Baz was right, I shouldn’t have bothered bringing them books and crayons. The little girls got an enormous dollhouse from Father Christmas, and Mordelia got an actual pony. Baz gave all the girls and women hair barrettes—which pleased them far more than I expected. He gave his father honey made by magickal bees.

(Baz and I are exchanging gifts later. I’m giving him his own side of the room—plus a leather bracelet thing I bought from the spider-woman who makes my shirts.)

His dad isn’t being as jolly as he was last night, but he’s in a much better mood than he was when I showed up yesterday. He’s stopped looking my way and sighing. And he seems genuinely pleased with Baz, who’s been nibbling on cake this whole time. His parents are going to stuff Baz like Hansel every chance they get.

One of the twins brings me a gift to unwrap. “It’s from everyone,” she says. “It’s an ugly jumper.”

“It’s a lovely jumper,” Daphne says, mortified.

“Thanks,” I say, ripping off the paper.

The little girl is leaning against the sofa, squinting up at me. “Delia says you have wings.”

“Delia’s lying!” the other twin says.

“She isn’t lying,” I say. “I do have wings.”

“Show us!” they both shout.

I glance over at Baz. “You have to ask your brother to cast the spell.” Baz rolls his eyes, as if I’m constantly showing off my wings, everywhere we go.

“Do it, Basilton!” one twin says.

“Give him wings!” says the other.

“I’m not giving him wings,” Baz grumbles, pointing his wand at me. “I’m setting them free. Like a glove!”

My jumper reshapes itself around my wings, and I carefully unfold them. The twins gasp, and Swithin squeals. “Bird!” he says.

I spread my wings wide.

Baz’s father looks dismayed again.

But Baz is smiling at me.

I get out while the getting is relatively good. Everyone’s in a decent mood, and I haven’t done anything to destroy their home.

Baz’s parents thank me for coming—and they even walk me to the door (possibly to make sure I leave). It makes it awkward saying good-bye to Baz. He hands me Fiona’s car keys and my overnight bag.

“I’ll see you back in London,” I say, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Wish Lady Ruth and Jamie a happy Christmas for me.”

“I will.”

“Drive safely, Simon,” Daphne says.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “Baz has spelled that car into a tank.”

I step outside. And down the steps.

“Simon!” Baz calls. “Your wings!”

I turn back, and he’s coming down the steps with his wand out. I pull my wings in tight and wait for him to cast the spell.

“Cover your back!” he casts.

Then he touches my chest and leans in to kiss me. Quickly. On the mouth.

BAZ