Elemental Thief

by Rachel Morgan

  “Great,” Archer said, walking past Christa out of the room. “We need to see him immediately.” When Christa made no move to follow him, he looked back over his shoulder. “It’s urgent.”

  “We like to protect our own,” she said, “which I’m sure you’re well aware of. Just as I would never tell anyone where to find this young lady—” she placed one hand gently on Ridley’s shoulder “—I’m afraid I can’t tell you exactly where to find Ezra.”

  “Protecting people is exactly what I’m trying to do,” Archer said fiercely, taking hold of the doorframe and leaning back into the room. “Remember what I told you about last time?” His eyes darted for a moment toward Ridley before he added, “It’s out there. And Ezra knows who has it.”

  Christa cursed beneath her breath. Then she stepped out of the room past Archer. “Okay. Walk with me. You can wait in the rec room while I find Ezra.”

  Ridley hurried after them, her shoes striking puddles of water on the gallery as she shoved everything Archer had said to her into a dark corner of her mind—where she would most likely ignore it. Then she made a conscious effort to push her frustration aside as well. Christa clearly knew exactly what Archer was talking about, while Ridley was still in the dark.

  “I assume you didn’t know until today that Ezra’s part of our community?” Christa said as Ridley reached her side.

  “I didn’t even know he uses magic,” Ridley said. “I’ve known him for years, and I had no idea.”

  “Does he have any idea you use magic?” Christa asked. When Ridley shook her head, Christa said, “Well there you go. When it comes to magic, we all prefer to keep our secrets.”

  As they reached the stairway and began the long descent, Ridley asked, “What is this underground place? How has it remained secret for so long?”

  Christa stopped and frowned at Ridley. “You didn’t know this community existed?”

  “Uh, no. Not a clue. For all I knew, I might have been the only person in the whole city safely using magic. I certainly wasn’t going to ask anyone else if they’ve been doing the same thing.”

  Christa turned her piercing green eyes on Archer. “Are you sure we can trust this girl? I know she uses magic, which would suggest she’s automatically on our side, but that doesn’t stop her from being a spy.”

  “A spy?” Ridley started laughing. “Who would I be spying for? The government? The people who would lock me up and sentence me to death for violating magic laws?”

  “She isn’t a spy,” Archer assured Christa. “She doesn’t know anything. Even if she wanted to give away information about this place—which she doesn’t—she wouldn’t have any idea who to tell.”

  “Because you insist on keeping me in the dark about everything,” Ridley muttered.

  “Because it’s none of your business,” Archer retorted before continuing down the stairs ahead of them.

  “So,” Ridley said as they followed. “This place? I’m only asking because I’m curious. Because I’m—Well, because it seems like the kind of place I could maybe live in.” As she said the words, she realized there was a part of her that actually meant them. She knew barely anything about this community, but not having to hide the use of magic was an appealing idea.

  “It’s essentially a bunker,” Christa explained. “An enormous one, with many rooms and tunnels. Built by Aldous Layne before the Cataclysm.”

  “Aldous Layne? That property development guy? The one who also designed the Liberty Monument?”

  “Yes.”

  “But then surely the government knows about this place. The plans would have been filed in some official government department, right?”

  Christa shook her head. “He did it all off the record while demolishing an old apartment block and putting up several new ones. The workers who were involved knew about it, of course, but with enough money, you can buy silence.”

  Ridley couldn’t help glancing at the back of Archer’s head as he descended the stairs ahead of them. She knew all too well that money bought silence. Archer’s family had proved this repeatedly. “What prompted Aldous Layne to build this place? Was he some kind of doomsday prepper?”

  “Pretty much. The Global Simultaneous Magic-Energy Conversion was proposed years before it was ever agreed upon. Years before they began putting plans in place to make it happen. You probably weren’t even born yet. There were plenty of people who argued against it from the beginning. Some people kept fighting it—as I’m sure you’re aware—while others went ahead and made their own plans. This was Aldous Layne’s plan.”

  “If this was his plan, then why was he outside the arxium wall at the time of the Cataclysm?” Ridley asked. “We all knew exactly when the GSMC was happening. It’s not like he could have got the date wrong. If he doubted it so much, why wasn’t he hiding in his secret bunker?”

  “He was.”

  Ridley frowned. Her education had included stories of exactly where many of the world’s famous people had been when the Cataclysm killed them. Aldous Layne, the architect who designed the Liberty Monument, had been at the very top of that monument where he’d supposedly told people they could get the best view of the global magical event that was about to change history. Teachers always went on about the irony of this when relating Aldous Layne’s story. “It certainly changed history,” they’d say. “But not in the way he—or anyone else—hoped it would.”

  “He was close to retirement at that time,” Christa continued. “He made a public statement about planning to watch the GSMC from the top of his most famous work, then came to his bunker instead, along with all those to whom he’d promised a spot in exchange for silence or money or some favor. He planned to live out the rest of his days down here, and if anyone survived on the surface, those people would assume he’d died.”

  “Wow. Okay. And when it turned out that all the cities with arxium shields had survived, he didn’t change his mind? He didn’t want to go back up there?”

  She shook her head. “Magic was outlawed. The legislation for the AI2 was proposed. Some people didn’t seem to mind all that much. They figured it was worth giving up the freedom to use magic in exchange for living on the surface in the fresh air and sunlight. Well, occasional sunlight,” she added grimly. “But most people down here were happy living the way they’d always lived. So they stayed. And every now and then, others join us.”

  They reached the bottom of the stairway. “So he’s still down here? Aldous Layne?”

  Christa shook her head as the three of them stepped onto the bridge. “No. He died three years ago. Old age.”

  “Oh.” They crossed the bridge and walked among the trees and plants on the other side of the canal. “How do you know all this about him?”

  Christa gave Ridley a sad smile. “He was my father.”

  “Oh. I—I’m sorry.”

  “No need to be sorry. He had a long life. It was his time to go.”

  Ridley nodded, but her mind couldn’t help turning to her mother. It definitely hadn’t been her time to go. Her mother should have lived many more years. “So, um …” Ridley cleared her throat. “You don’t feel trapped living underground all the time?”

  “Some of us still move around above the ground, carrying illegal amulets to get past the scanners. I assume that’s how Ezra survives without getting caught. But we’re not entirely trapped down here. We’ve extended our longest tunnel in recent years. It stretches right out into the wastelands.”

  “Not this one?” Ridley said, gesturing to the canal.

  “No, our longest tunnel goes beneath the wall, and the opening is much further out.”

  “But … why? People can barely survive minutes out there before the magic kills them.”

  Christa shook her head. “That, my dear, is a lie.”

  Ridley came to an abrupt halt. “A lie? But why would anyone lie about that?”

  Christa shrugged. “I’m sure there are plenty of conspiracy theories we could come up with about those who g
overn our world today. I’m not sure exactly which one is true. But the notion that the magic out there will kill you is a lie. After all, you’re fine, aren’t you? The guys told me you and Archer ran to the end of the canal tunnel. Magic tossed you around a bit, but it didn’t kill you. It didn’t even hurt you.”

  “A fluke,” Ridley said immediately. “One chance in a million. I got insanely lucky.”

  Christa raised her eyebrows. “You really think that?”

  Ridley didn’t answer. At this point, she didn’t know what to think.

  “Can we argue about this at another time?” Archer asked, looking back at them. “We have more urgent matters to attend to.”

  “Yes, of course.” Christa gestured through the trees away from the canal and said, “This way.” They emerged from the conjured greenery, and Ridley noticed several arched doorways at intervals along the wall. Christa walked beneath the nearest arch and said, “This is one of our rec rooms. You can wait here while I see if Ezra’s home.”

  Ridley looked around as she entered the room just behind Archer. She’d expected another concrete area like the room they’d been locked in and the concrete tunnels they’d run through. But this room managed to be both large and cozy. Thick rugs covered the floor, and flames danced in a huge fireplace on the far side of the room. Do they have a chimney all the way up to ground level? she wondered vaguely as her eyes traveled across the walls. They were painted to depict large windows looking out onto one continuous beach scene. A palette of ocean blue, warm sand, and foam white. But it was paint infused with magic, the type that could be conjured to move in looping motion, as if she were really watching waves rolling up a shore before slipping back into the sea.

  Ridley blinked and swallowed against the intense emotion that rose out of nowhere and made her eyes sting and her throat ache. She looked away from the walls to the people sitting at tables or lounging on couches. Some played games, others read commpads or paper books, and an old woman sat with her hands motionless at her sides. Her knitting needles flashed through the air in front of her, tugging continuously at the ball of wool that twitched on her lap as it unraveled. A boy—younger than Ridley had been at the time of the Cataclysm—ran up to the fireplace and made pulling motions with his hands near the flames. Tendrils of blue magic separated themselves from the fire, and the boy gathered them carefully before performing a series of simple hand movements around the magic. Then he pushed the glowing mass toward a cushion and beamed as the cushion rose into the air. A woman sitting on the floor nearby clapped and laughed.

  “Magic,” Ridley whispered. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the way things used to be until now, standing here and feeling as though something misaligned inside her had just clicked back into place. This was what the world should be. What it would be if people hadn’t become too greedy and tried to pull too much.

  “Pretty cool, right?” Archer’s voice broke through her thoughts.

  She nodded. “So, everyone’s using magic down here, and it’s just … normal. Not out of control.”

  “Yes.” She waited for him to say something along the lines of I told you so, but the words never came.

  “And Christa thinks it’s like this out there in the wastelands?” Ridley asked. “That’s is safe?”

  “Not safe exactly, but certainly not deadly.”

  She looked at him. “And you believe her?”

  “I do.”

  Ridley shook her head. “Okay, maybe I can believe that it’s fine here. Maybe as long as people pull from the air and the water and everything that’s within the city, then it’s okay. But out there?” She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “Out there it’s dangerous. I’ve seen what happens when people try to use magic nowadays. You know, like when kids dare each other to do stupid things, and one of them finds a way over the wall, and a surveillance drone catches them being sizzled to a crisp by a spontaneous magical fire or turned into a stone statue.”

  “You think that’s real? The things you see streaming on the screens across the city and on every device?”

  She threw her hands up. “What would be the point in staging something like that? The government wants us to take back the wastelands. They’re always sending out research teams or … I don’t know, those people dressed in weird arxium suits. They’re always checking to see if it might be getting safer out there, and they always report that it’s still just as deadly.”

  Archer sighed and moved to the nearest couch. “The magic out there might be wild, but it won’t kill you. At least, not if you’re careful.”

  Ridley’s eyes traveled across his face as the truth dawned on her. “You’ve been out there. Like, for more than the minute or two we were out there earlier. That’s how you know this.” She hurried to the couch and perched beside him. “When? And why would you travel through the wastelands when a train would be much—”

  “I can’t tell you, remember?” Archer said. “There are things I just can’t tell you.”

  “Ugh, seriously? Surely you can tell me this one thing. It has nothing to do with the figurine.”

  “Ridley, please.” He rubbed one hand over his face. “If I tell you one thing, it’ll lead to another question, and another and another. At some point I could start lying to you. Make up some story so I won’t get myself in trouble. But I’d prefer not to. So can you please stop asking?”

  She crossed her arms and leaned back, but her eyes never left him. “I think you just enjoy being mysterious. Or perhaps it’s a lie, and you haven’t been out there.” Her weak attempt to provoke him into talking failed, and his lips remained sealed as he stared at the floor. “You said you came back to the city once before,” she continued after a few moments of silence. “It definitely wasn’t public knowledge, so maybe that was when you came through the—”

  “Ridley?”

  She twisted in her seat and found Ezra staring at her, disbelief coloring his face. Then his eyes darted to Archer. “No,” he muttered. He turned, but Ridley jumped up and grabbed his hand.

  “Wait, please!”

  He tugged free of her grip just as flames licked down her right arm. She gasped, clapped her hand over her arm, and water gushed down her sleeve, extinguishing the flames immediately.

  “Holy—”

  She whipped her arm down to her side and hid her hand behind her back, hoping Ezra assumed the blue glow had come from the air and not from beneath her skin. “Ezra, please just—”

  “You—that was—magic?” he asked.

  “Yes, I pull magic, and apparently you do too. So don’t look so shocked.”

  “But …” His eyes darted over her shoulder before he lowered his voice. “What the hell are you doing down here with a Davenport?”

  “Because he needs help. I messed up, Ez. That figurine I stole last week? It’s way more important than either of us knew. I need to get it back.”

  Ezra shook his head. “No, no, no. That’s not the way this works. You got paid for that thing, Ridley. You can’t just take it back now. And you—” Ezra took a step back as Archer stood and moved closer. “You shouldn’t even be here. The doormen should have killed you the moment they opened up and found you on the other side.”

  “Ezra!” Ridley scolded.

  “Christa knows me,” Archer said. “I’ve been here before. Do you really think she’d bring you out here to talk to us if she didn’t trust me?”

  “Please just tell me who has the figurine now,” Ridley said. “We’ll handle it from there. You don’t have to be involved.”

  Ezra shook his head again. “He’ll come after me if it goes missing.”

  “He?” Archer asked.

  “He won’t come after you,” Ridley said. “He’ll have no reason to suspect you gave up his name. We’ll … I don’t know. We’ll steal a whole bunch of valuable things, so it’ll look like a coincidence that the figurine is one of the stolen items.”

  Archer, standing beside her now, folded his arms. “I doubt that
’s the best way to go about things.”

  “Look, you want this thing back, don’t you?” she said to him. “Well this is the only way to do it without raising suspicion. This is how we keep Ezra from landing in trouble.”

  “Right, to keep the guy who deals in stolen goods from getting into trouble. Remind me why that makes sense?”

  “See?” Ezra cried, throwing his hands up. “Nobody should have let this guy down here. We’re supposed to be safe in this place!”

  “You are safe,” Ridley insisted. “I don’t like him any more than you do, Ez, but it seems he has bigger things to worry about than turning in a bunch of magic-users.” She looked at Archer. “Right?”

  “Right,” Archer grumbled after a moment’s pause. He held his hands up in surrender and took a step back. “I guess I can go along with one robbery, if that’s what it’s going to take.”

  Ridley turned back to Ezra. “See? All good. So can you give us a name?”

  He released a long sigh. “It’s gonna take a seriously good thief to steal that figurine back. If it was anyone else, I’d have my doubts, but you’re probably the best I know.”

  “Yeah, well, in case you haven’t figured it out, I have magic on my side.”

  Ezra’s mouth dropped open. “Wait, you use magic out there? Are you insane?”

  “A name, Ezra,” Archer reminded him. “Give us a name.”

  “Fine. But if this gets back to me, I’ll make sure he knows it was you who stole that thing back. You rich people can battle it out on your own without involving the rest of us.”

  “You rich people?” Archer repeated.

  “Yeah.” Ezra folded his arms. “It was the mayor’s son. Lawrence Madson.”

  21

  “Damn,” Archer murmured, turning away from Ezra and Ridley. “He knows.”

  “Knows what?” Ridley took hold of Archer’s arm and tried to pull him back around.

  “You’re welcome,” Ezra said loudly. “Can I go now?”

  “Um, yes.” Ridley looked over her shoulder at him. “Thank you, Ezra.” Then she hurried to block Archer’s way forward. “Why the heck does Lawrence Madson need to steal from your family?”