sky's so dark it feels like midnight.

'Call me.'

I text him quickly, typing out those two words like they're my lifeline. If something goes wrong on this little expedition of mine, they very well might be.

A moment later, the hunk of metal and plastic in my hand begins to buzz, Simon's smiling photo popping up on the screen. I feel every too-tight muscle in my neck and shoulders release when I hear his voice.

"Baz," he breathes into the receiver. The ghost of a smile quirks up the corners of my lips.

"Hi, love," I whisper back, wishing there was a spell to pull him through the receiver.

"I miss you," he says again, voice so soft I have to stay very still to hear it. He sounds like he's been crying-- not a good sign. An iron fist squeezes around my heart at the realisation.

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