Call Down the Hawk (Dreamer, #1)(118)

“I understand you found today very unpleasant,” he said, “because it was very unpleasant.” He had discovered there was no reason to beat around the bush. No point spinning such a gross truth into anything less gross; it was already emblazoned in their minds. “I don’t have to tell you why we’re doing it because you can see firsthand for yourself. It’s an unpleasant task we simply can’t do without you.” The next step was always to remind them of why they had been willing to do it in the first place. “I completely understand if you have to leave us, but I’d ask that you’d please help us find another Visionary to take your place before you do.” Then it was important, Lock found, to let them realize they weren’t trapped. Trapped creatures did desperate things and so you wanted to remind them the window was open even if they could not fly through it immediately without being a bag of dicks. “But if you do stay with us, I promise you that we will do our best to make it worthwhile.”

Finally, Lock had discovered it was important in the first few minutes of meeting a new Visionary to discover what it was they wanted most in the world, and see if it was at all within your power to offer it. People were straightforward. Girls, guns, gold, as the song went.

Lock looked at this crying redheaded girl, and he read her body language, and he guessed what she wanted. “If you stay on with us, I was thinking that what we could do is get you out of this hotel and we’d get you into a rental cottage you could return to between each trip and keep you in short-term rentals at each place we went to so you could feel more like you were at home. You’d have a Moderator with you each place to help you get whatever you needed to eat or wear.”

This Visionary wanted stability, he guessed. She wanted a place where she didn’t have to worry about exploding innocents to bits. A place she didn’t have to put her toothbrush back in her luggage each night. She didn’t seem to have any luggage. Probably she wanted that, too, but he’d hold that for later.

Liliana lowered her eyelashes; they were as red as the hair on her head. She was truly lovely, but in such an extreme way that Lock realized it must be part of what made her a Visionary. They all had some strange attribute that worked upon the present in odd ways, and this must be part of hers.

She was thinking about it.

She chewed her lip, then made a decision. “Can Farooq-Lane stay with me?”





76

So the world had broken.

The world had broken, and in the end, Declan wasn’t sure there was anything he could have done to stop it. He didn’t know if the people who had busted into his town house had come because he hadn’t been careful enough, or because he had called attention to himself, or because he had called a Boston number about The Dark Lady, or because he had called a number about Boudicca, or because of none of those things.

He just knew the world had broken and now neither of his brothers was safe.

STOP DREAMING.

They sat in the Shenandoah Café. It was quite some distance from the town house, which seemed important, and it was a public place, which seemed very important, and it was open twenty-four hours on weekends, which seemed very, very important.

They weren’t really talking. They were supposed to be, but after some preliminary catch-up, they’d all fallen silent. Hennessy leaned her head on Jordan’s shoulder, looking battered and exhausted and miserable and relieved that Jordan’s shoulder was there to hold her up. Jordan stared off at some knickknacks on the wall. Not dreamy, but haunted. Matthew stared at Jordan, and why wouldn’t he? The first living dream he’d seen since he’d learned he was one. Ronan clenched and unclenched his fist on the table, staring out the front door at their two cars parked in the lot. He kept looking at his phone: There was an unanswered text to Adam on it. Declan was waiting for his phone to attend to him, too. He had dictated emails and texts to Matthew as they drove here, put calls in and left voicemails, putting out all the feelers he dared to those who might know who was killing dreamers in DC.

Their server, Wendy, leaned in with a large platter.

“I brought you double apple fritters,” she said. “You kids seem like you’ve had a rough night.”

“I knew I liked her,” Hennessy said after she’d gone, and put her head down on her arms. It was uncanny to see her beside Jordan. They were the same girl, but they were also very much not. They had the same face and used it entirely differently. It was hard to believe Hennessy was the dreamer. Jordan seemed like she should’ve come first. Hennessy was … less.

Don’t think about it, Declan thought to himself. Just stop.

The phone rang.

But it was not Declan’s; it was Ronan’s. SARGENTO said the caller ID.

Ronan swept it up and put it to his ear. He put his head down and listened, saying very little. What does Gansey say? No. But why … no. No, stay away. Have you heard from Ad—Have you heard from Parrish? Couple of hours. I know. I know.

After he hung up, Ronan said, “They talked to Mr. Gray.”

Both of the older Lynch brothers took a moment to square their jaws. Their relationship with Mr. Gray was complicated: He was the man who had been ordered to kill Niall Lynch. Niall was just one of the many people he had killed for his employer, Colin Greenmantle, who was blackmailing him. Did that make him Niall’s killer? Yes. Did that make him his murderer? Possibly. Or possibly Mr. Gray was the weapon in Greenmantle’s hand.