She found him in a private ward, of course. No sharing for Archer Davenport. She watched him through the glass pane of the door, but before she could figure out exactly how to get through it without raising anyone’s attention, a nurse came toward her. Ridley moved out of the way, and once the door was open, it was easy to follow the nurse inside. She was a pretty young woman, and when she stopped beside Archer’s bed, she gave him a dazzling smile. “You called, Mr. Davenport?”
Mr. Davenport. Ridley would have rolled her eyes if she hadn’t been looking around the room to make sure no one else was here. “Have you found out yet when I can leave?” Archer asked in a tone that suggested he’d asked this same question a dozen times already.
“Uh, no, I’m sorry. Your doctor is still waiting for the results of some tests. You’re probably fine, but he needs to be certain that you don’t have—”
“Is my sister still out there?” Archer craned his neck to see past the nurse through the open doorway, his face twisting into a grimace. “Please can you—”
“No, I’m afraid she isn’t, sir. Visiting hours are over. But, uh …” The nurse twisted a stray strand of hair around her finger. “It’s almost the end of my shift, so I can come back in a few minutes and keep you company if you’d like.” At that, Ridley did turn her invisible eyes toward the ceiling. Unbelievable, she thought.
Archer fell back against his pillows with a groan, shutting his eyes. His breaths became quicker, shorter. “No, thank you. But if you could up the pain meds, that would be great.”
“Sir, you’ve already received as much as—”
“Yes, okay. Thank you. That’s all then.” He raised one hand—covered in a plaster cast—as if to dismiss her.
“Okay. All right.” Somewhat reluctantly, the nurse turned away from the bed and left the room. She pulled the door closed behind her, and as it clicked shut, Ridley pushed a flurry of air away from her and across the room to drop the blind over the door’s glass pane.
Archer opened his eyes and frowned at the closed blind, swinging gently back and forth against the door. But he must have thought it was nothing more than an accident, because instead of calling the nurse back or looking around the room with suspicion, he simply turned his head toward the window and stared out, his brow furrowing.
Ridley followed his gaze. Up here on the twelfth floor, they could just see over the top of the wall. Not much of the world beyond was visible, but Ridley could see the afternoon sun streaming through breaks in the clouds, lighting up the tops of the tallest ruined buildings that remained. Her encounter with the elemental magic out there came to mind, but she did her best to push the memory away. She didn’t like thinking of how utterly out of control she’d been while magic tossed her around.
She turned her back to the window as she pulled her magic back toward herself. The blue glow shimmered just above her skin as she reappeared, then settled back inside her body. “Hi,” she said simply.
Archer’s head jerked up as he took in a sharp breath. “Ridley, what the hell?”
“Do you ever look out there,” she said, nodding over her shoulder, “and think we got what we deserved?”
“Uh … what?”
“We ruined the earth, used up most of our natural resources, then tried to take advantage of nature even further by pulling the most gargantuan amount of magic ever, and magic was like, ‘Screw you guys. I’m taking over now.’”
“Ridley,” Archer said on an exhale. “How did you get in here? Wait, never mind. Stupid question.”
“Lilah called me earlier. Told me about the car. She suspected we were together last night after the shooting, and she wanted to know if I’d seen anything suspicious. She also mentioned you were desperate to get out of here, which I assume means you haven’t got that figurine back from Lawrence yet.”
Archer sighed. “I told you not to involve yourself any further.”
“You did, and—surprisingly—I decided you were right. I’m happy to forget about all of this and get on with my own life. Which is exactly why I’m here.” She walked closer and leaned her hip against the bed. “If you’re not able to find the figurine, then I’m going to have to do it, and I’m not interested in going back to the mayor’s house. So I’m here to make sure you can leave this hospital as soon as possible.”
Archer glanced at the door, then lowered his voice. “So you’re here to—to heal me?”
“I’m here to do what I can. I can’t heal any of your bruises and cuts. I mean, I can, but I won’t. It would be far too suspicious if your surface wounds suddenly disappeared. Someone would know it’s magic. But I can try to get rid of the fractured bones so you can move about easily. Once that’s done, it’s up to you to talk your way out of here. Or pay your way out, since that probably works better for people like you.”
“I would pretend to be offended, but that’s exactly what I was planning to do. At least this way I’ll be able to move without pain and use my hand once I get out.”
“See? I know exactly what kind of person you are.”
“Ridley …” His hand that wasn’t encased in plaster reached toward hers. Then he appeared to think better of it and lowered his hand to the blanket instead. “I’m sorry for the things I said last night. At least … I meant what I said, but I’m sorry it all came out in a way that hurt you. And I’m sorry—truly sorry—for influencing Lilah all those years ago. For turning her against you.” He shook his head. “After the Cataclysm I was … scared. But that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have interfered.”
Ridley looked into Archer’s pleading eyes and found herself wanting to believe him. But she’d spent so many years hating the Davenports that she wasn’t entirely sure how not to hate one of them. She tore her gaze away from his and lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “Well, you know. Lilah isn’t one to be manipulated. She’d probably already made up her mind by then that I was no longer good enough for her.”
“Perhaps. Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t apologize though.”
Ridley heaved a sigh and turned her attention back to the reason she was here. “Anyway, there is one more option for getting you out of here—aside from you talking or paying your way out. Once you’re healed, I could sneak you out with magic. But I’m guessing that might create more trouble than you’re looking for.”
“Uh, yeah.” Archer nodded. “I’d rather be officially discharged than be reported missing and have a bunch of people searching for me.”
“Okay then. I’ll heal you, and then you’ll bribe your doctor into discharging you immediately. Shall we get started?”
“Sure. Just wondering when exactly you acquired all these magical healing skills.”
“I, uh … I have a book.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “A book?”
“You know what I mean.”
He let out a quiet laugh, then clutched his side as his face screwed up in pain. When he’d recovered, he said, “Of course you still have a book. Why am I surprised? Ridley Kayne would never have handed over any of her books to be destroyed after the Cataclysm.”
“For your information,” Ridley said, “Dad and I handed over every magic book in our possession. I found this particular book months later, inside Kayne’s Antiques. It was on a shelf with a bunch of dusty old books with thick, heavy covers. Music theory and dance history. I was going to show it to my dad, but then I just …” She shrugged. “I ended up hiding it in my bedroom instead.”
“How mysterious. Did you read it under the covers at night?”
She folded her arms and met his smirk with a deadpan expression. “Yes, by the secret light of my own magic.”
He started laughing again, then seemed to remember the pain it caused him the first time and stopped. “I’m guessing that’s a no then?”
“It’s a no. I’ve barely looked at the book in the past few years.”
“And now you want me to trust that you can heal me?”
“It’s just a few fractured bones. I practiced
the movements before I came here. They’re not too complex. It’s not like manipulating cancer cells or something.” She unfolded her arms and moved a little closer to him. “So. Are we trying this? Or are you happy to bribe your way out of here while still in pain and unable to use one hand?”
“We’re trying this. Hopefully it works quickly so I can get to Lawrence’s place before he leaves to hand over the figurine this evening.”
Ridley walked around to the other side of the bed. “How do you know he’s handing it over?” She pulled the curtain far enough to shield the bed from view of the door. Just in case someone decided to walk in unannounced.
“Eavesdropping. After I left the bunker, I found him in one of his favorite clubs. Overheard part of a commscreen conversation. He’s meeting someone at Brex Tower tonight.” Archer eased himself up a little more and held his right hand out. “My wrist,” he said. “Underneath this stupid cast, which I’ll have to break off once you’re done. And a few ribs on this side,” he pointed to the right side of his chest. “It really isn’t too serious. I can’t see why these doctors won’t just let me leave.”
“I suppose they’re being cautious,” Ridley said. “Wouldn’t want to let a precious Davenport leave the hospital if there might be some serious underlying damage.” She raised her hands, then added, “Don’t freak out, okay?”
“Why would I freak out?”
“Because nothing about my magic is normal. It comes from inside me. I get all glowy and weird looking.”
One side of Archer’s mouth lifted. “I think I can handle it.”
She hesitated before letting her magic free. “So …” she said slowly. “Like I said, I really don’t want to be involved, but if I heal you, will you consider telling me why that stupid figurine is so important?”
His gaze moved across her face, his lips pressing into a thin line. “So that’s your deal. Fix my broken bones in exchange for information.”
She shook her head as she looked down at her raised hands. Her magic rose slowly to the surface of her skin. “No. I’ll heal you either way. Just figured I’d ask one more time.” She didn’t look at him as magic began to pulse visibly beneath her skin. It rose away from her body in glowing blue wisps. She started the movements, first gathering the wisps with precise scooping motions, one hand and then the other, before sweeping both hands away from each other. Her fingers traced the air in specific patterns, manipulating the magic into something that would heal broken bones. She’d been clumsy and stiff when she began practicing earlier—crossing fingers over fingers and touching fingertips to fingertips hadn’t come as easily as she’d assumed. But after working through the pages of pictures detailing every movement of this conjuration multiple times, it had become easier.
“So graceful,” Archer murmured. “I always enjoyed watching magicists at work. It always looked a little bit like a dance, no matter what kind of magic they were doing.”
Ridley didn’t respond. Though she’d practiced the movements so many times before coming here that they were now automatic, she’d rather not draw Archer’s attention away from the magic and toward her. No one other than her parents had ever watched her using her own magic. She felt naked and vulnerable. Don’t, she reminded herself. He already knows about your magic. Who cares if he sees what you look like when using it?
The set of movements ended with her nudging the magic toward Archer’s wrist where the plaster cast began, but the book had told her to repeat the set at least three times for each area of injury, so she began again.
“You surprised me the other day,” Archer said. “The day we came to the antique store.”
Her hands almost faltered, but she managed to keep the movements going without pause. She finished the second set, then let her magic fade a little before saying, “I surprised you? Are you kidding? I’m pretty sure the most shocked person in that situation was me.”
“You just seemed different from the person I remembered.”
“The person you remembered? The eight-year-old you last had a conversation with before the Cataclysm? Yeah, I can see why I might have seemed a little different from that girl.”
“I don’t mean that. It’s not like I haven’t seen you since then. There were several years when we were both at Wallace. I mean you seemed different from when I left the city at the beginning of last summer.” He leaned his head back with a sigh. “I don’t know, maybe it’s just me. Everything I look at seems different now. As if I wasn’t seeing anything properly before. It was all distorted, and now everything is clearer.”
Ridley returned her attention to her magic and began the third set of movements. “Maybe that’s the pain meds talking,” she said quietly.
“I hope not. I’m pretty sure these are the same thoughts that have been running through my head the past few days. I just haven’t put them into words until now.”
Ridley’s thoughts chased after one another as her fingers danced and her arms swept through the air. She’d laughed at Archer the night before when he told her he’d changed. She’d accused him of being exactly the same person he’d always been. But running around the city and putting his life in danger in order to save other people wasn’t anything like the person she used to know. Being involved with the magic community certainly wasn’t like a Davenport either.
“How did you really break into our house?” he asked.
She looked up, being sure to keep her hands moving. “I told you before,” she said, watching the way his eyes followed the magic swirling around and between her hands. “Through—”
“The floor. I know. I just wondered … how, exactly. And how did you get to the alarm system to disable it without crossing any of the beams?”
She looked at her hands again to make sure her thumbs met each other in precisely the right position before her fingers spread out and scooped through the magic. “I made a hole in the floor,” she explained. “Well, not a hole, exactly.” She finished the third set and lowered her hands to the edge of the bed before she continued explaining. “It’s not as though I took away part of the floor. The magic tells part of the floor to fold back in on itself, which creates a section where the floor no longer exists. I climbed through that bit. Then reversing the movements makes the floor fold back out of itself and reform. Something like that. I’m probably not explaining it properly.” He was watching her face now, his eyes moving across the magic she knew was glowing in her cheeks.
“But most of the time,” she continued, speaking faster as she tried to get him to focus on what she was saying and not the way she looked, “I don’t use movements at all. My own magic doesn’t require it. It just sort of … responds to my will. I haven’t experimented much. I generally just use it to become invisible. Like air, you know. So that’s how security beams and cameras and things don’t see me. As long as I stay invisible, of course. Which I don’t always do. It’s tiring. Gives me a headache after a while.”
Archer tilted his head. “Invisible? Really?”
“Yes, I can … well …”
“What?”
“Never mind, it sounds stupid.” She lifted her hands again. “Where exactly?” she asked, gesturing to his side. “We should finish this before someone comes back in. And you’re in a rush to get out of here, remember?”
“What sounds stupid?” he asked, lifting one arm up and indicating a bruised area on the side of his ribcage with the other.
Ridley shook her head. “I should concentrate.” She began again, saying nothing as she made sure to curve her hands in the correct way, then sweep her arms outward at the right time, and let her fingers weave through the magic in the required patterns.
“Whatever it is that you think sounds stupid,” Archer said as she neared the end of the third set, “I’m sure it isn’t.”
“I can … become the elements,” she said quickly, as if speed might make the statement sound less weird. Her hands twisted around each other, met together, and nudged the magic toward Archer’s side fo
r the last time. “Or, at least, my magic can conceal me as any of the elements. I’m not sure of the exact technicalities. Maybe because magic comes from the elements, and that same magic is inside me. Air seems to be the easiest. I use that the most. I’m scared of earth. I don’t know, it just seems so … suffocating. So solid. Like I might not be able to return to normal afterwards. And water and fire … Well, fire is quick and volatile, and water can be that way too. I feel out of control when I’m either of those two elements, so I tend to avoid them.”
Archer didn’t answer. She looked up and found him staring at her. “Great,” she muttered. “I can see I’ve totally weirded you out with this.”
“No, sorry.” He shook his head. “I’m just … thinking.”
She looked away. “It’s okay. You’re right to find the whole thing extremely weird. This isn’t normal. I’m not normal. At all.” She caught sight of the blue glow in the reflective surface of one of the machines beside the bed and turned her head fully to look at her face. At the vibrant electric blue that pulsed through her veins, and the patches of her skin that lit up, then faded, then lit up again. At the luminous blue glow in her eyes and lips. She returned her gaze to Archer and, fighting the urge to smother her magic, she said, “You can’t tell me you see anything other than a complete freak of nature right now.”
“Actually,” he said, his eyes traveling slowly across her skin, “I think it’s beautiful.”
Beautiful. Her mother had said the same thing when Ridley first discovered magic inside her own body, but Ridley had never agreed. Her magic was unnatural. It had to be hidden. Now, though, she remained still beneath Archer’s searching gaze, willing herself not to be ashamed. To show herself for who she truly was.
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