Have Mercy

06 landscape with a blur of conquerors

          "Jane, how do you feel about doing something slightly illegal and definitely distasteful?" Gansey's voice breaks through her thoughts.

Standing in the doorway of 300 Fox Way, Blue rubs her foot against her calf. A force of nature in mismatched, handmade clothes. She narrows her eyes. "It depends if it involves a helicopter."

Gansey shrugs. "No helicopters, this time."

          "Is this about Cabeswater?" Blue's eyes flick to Mercy, who's feet are crossed against each other and gaze locked on her nails, picking them free of blood.

Mercy grins mockingly, flicking her fingers at the Sargent girl.

          "No," Gansey says. His shoulders slump.

Blue looks past Gansey and Mercy to the trunk of the BMW, a bungee cord safely securing it closed. "Why is there a bungee cord around the trunk?"

          "It's a long story." Gansey replies. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

          "I guess I've never seen you in a T-shirt before." Blue says thoughtfully. "Or jeans."

Mercy studies Gansey, nose furrowed. She's never thought about it either. How in their days spent between the walls of Aglionby, Mercy has only ever seen Gansey as the version of himself that he puts forward and never looked any further. Tousled hair and hazel eyes, there's something purposeful about how he carries himself. Clean Gansey. The golden boy King of Aglionby Academy. The Gansey he slipped on each morning like his polos and his boat shoes. She'd watched it this morning as he stuffed his wallet into the pocket of his jeans and fiercely protected the Camaro from Ronan's dream thing.

          "It's for the distasteful thing." Gansey plucks at the T-shirt, holding it away from his body like it's a poison. "I'm rather slovenly at the moment, I know."

          "Yes," Blue says snidely, "slovenly, that's exactly what I was thinking. Ronan, I see that you're dressed slovenly as well." Ronan is dressed in his normal attire: jeans and a blank tank top covering the snarled twists of his tattoo. She looks at Mercy momentarily but says nothing, eyeing the tennis skirt and dirt-caked Doc Martens. "Shall I get into something more slovenly, too?"

          "At least put shoes on," Gansey replies. "And a hat, if you must. It looks like rain."

Mercy tips her chin to the clouds before sighing, pulling at her headphones around her neck. "I don't mean to be rude, but can we hurry this along. We have things to deal with."

Blue tuts at her. "Where's Adam?"

          "Picking him up next."

          "Where's Noah?"

          "Same place Cabeswater is." Ronan cuts in.

          "Nice, Ronan." Blue's lip curls. She retreats inside the house, leaving Mercy and the boys to stand outside. "Mom! I'm going with the boys to do ... something!"

Mercy rolls her eyes, pushing off of the BMW as Gansey turns to Ronan.

          "Let me be very clear: If there was any other place we could bury this thing without the fear of it being discovered, we'd be going there instead." Gansey says, firmly. "I don't think it's a good idea to go to the Barns, and I wish you wouldn't come with us in any case. I want it to be on record."

          "WHAT SORT OF SOMETHING?" Maura Sargent's voice echoes through the open doorway.

          "On record: I agree with him." Mercy interjects. She's aware her opinion doesn't count for much but feels like stating it anyway. Gansey's words are an obvious fact, but it goes hand in hand with another: Ronan Lynch loves the Barns more than anything else. "We could've gone to Siken."