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Violence was a disease Gansey didn’t think he could catch.
As they moved through the old barn, Adam felt Ronan’s eyes glance off him and away, his disinterest practiced but incomplete. Adam wondered if anyone else noticed. Part of him wished they did and immediately felt bad, because it was vanity, really: See, Adam Parrish is wantable, worthy of a crush, not just by anyone, someone like Ronan, who could want Gansey or anyone else and chose Adam for his hungry eyes.
No wonder Cabeswater had been unable to appear until Ronan’s father died.
Why here? Why do you come here to do it?” Voice toneless, Ronan said, “Sometimes I dream of wasps.”
“I’ve dreamt him a box of EpiPens. I dream cures for stings all the time. I carry one. I put them in the Pig. I have them all over Monmouth.”
was a herd of bones, an army of bones, a tragedy of bones.
