Elemental Power

by Rachel Morgan

  When Grandpa felt he’d answered enough questions, he asked Ridley about her friends and hobbies and the plans she had for her future—which were probably supposed to be the same as they’d always been, if she was going to follow Dad’s instructions and continue with life as normal: Graduate with flying colors, snag an internship at The Rosman Foundation, and finally get to help people in a meaningful way that didn’t involve stealing. But, somehow, she couldn’t see that happening anymore. When she tried to imagine her future, all she got was a hazy half-formed picture that might have been the wastelands and might have contained elementals.

  Dad would not be happy if he knew.

  When it was far too late for a school night—which Grandpa kept telling Ridley, and she kept ignoring—Ridley finally agreed to go to bed. “Can we stay in contact after you’re gone?” she asked before heading to her room.

  “We can try, but it isn’t easy.” He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The networks are great within the cities, but out there in the wastelands, there’s no functional infrastructure. I have to get near a city, or at the very least, near one of the inter-city train lines.” He replaced his glasses and gave her a lopsided smile. “If it’s an emergency and you need my help, you’d probably be better off sending a huge fireball into the air.”

  Ridley waited for him to start laughing, but he didn’t. “Is that a joke?”

  “Actually, no. People used to do it. Take a huge chunk of rock, make it burn, hurl it through the air at a magical speed.”

  “Sure, yeah,” Ridley said with an exaggerated shrug. “Sounds so easy.”

  “Apparently it is.”

  “Well, not for this elemental right here.”

  “You’ll figure things out,” Grandpa told her with a reassuring smile. “Just remember: It isn’t about control; it’s about letting go.”

  6

  The following night, after arriving in an area roughly halfway between her home and the opulent center of Lumina City, Ridley looked around and spotted Archer waiting for her in front of Rosiello’s Pizza. Though it was almost 10 pm on a Tuesday night, this part of town was still bustling with activity. The sidewalks were crowded with tables, chairs and menu stands in front of each restaurant, and strings of colorful lights zigzagged from one end of the street to the other. Chatter, laughter and the occasional shout formed a continuous low-level hum in Ridley’s ears, while the smell of cooking food wafted through the air. Like most other nights, heavy clouds blotted out the sky, but fortunately, it wasn’t raining.

  “So all we’re doing is handing over a letter,” Archer said as she reached him. “We don’t need to hang around and wind up in any sort of trouble.”

  Ridley pushed her hands into her jacket pockets and tipped her head to the side. “Are you afraid of trouble, Archer? That doesn’t seem like you.”

  “I have no problem with trouble. I’m well acquainted with it, in fact. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “Look, we can’t just give him the letter and leave.” Ridley paused as a man with a takeout box walked out of Rosiello’s and hurried past them. A chilly breeze curled around her neck, and she raised her shoulders against the cold, pushing her hands deeper into her pockets. When there was once again no one within earshot, she continued, “We at least need to explain a little bit.”

  “What exactly are you planning to explain? Doesn’t the letter say enough?”

  “No. The letter mentions stolen information that the society will soon have. That’s not the case anymore. So we need to explain that it isn’t as urgent to get out of the city as the letter suggests. That we elementals are in no more or less danger now than we were before.”

  Archer’s eyes followed something behind Ridley, and she glanced over her shoulder at two women engrossed in their commscreens as they crossed the street. “I doubt Luc would have agreed,” Archer said, “even if he knew the flash drive had been destroyed.”

  Ridley’s gaze shot back to him. “Luc?”

  Archer paused for a moment, confusion crossing his face. “The man who died outside your home. Sorry, I forgot I didn’t tell you his name.”

  “So you did know him.”

  “Yes, I did. I couldn’t tell you before, and then … well, I guess that bit didn’t come up the other night.”

  “I’m assuming there’s a lot that didn’t come up the other night. Like everything you’ve been doing since the moment you left Lumina City at the beginning of last summer.”

  Archer nodded. “Pretty much.”

  She opened her mouth to ask for more details, but her brain was backpedaling. “Wait, so you … you knew him. And then he died right in front of you.” She let the memory of that night sink into her, imagining it from Archer’s point of view for the first time. “Wow, that’s—I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”

  “Yeah.” Archer nodded, his eyes focusing somewhere behind her. “We weren’t close, but I knew him. So it was a shock.”

  A breeze caught a few strands of Ridley’s blond hair and blew them across her face. She tucked the flyaway hair behind her ear and returned her hand to her pocket. “Did you know he was in Lumina City?”

  “No. That was part of the shock. Lilah and I left your store, and after we ordered food, I wandered outside while she waited for it. I happened to walk past the alley by your back door, and that was when I saw him. He barely had time to explain what he was doing here before Lawrence … and then the knife …”

  He didn’t need to finish; Ridley knew what had happened. And since it was her best friend who’d thrown the knife, she felt a weird sense of indirect responsibility. After a quiet moment, she said, “I’m so sorry.”

  Archer glanced over his shoulder into the window of Rosiello’s Pizza. “Anyway, this is where Malachi Hollings works.”

  Ridley blinked at the abrupt subject change but decided to go with it. “Uh, yes. Right.” She looked through the window into the busy pizzeria. It was tiny compared to some of the other restaurants around here, and the few tables inside were all occupied. “You said you couldn’t find a home address for him?”

  “Correct.” Archer moved a few steps to the side and leaned his shoulder against the pole of a street light. “I found a public profile on the social feeds, which is where he mentioned working at Rosiello’s. And that’s where I saw a photo of him, which I recognized from the information on the flash drive. We can try to catch him when he leaves here at the end of his shift. Maybe follow him into the next street over where it’s quieter and talk to him there.”

  “And until then? We’re just going to lurk outside?”

  “Lurk? I don’t know about you, but I was planning to stand here like a normal person.”

  Ridley rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. It’s weird if we hang out here for hours. People will notice.”

  “It won’t be hours. This place closes in about twenty minutes. He’ll be done soon after that.” Archer pushed away from the street light with a sigh. “But yeah, maybe it would be better to get a drink next door and watch from there.”

  They moved further along the sidewalk to the restaurant beside Rosiello’s Pizza. Ridley took a seat at the only empty table outside while Archer headed through the doors, aiming for the bar. He returned a few minutes later with a glass in each hand. “Sorry, the menu’s limited here.” He slid a glass across the table before sitting opposite her. “It’s a non-alcoholic sangria.”

  “Thanks.” Ridley pulled the glass closer, managing to refrain from making a comment about how every menu must seem limited compared to what was on offer at places like De-Luxe or Sapphire 84. “Did you look up the other names on the list I gave you?”

  “Yes. There were only two I couldn’t find any information on. I’ll go and see Christa and ask her if she knows them. It’s possible they’re living beneath the city and never reported themselves as survivors after the Cataclysm.”

  Ridley frowned. Christa, the woman who was i
n charge of the enormous bunker housing Lumina City’s illegal magic users, had seemed friendly enough when Ridley met her, but Ridley still wasn’t sure the woman could be trusted. “Are you going to tell Christa why you’re looking for these people? Does she know about—” Ridley paused, glancing around at the crowded tables. “Does she know people like me exist?”

  “She …” Archer rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s complicated. She does know about them, and she knows I’ve been living with a group of them. But when I was first put in contact with her—the first time I returned to the city—I was told not to reveal any more information than necessary. Possibly for her safety and the elementals’ safety. So no, I’m not planning to tell her that they’re your kind of people.”

  “Okay.” Ridley nodded, then took a sip of her sangria. It was overly sweet and had an artificial quality to it, but she managed to keep from making a face as she lowered the glass. She wiped her hand—wet from the condensation—on her jeans as her eyes scanned the tables behind Archer. She couldn’t help noticing the number of people who were looking this way. Because of Archer, no doubt. He’d been on the news multiple times recently because of the murder outside her building. And there was also the simple fact that he was a Davenport. His family had the kind of celebrity status people were awarded purely for being rich and beautiful.

  Wonderful, she thought to herself. “The other reason you should have let me do this on my own,” she said quietly, “is because of all the people who stare at you whenever you’re out. You’re ridiculously conspicuous just because of who you are.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he told her. “We’ll make sure we’re far away from prying eyes before we talk to Malachi.”

  “We’d better.” She took another sip of the sangria, mainly because it was sitting in front of her and there wasn’t much else to do. “So … can I ask about your time away? I mean, how did you first get involved with my kind of people? Did you go looking for them? How did you even know they existed in the first place?”

  Archer stared into his glass for several moments before speaking in a voice so low that Ridley had to lean forward to hear him. “I found them by accident. I was doing this hiking trail in the French Prealps. A completely illegal activity out in the wastelands for thrill seekers. We wore these weird arxium suits—like hazmat-type things—to protect us from the magic. Anyway, we were on La Tournette, which used to be fairly easy to hike, but obviously it changed with all the upheaval during the Cataclysm. So there were no paths or anything. There was a storm, and I ended up separated from the group, and I just sort of … stumbled across them.”

  “Like in caves or something?” Ridley asked.

  “Partly. Not like a campsite though. They’ve got some permanent dwellings set up there. No arxium protection at all since most of the people living there are your kind of people, so the wild magic leaves them alone.”

  “Really? But the wild magic here wasn’t exactly gentle when it tossed me around a few days ago on the other side of the wall.”

  Archer smiled. “That was gentle, Ridley. You were fine when it let you go. Once it realized you’re made of magic.”

  “Once it realized,” Ridley repeated softly, her mind expanding at the implication of that statement. Was magic really as intelligent as Archer made it sound? Or was it just one kind of magic detecting another kind of magic and leaving it be?

  “Anyway, they didn’t know what to do with me at first,” Archer continued. “They obviously didn’t trust me, so they wouldn’t let me leave. I guess I was technically a prisoner, but …” He shrugged, staring again at his drink instead of looking at Ridley. “I didn’t really mind. I was kind of … lost? Not literally lost. You know what I mean. I was trying to figure myself out, and way out there in the wastelands of another country seemed like a good spot to do it. It was a good place to find … I don’t know … purpose.” It seemed his cheeks flushed a little as he said that, which didn’t surprise Ridley. This was probably uncharted territory for him, revealing something so personal about himself. “Anyway.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a long story, but the short version is that I slowly became part of their community.”

  “And what did your family think this whole time? They never publicly said anything about you being missing, but they must have had someone looking for you.”

  “I was allowed to contact them, actually. People traveled to the nearest city every few days to send messages. They obviously didn’t reveal any important information in the messages they sent on my behalf, but they said enough to let my family know I was fine. I’ve never been one to explain the exact details of my activities, so I guess my parents assumed I was doing what I’ve always done—my own thing. Partying away my trust fund. Though I guess they didn’t look too closely or they would have seen I wasn’t spending any money.”

  “And that would have made them suspicious, I’m sure,” Ridley said.

  Archer grinned, raised his glass, and said, “Exactly.” He took a swig of his amber-colored drink before returning it to the table.

  “So you learned all about these people?” Ridley prompted, her voice still low. “Their history, and the Shadow Society, and how their magic works?”

  “Yes. They weren’t all ele—um, people like you. There were other regular people like me who happened to be connected to them in some way and were part of the community. There were obviously no scanner drones out there, and everyone lived the way we used to live. So after a while, I had my—uh …” He faltered, glanced about, then surreptitiously rubbed his finger along the two small scars just below and behind his left ear. The spot where his arxium amulets were implanted.

  Ridley raised her eyebrows. Removed? she mouthed, assuming he meant his AI2. That was the one that prevented people from pulling magic from the environment.

  Archer nodded. “But I had it put back a little while before I returned. I figured it was the safer option.”

  “Good thing you did,” Ridley said, “considering you were arrested shortly after you got back.”

  “Yes. Though the first time I returned, I didn’t have it. That was quite a risk.”

  “Why’d you come back that time? Was it only because of the flash drive? And was that when you traveled through the wastelands?”

  “Yes. And even though I have no magic of my own, I was fine. I did get tossed around a bit here and there, but as long as I remained calm and didn’t try to fight back I was always okay in the end. It was a challenge, of course, basically acting like a rag doll and letting magic hurl me through the air, but it worked.”

  “It’s not about control,” Ridley murmured as Grandpa’s words came back to her.

  “What’s that?” Archer asked, leaning closer.

  “Um, my grandfather told me some things last night. Things that sounded kind of unbelievable. He said I’m trying too hard to control what happens when I’m using magic, and that if I just let go completely, I’ll be capable of way more. Like hurricanes, floods, traveling right through solid mountains. Sounds crazy, right?”

  Archer shook his head, a frown forming. “No.”

  “It’s … not?” Ridley asked, a chill racing along her arms. They were speaking barely above a whisper, but their faces were so close by now that she could still hear him.

  “I’m sorry, Ridley, I just assumed you knew these things. I’ve seen you become air, and I saw the way that underground river responded instantly to you. And then you explained to me—when you thought I didn’t know any of this—that you can become the elements. So I just assumed you’d already figured out the extent to which your magic can influence the environment around you.”

  “Nope. I spend most of my time hiding that part of me, not trying to test how powerful I can be. And besides, there are the headaches. They can reach migraine level if I use too much. So I’m pretty sure I’m not capable of the kind of stuff Grandpa was talking about.”

  “Oh yeah, the headaches. I thought it was weird w
hen you told me about that. But I couldn’t say anything because at that point, you didn’t know about elementals, and I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

  “Grandpa says it’s because I’m trying too hard to control the magic.”

  “Maybe. All I know is that you’re definitely capable of more. If you let go properly, you’ll see.”

  “What does that mean? I kept telling Grandpa that I do let go.”

  Archer inched his elbows forward a little further on the table. Anyone watching might have thought he was about to kiss her. Ridley had no problem with anyone thinking that as long as no one knew what they were really talking about. “So, you know how you get those patches of blue that glow just beneath your skin?” Archer asked. “They kind of pulse, fading in and out?”

  “Yes?”

  “Your whole body will do that when you’re letting go properly.”

  A beat of quiet passed between them. “My whole body?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve seen this?”

  He nodded. “I have.”

  She continued watching him, unsure of what to say next, and Archer did nothing except stare right back. She couldn’t help noticing that, up close, his eyes weren’t just a flat dark color. Countless rich brown tones bled into one another. Depthless, warm, inviting. It was easy to see how so many girls had fallen under the spell of those eyes.

  A burst of particularly raucous laughter from the table next to theirs cut through the moment, and Ridley leaned back. “Well, uh, that definitely gives me something to think about. At least I know it wasn’t just Grandpa totally overestimating my abilities. Anyway, uh …” She picked up her glass and took a quick sip. “You were telling me about the time you returned with the flash drive.”

  “Yes. Right.” Archer relaxed against his chair. “Sensitive information about all the communities around the world needed to be passed to someone in Lumina City, and I offered to bring it. I was the only one there at the time who had any knowledge of this city, so it made sense.”