Lawrence laughed. “I’m not sure why you find it interesting. I began following him as soon as we were alerted to his presence in the city. I wanted to see who he was looking for. In case it was someone like him.”
“Well, as you know, I’m nothing like him. And I was about to relieve him of the information he was carrying—in as subtle a manner as possible—when you charged in and caused a scene.”
A floorboard creaked. Something tapped the desk. “So sorry,” Lawrence said, not sounding in the least bit apologetic. “Did I make things a little difficult for you, leaving you behind at the scene of a murder? How embarrassing for your family.”
“The incident is of little importance to my family. What’s important is the information that man was carrying. The information he was about to give me. I’m here to retrieve it.”
Lawrence snickered. “Finders keepers.”
Ridley tilted her head just far enough to see Archer cross his arms. “Have you opened the envelope?”
“Of course I have. You would, wouldn’t you?”
“And?”
“Letters. All the same, and none of them addressed to anyone in particular. Very interesting contents, however.”
After several moments of silence, Archer said, “I assume you don’t plan to elaborate on these contents?”
“You assume correctly.”
Archer exhaled sharply. “You’re certain they’re not addressed to anyone?”
“I’m not blind, Davenport. Like I said, there are no names.”
At that, Archer’s eyes flicked toward the door, and Ridley pulled her head back swiftly. She waited, holding her breath, but Archer’s chair didn’t scrape backward. He didn’t walk into the living room, and he didn’t call out ‘who’s there?’ Instead, he said, “You’ll bring the envelope to the next meeting, then?”
“Of course.” A chair wheeled across the floor, and Ridley pictured Lawrence standing. “But until then, it will remain in my possession. Sorry you wasted your time coming all the way over here. You should have called first. I would have told you not to bother.”
Chair legs scraped the floor, and Archer said, “Don’t worry about it. I was in the neighborhood.”
They walked out of the mayor’s study, and in the quiet between two different tracks of whatever album was playing, Ridley thought she heard the same faint hiss she’d heard earlier. She still had no idea what caused the sound, or if it was related to the intense nausea and dizziness that had made her pass out, but she couldn’t risk looking now. Her hand hesitated near her commscreen as Lawrence showed Archer to the front door. The door shut. Lawrence crossed the hallway. Ridley waited, barely breathing, but his footsteps grew fainter and disappeared.
Still, Ridley waited. But after a minute or so when Lawrence still hadn’t returned, she ended the commscreen recording and switched off the listening device. She needed to leave. She had no idea if either of her devices had recorded anything useful, but she wouldn’t be able to find out until she got out of here. After returning the devices to her pocket and peeking over the top of the couch once more, she stood and tiptoed to the edge of the room. Perhaps it was the act of standing after crouching down for a while, but by the time she reached the wall and pressed her back against it, her nausea had returned in full force. She tried breathing deeply, but that only seemed to make it worse. She leaned forward, hands pressing into her knees as she breathed deeply and silently repeated, Don’t pass out, don’t pass out.
At the edge of her gaze, a shadow moved. She saw shoes, dark pants, and she sucked in a breath and straightened hurriedly as a dark figure moved toward her. “Why are you still here?”
She blinked through her dizziness at the dark eyes glaring at her. “Archer?”
“You need to get out of here.”
“How did you—”
“He’s dangerous, okay?” Archer hissed, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her toward the glass sliding door, which, she now noticed, was partially open. “So whatever you were planning to do here this evening, don’t. Just leave.”
She tugged free of his grip, which sent her head spinning again. “Not until you tell me what you’re doing here.” Swallowing down her nausea and pulling herself a little straighter, she tried to regain some of her usual confidence. “Looks like you and Lawrence are quite close. I had no idea the two of you knew each other so well.”
“I guess looks can be deceiving then, can’t they?” His eyes traveled across her face. “After all, you look like a straight A scholarship student on the outside. No one would ever guess you’re an expert at breaking and entering.”
“I don’t see any breaking, do you?” she retorted. “And how did you even know I was here?”
“Because I was doing my own sneaking around,” he snapped, trying again to move her toward the door. “Hoping to get that envelope back. And I’d probably have it by now if I hadn’t come across you passed out on the living room floor and had to improvise to keep you from getting yourself caught.”
Ridley’s confidence wavered. “You … you saw that?”
“Yes, I found you here on the floor. I tried to wake you, but I heard Lawrence coming. I left through a window. Went back around to the front and rang the doorbell. Now you’ve cost me valuable time I could have spent searching for the envelope.”
“What envelope?”
“You know, the envelope from last night. The big yellow one.” Archer frowned. “You said you saw what happened. You said—” He shook his head. “You know what? Just leave. Forget about all of this.”
“What envelope, Archer? What letters was Lawrence talking about? Why was that man outside my—”
Footsteps sounded from the direction of the hallway. As Ridley shot a glance across the room, Archer gripped both her shoulders and pushed her out onto the deck. “You need to stop asking questions.” Then he slid the door shut and locked it. He disappeared into Mayor Madson’s study, leaving Ridley staring through the glass with dozens of questions on the tip of her tongue and nausea churning her stomach. She blinked, remembered she needed to remain hidden, and hurried away through the rain before Lawrence returned to the lounge and found her standing there on his deck.
10
Ridley woke the next morning and lay in sleepy bliss for about three seconds before reality and its disappointments crashed down on her. She remembered that one of her best friends was in jail. She remembered hiding behind the Madsons’ poolhouse the night before until she could use her magic without feeling ill. She remembered replaying the commscreen recording when she got home, only to find that she could barely hear anything Archer and Lawrence had said over the sound of the music. She’d then downloaded the recording from the listening device, and though she could hear some of the words, most of the conversation wasn’t clear enough to make sense.
She opened her eyes and stared at the damp stains and peeling paint on her ceiling, acknowledging once again that she had nothing that could help Shen, and that she’d come away from the Madsons’ with more questions than answers. At least she’d raided the toy box beneath her bed—the toy box that contained all the cash that hadn’t yet found its way to a worthy cause—and put everything into an envelope for the Lins. She’d crept into their kitchen late last night and left it by the kettle, in the same place she’d left an envelope years ago when Shen was sick. If all else failed and she couldn’t find a way to prove her friend’s innocence, the Lins could at least afford a good lawyer to defend him.
A quiet buzzing sound alerted her to a notification on her commscreen. She rolled onto her side and reached for it on the edge of her desk. The two messages at the top of the screen were from Meera, but just below them sat one from Derek, sent late last night.
Derek: Great, see you at Elise’s then!
Ridley draped one arm across her eyes and groaned. She’d forgotten about Elise’s party, just like she’d forgotten she’d asked Derek if they could meet there to talk. She shifted her arm enough to see Meera’s m
essage.
Meera: I’m thinking of not going tonight. I don’t think I can have fun while Shen’s stuck in jail.
Meera: And you never called me back yesterday. What’s going on? What were you doing?
Ridley pushed herself up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She tucked her long white hair behind her ear and stared at her commscreen for a while, wondering what to say to Meera. Wondering what to do about Shen. She opened a news app on her commscreen and scrolled idly through it, stopping when she reached the story about the murdered man in her alley. A photo accompanied the story. A still image from the supposed ‘footage’ that proved Shen had been at the scene along with Archer Davenport and the unidentified victim.
“Hang on,” Ridley whispered. Yesterday she’d assumed there was no hidden surveillance footage to begin with. No news channel had shown it, and Ridley believed it was all a big lie. But the grainy photo she was currently looking at included the stranger in his maroon coat with his hat in one hand, Archer wearing the same clothes he’d had on yesterday, and Shen. Not wearing the raincoat she’d seen him in yesterday. Which meant part of the footage was genuine and Shen had somehow been pasted in. And if part of it was genuine, then the original version—without Shen pasted into it—must exist somewhere.
Her heart raced as an idea began to take shape. She tapped the small photo of Meera’s face, selected the voice call option, and brought her commscreen to her ear. “Ridley!” Meera said, answering after two rings. “Finally. What happened yesterday? Where’d you go?”
“I think we should go to the party tonight,” Ridley said, ignoring Meera’s questions. “There’s someone I need to speak to. Someone who might be able to help Shen.”
That evening, Ridley entered Aura Tower in a far more orthodox manner than she had several nights before: by stopping at the reception desk with Meera to check her name off Elise’s guest list, and then waiting in front of one of the elevators. What made the experience so surreal though, was having Dad beside her.
His arm came up around Ridley’s back, nudging her forward as the elevator doors parted. She walked forward, feeling a strange sort of lightheadedness. It had been easy while sneaking in here the other night to remain indifferent to this place. To pretend the tall tower with its shiny floors, restaurants, indoor parks, and glamorous apartments had no impact on her. But stepping into the elevator with Dad at her side brought on a sense of familiarity so powerful that, for a moment, Ridley could hardly believe more than nine years had passed since the two of them had lived here.
It had been a gorgeous home, up on the hundred and fifty-second floor. Ridley and her parents moved in when she was four years old, and she’d always taken the place for granted. Then the Cataclysm happened, Dad lost everything, and after moving into the tiny apartment above Kayne’s Antiques, Ridley ended up at the public elementary school most of the other kids in Demmer District attended. Dad said Wallace Academy was off the table—no way could he possibly afford it—so Ridley worked her young butt off and received one of the few scholarships Wallace Academy offered for students entering middle school. Stupidly, she’d thought her life would return to something a little like normal then. She would see all her old friends again. They would accept her because she was a Wallace student. She would hang out in Lilah’s penthouse most afternoons and pretend she was still one of the city’s elite.
That didn’t happen. Her friends all followed Lilah’s lead and continued to ignore her. And so the only time Ridley entered Aura Tower was for Elise’s annual end-of-summer party—or when she was breaking into someone’s apartment. And the latter definitely didn’t make her feel like she belonged there.
“Weird, isn’t it?” Dad said, as if reading her thoughts. “Being back here.”
“Yes,” Ridley murmured. “Very weird.”
Meera, who’d decided to come to the party after discovering no one was allowed to visit Shen in jail, cleared her throat. “So, uh … you said you’re meeting someone at the restaurant on the hundred-and-fiftieth, Mr. Kayne?”
“Yes, De-Luxe,” Dad answered. He placed his hands behind his back and nodded. “Someone interested in old clocks.”
“Okay.” Meera nodded. “How interesting.” Ridley cut a sideways glance at her friend and raised an eyebrow. She knew there was not a single thing about antiques that interested Meera. “What?” Meera whispered. “It is interesting.”
Though the elevator wasn’t yet halfway to Elise’s floor, it slowed to a halt and the doors opened. In walked Daphne Brooke and Josefina Cruz. Also on their way to Elise’s party, Ridley assumed. Daphne smirked as she gave Ridley and Meera a brief once-over before turning to face the doors.
They rode the rest of the way up in awkward silence, which was nothing new for Ridley and Meera. Elise’s annual party was always awkward for them. The kind of event where if the guest list wasn’t automatically made up of the entire class, it certainly wouldn’t have included them.
They reached Elise’s floor, and Daphne and Josie hurried out, almost crashing into Lilah, who must have just exited one of the other elevators. The three of them caught hold of each other, giggling as they regained their balance. “Have fun,” Dad said to Ridley as she and Meera walked forward.
“I know, right?” Daphne said Josie, in answer to something Josie must have said. She laughed again as Ridley passed her. Then, in a lower voice, she added, “He’s such a weird-looking man.”
Ridley stopped. She looked back over her shoulder and found Daphne watching her father through the slowly closing elevator doors. Lilah shoved her elbow against her friend’s ribs. “Don’t say that. Don’t you know who he is?”
“Sure, he’s—”
“He was a famous jewelry designer before the Cataclysm,” Lilah told her. “Designers aren’t supposed to be good-looking. They create amazing fashion or accessories, and that’s why people love them.”
“Designer? What designer?”
Meera tugged at Ridley’s arm and whispered, “Just leave it.” But Ridley couldn’t bring herself to move away.
“Maverick Kayne,” Lilah said. “Remember? The headpieces he used to create were exquisite, and his diamond work was amazing.”
“But he used magic,” Josie said in a loud whisper.
“Yes, so that’s why you don’t hear about him anymore,” Lilah continued. “Anyway, my point is that most designers have kind of a weird look, don’t they? So clearly Maverick Kayne isn’t any different.”
Daphne was nodding by now. “Maverick Kayne. Yeah, I remember that name.” She looked toward the elevator, which was now closed. “My oldest sister had a Maverick Kayne tiara she wore to her prom. The diamonds had actual fire glowing in—Wait.” She looked at Lilah again. “So Ridley’s dad is Maverick Kayne?”
Lilah’s eyes just about rolled into the back of her head. “Oh my goodness, where have you been for the past several years, Daphne?”
“Yes, Daphne,” Ridley said loudly, unable to keep her mouth shut any longer. “Where have you been for the past several years?”
Daphne twisted around, but she didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed to find Ridley still standing there. “Jeez, sorry. I don’t really know you that well, Ridley, so obviously I don’t know anything about your family. I only moved here after the Cataclysm, remember? And look, all I’m saying is that you’re lucky you take after your mom instead of your dad. Can you imagine if you’d ended up with those huge teeth of his?”
All the better to bite you with, Ridley thought, the line from that old fairy tale flashing through her mind. She managed to hold back the words though, as well as the retort that Daphne had no idea what Ridley’s mother had looked like, so how could she possibly make a statement like that? Instead, Ridley schooled her expression into a placid smile and said, “So lucky.”
“Right?” Daphne smiled. “Your mom must be beautiful, just like you.”
Meera tugged at Ridley’s arm once more, and this time, Ridley relented. Her eyes met Lilah’s
for a moment before she turned and headed around the corner with Meera. “I can’t believe you were ever friends with people like them,” Meera muttered as they approached the entrance to Elise’s home.
“It was a long time ago.”
They walked through the open door into Elise’s family’s glitzy apartment, already crowded with people. Neon lights illuminated the large living area, and colorful drinks lined a dining room table that had been pushed to one side of the room. “Can you tell me why we’re here now?” Meera asked over the sounds of laughter and music. “Who can help Shen? And what happened yesterday afternoon? Where’d you go?”
“I, uh … I’m not sure I should tell you who I’m here to speak to. It’s kind of a sensitive business, and I don’t think this person would be happy with me giving away his or her skills.”
“Sensitive business?” Meera raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Fine. Whatever.” They moved through the crowded space to the other side of the room, where floor-to-ceiling glass provided an excellent view of the city. Not as a great a view as the one from the Davenports’ penthouse, but still high enough that a sliver of the wastelands was visible beyond the top of the wall. Meera turned her back to the window, crossed her arms, and asked, “So where’d you go yesterday after you left my place?”
“You wouldn’t like it if you knew.”
“It doesn’t matter whether I like it or not. I just want to know.”
“I don’t think you do.”
Meera’s eyes narrowed, but not before Ridley saw the hurt in her gaze. “Since when do we keep secrets from each other?”
Guilt pierced Ridley’s chest at the reminder of all the secrets she kept from her best friend, and just like that, she opened her mouth and said, “I broke into Mayor Madson’s house.”
Meera blinked. Then she rolled her eyes. “Fine. Don’t tell me what you were really up to.” She lowered her arms to her sides and turned toward the window. “You’re probably right that I don’t want to know what it was.”
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