It was a predatory grin, and it didn’t make me feel any better.
“Come in,” she said.
I walked inside and onto a metal balcony that overlooked the giant pipes. I jumped when she slammed the door shut behind me, and blinked from the glare of the circle, which made a low thrush sound every time it completed a rotation.
“You’re Sebastian’s friend.”
I turned around. The dark-haired girl was gone, replaced by Fayden Campbell. She wore the same black bodysuit Scout and I had seen her in earlier.
“And you’re his cousin. The Reaper.”
“I really don’t care for that name. It’s inaccurate. We borrow energy that replenishes itself. There’s no Reaping. But that’s not the point. Why are you here?”
I almost started to argue with her, and it took me a second to remember the part I was supposed to play.
“I’m not . . .” My voice sounded nervous, so I cleared my throat and started again. “I’m not sure about this Adept thing.”
Fayden arched a very carefully plucked black eyebrow. “Not sure about it?”
Play the role, I told myself, and turned to lean against the railing that overlooked the well of pipes and pumps.
“They just give up,” I said. “I’m not saying I agree with what you’re doing, but that can’t be right, either, can it?” I looked back at her. “Can it?”
Her eyes narrowed, clearly not sure whether to take me seriously. “You tell me,” she said.
“I’ve talked to Sebastian about it. He thinks everything is gray—not just black or white—that I’m being brainwashed by the Adepts. But I don’t know what to believe. When I lost my magic, I figured out that you were responsible, and that you can turn magic on and off again. I like that idea.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she said.
She wasn’t buying it. My mom had once told me that the best way to make friends wasn’t to tell them about yourself, but to ask them about themselves. So I changed tactics.
“So this circle thing. It turns off magic?”
She looked over at it, admiration in her eyes. She was proud of what she’d made. “It provides control over the distribution of magic.”
“So you can be in charge of everyone?”
“So that we can be in charge of ourselves. We are superheroes. We have powers. We can do important things in the world. But not the way we currently exist. Right now we hide from the world. The majority of the Dark Elite eke out an existence while Adepts take the moral high ground. We waste our energies on internal battles fought by teenagers in tunnels. But with this, we become unified again.”
“So instead of people making their own decisions about magic, you get to make them on their behalf?”
“That’s vastly oversimplified.”
It seemed accurate to me.
“The Scions are old-school leaders,” she said. “They don’t direct. They don’t lead. They don’t do anything new or interesting. They follow old rules and use old tactics. Jeremiah is the reason I left for California. ‘Join us or leave,’ he’d said. What kind of option is that? Who does he think he is?”
Her words were coming faster now, and her tone was more intense. There was no doubt she believed what she was saying.
“I did some research. Studied, with my friends, the way of magic.” She looked back at me. “There are so many things we can do that he doesn’t even know about. But was he swayed? No.” Her eyes narrowed. “It’s time for him to know what it’s like not to have control. To have someone else be in charge for a little while.”
“So are you doing this to teach him a lesson, or to make life better for members of the Dark Elite?”
She scowled. However mixed her motives may have been, she didn’t like my pointing that out. “My plan, little girl, is magical socialism. We all have a role to play. We will all contribute equally, and we will all have a little magic to use as we will.”
While she talked, I nudged a little closer to the railing, judging the distance I had to throw the key. It was at least forty feet. Could I get it that far? I wasn’t sure.
I looked back at Fayden. “That’s all well and good, but you haven’t exactly figured out how to do that, have you? I mean, you clearly know how to take magic away—but you haven’t yet figured out how to give it back.”
Her expression darkened. “What do you want?”
I’d hit a nerve. Her patience with me wasn’t going to last much longer. I was getting close to crunch time, when I was going to have to throw the key. But before I did, since I had only one shot, I thought I might as well ask her to be rational.
“I want you to turn this thing off and give our magic back.”
“Fat chance of that.” Our conversation apparently over, she took a step forward. I took my chance, reared back my arm, and prepared to throw the key as hard as I could—but something grabbed my hand.
I looked back. It was the dark-haired girl, and her fist was wrapped around mine.
Frick.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“My room key,” I said, snatching my hand back. “I was going to, you know, throw it at her as a distraction.”
The dark-haired girl growled. Fayden had better instincts.
“Let me see that,” she said, taking another step closer.
“I would really rather not,” I said, peeking over the rail at the pipes below. The drop was a good ten feet. Just far enough that I might make it . . . or I might not. But if I did, I’d have better access to the circle.
What a horrible night to wear a borrowed dress and three-inch heels.
Fayden took another step closer and held out a hand. “I’m going to need you to give me that key right now.”
I wrapped the ribbon around my hand, entwining it in my fingers so I wouldn’t drop it when I fell.
“I don’t think so,” I said. I put a hand on the railing, and I jumped.
19
I’m not going to lie—it hurt. The pipe was made of metal and the top was round, so I hit it on my knees and then rolled halfway off. The pain startled me enough that the key skittered from my fingers.
“Get her,” Fayden yelled from the balcony. Two of her minions made a run for it.
Grimacing, I pulled myself back onto the pipe, then crawled forward to find the key. It had fallen between my pipe and another, and I had to dig my fingers between them to find it. I’d just barely managed to get a finger around the ribbon when a shot of firespell exploded above my head.