“Meera.” Ridley spoke slowly, unsure of what to say next. She hated that her friend thought she was lying—especially when she’d finally told the truth about something—but she knew it was better if Meera remained in the dark about Ridley’s activities. She looked through the glass at the distant flicker of magic out in the wastelands. The magic that sometimes seemed to call to her, like an invisible thread attached to her chest, wanting to tug her through the city and out there into the wild. “What Archer’s people did to get him off was illegal,” she said. “That means we may have to stoop to the same means to prove Shen didn’t do this.”
“I wish that wasn’t true, but … but I think it might be.” Meera sniffed, and when Ridley looked at her, she saw tears brimming in her friend’s eyes. “Shen is—going to—end up dead because—because of someone else’s lies.” She pressed her quivering lips together.
Ridley took Meera’s hand and squeezed it. “He is not. At the very worst, he’ll get life in prison, but that’s not going to happen. I will do everything I can to free him, even if it means using magic to break him out of prison.”
“Well that wouldn’t work,” Meera said, managing a half-laugh through her tears. “The two of you would be fugitives forever if you did something like that. And where would you take him? There’s nowhere to hide in the city with all the drones flying around. And out there in the wastelands—” she gestured to the pane of glass in front of them “—magic would kill you within minutes. And besides—” she sniffed again “—the prison’s covered in arxium. You’d never get in, even if you were crazy enough to remove your amulets and use magic.”
Ridley smiled and wrapped one arm around Meera’s shoulders. “And that’s why I keep you around. When I come up with crazy ideas, you’re the voice of reason.”
Meera nodded and sniffed again. “That’s me. The practical one.”
Ridley looked over her shoulder. Her eyes scanned the open space full of her fellow students, but she didn’t see the person she’d come here for. She knew that person was here though. She just had to find her. “I’m going to wander around for a bit,” she told Meera. “See where this person is.”
“Sure. Wonderful.” Meera pushed her shoulders back and wiped beneath her eyes. “I’ll just stand here on my own and pretend I’m not totally—Oh. Hi, Derek.”
Ridley whipped around and found herself chin to chest with the guy she’d spent many an evening working with on a group project during the last school year. She took a step back and cleared her throat. “Derek. Hi.”
His warm eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “Hey, Ridley. You said you wanted to talk this evening?”
“Yes, um, in a minute. I need to find someone else first.”
“Someone else, huh?” Derek chuckled. He pushed one hand through his sandy locks. “I see I’ve got some competition this evening.”
Ridley clasped her hands together—since it seemed she didn’t know what else to do with them right now. “Not really,” she said with a breathy laugh. “But just give me a few minutes, and then I’ll talk to you.” She stepped past him, but he caught her arm.
“Ridley.” She looked back as he smiled his charming smile. “I’m not asking you to marry me. It’s just a date. A simple yes or no will do.”
“Uh …” Ridley glanced at Meera, who was staring at the floor while leaning slowly away from Derek and Ridley, as if that might somehow give them a fraction more privacy. “Then, um … it’s a no. I’m sorry. You’re really great. As a friend.” She cringed internally as the cliched words tumbled from her tongue. Derek’s hand released her arm. “I’m sorry,” she said again.
His smile remained in place, though it didn’t stretch quite as wide as before. “Sure. No big deal.” He walked away, and Ridley’s gaze fell on Meera.
Still staring at the floor, Meera whispered, “That was so awkward.”
Ridley closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. He kinda caught me off guard.”
Meera sighed, then waved Ridley away. “Okay, whatever. Go find this person who can help Shen. The sooner he gets out of jail, the sooner everything can go back to normal.”
“Yeah, okay, I’m going.” Ridley wandered through the large living area, looking around and standing on tip-toe every now and then. People lounged on plush beige couches, others mingled or danced, and a group of girls scrolled through photos of Elise’s most recent summer holiday in Europe on a framed screen Ridley thought was a painting when she first walked in.
Something tightened in Ridley’s chest as she observed all the activity. There was a part of her that sometimes wished this was still her life. Not only the wealth and luxury, but the entire picture that went along with it. A happy family, a father who was successful, a mother who was alive. Sometimes at night when tears wet her pillow and her chest ached at the thought of how much she missed Mom, she told herself she’d give anything in the world to have that life instead of the one she had now.
Boisterous laughter interrupted her thoughts. Her eyes landed on the source of the noise: two guys climbing onto the island separating the kitchen from the rest of the living space as their friends egged them on. Then her gaze slipped past them to where Derek was leaning close to Kat Whitely, whispering something into the girl’s ear as she giggled. Well, Ridley thought. He sure moved on fast. She silently congratulated herself for dodging a bullet. She’d suspected all along that the right choice was not to get involved with any Wallace Academy boy, and here Derek was, proving her right.
She turned away from the kitchen area and scanned the room again. On the frame TV on the wall, the current photo showed Elise and her brother with their arms in the air and huge grins on their faces as they stood in the TransAt station. Must be nice, Ridley couldn’t help thinking, just jumping on the high-speed train when you feel like taking a quick trip to Europe. She’d been on it once, a year or two before the Cataclysm, but she could never afford it now. Tickets were costly even before the world ended up half demolished, and those prices were nothing compared to what a TransAt ticket cost today. With magic raging across the surface of the earth and through the atmosphere, sub-oceanic trains were the only way to travel safely between continents these days.
Ridley looked away from the photos of Elise’s perfect holiday and down the passageway leading to the bedrooms. She certainly didn’t plan to open any of those doors, but perhaps—Yes, there she was, walking out of the guest bathroom and pressing her lips together repeatedly as if she’d just reapplied her sparkly gloss. Ridley hastened toward the passageway to stop her before she reached the crowded living room.
“Lilah,” she said to the girl who was once her best friend. “I need to talk to you.”
11
Lilah pursed her lips into an annoyed pout before shrugging and leaning one shoulder against the passage wall. “Sure. What’s up?”
Ridley looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was within earshot. She returned her gaze to Lilah and smiled. “Remember that extra-curricular activity you were getting into just before the Cataclysm? You still do that kinda thing?”
Lilah’s face closed off immediately. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ridley crossed her arms. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You do a great job of pretending that all you care about is nail polish and celebrities and your never-ending shoe collection, but I know you speak the language of computers far better than you speak fashion.”
Lilah’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she did an impressive job of maintaining her composure. She flipped her sleek dark locks over her shoulder and said, “Hardly. Didn’t you see that recent feature about me in Vanity Fair? My fashion taste is supposedly impeccable.”
“Sure, and so are your hacking skills.”
Lilah grabbed Ridley’s arm and shoved her into the bathroom. She slammed the door shut behind both of them. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I didn’t,” Ridley admitted, “but no
w I’m almost certain you’re still into hacking. Why else would you react this way?”
Lilah placed her clutch on the edge of the basin and crossed her arms. “You know I could ruin you, right? I could make your life even worse than it already is.”
“Wow, thanks for that, bestie. Good to know there’s absolutely nothing remaining of our former friendship.”
Lilah gritted her teeth. “You come here and threaten me, and you think I’m going to just—”
“I’m not threatening you! I need your help, okay?”
Lilah paused, her perfect sparkly lips forming an O before she said, “My help?”
“Clearing the name of an innocent person.” Lilah’s only answer was to narrow her eyes, so Ridley hurried on. “The guy who’s being accused of murdering that man behind my building is one of my best friends, and I know for a fact that he wasn’t even there. The video that supposedly shows him at the scene is a fake. I don’t know who put it together or how, but Shen definitely wasn’t there. I was watching out of the window when it happened. I saw the stranger and two other people, but not Shen. There must have been a drone flying over, and that’s what took the original video. So please, Lilah.” Ridley pressed her hands together. “I just need you to find that original footage to prove Shen’s innocence.”
Lilah let out a humorless laugh. “If your friend didn’t do it, then that means Archer did. So you’re basically asking me to turn on my own brother.”
“No, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking you to find evidence of what really happened, and I think the evidence will show that Archer didn’t do it. There was someone else there.” She hesitated before plunging ahead. “Lawrence Madson.”
“Lawrence Madson?” Lilah’s eyes narrowed further. “You’re sure it was him?”
“Yes. He was running away, which means he probably did it.” Ridley hoped with everything in her that she was right. If Lilah found proof that it was actually Archer, there was no way she’d hand that proof over.
“So you didn’t see Lawrence stab the man?” Lilah asked. “You only saw him running away?”
“That’s right.”
“Which means you have no idea what actually happened. You don’t know what I’ll find on that footage if I manage to track it down.”
“Not exactly, but—”
“Nope. Sorry.” Lilah shook her head. “I can’t help you, Ridley.”
“Lilah, please.” Ridley hated begging the person who’d made sure she lost every single one of her friends after the Cataclysm. But she had better friends now, and she’d do whatever she had to in order to keep them. “Please, we’re talking about an innocent guy’s life here.”
“We’re also talking about my brother’s life. I’m not putting that at risk.” Lilah picked up her clutch. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea why you thought I’d be able to help you. And if you tell anyone what you think I spend my spare time doing,” she hissed, stepping closer, “I will make sure you pay.”
Ridley shook her head. “You’re all the same, you Davenports. Despicable specimens of the human race.”
Lilah pasted a sweet smile onto her face as she pulled the bathroom door open. “It’s been nice talking to you, Ridley. Stay out of trouble.”
12
Though it was a Saturday, Ridley woke early the following morning. Dad was heading to the other side of the city to purchase a clock on behalf of his new client from someone who needed the cash more than he needed his collection of pre-Cataclysm collectibles. So Ridley had offered to man the store for the morning, which, sadly, meant she only had about ten minutes left to lie in bed.
She rolled over and squinted at the dull morning light seeping through her curtains, anger resurfacing as the previous night’s conversation with Lilah washed over her again. She and Meera had left soon after that, and Ridley had told Meera not to despair. “I’ll come up with something, don’t worry.” Then she’d sat with her laptop and followed Ezra’s instructions to locate the live feed of the listening device she’d hid in Lawrence’s bedroom, but it appeared the recording had ended several hours after it began. And prior to that, the only things recorded were footsteps, the shuffling of something that might have been paper, and then some loud rustling sounds before the recording abruptly cut off. Which probably meant that stupid, paranoid Lawrence Madson had discovered the darn thing.
And that left Ridley back at square one. So she had no idea what this ‘something’ would be that she’d promised Meera she would come up with. Hopefully by the time she saw Meera at the Wallace dinner tonight, a brilliant idea would have presented itself.
Wallace Academy kicked off every year with a social dinner for each class—a pointless event, in Ridley’s opinion—and tonight was the seniors’ turn. Yippee, she thought dully. Pulling out her fingernails seemed more appealing at this point.
She reached for her commscreen to check the time and was about to turn over for another three minutes when a message appeared on the screen.
Unknown: I found the footage. You were right. Your friend wasn’t there. LM was.
Ridley sat up quickly, her heart pounding. “Lilah?” she murmured. It had to be. She raised her commscreen closer to her mouth and watched her words transcribe across the screen as she spoke. “You changed your mind.”
Unknown: I needed to know the truth. If the video had shown something else, I wouldn’t have told you about it.
Of course, Ridley thought as she sighed. She wouldn’t have expected anything else of Lilah. Besides, if Ridley were in the same position, could she be so sure she’d do the right thing? If she found proof that her own father had committed murder, would she be able to turn him over to the cops? She pushed the thought aside, grateful she didn’t need to have that moral debate with herself.
Ridley: You’re going to do the right thing, I hope? Send it to the cops?
Unknown: No.
Ridley bit down her anger before replying; her commscreen found it hard to understand her when she spoke too quickly.
Ridley: Then why bother telling me what you discovered?
Unknown: I can’t send it to the authorities. You know they’re all in the mayor’s pocket. He won’t want anyone knowing his son was present at the scene of a murder. That video will never see the light of day if I send it to the police.
Ridley frowned at her commscreen. Lilah was probably right.
Ridley: Then what do we do?
Unknown: Look outside your window.
Ridley scrambled across her bed and pulled the curtain aside. On the windowsill sat a small plain envelope inside a clear plastic bag. She pushed the window up and grabbed the bag. Kneeling on the bed, she removed the envelope and tore the top open. Inside was a flash drive half the size of her thumb. She sat and reached back for her commscreen.
Ridley: You’re giving it to me?
Unknown: Yep. This isn’t my problem, so I’m not involving myself any further. Ball’s in your court now, Rid.
Within half a minute, Ridley’s laptop was open on the bed in front of her, the flash drive had been plugged in, and she was biting her lip as the video file began playing. She saw the street on which Kayne’s Antiques sat as if from above, confirming her theory that this video had been recorded by a passing drone. The drone moved smoothly across the street and into the alley—and there they were! Archer and the man in the maroon coat. Unfortunately, the drone had missed the moment they met, which left some of Ridley’s questions unanswered. Did they know each other? Had they arranged to meet? Or had Archer seen the man doing something suspicious and walked into the alley to confront him?
She watched the two of them speaking for longer than she expected—both of them gesticulating in an agitated manner—before reminding herself how odd it was that the drone hadn’t moved on. The scanner drones were normally in constant motion. The only time they ever stopped was when they detected something unusual. Ridley picked up the laptop and peered closely at the screen, trying to figure out if there were any i
mplant scars behind the stranger’s ear. But his coat collar was pulled too high for her to see his neck, and even if the collar hadn’t been in the way, she doubted the recording was clear enough for her to make out such a small detail.
Then into the frame ran Lawrence Madson, his face clearly visible as he stopped beside Archer and the stranger. His hand darted forward and he grabbed a flat object from the stranger—the mysterious envelope he and Archer had spoken about?—before leaping out of reach and running away. He glanced back, which must have been the moment at which Ridley looked out her window a second time. Her eyes moved back to the stranger, and that was when he fell to the ground, a knife visible in his chest.
“Wait,” Ridley murmured, reaching out to pause the video. She’d missed the moment he’d been stabbed. Had Lawrence somehow done it while grabbing the envelope? She clicked further back on the progress bar of the video window and tapped the play button again. This time, she kept her eyes fixed on the stranger. She watched as the envelope was taken from him, and then, a second or two later, a knife flashed in front of him. But where had it come from? Archer’s hands hadn’t moved, so it couldn’t have been him.
Ridley replayed that section of the video yet again, this time tapping it forward frame by frame. The video was grainy, making small details somewhat fuzzy, but … there! The unmistakeable flash of metal falling from somewhere above the drone’s view.
“Holy crap,” Ridley whispered. So it hadn’t been Lawrence or Archer. The knife had come from somewhere above. From someone else.
She sat back against her pillows, biting her thumb nail. Why, if Archer’s lawyers had access to this video, had they bothered constructing a fake version placing Shen at the center of the crime? She could see how they’d done it: they’d replaced Lawrence’s head with Shen’s head, erased all evidence of the envelope, and Lawrence’s hand darting forward to grab the envelope had instead become a hand darting forward with a knife. She had to marvel at the effort Archer’s people had gone to, all in less than a day. How much drone footage did they have to search through from the area before finding one that not only had Shen in it, but showed him from the correct angle, turning the right way? And why? The original video clearly showed that Archer hadn’t done it.
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