30
Ridley found Archer holding onto the railing that encircled the edge of the Boards24 Building’s rooftop garden, staring up at the blue sky that was visible in a gap between the clouds. She stepped out of the air and brushed aside a palm frond.
“Archer,” she said quietly, not wanting to startle him. He turned immediately. His expression mirrored the mix of emotions she was feeling, but there was also a question in his gaze. An uncertainty.
Right. That probably had something to do with the kiss Ridley had left him with earlier. After telling him she would never trust him again, a kiss was understandably confusing. She wanted to explain that she’d heard everything he said on the video he’d broadcast to the world and that she forgave him for all that was in the past, but words seemed like they required a lot of effort right now, and actions were simpler.
She walked to him, slid her arms around his waist, and pressed herself against his chest. His arms came up around her back, holding her tightly to him. His cheek rested against her head. “You did it,” he said.
She nodded, but didn’t answer.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m … tired.” Tired was an understatement. She was utterly spent. She wasn’t sure if she could change form now if she tried. Now that everything was over, she wanted to hold onto Archer and never let go. She wanted to ask a dozen questions—how was he able to use magic again after Saoirse had done that conjuration on him? Where did he go after Ridley left him at Mrs. Adams’ place? What was he doing at his father’s research facility when the wall began collapsing? She wanted to find Lilah and give her the stone before it was too late. She wanted to hug Dad tighter than she’d ever hugged him before and tell him he would never, ever stop being her father. Mostly, she wanted to lie down and sleep for days.
But her mother’s stone was heavy around her neck, reminding her that finding Lilah was the priority now. She stepped out of Archer’s embrace just far enough to be able to twist her head around and look behind her. “Have you seen Lilah?”
“Here?” Archer asked. “No, why would she be here?”
“She told me to meet her here. I need to give her …” Ridley trailed off, realizing that Archer might not be up to date on this particular piece of news. “Do you know about her? About … her magic?”
Archer’s eyebrows almost vanished into his hairline. “Her what?”
A shrill siren pierced the air, and both Ridley and Archer turned toward the sound. It wasn’t the fact that it was a siren that caught their attention. Sirens and alarms had been blaring since Nathan and the others had first begun breaking the wall apart. It was the type of siren that made Ridley’s nerves jump. The single, high-pitched wail followed by a short, upbeat jingle. It meant there was an important announcement about to be broadcast onto the billboard screens across the city.
She and Archer leaned on the railing and peered down. Ridley’s eyes sought out the nearest billboard and found it just as the current advertisement—a woman with impossibly shiny hair holding a shampoo bottle—was replaced by an image of Mayor Madson sitting behind a desk. He greeted the public as Archer swore quietly. “This can’t be good.”
“… address the devastation that has been brought upon our city by a group of radicals,” the mayor was saying. “But first I must urge you all to remain calm. The city wall and arxium panels may be gone, but we are extremely fortunate that the wasteland magic is currently experiencing what scientists term a ‘rest phase.’”
“Rest phase, my ass,” Ridley snorted.
“I assure you that the appropriate emergency protocol has already been initiated,” the mayor continued, “and we will be erecting interim protection while new arxium infrastructure is built.”
Ridley shook her head. “Right. ‘Interim protection.’ He means mobile arxium gas machines that will cause new magical storms and remind everyone they should be afraid after all.”
“… gone viral on all the social feeds,” the mayor was now saying, and Ridley pressed a fist against her lips as her heart thudded with anxiety. “A video of a very unstable young man spreading lies and attempting to delude the rest of the world. Many of you know Archer Davenport. You know about his problems with alcohol and drugs. He spent many months in a private facility recently, and his family believed he was ready to rejoin society. Unfortunately, his delusions have only grown worse.”
“Unbelievable,” Archer muttered beside Ridley. He shook his head and gripped the railing harder, his knuckles turning white. Ridley placed a hand gently over one of his.
“The sad truth is that this unstable young man uncovered a secret—a secret we have tried to keep safe for years for fear of causing further panic after the Cataclysm—and he has concocted wild tales around this secret. He has left me with no choice but to reveal a dangerous truth to you: The beings known as elementals are real. They are the ones who have attacked our city and exposed us to the harsh and deadly elemental magic of the wastelands. They are the ones—” he paused and let out a heavy sigh “—who are responsible for the Cataclysm.”
“What?” Ridley shrieked. “How dare he! They ruined the world, and now he’s blaming it on us?” She’d thought she had no energy left for anything, but it turned out fury was enough to wake her exhausted mind and body.
“I urge you to disregard the lies Archer Davenport is trying to spread. His past record of delinquent behavior and—”
The screen flickered. The image of Mayor Madson disappeared. Suddenly, eerily, it was Ridley’s own voice that she could hear ringing out from the billboard’s speakers: “I know the truth about the Cataclysm. I know what you did.”
Ridley’s breath vanished from her lungs. Her heart hammered wildly within her chest. Her hand gripped Archer’s so tightly that her fingers began to hurt. On the giant screen, she saw herself sitting on a bed, her arms and ankles bound. Alastair Davenport stood across the room from her.
“Somebody told you,” he said.
“You turned the GSMC into an apocalyptic event,” she accused.
Ridley’s nerves were so on edge, her heart thrashing so frantically in anticipation of his next words, that she thought she might throw up.
“I did,” Alastair Davenport replied, admitting to the entire world what he’d done. Ridley let out the breath she’d been holding, her body feeling weak and shaky and exhilarated all at once. “It was the perfect opportunity,” Alastair continued. “We couldn’t waste it. Thousands of magicists gathering together around the world. Energy conjurations plus amplification conjurations …” The pounding in Ridley’s ears drowned out the next few sentences, but it didn’t matter because she already knew what he’d said. He’d mentioned the Shadow Society. He’d mentioned—Ridley almost laughed with glee when she remembered—Jude Madson. He’d even spoken about manipulating the Secretary-General himself.
Her ears tuned in again as Alastair finished with, “… and the whole world went boom. Devastating, but perfect. Overpopulation? Solved. Magic? Confined to the wastelands. And that’s where it will stay for the rest of time.”