Apart from ruining the Gray Man’s life, the Gray Man’s plan to lead the others out of Henrietta had been going exceptionally well. Greenmantle must not have ever really trusted him, because he had immediately accepted the Gray Man’s confession of theft. He’d sworn and threatened, but really, Greenmantle had already done the worst thing he could manage, so his words lacked force.
And news had spread fast, apparently. Those headlights there were the two men who had, he’d discovered, trashed the Pleasant Valley Bed and Breakfast. And those headlights behind that, calculating and inexorable, were his brother’s.
Follow me, follow me.
For a mile, two miles, three miles, fifteen miles, the Gray Man played crack the whip with the other two cars. The car containing the other treasure seekers tried to be discreet, but the car in back didn’t. That was how he knew it was his brother. His brother always wanted Dean to know. That was part of the game.
My brother. My brother. My brother.
It had been paralyzing, at first, knowing that his brother was so close. At first, the only way the Gray Man could focus on driving was by thinking of everything he had become as the Gray Man instead of everything he had been as Dean Allen. Because Dean Allen kept telling him to just pull over and get it over with. It will only be worse, whispered Dean Allen in a small voice, if you make him come looking for you.
The Gray Man, on the other hand, said: He is a thirty-nine-year-old investment manager, and for efficiency, he should probably just be shot twice in the head and returned to his office with an ambiguous note.
And there was a third part of him, now, that was neither the Gray Man nor Dean Allen, that wasn’t thinking about his brother at all. This part — perhaps it was Mr. Gray — couldn’t stop thinking about everything he was leaving behind. The faded and beautiful crevices of the little town, the unapologetic spread of Maura’s smile, the new thunder of his suddenly operating heart. This part of him even missed the Champagne Killjoy.
The Gray Man’s eyes drifted down to the note still stuck to the steering wheel: This one’s for you. Just the way you like it: fast and anonymous.
It was such a brilliant little plan, slick and simple. All he’d had to do was give up everything. And it was working so very well.
But then something happened.
There was nothing around them but trees and highway and blackness, but suddenly the lights on the dormant machines in the passenger seat exploded.
Not a flicker. Not a hint.
A blasted shout into the night. The headlights behind him dipped as the cars slammed on their brakes, their meters undoubtedly howling the same as his.
No, the Gray Man thought. One of those stupid boys had dreamt back in Henrietta and ruined everything.
But that wasn’t it.
Because the readings were solid and screaming. Ordinarily, the energy spiked at the moment of the dream object’s creation, and then fell off abruptly. But the meters were still pegged. And remained so, despite the fact that the Gray Man was headed away from Henrietta at seventy miles an hour.
Behind the Gray Man, the first car had faltered. They doubted the Gray Man’s story, perhaps. Assuming, like the Gray Man, that someone elsewhere was using the Greywaren.
But the longer the flashing lights and wailing alerts went on, the more obvious it was that this was not the Greywaren’s doing. Not only were the readings constant, but they were coming from everywhere. It had to be the line Maura had talked about. Something had happened to it, and now it was alive, blasting these energy readings through the roof.
The car behind him was still following, but slowly. They had access to the same readings as the Gray Man — and they were confused.
A realization gradually occurred to the Gray Man. As long as the ley line was creating such dramatic readings, the Greywaren was invisible. An energy spike wouldn’t be noticed in this already existing riot.
Which meant Henrietta didn’t have to worry about any new hunters coming after the Greywaren. No one could use these readings to pinpoint anything but the location of the line. It meant that if the Gray Man could somehow get rid of this carload of treasure seekers, there was only one reason for the Gray Man to run from Henrietta.
His brother.