The Raven King
Page 24
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The darkness spread across the floor.
All Adam could think was that he couldn’t let it touch him. The thought of it on his skin was worse than the image of his useless eye. “Cabeswater. Keep me safe. Cabeswater! ”
There was a sound like a shot – Adam shied away – as the mirror split. A sun from somewhere else burned on the other side of it. Leaves were pressed up against the glass as if it were a window. The forest whispered and hissed in Adam’s deaf ear, urging him to help it find a channel.
Gratitude burned through him, as hard to bear as the fear. If something happened to him now, at least he wouldn’t be alone.
Water, Cabeswater urged. Waterwaterwater.
Scrambling to the sink, Adam twisted on the tap. Water rushed out, scented with rain and rocks. He reached through the flow to smash down the plug. The inky black bled towards him, inches from his shoes.
Don’t let it touch you—
He clambered on to the edge of the sink as the darkness reached the bottom of the wall. It would climb, Adam knew. But then, finally, the water filled the plugged basin and flowed over the edge on to the floor. It washed over the blackness, soundless, colourless, sliding towards the drain. It left behind only pale, ordinary concrete.
Even after the blackness was gone, Adam let the sink pour on to the floor for another full minute, soaking his shoes. Then he slipped off the edge of the sink. He scooped the water up in his palms and splashed the earthy-scented water over his face, over his left eye. Again and again, again and again, again and again, until his eye no longer felt tired. Until he could no longer feel it at all. It was just his eye again, when he peered into the mirror. Just his face. There was no sign of the other sun or a lazy iris. Drops of Cabeswater’s rivers clung damply in Adam’s eyelashes. Cabeswater muttered and moaned, vines curling through Adam, dappled light flashing behind his eyes, stones pressing up beneath the palms of his hands.
Cabeswater had taken so long to come to his aid. Only a few weeks before, a heap of roofing tiles had fallen on top of him, and Cabeswater had swept instantaneously to save him. If that had happened today, he would have been dead.
The forest whispered at him in its language that was equal parts pictures and words, and it made him understand why it had been so slow to come to him.
Something had been attacking them both.
As Maura had already pointed out, being suspended was not a vacation, so Blue had her after-school shift at Nino’s as usual. Although the sun outside was overpowering, the restaurant was strangely dim inside, a trick of the thunderheads darkening the western sky. The shadows beneath the metal-legged tables were gray and diffuse; it was hard to tell if it was dark enough to turn on the lights that hung over each table or not. The decision could wait; there was no one in the restaurant.
With nothing to occupy her mind except for sweeping the Parmesan cheese from the corners of the room, Blue thought about Gansey inviting her to a toga party tonight. To her surprise, her mother had urged her to go. Blue had said that an Aglionby toga party went against everything she stood for. Maura had replied, “Private school boys? Using random pieces of fabric as apparel? That seems like exactly what you stand for these days.”
Shoof, shoof. Blue swept the floor aggressively. She could feel herself hurtling towards self-awareness, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.
In the kitchen, the shift manager chortled. Dissonant, clunky music warred with the electric guitar playing overhead; he was watching videos on his phone with the cooks. A loud ding sounded as the restaurant door opened. To her surprise, Adam stepped in and warily assessed the empty tables. His uniform was strangely bedraggled: the trousers wrinkled and muddied, his white shirt smudged and damp in places.
“Wasn’t I supposed to call you later?” Blue asked. She eyed his uniform. Ordinarily it would have been impeccable. “Are you OK?”
Adam slid into a chair and touched his left eyelid cautiously. “I remembered I had Weights and Discovery after school and didn’t want you to miss me. Uh, phys ed and a scientific method extracurricular.”
Blue walked her broom over to his table. “You didn’t say if you were OK.”
He flicked his fingers irritably against one of the damp places on his sleeve. “Cabeswater. Something’s up with it. I don’t know. I have to do some work with it. I’ll need someone to spot me, I guess. What are you doing this evening?”
“Mom says I’m going to a toga party. Are you?”
Disdain dripped from Adam’s voice. “I’m not going to a party at Henry Cheng’s, no.”
Henry Cheng. Things made marginally more sense. In a Venn diagram where one circle held the words toga party and one held the words Henry Cheng, Gansey might possibly end up where they intersected. Blue’s mixed feelings returned in force. “What is the actual deal with you and Henry Cheng? And do you want some pizza? Someone placed a wrong order and we have extras.”
“You’ve seen him. I don’t have time for that. And yes, please.”
She fetched the pizza and sat opposite Adam as he inhaled it as politely as possible. The truth was that until he’d walked in the door, she’d forgotten that they had arranged a call to talk about Gansey and Glendower. She was feeling pretty short on ideas after discussing it with her family members in the bathtub. She admitted, “I should tell you I don’t really have any ideas about Gansey other than finding Glendower, and I don’t know what to do next about that.”
Adam said, “I didn’t get a lot of time to think about it today, either, because of—” He gestured to his rumpled uniform again, though she couldn’t tell if he meant Cabeswater or school. “And so I don’t have an idea, I only have a question. Do you think Gansey could order Glendower to appear?”
Something about this question neatly upended Blue’s stomach. It was not that she hadn’t thought about Gansey’s power of command; it was just that his uncanny authoritative voice was so closely allied with his ordinary bossy voice that it was sometimes difficult to convince herself that she had not imagined it. And then when she did admit that there was something there – for instance, when he had clearly magically dissolved the false Blues during their last visit to Cabeswater – it was still nonetheless somewhat difficult to think of in a magical sense. The knowledge slid sideways, pretending to be normal. Now that she thought of the phenomenon more firmly, though, holding on to the entirety of it as best she could, she realized that it was a lot like Noah’s appearing and disappearing, or like the dream logic of Aurora appearing through rock. Her mind was quite happy to let her believe that there was nothing magic about it; to sketchily rewrite it as simply Gansey being Gansey.
All Adam could think was that he couldn’t let it touch him. The thought of it on his skin was worse than the image of his useless eye. “Cabeswater. Keep me safe. Cabeswater! ”
There was a sound like a shot – Adam shied away – as the mirror split. A sun from somewhere else burned on the other side of it. Leaves were pressed up against the glass as if it were a window. The forest whispered and hissed in Adam’s deaf ear, urging him to help it find a channel.
Gratitude burned through him, as hard to bear as the fear. If something happened to him now, at least he wouldn’t be alone.
Water, Cabeswater urged. Waterwaterwater.
Scrambling to the sink, Adam twisted on the tap. Water rushed out, scented with rain and rocks. He reached through the flow to smash down the plug. The inky black bled towards him, inches from his shoes.
Don’t let it touch you—
He clambered on to the edge of the sink as the darkness reached the bottom of the wall. It would climb, Adam knew. But then, finally, the water filled the plugged basin and flowed over the edge on to the floor. It washed over the blackness, soundless, colourless, sliding towards the drain. It left behind only pale, ordinary concrete.
Even after the blackness was gone, Adam let the sink pour on to the floor for another full minute, soaking his shoes. Then he slipped off the edge of the sink. He scooped the water up in his palms and splashed the earthy-scented water over his face, over his left eye. Again and again, again and again, again and again, until his eye no longer felt tired. Until he could no longer feel it at all. It was just his eye again, when he peered into the mirror. Just his face. There was no sign of the other sun or a lazy iris. Drops of Cabeswater’s rivers clung damply in Adam’s eyelashes. Cabeswater muttered and moaned, vines curling through Adam, dappled light flashing behind his eyes, stones pressing up beneath the palms of his hands.
Cabeswater had taken so long to come to his aid. Only a few weeks before, a heap of roofing tiles had fallen on top of him, and Cabeswater had swept instantaneously to save him. If that had happened today, he would have been dead.
The forest whispered at him in its language that was equal parts pictures and words, and it made him understand why it had been so slow to come to him.
Something had been attacking them both.
As Maura had already pointed out, being suspended was not a vacation, so Blue had her after-school shift at Nino’s as usual. Although the sun outside was overpowering, the restaurant was strangely dim inside, a trick of the thunderheads darkening the western sky. The shadows beneath the metal-legged tables were gray and diffuse; it was hard to tell if it was dark enough to turn on the lights that hung over each table or not. The decision could wait; there was no one in the restaurant.
With nothing to occupy her mind except for sweeping the Parmesan cheese from the corners of the room, Blue thought about Gansey inviting her to a toga party tonight. To her surprise, her mother had urged her to go. Blue had said that an Aglionby toga party went against everything she stood for. Maura had replied, “Private school boys? Using random pieces of fabric as apparel? That seems like exactly what you stand for these days.”
Shoof, shoof. Blue swept the floor aggressively. She could feel herself hurtling towards self-awareness, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.
In the kitchen, the shift manager chortled. Dissonant, clunky music warred with the electric guitar playing overhead; he was watching videos on his phone with the cooks. A loud ding sounded as the restaurant door opened. To her surprise, Adam stepped in and warily assessed the empty tables. His uniform was strangely bedraggled: the trousers wrinkled and muddied, his white shirt smudged and damp in places.
“Wasn’t I supposed to call you later?” Blue asked. She eyed his uniform. Ordinarily it would have been impeccable. “Are you OK?”
Adam slid into a chair and touched his left eyelid cautiously. “I remembered I had Weights and Discovery after school and didn’t want you to miss me. Uh, phys ed and a scientific method extracurricular.”
Blue walked her broom over to his table. “You didn’t say if you were OK.”
He flicked his fingers irritably against one of the damp places on his sleeve. “Cabeswater. Something’s up with it. I don’t know. I have to do some work with it. I’ll need someone to spot me, I guess. What are you doing this evening?”
“Mom says I’m going to a toga party. Are you?”
Disdain dripped from Adam’s voice. “I’m not going to a party at Henry Cheng’s, no.”
Henry Cheng. Things made marginally more sense. In a Venn diagram where one circle held the words toga party and one held the words Henry Cheng, Gansey might possibly end up where they intersected. Blue’s mixed feelings returned in force. “What is the actual deal with you and Henry Cheng? And do you want some pizza? Someone placed a wrong order and we have extras.”
“You’ve seen him. I don’t have time for that. And yes, please.”
She fetched the pizza and sat opposite Adam as he inhaled it as politely as possible. The truth was that until he’d walked in the door, she’d forgotten that they had arranged a call to talk about Gansey and Glendower. She was feeling pretty short on ideas after discussing it with her family members in the bathtub. She admitted, “I should tell you I don’t really have any ideas about Gansey other than finding Glendower, and I don’t know what to do next about that.”
Adam said, “I didn’t get a lot of time to think about it today, either, because of—” He gestured to his rumpled uniform again, though she couldn’t tell if he meant Cabeswater or school. “And so I don’t have an idea, I only have a question. Do you think Gansey could order Glendower to appear?”
Something about this question neatly upended Blue’s stomach. It was not that she hadn’t thought about Gansey’s power of command; it was just that his uncanny authoritative voice was so closely allied with his ordinary bossy voice that it was sometimes difficult to convince herself that she had not imagined it. And then when she did admit that there was something there – for instance, when he had clearly magically dissolved the false Blues during their last visit to Cabeswater – it was still nonetheless somewhat difficult to think of in a magical sense. The knowledge slid sideways, pretending to be normal. Now that she thought of the phenomenon more firmly, though, holding on to the entirety of it as best she could, she realized that it was a lot like Noah’s appearing and disappearing, or like the dream logic of Aurora appearing through rock. Her mind was quite happy to let her believe that there was nothing magic about it; to sketchily rewrite it as simply Gansey being Gansey.
