Page 43 of The Raven King(The Raven Cycle 4)
Henry said, “You’re a lady of action. I see why R. Gansey added you to his cabinet. Walk with me, President.”
They walked with him. They walked through the cereal aisle, the baking aisle, and the canned goods aisle. As they did, Henry described what he had been told about the upcoming sale with all the enthusiasm of a good student delivering a presentation on a natural disaster. The meeting of artifact-selling denizens was to happen the day after the Aglionby fund-raiser, the better to disguise the influx of strange cars and people into Henrietta. An unknown number of parties would descend for a viewing of the object for sale — a magical entity — so that these potential buyers could confirm for themselves the otherworldliness of the product. Then an auction would follow — payment and the exchange of the item, as always, to take place in a separate location out of the view of prying eyes; no one wanted to have their proverbial wallet lifted by a fellow buyer. Further pieces might be available for sale; inquire within.
“A magical entity?” Blue and Gansey echoed at the same time that the Gray Man said, “Further pieces?”
“Magical entity. That was all the description was. It is meant to be a big secret. Worth the trip! They say.” Henry traced a smiley face on the exterior of a box of microwave macaroni and cheese. The logo was a tiny bear with a lot of teeth; it was hard to tell if it was smiling or grimacing. “I have been told to keep myself busy and to not accept candy from any strange men.”
“Magical entity. Could it be Ronan?” Gansey asked anxiously.
“We just saw Ronan; they wouldn’t try to sell him without having him in hand, right? Could it be a demon?” Blue said.
Gansey frowned. “Surely no one would try to sell a demon.”
“Laumonier might,” Mr. Gray said. He did not sound fond. “I don’t like the sound of ‘further pieces.’ Not when it is Laumonier.”
“What’s it sound like?” Gansey asked.
“Pillaging,” Henry answered for him. “What do you mean Ronan’s a magical entity? Is he a demon? Because this all makes sense if so.”
Neither Blue nor Gansey hurried to answer this question; the truth of Ronan was such an enormous and dangerous secret that neither of them was willing to play with it, even with someone they both liked as well as Henry.
“Not exactly,” Gansey said. “Mr. Gray, what are you thinking about the idea of all of these people descending? Declan seemed worried.”
“These people are not the most innocent of folks,” the Gray Man said. “They come from all walks of life, and the only thing that they have in common is a certain opportunism and flexibility of morality. Unpredictable enough on their own, but put them together in a place with something they really want, and it’s hard to say what could happen. There’s a reason they were told not to bring their money with them. And if Greenmantle rears his head again to squabble with Laumonier? There’s bad blood between all of them and the Lynches.”
“Colin Greenmantle is dead,” Henry said in a very precise way. “He will not be rearing anywhere soon, and if he does, we’ll have bigger problems to consider.”
“He’s dead?” the Gray Man said sharply. “Who sa— wait.”
The Gray Man’s eyes were abruptly cast upward. It took Blue a moment to realize that he was looking at a convex mirror meant to prevent shoplifting. Whatever he saw in the mirror instantly transformed him into something abrupt and powerful.
“Blue,” he said in a low voice, “do you have your knife?”
Her pulse slowly revved up to speed; she felt it in her stitches. “Yes.”
“Go around with the boys to the next aisle over. Not that way. The other. Quietly. I don’t remember if the entrance to the back room is on that wall, but if it is, go out that way. Don’t go out any door that might set off an alarm.”
Whatever he had seen in the mirror was gone now, but they didn’t hesitate. Blue led the way quickly down the end of the canned goods aisle, glanced to either side, and rounded the other side. Laundry detergent. Boxes and boxes in an aggressive assembly of colors. On the other side of them was a large case of butter and eggs. No storeroom exit. The front of the store seemed far away.
On the other side of the aisle, they heard the Gray Man’s voice, low and level and dangerous. It was a chillier tone than he had just used with them. Another voice replied, and Henry went very still beside them. His fingers touched the edge of one of the shelves — $3.99 price slash! — and he turned his head, listening.
“That’s —” he whispered. “That’s Laumonier.”
Laumonier. It was a name that carried more emotion than fact. Blue had heard it whispered in conversations about Greenmantle. Laumonier. Danger.
They heard Laumonier say in his accented voice, “It is so surprising to see you here in Henrietta. Where is your master, hound?”
“I think we both know the answer to that,” Mr. Gray said, voice so even that it was impossible to know that he had himself just discovered the news about Colin Greenmantle. “And in any case, I have been working alone since this summer. I thought that was common knowledge. It is more interesting to me to see you here in Henrietta.”
“Well, the town belongs to no one now,” Laumonier said, “so it is, as they say, a free country.”
“Not so free,” the Gray Man said. “I understand that you have something to sell here. I’d like you in and then out again: Henrietta is now my home, and I’m not a fan of houseguests.”
There was some mirth over this. “Is this the part where I say ‘or what’? Because it seems like it would be.”
Their voices dropped for a time — it seemed like it might be getting unpleasant — and Gansey began to text furiously. He turned the phone to Blue and Henry.
He is stalling for us to get out. Henry can robobee find a door?
Henry took Gansey’s phone and added to the text:
I will have to keep robobee out of sight tho bc they have always wanted it that is part of why they took me
Blue snatched the phone from him and texted, more slowly, because she had rather less practice than they did:
Who is Mr Gray trying to keep hidden from them? All of us or just you Henry
Henry touched his chest lightly.
Blue typed:
Leave when you can. I’ll catch up
She handed Gansey’s phone back to him, swiftly removed several price tags from the shelves until she had a bouquet of them, and stepped around the end of the aisle. She was startled to discover that it was not one man with Mr. Gray, but two. It took her too long to realize that the tilting feeling she got while looking at the strangers was because they looked eerily similar to each other. Brothers. Twins, maybe. Both had a look that she had grown to despise during her time working at Nino’s. Customers who wouldn’t take no for an answer, who weren’t easily negotiated with, who always ended up getting part of their meal taken off the ticket. In addition, they had a slow, bullish way about them that somehow smacked of a lifetime of blunt trauma.
They were a little terrifying.
Mr. Gray blinked at Blue in a vague way, no recognition in his face.
The other two men eyed Blue’s hoodie first — not very professional looking — and then her handful of price tags. She ran her thumb over the ends of them in a bored, casual way and said, “Sir? Guys? I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I’m going to need you to move your vehicles.”
“Excuse me, why?” asked the first. Now that she could hear him better, his accent was more pronounced. French? Maybe.
“We are shopping,” said the other, with vague amusement.
Blue leaned on her Henrietta accent; she’d learned early on that it rendered her innocuous and invisible to outsiders. “I know. I’m sorry. We have a street sweeper coming in to do the lot, and he wants the whole thing cleared out. He’ll be right pissed if there’s still cars here when he starts.”
Mr. Gray made a great show of rummaging for his keys in such a way that he twitched up his pant leg to reveal a gun. Laumonier mutter
ed and exchanged looks with each other.
“Sorry again,” Blue said. “You can just ease over to the laundromat lot if you’re not done here.”
“Street sweeper,” said Laumonier, as if only just hearing the phrase.
“Corporate makes us do it to keep the franchise,” Blue replied. “I don’t make the rules.”
“Let’s keep things civil,” Mr. Gray said, with a thin smile at the other two. He did not look at Blue. She continued looking bored and beleaguered, running her thumbs over the price tags every time she felt her heart thump. “I’ll catch you two later.”
The three of them moved toward the front door with the uneasy, widening formation of opposing magnets, and by the time they had gone, Blue had skidded hastily down the aisle, through the back-room doors, past the grubby bathrooms, into a warehouse room stacked with boxes and bins, and outside to where Gansey and Henry had just reached the trash bins full of cardboard behind the store.
Her shadow reached them first, cast by the lights fixed to the back of the supermarket, and they both flinched at the movement before realizing who it belonged to.
