Elemental Thief

by Rachel Morgan

  Archer’s eyes rose to meet hers, but it was as if a wall had come down over them. “Thanks for your help, Ridley. I can handle things from here.”

  She dropped her hands to her sides. “Seriously? That’s it?”

  “That’s it. Your job’s done. You can go back to your friends.” He made to move past her, but she put her hand out and stopped him.

  “Hang on. Just wait. I can help you with this. It’s easy for me, remember?”

  “I managed before,” Archer said, “when I was hoping to get the envelope back. I think I can manage again.”

  “Okay, but …” Realizing her hand was still pressed against his chest, she hastily lowered it. “All I want is to understand, Archer. A man I don’t know started following me. He was killed in an alley behind my house. An alley that both you and Lawrence happened to be in. Lawrence took an envelope that you, apparently, wanted just as badly as he did. And now it turns out Lawrence is stealing from you. I know you said it’s none of my business and I should just walk away, but it is my business. That man was following me. It was my home he died outside of. So please, just give me something.”

  Archer’s eyes rose to meet hers. He opened his mouth, then closed it without saying a word. Ridley threw her hands up in frustration. “If it’s something sensitive or confidential and you’re worried I’m going to go and tell a whole bunch of people, then you’ve obviously forgotten that you know my biggest secret. You know about—” she paused, looked around, then lowered her voice “—my magic. You know about my criminal life. So I have a very big incentive to keep quiet about whatever you tell me.”

  Archer shook his head. “Look, Ridley, you just … you can’t be involved any further, okay? You need to get back to your normal life. You’ve got school on Monday, and—”

  “You’re seriously reminding me about school right now?”

  “It’s your senior year, Ridley. It’s important.”

  “So is this, apparently! Whatever ‘this’ is. And life is never going to be normal again. Someone shot at me. And there’s a secret underworld of magic. Oh, and to top it all off, magic isn’t actually the wild, deadly entity we’ve all been led to believe. Life doesn’t just go back to normal after discovering these kinds of things.”

  “Well it has to.”

  She shook her head. “You might refuse to tell me what’s really going on, but you can’t keep me from being involved. I’m going to get that figurine back. I made this mess, Archer. I stole the figurine and—”

  “Earlier today you weren’t the least bit interested in fixing your mistakes. How about we just pretend nothing’s happened since then, and you can continue being disinterested.”

  “Because now I know that people’s lives are in danger. At least, they are if you’ve been telling the truth.”

  “Of course I’ve been telling the truth. I wouldn’t lie about something so—”

  “Okay, then let me do this. I’ll get it done quickly. Quicker than you, at least.”

  “No.”

  Her eyes darted over his shoulder. She could run. She could get around the corner, become invisible, and he’d never be able to catch her. She shoved past him and ran, but he lunged after her and caught her arm. “Don’t! Please, I’m serious, Ridley.”

  She tried to tug free, but his fingers dug into her arm. “Why?”

  “Because someone doesn’t want you involved!”

  She stopped struggling. Her arm went limp, and Archer’s grip loosened. “Someone?”

  “Don’t even try to ask who,” he said, shaking his head. “You know I’m not going to tell you. Just know that someone has put a great deal of effort into keeping you safe from all of this, and you need to respect that. I promised not to involve you, and I’ve already strayed too close to breaking that promise. I can’t tell you anything more.”

  “I …” She blinked, shook her head. “Okay, now I have even more questions.”

  Archer sighed. “You need to forget all this. The world is more dangerous than you know. If you keep digging, you’re probably going to get yourself killed.”

  “Someone already tried to shoot me, remember?”

  He let go of her arm. “I think it’s a lot more likely someone was trying to shoot me. Which is my problem, not yours,” he added before she could say anything, “so I’ll deal with it. It’s not exactly a brand new experience for me. Being Alastair Davenport’s son isn’t without its risks.”

  Ridley held his gaze for several long moments as questions flooded her mind. But it was clear by now that Archer wouldn’t answer any of them. “So … you want me to go home now and pretend none of this happened?”

  “Yes. Go hang out with your friends. I’m sure there’s some kind of celebration happening now that one of them’s no longer being charged with murder. Oh, and if you could stop stealing, that would be great too.”

  Heat flared in Ridley’s cheeks and ears at the memory of everything Archer had said to her while they were locked up. But she had no desire to revisit their argument, so she merely turned away from him, muttering, “Don’t hold your breath.”

  “Wait. Ridley, wait.” He caught her arm again—hadn’t she told him earlier to stop doing that?—and turned her back to face him. He sighed and said, “I’m sorry. It’s just … If I’m wrong about the shooter being after me, then you’re in danger.”

  “If you’re wrong,” Ridley responded, “then I’ll figure out how to protect myself. I’m not entirely helpless, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “I know you’re not helpless, but you won’t be able to do much about someone with a gun aiming from a distance.”

  “Perhaps not. But that isn’t your problem.”

  “It might not be, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help. There’s a security company my dad often works with. Personal security. Bodyguards and—”

  “No.”

  “I can arrange for one or two people to keep an eye on you. If they notice anything suspicious, they’ll handle it before anything happens to you.”

  “No.” She leaned a little closer and held his gaze, hoping he would understand how serious she was when she said, “I don’t want strangers following me and knowing my every move, especially not if they’re strangers who work for you and your father.”

  “I’m just trying to help, Ridley.”

  “Don’t. The last person I need help from is a Davenport.”

  “Fine. Then I guess I’m done here. I need to get that figurine back.” He strode past her and left the room without a backward glance. For some reason, Ridley found it immensely irritating that he was the one who got to storm away first. She shut her eyes and counted to five, putting just a few seconds of distance between herself and Archer. Then she opened them and walked forward.

  “Leaving so soon?” a voice asked, and Ridley stopped short of walking into Christa in the doorway.

  “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  “No, of course not.” Christa stepped to the side. “We don’t keep prisoners down here. Well, unless it’s someone spying on us and planning to jeopardize the existence of our entire community.”

  Ridley’s hands twitched at her sides, wanting to reach for her magic, to pull it around herself and become air, or to shove fire or water at this woman before running to escape this place. “And have you satisfied yourself that I don’t fall into that category?”

  “Yes, don’t worry,” Christa said with an easy laugh. “I have my reasons for trusting Archer. If he says you’re no threat to us, then I believe him.”

  “Too bad the guys at the door didn’t believe him,” Ridley countered.

  “A misunderstanding for which I’ve already apologized, and I’m sure Archer understands how seriously we take security here. But as I was saying, you’re free to leave and come back whenever you’d like. I just thought you might want to see more of our bunker before you go. Since you said it might be the kind of place you could live.”

  “I … I don’t know. Maybe next time.” />
  She took a step forward, but then Christa asked, “Do you ever play?”

  Ridley stopped. “Excuse me?”

  “With magic. Do you experiment, have fun? Or do you only pull it when you need it?”

  “Uh …” Ridley faltered, trying to remember a time when she’d associated words like ‘fun’ or ‘play’ with magic. She wasn’t sure if that had ever been the case. Even before the Cataclysm she’d been taught to keep her own magic hidden. “I just use it when I need it. That’s risky enough without adding experimentation into the mix, don’t you think?”

  Christa nodded. “I understand. Up there, it’s easy to get caught. But down here, you’d have the freedom to experiment. You already seem quite skilled—at least, from what the guys told me about how you saved Archer. But there’s so much more you could learn. We have three trained magicists living down here. They could teach you all the movements you don’t already know.”

  Ridley’s eyes narrowed. The prospect was enticing, she had to admit, but no one was this friendly and welcoming in real life. What secret agenda did this woman have? “Yeah, maybe,” she said noncommittally. She didn’t add that she barely knew any movements at all. Her own magic was different. She simply willed it into something—air, mainly—and it obeyed. Sometimes, if necessary, she might pull from the environment and try some of the easier motions she remembered from school, but there was hardly ever an occasion when her own magic didn’t suffice.

  “‘Maybe’ sounds good,” Christa said. “That’s better than ‘no.’”

  “Uh huh. But right now, I really need to go. My father will be wondering where I am.” At the thought of Dad, a pang of guilt shot through her. Dad would probably be beside himself with worry.

  “Of course.” The wrinkles at the corners of Christa’s eyes crinkled further as she smiled. “Just know that you’re welcome to return any time.”

  “Thanks. I’ll think about it. So, if I just walk back to that main door, they’ll let me out?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Great.” Ridley stepped beneath the archway and strode through the trees. She told herself that living in a place like this was crazy. It came nowhere near the future she’d been working toward the past couple of years. But as she walked alongside the canal, the idea of being free to experiment with magic—and the possibility of learning the many intricate gestures that had been forbidden since the Cataclysm—refused to leave her mind. How much more would she be capable of if she had proper training? Surely she could help more people, probably in magical ways she’d never even dreamed of.

  It would still be illegal though. Taking her life in that direction would make her a criminal forever. Dad would hate the idea. He would spend the rest of his life disappointed in the choices she’d made and terrified of her winding up caught. Could she really do that to him?

  No.

  She ascended the stairs, leaving the city’s underworld of magic behind her. She would forget about this place, and she’d forget about that gold figurine. Archer had made it clear he would take care of that problem without her help. It was just as Ezra had said: You rich people can battle it out on your own without involving the rest of us. She didn’t need to get herself or Dad involved. Life was safer when she stayed away from people like Archer and Lawrence. And with things looking like they were about to return to normal, she’d have no need to go anywhere near either of them again.

  22

  “Riddles!” Dad exclaimed the moment Ridley opened the back door of Kayne’s Antiques and stepped inside. Something hit the floor in the main part of the store before Dad came hurtling through the back room and wrapped his arms around Ridley. “You’re okay,” he breathed into her ear. She brought her arms up around his back, squeezed tight, and breathed in the familiar scent of his aftershave. “Where have you been?” he asked, pulling back but not letting go of her. “Why didn’t you answer my calls? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

  “Dad, I’m so—”

  “Meera said you were fine, but the two of you ended up separated in the crowd outside the school after everyone evacuated. She couldn’t find you, and we both tried calling, but you weren’t answering.” He eased back a little further, and Ridley’s arms slid away from him. “I know I give you a lot of freedom, but that’s because you almost always answer my calls. If I’m worried, you let me know you’re fine. But then something like this happens and afterwards you don’t answer? What was I supposed to think, Ridley? Anything could have—”

  “I’m sorry, Dad!” She grabbed hold of his arms and squeezed them. “I’m really sorry. My commscreen died, so I couldn’t call you. I was with a friend, and I didn’t realize how much time had passed, and then it was really late, so I just came home as quickly as I could.”

  “You were with a friend?” Dad’s brow creased. “Someone who wasn’t Meera or Shen?”

  Ridley opened her mouth, considered lying, then allowed the truth to escape her lips instead. “Archer.”

  The wrinkles marring Dad’s forehead grew more pronounced as his eyebrows climbed higher. “Archer Davenport?”

  Ridley lowered her arms and reached behind her to pull the door shut. “Yes.”

  “Since when is he a friend?”

  She turned the key before facing Dad again. “Okay, so friend is stretching the truth. We were …” Again, she considered making something up, but it was easier—and more believable—to go with some version of the truth. “We were arguing, actually. I wanted to let him know exactly what I thought of him going along with the cover-up of what happened out there the other night.” She gestured over her shoulder to the alley on the other side of the door.

  “Riddles,” Dad said, slowly exhaling. “That probably wasn’t the best idea.”

  “I know. I was just so angry about the whole thing.”

  Dad nodded, then paused before adding, “It must have been a very long argument.”

  “It, uh …” Ridley looked at her shoes. “It morphed into a bigger argument. About more than just the other night. You know, stuff about the past and about Lilah and everything that changed after the Cataclysm. I was furious by the end of it, so …” She lifted her shoulders, preparing herself for the small lie she was about to slip in. “So I went for a walk. A long one. To cool down. And when I remembered the gunshots at school and how worried you must be, it was really late.” Her eyes rose to meet her father’s. I’m sorry for lying, she whispered silently. But telling him where she’d really been was out of the question. She’d already added to Dad’s gray hair and wrinkles this evening, and she couldn’t bear the thought of making him worry more.

  “Okay, well …” Dad reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. “At least you’re safely home now.”

  “Yes. And I’m so sorry for making you worry.”

  “Ah, it’s okay.” He swung one arm around her back as they headed for the stairs. “It’s part of my job as your father to worry about you.”

  “Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean I should make you worry any more than necessary.”

  “I know it’s late—” he glanced at his watch— “but do you want something to eat? There was obviously no dinner at Wallace, so you must be—”

  A bang on the door caused Ridley’s legs to freeze and her stomach to tighten. Adrenaline kicked in, and before she knew it, she’d ducked down, pulling Dad with her as if to protect them both from the gunshot she felt sure was coming.

  “Hey, Ridley?” a familiar voice called from the other side of the door.

  “Sweetie, it’s just Meera,” Dad said with a smile that didn’t do much to mask the concern in his eyes. He straightened, adding, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Ridley rose from her crouch, laughing off her reaction. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, the knocking just startled me. Meera usually calls or texts instead of banging on the door.” She crossed the small space and turned the key. “But I guess with my commscreen being dead, she couldn’t really—” The door flew ope
n, almost knocking Ridley backward. She barely had a second to make out the faces of her two best friends before they both wrapped her in a tight hug.

  “We saw you crossing the street and came over immediately,” Meera said, just as Shen added, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  “Me?” Ridley laughed as she squeezed her arms tighter. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You’ve been wrongfully imprisoned for three days and you’re glad I’m okay?”

  “Yes.” Shen lowered his arms and took a step back. “The murder took place right outside your home. Something could have accidentally happened to you if you’d walked outside at the wrong moment. And then this evening—the shooting at your school—and no one knew where you were.” Ridley looked into the eyes of her tall, broad-shouldered best friend, and for the first time, she saw genuine fear. “I really thought something might have happened to you,” he finished quietly.

  “Yeah,” Meera added, wrapping her arms around herself. “We really did. Where’d you go?”

  Without answering Meera, Ridley pulled Shen into another hug. It felt all kinds of wrong to see him afraid of something. Even years ago when he was close to death, Shen hadn’t been afraid. Probably because he’d been too sick then to know what was going on. “You really don’t need to worry about me,” she told him. “I’ll tell you later what happened. I’ll tell both of you,” she added to Meera, peering at her other best friend over Shen’s shoulder. “But how are you?” she asked Shen.

  “I’m … I’m fine.” But as he pulled away, she couldn’t help noticing the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I mean, I’ll be fine,” he corrected. “It was a lot to deal with in a short space of time, thinking I might end up spending my life in prison, or that maybe those crazy lawyers would try to prove I had something to do with the magic on the knife and I’d get the death penalty. Then suddenly I was being released instead.” He made a weak attempt at a laugh. “I think my head’s still spinning.”