I raise my face. It’s already tearstained from before, so it’s not too hard to look miserable. “The surges that are happening around London. I was wondering if…” I trail off, because Mr.Briggs has risen to his feet and is now pointing the gun at me. Dread slithers up my spine, and my pulse begins to hammer. Harrisford’s mother’s suit is swelteringly hot, the collar of my buttoned shirt too tight.
“You can stop now,” he says. His voice has turned acidic, a sinister whisper that slides effortlessly beneath my sticky, sweat-laced skin. “You can stop lying, girl. Did you really think I would believe thatridiculoussob story?”
And then I realize: He’d been humoring me, all that time. I start shaking. All I can see is the barrel of the gun. Deep inside it, there’s a tiny glow—the kernel of magic that will explode if he pulls the trigger. Magical guns are much like normal guns, bullets and all, except they’re triggered by magic instead of gunpowder.
“I’m not lying,” I say, but the words are weak and lack conviction.
Mr.Briggs adjusts his grip on the gun. “Oh, drop the charade. You really think I don’t conduct background checks on all my employees?” He tilts his head to one side and regards me through narrowed eyes. “I know that Hani Nguyen didn’t have a daughter. And I know her ID was locked in my study. I don’t know how the fuck you got it, but you can stop lying and tell me where you’re from.”
That’s it. My cover is blown. My pulse is racing, and my mouth has run dry. But a reckless sort of abandon is tearing through my body. The adrenaline, probably—my sympathetic nervous system has kicked into overdrive.
I know the signs: the effects of adrenergic receptor activation. My pupils are dilating, my heart rate is increasing, my lungs are expanding to full capacity. Blood is being diverted from my extremities and pooling at my core.
I know the adrenaline is clouding my mind and my judgmentand giving me courage I don’t possess. Logically, my brain understands this—that my bravery is artificial…But honestly, in this moment, I don’t even care.
Physiology fuckingrules.
I raise my chin, glaring at him. “Where is Hani Nguyen, Mr.Briggs? You say she’s no longer here. What does that mean? Is she dead?”
“You’re riding a dangerous wave, little witch,” he spits out. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
I struggle against my bindings again. “I know that you’re responsible for the power surges, Mr.Briggs. I know that you’re involved in a cover-up. I know that Magecorp iskillingpeople—”
“No.” He takes a step closer, still holding the gun with both hands. A shadow slides across his face, his pale eyes gleaming in the dim light, but I don’t fail to notice that his hands are shaking. “You knownothing.”
I swallow. My heart thumps louder. My eyes lock on the gun.
It’s probably just the adrenaline talking, but if I might die here, murdered by Darghan Briggs in the Magecorp HQ vault, I may as well make sure he knows his actions aren’t going unnoticed. “Are you going to kill me like you killed Hani, Mr.Briggs? Elouise Forrester? Benjamin Purcell?”
Mr.Briggs’s face pales, his forehead a slick sheen of sweat. It gives me a heedless sort of courage, and I continue to push. “What about Dr.Wallan, Mr.Briggs? Or Li-wen Tan? Do all their families know they’re dead?”
When Harrisford’s father speaks again, it comes out as a whisper. “Who are you?” His fingers clasp the gun so tightly that his knuckles have gone all white. “How do you know those names? Are you a reporter? Are you from the WTS?”
I ignore his questions. “Was it the surges that killed them? Whyare they happening? Does it have to do with the mines? Is there trouble with the workers there?” I am relentless, stubborn, flinging questions at Darghan Briggs as though I am not the one tied up and he’s not the one with the gun. “Have you lost control of your magical mines, Mr.Briggs? Does Magecorp have issues the public doesn’t know about?” I shake my head, my eyes wide. “What will your shareholders think, Mr.Briggs?”
“Mines?” he scoffs. “There are nomines.”
My heart falters for a moment, then resumes at a rapid pace. My jaw is clenched so hard it’s like I’m pulverizing my teeth to dust. “Then how do you harvest magic?” My bound hands shake, my fingers curling into fists.
Mr.Briggs huffs out a laugh, his eyes still hard and cold. “Good grief. Mines! If only it were that easy!” He moves even closer, the gun inching incrementally closer to my face. “There aren’t any mines. There isn’t even a reliable source of magic. There’s only our world—the real world—and the other world…the Void. And it’s Magecorp’s job to tear holes in the universe so that the magic flows to us.”
I freeze, shocked into silence by this revelation. The Void? The Void isreal?
All this time I’d assumed that Magecorp had some secret supply that they mined and harvested for magic. When it actually sounds like Magecorp destabilizes the very fabric of the world in order to steal power from the Void.
Since my family are not really religious, I’m not well versed in the theories surrounding the Void. I know there are certain religious denominations that worship it, but neither I nor my family ever believed it to be real. How strange that now, just as I’m about to die, I find out that it is.
“So, what?” I ask. “The magic is flowing from the Void too quickly? Is that what’s happening?”
“No, girl,” Mr.Briggs says, and frowns. “It’s that too many holes are being ripped in the world at once.”
“And Magecorp is doing that? Why? Greed?”
“God, no! You’ve got it all wrong. We don’t know why the extra holes are forming—”
“But you were willing to let your employees die to find out,” I snarl. “Andcover it up.”
He lets out a disdainful laugh. “They sacrificed themselves in the name of research. It’s for the greater good.”
