“Crap,” Ridley hissed. Her magic flared for a second before responding to her first thought—air—and surrounding her in nothingness.
“Mr. Davenport?” Someone pulled the curtain aside, and Ridley slipped beneath the woman’s arm in a quick rush of air. “Is—is everything okay?” she asked, smoothing her hair down and looking around with a frown. It was the same nurse from before, no longer in uniform. “I just … was that a flash I saw when I walked in?”
“Yes,” Archer said. He looked toward the window. “Another storm coming. It must be windy out there. I could feel a draft coming in beneath the door, which is why I closed the curtain.”
“A draft? Really?” The nurse threw a perplexed look at the door, which presumably had never let a draft in before. “Um, well, my shift is finished,” she continued, looking at Archer again. “I just came to say—in case you’re no longer here when I get to work tomorrow—that I hope you recover soon.”
“Thank you,” Archer said to her. “And on your way out, please let my doctor know that I need to speak to him urgently.”
“Oh, yes, okay.”
“And please close the door on your way out,” he added.
“Yes, of course.” She left quickly, pulling the door shut behind her.
“Ridley?” Archer whispered, his eyes searching the room. “Are you still here?”
“Yes.” She crouched down on the other side of the bed beneath the window before letting herself become visible again, just in case Archer’s doctor entered as abruptly as the nurse had. “Do you feel any better? Did the magic work?”
Archer twisted his torso from side to side. “Yes. Not perfect, but way better than before.” He sat straighter and breathed deeply. “Almost no pain. That’s amazing. Thank you.”
“Good. I’d better get out of here then.”
“It’s a flash drive,” he said before she could rise to her feet. “Inside the figurine. That’s what Lawrence is after. The information on the flash drive.”
Ridley slid down against the wall until her backside met the floor. “I see,” she murmured, afraid to voice any of her questions in case Archer decided to close up again.
“The first time I came back to the city—about ten months after I left—it was to give that flash drive to someone. But … things went wrong. I had to leave quickly. So I hid it, and someone was supposed to collect it. Without anyone in my family knowing, of course.” His gaze darted over his shoulder before returning to Ridley. “But she never made it there. She was killed.”
“Killed?”
“Yes. Serena Adams. Someone discovered her using magic. She was killed for it.”
“Serena Adams? But … wasn’t her death an accident? She was using magic and it got out of control, and she ended up killing herself.”
Archer’s expression darkened. There was no doubt in his voice when he said, “It wasn’t an accident. She was murdered. So the flash drive remained hidden until recently, when Lawrence must have found out where it was and hired someone to steal it.”
“But what’s on this flash drive that’s so important it means life or death for—”
“I can’t say. I’m sorry, but you’re not supposed to know anything more.”
“Then why tell me anything at all?” Ridley pushed herself to her feet. “Don’t you know it only makes me want to know more?”
“I just … I felt like I owed you something. For helping me. And because I need you to understand that there are people in this city more dangerous than you think. If they know what you can do, they’ll chase you onto the top of a building—or out into the wastelands—and blow you up, just like they did to Serena.”
“Was Serena …” The question hovered on the tip of Ridley’s tongue. A question so absurd she almost couldn’t voice it. If it were true, people would know about it. It would be a normal part of the world, just like regular elemental magic. But still … she had to ask. “Was she like me?”
Archer hesitated, his brow drawing low over his eyes as he searched her face. “There’s no one else like you.”
Disappointment flooded Ridley’s chest as she looked up at the sound of footsteps outside the door. “Time to go,” she muttered, magic already lifting away from her skin to conceal her. “Good luck,” she added.
“Thanks. Stay away from trouble.”
25
Ridley arrived home at the same time as her father, reaching the corner of their block just as Dad came out of the Lins’ restaurant across the road. “Is Shen home?” she asked as Dad walked toward her.
“No. I was just paying his parents a visit.” Dad paused, a frown creeping across his face. “Weren’t you just with Shen and Meera?”
Ridley realized her mistake a moment too late. “Actually, I decided to give the two of them some time alone together.”
“Ah. Shen and Meera. How interesting.” They continued down the alley toward the store’s back door. “I would never have guessed they felt that way about each other.”
Ridley shrugged. “They can both be quite shy sometimes. Maybe that’s why?”
“Mmm. Yes.” Dad pushed his key into the lock of the back door, then leaned a little closer when it wouldn’t turn. “Odd,” he murmured. “I’m sure I …” He pushed down on the handle, and the door opened easily.
“Didn’t you lock it when you left to see the Lins?” Ridley asked.
“I’m sure I must have.” Dad pushed a hand through his scruffy hair and squinted at the partially open door. “Why wouldn’t I?” He pushed it open fully, and Ridley peered through the back room and into the store. She couldn’t see much from this angle. They wouldn’t know whether anyone had broken in and stolen anything until they moved further inside.
Ridley exchanged a look with Dad, but neither of them said a word. This was the point at which a normal person might have said, “Should we call the cops?” But Ridley wasn’t normal, and Dad had spent a long time keeping her away from the attention of anyone in law enforcement. Having the cops right outside their door last week was close enough; they weren’t about to willingly invite them inside their home now.
“I can check it out,” Ridley whispered, “without anyone seeing me. It’ll be easy.”
“Absolutely not,” Dad answered. “One of our nosy neighbors might notice the glow before you vanish. You’d have to wait until you’re inside, and by then, whoever’s in the store might see you. If there’s someone in the store, that is.” He stepped inside, adding, “I’ll take a look.”
“Dad!” Ridley hissed, reaching forward to tug him back and missing his arm by inches. She followed him inside, but he turned his furious gaze back over his shoulder at her, mouthing something about her waiting outside. She shook her head, just as insistent as her father. No way was she leaving him to confront whoever was inside their store.
“Go back outside,” Dad whispered.
Ridley leaned back, tugged the door shut, then shoved her magic outward as she lunged forward and pressed herself against Dad’s side. They both vanished as her magic turned to air around them. The air moved them forward at Ridley’s mental command, and at the back of her mind, she couldn’t help noticing the irony of the situation: She was a thief about to get a taste of her own medicine. About to find her family’s store robbed of everything valuable.
Except … it wasn’t. Not a single item appeared out of place. She swirled the two of them through the air as she examined the shop, but it was exactly as she and Dad had left it that morning before heading out for breakfast. The magic dissipated around them, revealing them bit by bit until they were fully visible, Ridley still pressed against Dad’s side.
He stepped away and swung Ridley to face him. “What the hell was that?”
She hesitated, startled for a moment by his anger. “I was trying to keep us both safe, okay? Anyone could have been inside this store, and you just walked in, unarmed.”
He leaned closer to her, lowering his voice. “You’re not supposed to have used magic in year
s, and yet you turned us into air almost faster than I could see. That suggests to me that you’ve been practicing.”
Ridley swallowed, then pulled herself a little straighter. “Maybe.”
“I don’t want you doing that ever again.”
“If it means protecting you, I will.”
“I’m supposed to protect you,” Dad reminded her. “Which is what I’m doing when I tell you not to use magic.”
“I know, Dad, but you won’t be around to tell me anything if you end up getting yourself killed by walking into a potentially dangerous situation unprepared.”
Dad stepped past her, shaking his head as he walked back through both rooms to the door she’d banged shut. She followed him, saying nothing. He retrieved his keys from where they were still dangling in the keyhole outside and locked the door, then turned to face her. “Fine. I’ll be more careful if you promise not to do anything with magic again.”
“I won’t promise that.” She moved to the staircase leading up to their apartment. “If I need to hide myself, I’ll hide myself. If I need to protect someone, I’ll protect someone.”
Dad turned the handle to check the door was indeed locked, then joined Ridley on the stairs. “I know I can’t control what you do,” he said as they walked up. “Just … please, please be careful. Can you at least promise that?”
She smiled as he looped one arm around her and pulled her against his side. “I’m always careful.”
“Good. Though I doubt that’ll help me sleep any easier at—” Dad’s voice cut off as they reached their living room at the top of the stairs. His hand tightened around her arm, his wedding ring pressing into her skin.
“Dad, what’s—” Then she saw him: The pale, blond young man sitting in one of their ratty old armchairs with one leg crossed over the other and a gun held loosely in his hand.
Lawrence Madson.
Ridley’s heart stuttered as Lawrence raised the gun a few inches, pointing it directly at her father. “Make a single move, Miss Kayne, and your father is dead.” Ridley forced her hands to remain still at her sides. Her eyes darted to the two figures standing in the shadows at the edge of the room before returning to Lawrence. “I know what you are, Ridley. I know about the magic inside you.”
“That’s crazy,” Dad said immediately, pulling Ridley tighter against his side. “She has her amulets, just like everyone else. She must have been scanned thousands of times since the Cataclysm, and nothing’s ever—”
“Quiet,” Lawrence snapped at Dad. “I know what I’m talking about. I know her amulets are not beneath her skin. I know what makes her different from you and I.”
“H-how do you know that?” Ridley asked.
“Your name is on one of the letters. The letters inside the envelope that man was carrying when he was killed outside your building.” Lawrence shrugged. “Presumably that’s why he was here: to give you your letter. What’s interesting, though, is that the letters didn’t appear to be addressed to anyone when I first looked at them. It was only later on that I noticed a name had appeared on the outside of each one. Almost as if … by magic.” He snapped his fingers. “Not entirely sure where that magic came from, but that doesn’t matter. The names have since vanished again, but I made a note of them all before that happened. Including yours.”
He rose from the armchair, keeping the gun trained on Ridley’s father. “Anyway, I’m here because I need a favor. A magical favor.”
“She won’t be doing any—”
“I guess I could have tracked down any of the names inside that envelope,” Lawrence continued, speaking over Dad as if he wasn’t even there, “but the name ‘Ridley Kayne’ was the easiest. A little more unusual than the others, and I recognized it from my time at Wallace. I figured you wouldn’t mind helping out an old school friend.”
“I’m not helping you with anything,” Ridley told him.
“Really? Even if I threaten to put a bullet through your father’s head?” Ridley swallowed, and Lawrence smiled. “I don’t generally do my own dirty work,” he added, “but I’ll make an exception if I have to.” Ridley pressed her lips together, choosing to say nothing more. “I need you to open this,” Lawrence said, holding his empty hand out to the side. One of his burly bodyguards stepped from the shadows and passed something to Lawerence: the gold figurine Archer was so desperate to get back. The figurine that would probably still be safe if Ridley hadn’t stolen it in the first place.
Lawrence held it out toward her. “I assume you know the movements to open something that’s been sealed by magic? If not, I’d be happy to show you.”
“Why do you want it open?” Dad asked, his fingers digging into Ridley’s arm as he held her tightly. “What’s inside it?”
Lawrence turned a bored expression toward Dad. “I’m not sure why you think I’d tell you.”
Ridley stared at the roughly human-shaped figurine with its string of green stones embedded around its neck. People would die. That’s what Archer had said. But she knew without a doubt that Lawrence wasn’t playing around. If he said he’d shoot her father, he meant it.
“Whatever crazy plan you’re cooking up inside that fair head of yours,” Lawrence said, “I’d advise against it. You’re not a save-the-day kind of person, Ridley. Especially if saving the day means losing your father and the future you’ve worked so hard for since the Cataclysm cost you everything.”
“I …” She looked up at him. “How do I know you won’t kill both of us anyway as soon as I’ve opened this for you?”
“You don’t. But if you refuse to open it, your father will definitely die. So it’s up to you, I guess.”
She didn’t want it to be up to her. She didn’t want to have to choose between her father and whoever it was that Archer was so determined to save. Maybe there was still a way she could get out of this. If she used different movements—if she opened a hole in the floor and let her and Dad fall through it—then maybe they’d have a decent chance of—
“OPEN THE DAMN THING!” Lawrence yelled, striding across the room and shoving the barrel of the gun against Dad’s forehead.
“Okayokayokay!” Ridley gasped, taking the figurine from him. She turned it quickly in her hands, looking for a seal or seam while her mind raced over the movements that would cause magic to create a hole beneath her feet. As far as she could tell, the figurine was a solid piece of gold. She shook it, but nothing seemed to move around inside. She remembered Archer saying that no one would know how to open it, and that breaking it apart wouldn’t work either. “So it’s—it’s sealed with magic?” she asked.
“Yes. The movements are different from those that would open something locked with a key or sealed with glue or something else non-magical.”
“I don’t know—”
“Good thing I made sure to find out exactly what those movements are then,” Lawrence said. He nodded to the man who’d handed him the figurine, and he walked over to take Lawrence’s place in front of Dad. Ridley watched in terror as the gun moved to the bodyguard’s hand while remaining firmly pressed to Dad’s head. One wrong move—one finger squeezing in the wrong place—and her father would be dead.
“Pay attention,” Lawrence snapped as he raised his hands. “If you don’t get this right first time around, you can kiss your daddy goodbye. After Charlie’s blown his brains out. Oh, and in case you’re thinking of trying something else with your magic …” The second man stepped out of the shadows and strode past Ridley. He stopped behind her, and a moment later, she heard a click and felt something cold and hard against the back of her head. “One wrong move—and by ‘move’ I mean magical movement—and you’re both dead.”
A shiver raced from Ridley’s scalp down to her toes, and she squeezed her hands around the figurine to keep them from shaking. Any hope she might have had of escaping this situation fizzled away.
“Ridley, just … just do what he says,” Dad told her. “Everything will be okay.” He had no way of knowing that, of
course, but Ridley couldn’t blame him for trying to comfort her.
“Are you watching?” Lawrence asked.
“Yes,” Ridley breathed, though she was hyperaware of the weapon pressing into the back of her head.
Lawrence moved to stand beside her and began the series of movements required for this particular conjuration. It wasn’t a long one, but there were a few complex finger patterns near the end. When he began a second time, Ridley’s fingers twitched against the figurine as she mentally copied the motions. “Right. Got it?” he asked when he was done.
“Can—can I practice? Just the movements, no magic. To make sure I’ve got them right.” When Lawrence narrowed his eyes, she added, “I’m not trying to trick you. I just don’t want to wind up with a bullet in my brain because I accidentally turned my hand the wrong way.”
“Fair enough.” He took the figurine from her hands and watched closely as she ran through the movements. “No, not that way,” he said when she was almost done, reaching forward to correct the way her two forefingers traced a circular pattern in the air. She almost jerked away as his hand touched hers, but she managed to remain still. “Yes, correct. Now do it again.” Finally, when she’d practiced successfully several times, he said, “Okay, now with magic. And only do exactly what I showed you. Anything else, and you’re dead.”
He held the figurine out on his palm, and Ridley took a steadying breath before raising her hands and letting her magic drift away from her. She scooped up the wisps, touched her fingers gently together in the starting position, and attempted to block everything else out. She began the conjuration, focusing intently on the exact way her hands and fingers moved. Her heart rate slowed, and by the time she reached the end and nudged the magic toward the figured, she felt almost calm.
Something sizzled. A line formed around the figurine’s neck, just above the ring of green stones. Lawrence gripped the head part and twisted it. It came away easily from the rest of the artifact. He turned the body upside down, and something small and dark landed on his palm: a flash drive, just as Archer had told Ridley. For the briefest moment, surprise flashed through her, and she realized that up until this point, she hadn’t entirely believed him.
Elemental Thief (Ridley Kayne Chronicles Book 1) Page 19
