The Dream Thieves (The Raven Cycle, #2)(114)

Ronan said, “Life isn’t just sex and drugs and cars.”

Kavinsky stood up. The thorns whipped at his legs, sinking into his cargo pants. His heavy-lidded eyes held Ronan’s, and Ronan thought of all of the times he had looked through the window of his BMW and seen Kavinsky looking back. The illicit thrill of it. The certainty that Kavinsky didn’t let anyone tell him who he was.

Kavinsky said, “Mine is.”

He looked to the woods. Holding out his hand, he snapped his fingers, just as he had to queue the first firework.

The forest screamed.

Or whatever Kavinsky had manifested had screamed. The sound tore Ronan to his spine. There was a sound like someone clapping their hand over your ear. A beat of air. Whatever was coming was huge.

The trees shimmered and wept, sagged and flickered. The already sapped ley line guttered and blackened. There was nothing left. Kavinsky was taking it all to create his dream beast.

“You don’t have to do this,” Ronan said again.

It was a ball of fire. An explosion in flight. It was a dragon and a bonfire and an inferno and teeth. It was the destruction of the Mitsubishi made into a living creature.

As it descended, it opened its maw wide and screamed at Ronan. It wasn’t the sound Ronan had heard before. It was the roaring hiss of a fire dampened with water. Sparks rained onto Ronan’s shoulders.

He could feel how it hated him. How it hated Kavinsky, too. How it hated the world.

It was so hungry.

Kavinsky looked at Ronan, his eyes dead. “Try to keep up, Lynch.”

Then both he and the dragon vanished.

He’d woken up, and taken it with him.



Hurry.

If Adam and Persephone had not already been at the final energy fray point, they wouldn’t have found it. Because as they stood there in the dark, staring at the great, flat, man-made lake, the ley line went dead inside Adam.

Kavinsky, Adam thought immediately. He knew it in the way that a dropped body knew it was falling. Both intellectually and physically. The same way he’d been so certain, earlier, that Ronan was the reason for their urgency.

And here it was.

Ronan needed the ley line. He needed it now. There was no more time.

But the ley line was dead and Cabeswater had no voice inside Adam. All he had was this flat black mirror of a lake and a car full of stones and a bag of cards that no longer said anything to him.

“What do we do?” he asked Persephone. Fireworks whined distantly, as threatening as bombs.

“Well, I don’t know.”

He threw a hand toward the cards. “You’re psychic! Can’t you look at the cards? They don’t mean anything to me without the ley line!”

Thunder boomed overhead; lightning darted from cloud to cloud. The ley line didn’t even flutter beneath Adam. Kavinsky had just dreamt something huge, and Ronan had nothing to work with.

Persephone said, “Are you the Magician or aren’t you?”

“I’m not!” Adam replied immediately. There was nothing inside him. The line was dead, and so was everything other inside him. “Cabeswater makes me that way.”

Persephone’s eyes mirrored the motionless water beside them. “Your power, Adam, isn’t about other people. It isn’t about other things.”

Adam had never been powerful in his life.

“Being the Magician isn’t about being powerful when you have things and useless when you don’t,” Persephone said. “The Magician sees what is out there and finds connections. The Magician can make anything magical.”

He wished fervently for the line to sputter to life beneath him. If he could grab even a hint of it, he might be able to gather clues for how to fix this last section. But there was nothing in the ley line. Nothing.

“Now,” Persephone said, and her voice was very small and soft. “Are you the Magician? Or aren’t you?”

Adam closed his eyes.

Connections.

His mind darted to the stones, the lake, the thunderheads. Lightning.

He thought, bizarrely, of the Camaro. Needing the battery just to get them home.

In indiget homo battery.

Yes.

He opened his eyes.

“I need the stone from the car,” he said. “The one from the garden.”

Hurry.



“Adam?” Ronan demanded. “Is it really you?”

Because suddenly, the landscape had shifted. The trees had moved and shivered to the side, and now there was the ugly man-made lake they had discovered with Gansey. Adam crouched beside the shore, laying out stones in a complicated pattern. Was it the real Adam? Or was it a dream Adam?

This Adam looked up sharply. He was himself, and he was something else. “Lynch. What did Kavinsky just dream?”

“A fire f*cker,” Ronan said. He should wake up. He didn’t stand a chance lying on the ground back at the party.

Adam looked behind him and gestured wildly to someone. “What are you dreaming to take it down?”

Ronan tested the dream, cautiously. It felt stretched thin as a string of caramel. He wouldn’t be able to take a thing from it.

“Nothing. There’s nothing here.”

Persephone ran up to Adam, a large, flat rock in her arms.

“What are you doing?” Ronan demanded.

“Fixing it,” Adam said. “Start making something. I’ll try to have it up by the time you’re done.”