“Just a few more hours,” I promised myself. A few more hours, then I’d clean my wounds, go to bed, and the next day would come before I even realized it.
But the strangest thing—Ifeltsomething coming from beneath me. Warmth, except it wasn’t natural. It wasn’t coming from the sun. I looked down to see that a single weed had reached all the way up to the ledge, and the tip of it was grazing my hip a little.
My breath caught in my throat. My mind was flooded with too many different things all over again. That thing had beentinyjust minutes ago. It had been so small.
Now, the weed stood about thirty inches tall.
Suddenly, I was laughing. I ran my fingers over it, my body shaking from the laughter. It had been my magic. Of course it had—what else? I hopped from the ledge and kneeled in front of the weed like a lunatic, laughing and even crying a few tears now.
I’d grown something. It was a weed, but it wassomething. After twenty-three years of life, I’d finally manage to grow something with my magic.
And the feeling was incredible.
ChapterEleven
I putthe last of the salve I’d made with Mom’s recipe on the wound on my arm—the only one that still needed it. Everything else, even the deep cuts in my thigh, had closed completely, and now they were just pink lines with some purple and yellow bruises around them. The ones on my face had almost completely vanished, too—you couldn’t see them unless you knew they were there. And after sleeping for about ten hours straight, I felt like a completely different person. Reborn. Improved. A pixie who could actually grow weeds.
I thought yesterday was going to be the longest day of my life, but it wasn’t. After I grew that weed on the rooftop, I tried to grow more. It worked—only slightly because I was too focused ongrowing. Not enough of my attention was in my emotions.
Butthat’swhat triggered it—I was sure of it now. My emotions, good or bad, as long as they were intense enough, propelled my magic and gave it strength. Of course, I’d still need to do tests, but I finally felt a little hope. I finally felt like I could actually get somewhere with trying. As much as I wanted to call my mom and scream it at the top of my voice to telleveryone, I didn’t. I stopped myself—I would wait until I knew more. When I could actually get my magic to work throughwill, not just emotions. Because that’s what pixies do.
I’d tried so hard all day that by nightfall I’d been exhausted. That’s why I fell asleep at ten p.m. and didn’t wake up until eight. Now, as I got myself ready for work, I looked at myself in the mirror and I looked…alive. My eyes were wide open. My cheeks were a bit pink, which, as much as I hated it, suited me perfectly. Even my hair was glowing differently, though I hadn’t done anything else to it other than blow dry it.
“Today is going to be a good day,” I said to the mirror with a cheeky grin. I grew my first weed. What could possibly go wrong?
I found out the moment I stepped out of my apartment and my phone rang.
I thought it would be Hunter or Patricia or even Eva, calling to ask if I was coming in today. I planned to not pick up because I wanted to just show up and surprise them with some large lattes, but instead, the number that was calling me wasn’t one I knew. Could it be maybe the research crew? I had their number, but maybe one of the agents was calling me personally? Maybe they’d already figured out Crackdown?
“Good day,” I whispered to myself, my heart racing as I rushed down the hallway and hit the answer button on the phone. “Hello?”
“He’s not waking up.”
I stepped out the doors of the building and froze in place, my mind blank for a moment.
“Derek?” I’d never talked to him on the phone before, but it sounded like him.
“He’s not waking up, Teddy. He’s been asleep for over twenty-four hours, and he’s not waking up.”
My stomach turned and twisted and the view of the street in front of me disappeared completely. All I could see was Dominic with that syringe in his chest.
“Is he…” The words didn’t want to come out, but I pushed them out anyway. “Is healive?”
My eyes squeezed shut and all my being hung on Derek’s answer…
“He’s breathing.”
My knees were already shaking, so I sat down on the stairs, just for a little bit. “Good,” I whispered. “Good.”
“Not good. I’ve tried slapping him, pinching him, throwing ice water on his face. He won’t open his eyes. Won’t react at all.”
“I’m on my way.” I hung up the phone and my fingers shook as I ordered an Uber.
Dominic wasn’t waking up. How did Crackdown kill all those people the ODP had found? When they took too much of it, their system shut down. They spent some amount of time in a coma before their hearts stopped beating.
No.That was not Dominic’s case. He was just sleeping. He wasbreathing. He was alive, not dead. And he wasn’t going to be dead in the near future, either.
While I waited for the Uber, I opened my backpack right there on the sidewalk and went over the powders that I always kept with me. One of them that my mom sent me was meant to keep you up when you were sleepy and needed to stay awake. It worked better than caffeine or Redbull, and it shocked your whole system wide awake as soon as you sniffed it. I didn’t really use that much of it—only these past two months when I’d needed to stay awake longer to finish reports when I was working on cases, but I still had a little bit left in the tiny vial. It would have to do. One sniff, and Dominic would wake up from his sleep. He’d wake up and look at me and talk to me—I didn’t even care what he said. Just that I heard his voice.