Ronan didn’t like the word dandy, but he understood what she was trying to say. There was something light and insubstantial about Bryde, something dissonant with the weight of his purpose. Ever since he’d met Bryde, in person, Ronan had thought there was something surprising about him, a mismatch, a weird join-up of the wires in Ronan’s brain, like he was thinking of one word but saying another. It meant that every time Ronan looked at Bryde for long, it felt as if a shapeless question formed in Ronan’s mouth.

But what could the question be? The answer was always just Bryde.

Bryde asked, “What do you feel?”

Hennessy launched into a dynamite monologue. She was a tape that had always been playing fast, and since they’d gone on the run, she’d shifted into fast-forward. “Feel? Feel? What do I feel? I feel West Virginia. You might be forgiven for thinking you feel Virginia. It’s close, so close, but it’s got a bit more of a leather perfume to it. I’m tasting—what am I tasting?—I’m getting a bit of a banjo mouthfeel. Mm. No. Dulcimer. That’s the one. I knew there were strings involved. Something else is coming through. Is it kudzu? Hold on, let me let it breathe. Is that a note of sulfur?”

Hennessy couldn’t be stopped mid-swing, so Bryde waited ruefully and Ronan got his bag and his sword with the words VEXED TO NIGHTMARE on the hilt. He slung both over his back, adjusting the scabbard so that the blade hung neatly between his shoulder blades. He wasn’t going to bother with this particular game of Bryde’s anyway; he already knew it was one he couldn’t win.

When Bryde asked What do you feel? what he meant was How much ley power can you feel?

And Ronan had never been able to feel the power of the invisible ley lines that fueled his dreams. At least not while he was awake. Adam could. If Ronan and Hennessy hadn’t ditched their phones on the first night to keep the Moderators from using them as tracking devices, Ronan could have texted him for some tips.

Well, maybe.

By the time they’d ditched their phones, Adam still hadn’t answered Ronan’s last text. Tamquam, Ronan had messaged, which was always supposed to be answered by alter idem. But Adam hadn’t replied at all.

The silence sort of made this—the being away—easier.

What do you feel?

Confused.

“If you’re finished,” Bryde said drily. “The ley line. What do you feel?”

“There’s some?” Hennessy guessed. “Bigger than a bread box, smaller than a lawn mower? Enough for Ronan Lynch to make a mess later.”

Ronan flipped her a lazy bird.