Go on, then," he says. "Carry on, Simon.

But he’s the most familiar thing in this house, and I fall asleep better, listening to Baz breathe, than I have since winter break started.

Simon Snow is still going to die kissing me.
Just not today.

Tall. Black hair swept back from his forehead. Lips curled up in a sneer... I know that face as well as my own.

And sometimes holes want to get bigger, but Baz was wrong—sometimes they just want to be filled.

It's always fire with Baz. I can't believe he hasn't incinerated me yet. Or burned me at the stake.