The Dream Thieves (The Raven Cycle, #2)(66)

He hadn’t. Gansey dialed Malory’s number. He heard the tinny, double ring of a UK number, and then Malory answered, “What?” He sounded confused that his phone had accepted a call. There was a tremendous amount of undefined background noise.

“It’s Gansey. Is this a bad time?”

“No, no, no. No, no.”

Putting the phone on speaker, Gansey slid it onto the dash. “Did you have any more thoughts by any chance? No? Well, we have a new problem.”

“What’s the trouble?”

He told him.

“Give me a moment to think,” Malory said. Commotion hummed on the line. A dreadful shriek rang out.

“What in the world is that noise?”

“Birds, Gansey, the king of birds.”

Gansey exchanged a look with Adam. “An eagle?”

“Don’t be blasphemous. Pigeons! It’s the regional today. I used to show them myself, you know. Don’t have the time these days, but I still love the look of a quality Voorburg Shield Cropper.”

Gansey said, “A pigeon show.”

“If you could see them, Gansey!” On his end of the line, a loudspeaker blared.

Adam’s mouth quirked. Gansey prompted, “The Voorburg Shield Croppers.”

“There is so much more on offer here,” Malory replied. “Much more than the Croppers.”

“Tell me what you are looking at right now.”

Malory smacked his lips — he was really the absolute worst human to speak to on the telephone — and considered. “I’m looking at, what does this seem to be? West of England Tumbler, I should think. Yes. Lovely example. You should see his muffs. Right next to him is a dreadful little Thuringen Field Pigeon. I’ve never had them but I’m quite certain they aren’t meant to have that hideous stallion neck. I have no idea what this one is. Let’s read the card. Anatolian Ringbeater. Of course. Oh, and here’s a German Beauty Homer.”

“Oh, those are my favorite,” Gansey said. “I am a fan of a good German Beauty Homer.”

“Gansey, don’t make light,” Malory said sternly. “Those things look like bloody puffins.”

Adam’s body shook in silent convulsions of laughter.

Gansey took a moment to catch his breath before asking, “And what’s that sound in the background?”

“Let me take a gander,” Malory replied. There was a crackling sound, and then his voice, rather louder than before, said, “They’re auctioning off some birds.”

“What sort? Please tell me German Beauty Homers.”

Adam, completely undone, bit his hand. Small gasps still managed to escape.

“Pigmy Pouters,” Malory replied. “Feisty ones!”

Gansey mouthed Blue at Adam. Adam let out a little wail of helpless laughter.

“You never took me to any pigeon shows while I was there,” Gansey said reproachfully.

“We had other tasks at hand, Gansey!” Malory said. “Such as now. This is what I think about your ley line. I think your forest is like an apparition, if I had to guess about these things. Without a solid source of energy, an apparition can only flicker.”

“But we woke the ley line,” replied Gansey. “It’s so strong sometimes that it blows out the transformers here.”

“Ah, but you said that the electricity goes out as well, did you not?”

Gansey grudgingly agreed. And now he was thinking of Noah vanishing in the Dollar City.

“So you see how your forest might be starved as well as over-fed. Good heavens, man, would you watch where you’re carrying that thing! Sorry! I should think you are! I’d be sorry, too, if I had to claim that monstrosity as my own! That sausage neck … excuse you!” There was a scuffle, and then Malory said, “I apologize, Gansey. Some people! I should think you need to find out how to stabilize your line. The surges I’d expect, but certainly not the outages.”

“Any ideas?”

“I’ve had quite a lot of ideas in just the last minute,” Malory said. “I should like to see this line of yours. Are you opposed, one day … ?”

“You’re welcome anytime,” Gansey said, and meant it. For all his faults, Malory was still Gansey’s oldest ally. He had earned it.

“Excellent, excellent. Now, if you don’t mind,” Malory said, “I have just spotted a pair of Shield Croppers.”

They exchanged good-byes. Gansey turned his eyes to Adam, who looked more like himself than he had in ages. He silently vowed to do whatever it took to keep him that way. “Well. I don’t know how helpful that was.”

Adam said, “We found out German Beauty Homers look like bloody puffins.”



The very first thing Ronan did after Gansey left was retrieve the keys to the Camaro. He had no immediate plan other than to see if they actually fit into the lock.

In the summer sun, the Pig glistened like a gem in the scrubby grass and gravel. Ronan lay a hand on the rear panel and slid his palm lightly up over the roof. Even that felt illicit; this car was so much Gansey’s that it seemed as if, somewhere, Gansey must be able to feel this minor transgression. When Ronan lifted his hand, it was dusted green. He was struck by the details of the moment. This was something he needed to remember, when he dreamt. This feeling right here: heart thudding, pollen sticky on his fingertips, July pricking sweat at his breastbone, the smell of gasoline and someone else’s charcoal grill. Every blade of grass was picked out in sharp detail. If Ronan could dream like this moment felt, he could take anything out. He could take this whole goddamn car out.