Blue had not thought about the Fresh Eagle that way before.

Mr Gray added cordially, “I am sorry about the fright.”

Henry had been watching this entire exchange closely. “You were doing your job. I was doing my job.”

What a truth this was. While Blue had grown up learning the principles of internal energy and getting told bedtime stories, Henry Cheng had grown up contemplating how far he would go to protect his mother’s secrets under duress. The idea that they had been any part of this made her feel so uncomfortable that she said, “Let’s stop doing jobs now and start doing solutions. Can we talk about who’s coming here and why? Wasn’t that the whole point of this exchange? Someone’s coming somewhere to get something, and everybody’s freaked out?”

Henry said, “You’re a lady of action. I see why R. Gansey added you to his cabinet. Walk with me, President.”

They walked with him. They walked through the cereal aisle, the baking aisle and the canned goods aisle. As they did, Henry described what he had been told about the upcoming sale with all the enthusiasm of a good student delivering a presentation on a natural disaster. The meeting of artefact-selling denizens was to happen the day after the Aglionby fund-raiser, the better to disguise the influx of strange cars and people into Henrietta. An unknown number of parties would descend for a viewing of the object for sale – a magical entity – so that these potential buyers could confirm for themselves the otherworldliness of the product. Then an auction would follow – payment and the exchange of the item, as always, to take place in a separate location out of the view of prying eyes; no one wanted to have their proverbial wallet lifted by a fellow buyer. Further pieces might be available for sale; inquire within.

“A magical entity?” Blue and Gansey echoed at the same time that the Gray Man said, “Further pieces?”

“Magical entity. That was all the description was. It is meant to be a big secret. Worth the trip! They say.” Henry traced a smiley face on the exterior of a box of microwave macaroni and cheese. The logo was a tiny bear with a lot of teeth; it was hard to tell if it was smiling or grimacing. “I have been told to keep myself busy and to not accept candy from any strange men.”

“Magical entity. Could it be Ronan?” Gansey asked anxiously.

“We just saw Ronan; they wouldn’t try to sell him without having him in hand, right? Could it be a demon?” Blue said.

Gansey frowned. “Surely no one would try to sell a demon.”

“Laumonier might,” Mr Gray said. He did not sound fond. “I don’t like the sound of ‘further pieces.’ Not when it is Laumonier.”

“What’s it sound like?” Gansey asked.

“Pillaging,” Henry answered for him. “What do you mean Ronan’s a magical entity? Is he a demon? Because this all makes sense if so.”

Neither Blue nor Gansey hurried to answer this question; the truth of Ronan was such an enormous and dangerous secret that neither of them was willing to play with it, even with someone they both liked as well as Henry.

“Not exactly,” Gansey said. “Mr Gray, what are you thinking about the idea of all of these people descending? Declan seemed worried.”

“These people are not the most innocent of folks,” the Gray Man said. “They come from all walks of life, and the only thing that they have in common is a certain opportunism and flexibility of morality. Unpredictable enough on their own, but put them together in a place with something they really want, and it’s hard to say what could happen. There’s a reason they were told not to bring their money with them. And if Greenmantle rears his head again to squabble with Laumonier? There’s bad blood between all of them and the Lynches.”

“Colin Greenmantle is dead,” Henry said in a very precise way. “He will not be rearing anywhere soon, and if he does, we’ll have bigger problems to consider.”

“He’s dead?” the Gray Man said sharply. “Who sa— wait.”

The Gray Man’s eyes were abruptly cast upward. It took Blue a moment to realize that he was looking at a convex mirror meant to prevent shoplifting. Whatever he saw in the mirror instantly transformed him into something abrupt and powerful.

“Blue,” he said in a low voice, “do you have your knife?”

Her pulse slowly revved up to speed; she felt it in her stitches. “Yes.”

“Go around with the boys to the next aisle over. Not that way. The other. Quietly. I don’t remember if the entrance to the back room is on that wall, but if it is, go out that way. Don’t go out any door that might set off an alarm.”

Whatever he had seen in the mirror was gone now, but they didn’t hesitate. Blue led the way quickly down the end of the canned goods aisle, glanced to either side, and rounded the other side. Laundry detergent. Boxes and boxes in an aggressive assembly of colours. On the other side of them was a large case of butter and eggs. No storeroom exit. The front of the store seemed far away.

On the other side of the aisle, they heard the Gray Man’s voice, low and level and dangerous. It was a chillier tone than he had just used with them. Another voice replied, and Henry went very still beside them. His fingers touched the edge of one of the shelves – $3.99 price slash! – and he turned his head, listening.

“That’s –” he whispered. “That’s Laumonier.”

Laumonier. It was a name that carried more emotion than fact. Blue had heard it whispered in conversations about Greenmantle. Laumonier. Danger.

They heard Laumonier say in his accented voice, “It is so surprising to see you here in Henrietta. Where is your master, hound?”

“I think we both know the answer to that,” Mr Gray said, voice so even that it was impossible to know that he had himself just discovered the news about Colin Greenmantle. “And in any case, I have been working alone since this summer. I thought that was common knowledge. It is more interesting to me to see you here in Henrietta.”

“Well, the town belongs to no one now,” Laumonier said, “so it is, as they say, a free country.”

“Not so free,” the Gray Man said. “I understand that you have something to sell here. I’d like you in and then out again: Henrietta is now my home, and I’m not a fan of houseguests.”

There was some mirth over this. “Is this the part where I say ‘or what’? Because it seems like it would be.”