Free Bitter of Tongue by Cassandra Clare, Sarah Rees Brennan Page B

did not sound sure about that. “I know you’re excused from my class this afternoon. What are you up to this morning?”
    “A mission to stop faeries from slipping over their borders and engaging in illicit trade,” Simon said. “George is team leader.”
    “George is team leader?” Catarina asked. “Hm.”
    “Why is everyone so down on George today?” Simon demanded. “What’s wrong with George? There’s nothing wrong with George. It is not possible to find fault with George. He’s a perfect Scottish angel. He always shares the snacks that his mother sends him, and he’s better-looking than Jace. There, I said it. I’m not taking it back.”
    “I see you’re in a good mood,” said Catarina. “All right then. Go on, have a good time. Take care of my favorite student.”
    “Right,” said Simon. “Wait, who’s that?”
    Catarina gestured him away from her with her indeterminate juice. “Get lost, Daylighter.”
    Everyone else was excited to go on another mission. Simon was looking forward to it as well, and pleased for George’s sake. But Simon was mostly excited because after the mission, he had somewhere else to be.
    *   *   *
    The Fair Folk had been seen last on a moor in Devon. Simon was a bit excited to Portal there and hoped there would be time to see red postboxes and drink lager at an English pub.
    Instead, the moor turned out to be a huge stretch of uneven field, rocks, and hills in the distance, no red postboxes or quaint pubs in sight. They were immediately given horses by the contact with the Sight who was waiting for them.
    Lots of fields, lots of horses. Simon was not sure why they had bothered to leave the Academy, because this was an identical experience.
    The first words George said as they were riding on the moor were: “I think it would be a good idea to split up.”
    “Like in  . . . a horror movie?” Simon asked.
    Julie, Beatriz, and Jon gave him looks of irritated incomprehension. Marisol’s uncertain expression suggested she agreed with Simon, but she did not speak up and Simon didn’t want to be the one mutinying against his friend’s leadership. They would cover more moor if they split up. Maybe it was a great idea. More moor! How could it go wrong?
    “I’ll be partners with Jon,” Marisol said instantly, a glint in her dark eyes. “I wish to continue our conversation from breakfast. I have many more things to say to him on the subject of video games.”
    “I don’t want to hear any more about video games, Marisol!” snapped Jon, a Shadowhunter in a nightmare of torrential mundane information.
    Marisol smiled. “I know.”
    Marisol had only just turned fifteen. Simon was not sure how she had worked out that telling Jon every detail about the mundane world would be such effective psychological terrorism. Her evil had only grown in the year and change Simon had known her. Simon had to respect that.
    “And Si and I will be together,” George said easily.
    “Um,” said Simon.
    Neither he nor George was a Shadowhunter yet, and though Catarina helped them see through glamours, no mundane  . . . er, non-Shadowhunter  . . . was as securely protected from faerie glamour as one of the Nephilim. But Simon didn’t want to question George’s authority or suggest he didn’t want to be partners. He was also scared of being partnered with Julie, and beaten about the head and face.
    “Great,” Simon finished weakly. “Maybe we can split up but also stay  . . . within hearing range of each other?”
    “You want to split up but stay together?” Jon asked. “Do you not know what words mean?”
    “Do you know what the words ‘World of Warcraft’ mean?” asked Marisol menacingly.
    “Yes, I do,” said Jon. “All put together in that way, no, I do not, and I do not wish to.”
    He urged his horse onward across the moor. Marisol followed in pursuit. Simon stared at the back of Jon’s head and worried he would go too far.
    Except that they were meant