Enough.” He glanced over at Zayvion, and I did too.
“What else, Shame?” I felt like I’d woken up too soon, and into a world that wasn’t the way it should be. It wasn’t just that I was tired and sore. It wasn’t just that Zay was injured and Shame looked like he was on death’s door. There was a deep wrongness about everything that triggered panic in my gut. I wanted to get out of this bed, take Zay—hells, take Shame and Zay and Terric—and get somewhere safe before whatever I was feeling, before the fear that scraped around inside me, got out and became real.
“Magic’s gone,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“Gone. Maybe just off. Certainly not accessible. The backup spells, which carry time-delay triggers—kind of like batteries to keep the city going—are in effect, keeping things like the hospitals and prisons limping along.” He tipped his head toward the window. “The backup spells won’t last long. Then it’s all going to go to hell out there. Soon. Real soon.”
Maybe it was the fact that he said it so calmly. Maybe it was just that he had finally put a name to my fear. Whatever it was, I suddenly felt calm. Reasonable even.
Have I mentioned I am good under pressure, and can handle stressful situations well? Consider it mentioned. Well, at least I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t access it now.
“Has this ever happened before?” I asked.
“Which part of it?”
“Magic being gone?”
“Brief flickers. Usually before storms.”
“So it’s not unheard of.”
“No, but it’s usually just a pause. Magic’s been out for hours now.”
“And are there standard procedures the Authority implements when this happens?”
“We’ve done them. All the things Sedra has allowed.”
“Do I want to know more about that?”
“She doesn’t want any of us screwing with anything more until the storm hits. It makes some sense. When magic is this unpredictable, adding fuel to the fire can be disastrous.”
“Explain disastrous.”
“Magic channels through all the spells set throughout the city, hits hard, blows the network, destroys Proxies’ brains, burns the city down. For starters.”
“So the plan is to do nothing?”
He shrugged one shoulder. It looked like it hurt. “That’s what Sedra wants. She’s been”—he looked over at the door as if expecting someone to walk in—“different.”
The latch clicked and Maeve pushed the door open, letting in the golden glow of light beyond the room, and the smell of lemon wood polish and something more savory that made my mouth water. Clam chowder, I thought. Maybe bread.
I blinked in the raised light. Shame got to his feet and headed over to the shadows again as if even that small amount of light coming near him burned.
“I thought I heard voices,” Maeve said. “I brought food. For both of you,” she said pointedly.
She expertly maneuvered a large tray with bowls, bread, and glasses of water on it over to the dresser, where she set the whole thing down. “How are you feeling, Allie?” She turned, a bowl of soup and hunk of bread on a plate in one hand, a glass of water in the other.
“Can you move the tray?” she asked.
I broke out of the hypnotic trance the food had me in—I was starving—and reached for the medical tray next to the bed that slid on wheels until it was over my lap.
Maeve placed the food and drink on it, adjusted the tray height without spilling a drop, and put her hands on her hips, giving me a motherly stare. “Headache?” she asked.
I already had the spoon in one hand and had gotten a mouthful of the creamy, rich, salty, buttery soup down. Still, I frowned. I didn’t have a headache. I didn’t really hurt at all, though I should. I’d used a lot of magic, and using magic always meant paying the price in pain.
“No headache,” I said. “I should, though.”
She nodded. “If there were magic flowing right now, under the ground, or inside you, you’d feel the pain. That’s why you still have the void stone on. As soon as magic kicks back on again, there’s a chance we’ll all suddenly feel the price of using.”
Didn’t that sound like fun?
“Any idea when that might happen?” I asked. “I like to plan for when I catch on fire.”
She turned back to the dresser. But Shame had already scuttled from the shadows and taken his share of the food. He was back in the chair in the shadows by the window, bowl in one hand, slurping it down.