No, not normal.
There was no normal.
Maura was back at 300 Fox Way, but Persephone was not. The boys were back at school, but Greenmantle wasn’t. Jesse Dittley’s death dominated the newspapers. One of the articles had noted that the valley was beginning to look like a dangerous place to live: Niall Lynch, Joseph Kavinsky, Jesse Dittley, Persephone Poldma.
Everyone had been surprised to discover Persephone had a last name.
“Was it everything you expected?” Gansey asked Malory.
Malory and the Dog looked up from their boarding passes. “More. Much more. Too much. No offense meant to you and your company, Gansey, but I shall be very relieved to go back to my drowsy ley line for a while.”
Adam worked a scab off his hand; the smallest of the scratches he’d gotten from sliding down into the pit of ravens and then climbing back out. The most lasting wound was invisible but persistent: The knowledge of Persephone’s death hummed constantly through Adam like the pulse of the ley line.
She had told him that there were three sleepers. One to wake, one to not wake. One in between. The others thought that Gwenllian was the one in between, but that didn’t really make sense, because she’d never been asleep.
So he didn’t know if it was true or not, but he sort of liked to believe that the third sleeper had been him.
“You must come visit me,” Malory said. “You can see the tapestry. We will mince along the old tracks for nostalgia’s sake. The Dog would like it if Jane came as well.”
“I’d like that,” Gansey said politely. Like he would, but it wouldn’t happen. Malory probably couldn’t hear it, but Adam could. He would stay here, searching for Glendower and his favor.
The night before, Adam had restlessly started one of his old tricks to get to sleep: rehearsing the various wordings of the favor, trying to hit upon the right one, the one that wouldn’t squander the opportunity, the one that would fix everything that was wrong. Only he discovered that he couldn’t quite invest himself in the game. He didn’t so much care about asking for success; he was going to survive Aglionby, he thought, and he figured it was quite probable that he’d get a scholarship to at least one place he wanted to go. And he used to think he needed to use it to ask to be free of Cabeswater, but now it seemed like a strange thing to ask for. Like asking to be freed from Gansey or Ronan.
Then he realized the only thing he needed the favor for was to save Gansey’s life.
“Here we are,” Malory said, eyes on the airport terminal. The Dog wagged his tail for the first time. “Tell your mother good luck with her election. American politics! More dangerous than a ley line.”
“I’ll let her know,” Gansey said.
“Don’t you go into politics,” Malory said sternly as they pulled up on the curb.
“Unlikely.”
He still sounded anxious to Adam, even though there was nothing inherently anxious about the conversation. It was time to find Glendower. They all knew it.
Gansey stepped on the parking brake and said, “Once I send the professor off, one of you guys can get into the front. Adam? Unless he’s sleeping.”
“No,” Adam said. “I’m awake.”
It wasn’t that Piper had been unconscious for hours. In action movies of the sort Colin had always hated and she had always loved, heroes were always knocking out henchmen instead of shooting them. It’s how you could tell they were the hero. Villains shot minions; heroes knocked them out with a punch to the head. Then, a few hours later, they came to and went about their lives. Piper had read a blog post pointing out that this wasn’t really possible, however, because if you were unconscious for longer than a minute or two, it was because you had brain damage. And the post was written by a doctor, or someone who said they used to be a doctor, or someone married to a medical professional, so Piper thought it was probably true. Truer than those action movies, anyway.
As she lay there in the cave, she thought about all the brain-damaged thugs in Hollywood, spared by dashing heroes who thought it would be kinder than killing them.
She was not really unconscious for hours, but she did stay down on the ground for hours, or days. She swam in and out of sleep. Every so often she heard another moan from in the cave. Morris, maybe, or just her own voice. Sometimes she cracked her eyes and thought that it was time to get up, probably, but then it seemed like too much work, so she stayed down.
Finally, though, she stopped hitting the cavern’s snooze button and got herself together. This was ridiculous. She sat up, head throbbing, and let her eyes adjust. She wasn’t sure exactly where the light was coming from. There was rubble and water all around her. She remembered suddenly that Colin had buggered off, leaving her to die in this cave that had been his idea in the first place. Typical. He was always off doing things for himself and pretending it was for both of them.
Suddenly, she realized where the light was coming from: a lantern, an old-fashioned kind, like a miner’s lamp. And there were hands folded together on the other side of it. Plump, pretty hands. Attached to arms. Attached to a body. It was a woman. She was looking at Piper with an unwaving and unblinking gaze.
“Are you real?” Piper asked.
The woman gave a serene nod. Piper didn’t take the nod as a guarantee of realness, though. This didn’t seem like the sort of place random women would appear.
“Are you paralyzed?” the woman asked kindly.
“No,” Piper said. Then she paused. “Yes. No.”
One of her legs was not obeying her, but that didn’t count as paralysis. She thought it was probably broken. She was starting to feel not great about the situation.
“We can fix that,” the woman said. “If we wake it up.”
They both looked at the tomb door.
“If we wake him, he will give us a favor,” the woman added. “There are three of us, but just barely. Not for long.”
She gestured vaguely in the direction of Morris’s moaning.
Piper, who was interested in her own well-being above all others, was instantly suspicious. “Why didn’t you just wake him yourself, then?”
“It would be lonely to be a queen alone,” the woman said. “It would’ve been better with three, but two will have to do. Two is less stable than three, but better than one.”
Piper was supremely disinterested in magic math. Now that she was beginning to think about it, her leg really hurt. It also was leaking. She was getting angry about everything here. “Okay, fine. Fine.”
The woman lifted the lamp and helped Piper struggle to her feet. Piper said a word that usually made her feel better, but didn’t in this case. At least she now believed the other woman was real; she was squashing Piper’s rib cage in her effort to help her stand. “Who are you, anyway?”
“My name is Neeve.”
As they hobbled to the door, Piper observed, “That’s a kind of stupid name.”
“So,” replied Neeve mildly, “is Piper.”
In the end, there was not really any ceremony. They just both put their hands on the door and pushed. It didn’t feel magical; it just felt like a chunk of wood.
The tomb was already light inside. It was a similar amount of light as the lantern Neeve had at her feet. It was, in fact, the exact same amount of light, mirrored back at them.
The two of them staggered in. There was a raised coffin, the lid already ajar.
The sleeper wasn’t human. Piper wasn’t sure why she’d expected it would be. Instead, it was small, and black, and shiny, with more legs than she’d expected. It was powerful.
Neeve said, “We have to do it at the same time to get the fa —”
Piper reached out and touched it before Neeve could move.
“Wake up.”
Maggie Stiefvater is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the novels Shiver, Linger, Forever, and Sinner. Her novel The Scorpio Races was named a Michael L. Printz Honor Book by the American Library Association. The first book in The Raven Cycle, The Raven Boys,
was a Publishers Weekly Best Book of the Year and the second book, The Dream Thieves, was an ALA Best Book for Young Adults. She is also an artist and musician. She lives in Virginia with her husband and their two children. You can visit her online at www.maggiestiefvater.com.
Also by Maggie Stiefvater
The Raven Boys
The Dream Thieves
The Scorpio Races
Shiver
Linger
Forever
Sinner
Lament: The Faerie Queen’s Deception
Ballad: A Gathering of Faerie
Copyright © 2014 by Maggie Stiefvater
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available
First edition, November 2014
Cover art © 2014 by Adam S. Doyle
Cover design by Christopher Stengel
e-ISBN 978-0-545-66290-1
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
Maggie Stiefvater, Blue Lily, Lily Blue
(Series: The Raven Cycle # 3)
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