The Dream Thieves (The Raven Cycle, #2)(117)

Matthew?

On the other side of the strip, Gansey waved his arms above his head, shaking his head, catching Ronan’s eye. Not in that one.

“Tell me which car my brother’s in,” Ronan said.

“A white one.”

The dragon gathered itself up. It was obviously preparing to plummet down once more. It was curious, really, how clearly he could see its eyes from that great height. It had terrible eyes. It was not that they were empty, but rather that when you looked past all the flame and smoke and more flames, you could see that deep down inside the eyes was really just more smoke and flames.

There was a silence in the crowd.

In that silence, Kavinsky’s laugh was louder than anything.

A single scream erupted from the crowd. It was a sort of experimental sound, trying to decide if now, finally, fear was the correct response.

As Ronan’s night horror flapped toward the fire dragon, Kavinsky’s monster pinned its vaporous legs to its body. Sulfur clouded from its mouth. It was deadly like a cancer. Like radiation. It had teeth, but those were irrelevant.

Kavinsky snapped his fingers. Another firework shot up, smearing a glowing path between the two creatures. It exploded above them all like a toxic flower.

The night horror slammed into the fire dragon. The two of them crashed into the ground, rolling into the crowd. Now there was screaming as people leapt out of the way. The two creatures clawed their way over another of the Mitsubishis. Into the air. Back down again.

“Ronan!” Blue’s voice carried, high and thin. She had looked in another Mitsubishi — still no Matthew. The crowd was still scattering — somewhere, a siren howled. There was so much fire. It was as if Kavinsky’s dragon were slowly remaking the world in its own image. Most of the flood lamps were out, but the drag strip was brighter than before. Every car a lantern.

The fire dragon pitched toward Gansey and Blue.

Ronan didn’t have to shout to his night horror. It knew what Ronan wanted. It wanted exactly what Ronan wanted.

Save them.

The night horror tangled in the fire dragon’s wings. The two creatures sailed narrowly past Gansey and Blue.

Gansey shouted, “Do something!”

Ronan could kill Kavinsky. If he stopped Kavinsky, the dragon stopped. But it was one thing to know this solution. It was a very different thing to look at Kavinsky, his arms stretched over his head, fire in his eyes, and think: I could kill him.

And most important, it wasn’t true.

Ronan couldn’t kill him.

“Okay,” he snarled, grabbing Kavinsky’s arm, “we’re done. Where is my brother? No more. Where is he?”

Kavinsky threw his free hand out toward the Mitsubishi beside them. “He’s all yours! You missed my point, man. All I wanted was this —”

He gestured now at the tumbling dragon and night horror.

Releasing him, Ronan scrambled to the car. He pulled open the back door. It was empty.

“He’s not in here!”

“Boom!” shouted Kavinsky. Another car had just gone up. The flames were glorious and rolling, bubbling out of the car like thunderclouds. As Ronan slammed the door shut, Kavinsky scrambled up onto the hood of the Mitsubishi. He was shaking and ecstatic.

Pressing one hand to his concave chest, he fetched his white sunglasses from his back pocket with the other. He put them on, hiding his eyes. The lenses mirrored the furnace around them.

On the opposite end of the strip, the fire dragon screamed its dreadful scream again. It tore free of the night horror.

The creature turned directly toward them.

And suddenly, Ronan saw it. He saw how every car but this one burned. How the dragon had destroyed each of Kavinsky’s dream things here at the strip. How now it came at them, a frenzy of destruction. The night horror flew after it, less graceful, a bit of ash tossed in a nuclear wind.

He heard thumping, barely audible over the chaos.

Matthew was in the trunk.

Ronan bolted around the back of the car — no, no, that wasn’t right, he needed to open the trunk from inside the car. He darted a look at the dragon. It was flying directly for them, purposeful and malevolent.

Fumbling along the driver’s side door, he popped the trunk. As he tore around the car, he saw Matthew kick the trunk open the rest of the way. Rolling out, his younger brother stumbled drunkenly, clambering up, hand pressed against the car for support.

Ronan could smell the fire dragon, all carbon and sulfur.

Ronan dove for his brother. He dragged him away from the car. He shouted to Kavinsky, “Get down!”

But Kavinsky didn’t look away from the two creatures. He said, “The world’s a nightmare.”

Horror clawed its way up inside Ronan. It was precisely the feeling he’d had when he realized Kavinsky was going to blow up the Mitsubishi at the substance party.

Dust swirled up from the dragon’s wings.

Furious, Ronan shouted, “Come down, you bastard!”

Kavinsky didn’t answer.

There was that whoof he’d heard in the dream, that clap of wings against air. Like an explosion taking all the oxygen from a room.

Ronan wrapped his arms around Matthew and ducked his head.

A second later, the fire dragon exploded into Kavinsky. It went straight through him, around him, flame around an object. Kavinsky fell. Not as if he was struck, though. Just like when he’d taken the green pill. He crumpled to his knees and then slumped gracelessly off the car.