The Dream Thieves (The Raven Cycle, #2)(105)

Gansey looked like a king, even sitting in the shabby backseat of the shared Fox Way vehicle. Perhaps especially when sitting in the backseat of a shabby vehicle. He asked, “What is it we’re doing?”

Maura replied, “Action.”





Why are we here, man?” Ronan asked. His eyes followed Chainsaw as she cantered anxiously across the counter. He’d brought her to enough places that new locations didn’t generally faze her for long, but she wouldn’t be truly happy until she’d done a perimeter search. She paused to tap her beak on an absolutely darling bird-themed cookie jar. “There are more goddamn roosters than a Hitchcock movie.”

“Are you referring to The Birds?” Gansey asked. “Because I don’t recall any chickens in it. It’s been a long time, though.”

They stood in a homey, belowground kitchen in the basement of the Pleasant Valley Bed and Breakfast. Calla searched the cupboards and drawers; her version of Chainsaw’s room check, possibly. She’d already discovered a waffle maker and a gun, and had placed both on the round breakfast table. Blue stood at the far doorway, peering around to where her mother had gone. Ronan assumed she and Gansey must have fought; she was as far away from him as she could get. Next to Ronan, Gansey reached up to brush one of the dark, exposed beams with his fingertips. He was clearly discomfited by what Maura had told him about Adam on the ride over. Ganseys were creatures of habit, and he wanted Adam here, and he wanted Noah here, and he wanted everyone to like him, and he wanted to be in charge.

Ronan had no idea what he wanted. He checked his phone. He wondered if Kavinsky really did have three balls. He wondered if Kavinsky was gay. He wondered if he should go to the Fourth of July party. He wondered where Adam had gone.

“Lynch,” Gansey said. “Are you even listening?”

He glanced up. “No.”

On the counter, Chainsaw tore shreds from a roll of paper towels. Ronan snapped his fingers at her and, with an insolent gurgle, she flapped from the counter to the table, claws making a substantial scratch-click as she landed. Ronan was abruptly satisfied with her as a dream creature. He hadn’t even asked for her. His subconscious had just, for once, sent him something nice instead of something homicidal.

Gansey asked Calla, “Why are we here?”

Calla echoed, “Yes, Maura, why are we here?”

Maura had entered from the other room; behind her Ronan glimpsed the corner of a bed, a gray suitcase. There was a sound like pipes clanging, a tap running. She dusted off her palms and joined them in the kitchen. “Because when Mr. Gray comes out here, I want you to look him in the eye and convince him not to kidnap you.”

Gansey elbowed Ronan.

Ronan looked up sharply. “What, me?”

“Yes, you,” Maura said. “Mr. Gray was sent here to retrieve an object that lets the owner take things from dreams. The Greywaren. As you know, that’s you.”

He felt a little thrill at the word Greywaren.

Yes, that’s me.

Calla added, “And, unbelievably, it falls to your charm to convince him to have mercy on you.”

He smiled nastily at her. She smiled nastily back. Both smiles said, I’ve got your number.

There was no part of Ronan that was surprised by this news. Part of him, he realized, was surprised it had taken so long. He felt he must have prompted it: He had been told not to go back to the Barns, and he had. His father had told him not to tell anyone about his dreams, and he had. One by one, he was violating every rule in his life.

Of course someone was looking. Of course they had found him.

“He’s not the only one looking,” Blue said suddenly. “Is he? That’s what all of these break-ins are.” Quite impossibly, she produced a pink switchblade to punctuate this statement. That little knife was the most shocking thing about the conversation so far.

“I’m afraid so,” Maura replied.

Burglars, Ronan thought, all at once.

Gansey said, “Are the —”

Ronan interrupted, “Is he the one who beat up my brother? I should buy him a card if he is.”

“Does it matter?” Maura asked, at about the same time that Calla asked, “Do you think your brother told anybody anything?”

“I’m sure he did,” Ronan said darkly. “But don’t worry — none of it was true.”

Gansey took control. In his voice, Ronan could hear the relief that he knew enough about the situation to actually do so. He asked whether Mr. Gray really wanted to kidnap Ronan, whether his employer knew that the Greywaren was definitely in Henrietta, whether the others wandering about knew. Finally, he asked, “What happens to Mr. Gray if he doesn’t come back with something?”

Maura pursed her lips. “Let’s just use death as a short version of the consequences.”

Calla added, “But for decision-making purposes, assume it’s worse than that.”

Blue muttered, “He can take Joseph Kavinsky.”

“If they take that other boy,” Calla said, “they’ll be back for the snake.” This was said with a jerk of her chin toward Ronan. Then her eyes flickered up to Maura.

The Gray Man stood in the doorway behind Maura, his gray suitcase in one hand and a gray jacket slung over the other. He set them both down and straightened.

There was that heavy silence that sometimes happens when a hit man enters a room.