“I don’t get it,” Henry said for about the thousandth time. Ronan would have beat Henry’s head against one of the hospital room’s walls long before now if Gansey hadn’t kept angling himself between them. Every now and then Gansey said, “Henry, maybe you should…” But he never finished the sentence, so Henry never “…” and therefore continued to irritate Ronan to distraction.
And he couldn’t afford distraction right now. The longer Adam stayed out of his body, the more likely he would die. Ronan couldn’t figure out how Adam had stayed alive this long as it was.
Though, to hear the doctors tell it, Adam was already dead in all but the most basic sense.
Gansey flipped through a handful of papers, documents the hospital had given to Ronan that Ronan had not bothered to look at. “He has a DNR,” Gansey murmured. He shook his head and went to the next page, scanned it, looked up at Ronan. “How is it that you’re his power of attorney?”
“The fuck do I know?” Ronan asked. It felt good to swear and be angry, even if it didn’t help the situation. It helped him.
“I mean, you’re eighteen,” Gansey reasoned. “Still, do they not know Adam’s parents are still alive? I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Parrish would contest this.”
“Who’s going to tell them?” Ronan challenged.
Gansey froze. He met Ronan’s gaze then exchanged a glance with Blue through which they somehow communicated complex information. Watching it made Ronan want to wrap his fingers around someone’s throat though he didn’t know why. Ronan Lynch didn’t speak the language of envy, didn’t know how to name it when he felt it.
“No one, I suppose,” said Gansey. “He’s emancipated, after all.”
“And probably doesn’t trust his parents to have his best interests at heart,” Blue put in. “They wouldn’t, you know, have all the information.”
Everyone turned to look at the figure in the bed, the shell of Adam.
“And we do?” Henry asked. “‘Cuz I don’t feel like I know very much.”
Gansey ran a thumb over his bottom lip, and Ronan resisted the urge to slap his hand down. The familiar gesture only irritated him. It meant Gansey was thinking, and they didn’t have time for Gansey to think; they needed to act.
“Who found him?” Gansey asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, what was he doing before he collapsed?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“If he was scrying…” Blue said.
“Why would he?” Ronan asked. “He knows better than to do it alone.”
Even as the words left Ronan’s lips, a cold dart shot through him like an arrow. What if Adam hadn’t been alone at the time? If he’d been with someone… scrying with someone… what did that mean?
“I have to go after him,” Ronan decided.
“What?” Blue cried. “How?”
“Dreams and scrying occupy the same space,” said Ronan. “If anyone can go find Adam, it’s me.”
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