“What is it?”
“I would rather not tell you, as it is better the fewer people know it. Also, it is not polite table conversation,” Mr. Gray said. “I have a question for you. Your cursed cave. Do you think it is the sort of place you could hide a body? Or at least part of one?”
Blue narrowed her eyes. “There was lots of room in that cave for lots of things. Whose body? Which part?”
Gwenllian instantly manifested in the kitchen, dragging the vacuum cleaner behind her like a reluctantly walked dog. “What about the curse, lily?”
“I thought you were the curse,” Blue replied.
“Probably,” Gwenllian said carelessly. “What else is there but I? I’m known to Welshmen free, lovely Gwen, lovely Gwen, from Gower to Anglesey, lovely Gwen, oh Gwen the dead!”
Blue said, “I told you she would start singing.”
But the Gray Man just raised his eyebrows. “Weapons and poetry go hand in hand.”
Gwenllian drew herself up. “What a cunning weapon you are. A poet is how I ended up in that cave.”
“Is it a good story?” the Gray Man asked.
“Oh, it is the finest.”
Blue watched the exchange with a bit of awe. Somewhere there was a lesson in this.
The Gray Man took a sip of his tea. “You should sing it for us.”
And unbelievably, she did.
She sang a furious little song about Glendower’s poet Iolo Goch, and how he whispered war in her father’s ear (she whispered this part into Blue’s ear) and so, as blood soaked into the ground of Wales, Gwenllian did her level best to stab him to death.
“Was he sleeping?” the Gray Man asked with professional interest.
Gwenllian laughed for about a minute. Then she said, “It was at dinner. What a lovely meal he would’ve been!”
Then she spit in the Gray Man’s tea, but it seemed to have more to do with Iolo Goch than Mr. Gray.
He sighed and pushed the cup away. “So they sentenced you to that cave.”
“It was that or hanging! And I chose hanging, so they gave me the false grave instead.”
Blue squinted at Gwenllian, trying to imagine her as she had been six centuries before. A young woman, Orla’s age, the daughter of a nobleman, a witch in an age when witches were not always the best thing to be. Surrounded by war, and doing her best to stop it.
Blue wondered if she would have the courage to stab someone if she thought it would save lives.
Gwenllian dragged the vacuum cleaner back into the hall without any sort of good-bye.
“Gwenllian and vacuum, exit stage right,” Blue said.
The Gray Man pushed his tea even farther away. “Do you think you might have time to show me this cave you pulled her from? Just so I know where it is, as an option?”
The idea of leaving the house was incredibly appealing. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to see Jesse again, either. And although she was annoyed that Adam and Ronan hadn’t trusted her with whatever their Greenmantle plan was, she wanted to be helpful anyway. “Possibly. Will you feed me?”
“I won’t even spit in it.”
Blue warned Calla that she was leaving the house with a hit man, and then Mr. Gray took her to the downtown drugstore for a tuna fish sandwich (BEST TUNA FISH IN TOWN!) before driving out of Henrietta. The car zoomed and darted through the darkness in a way that seemed slightly out of the Gray Man’s control.
“This car is really terrible,” Blue said.
This was allowed, as the car was not really Mr. Gray’s. It was a hand-me-down white Mitsubishi of the sort that young men with big dreams and egos normally drove. It sported a custom license plate that read THIEF.
“It grows on you,” Mr. Gray said. He paused. “Like a cancer.”
“Buh dum pa.”
Both Blue and Mr. Gray enjoyed a laugh, and then were briefly silent as they realized it had been too long since they had been in the company of someone with their precise sense of humor, i.e., Maura Sargent. In the background, the Kinks played gently, the sound of Mr. Gray’s soul.
“I keep waiting for things to go back to normal,” Blue admitted. “But I know now that that’s not going to happen, even when Mom comes back.” She meant if, but she said when.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a fan of normal,” the Gray Man said. He slowed slightly as the headlights illuminated the eyes of three deer standing by the side of the road.
It was warming to be so known. She said, “I’m not, really, but I was used to it, I guess. It’s boring, but at least it’s not scary. Do you ever get scared? Or are you too badass for that?”
He looked amused, but also like a badass, sitting quietly and efficiently behind the wheel of the car.
“In my experience,” the Gray Man said, “the badasses are the most scared. I just avoid being inappropriately frightened.”
Blue thought this seemed like a reasonable goal. After a pause, she said, “You know, I like you.”
He glanced over at her. “I do, too.”
“Like me or like you? The grammar was unspecific.”
The two of them enjoyed another laugh and the presence of someone else with their precise sense of humor.
“Oh, here it is,” Blue said. “Don’t pass it.”
The Dittley farm was mostly dark as they pulled down the driveway, with only the kitchen window lit up. For a moment, Blue thought perhaps Jesse had left to win back his wife and son and dog. But then she saw his big silhouette pull aside the curtain to observe their headlights pulling up to the house.
He came to the door at once.
“Howdy,” Blue said. “I came to impose on you and maybe show Mr. Gray your cave, if that’s okay.”
He let them in. “YOUR BREATH SMELLS LIKE TUNA FISH.”
“Should I have brought you some?” she asked.
“I ONLY EAT SPAGHETTIOS.” He shook hands with the Gray Man, who introduced himself as Mr. Gray. Then Jesse leaned and Blue stood on tiptoes and they hugged, because that seemed right.
“I JUST TOOK SOME GIRL SCOUT COOKIES OUT OF THE FREEZER.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” Blue said. “As you smelled, we just ate.”
“I’ll take one,” the Gray Man interjected. “If they’re Thin Mints.”
Jesse fetched them. “NOTHING FOR YOU, ANT?”
She said, “How about a glass of water and an exciting update about how great your life is now that we’ve taken the crazy person out of your cave?”