Page 58 of Her Magic Light

“How long have you got?” Her laugh this time was almost a giggle, and I rolled my eyes.

“I’m lying under a bed in solitary confinement, talking to an air vent. I don’t think I’m particularly in a rush to leave.” I paused and amended my statement. “They’re not in a rush to let me out, anyway.”

“We each have a special talent.” She didn’t directly acknowledge my statement. It seemed like she just continued her story instead. “Okay. So let me give you an example.” She paused like she was thinking before sighing again. “There are vampires here with the ability to teleport. Sometimes they can go great distances. Other times it might only be across the facility.”

I started to laugh before the sound cut off abruptly, surprising even me. “People can teleport?” An unwelcome image of the guy in the blue light who’d appeared outside my cell on the first night took shape in my head. He’d been in his own cell not long before. One moment there, the next beside me.

“Some of them can remote view or influence your thoughts or feelings, too. There are shifters here who can dream walk, and mages and warlocks.”

“Like witches.” I’d been acquisitioned to a school for magical beings? It sounded like she was describing the script of a movie. “I don’t believe in witches.”

She was clearly delusional. That’s why she was here in “the Facility.” Did that make me delusional, too? Was that why I’d been brought here and didn’t understand anything going on? I gritted my teeth from crying out. No, I wouldn’t think like that. Not yet.

Every word my new friend spoke cemented the fact she wasn’t altogether in her head…

Or… I’d tumbled into a life I couldn’t fathom, and my new friend understood way more than I was prepared to give her credit for. Could I really be special?

I considered Adrian. What had happened… what I’d done… I shuddered.

I’d do better not to listen to anything she had to say. I needed to focus on getting out of here, not being drawn deeper into a web of make believe.

But the image of that guy wouldn’t leave my thoughts. He’d been right outside my cell. I’d seen him. Then he’d helped me sleep.

“They all have a unique spell-binding ability or an unusual enchantment they use. But why are you here, Meira? What’s your talent?” She was insistent and probing, like she wanted me to really think about my answer.

I spread my fingers like she could see the gesture, like she’d know I’d considered her question and come up empty-handed. “I don’t even know what that means.”

She sighed again. “I can’t believe how little you know. Haven’t you tried to find anything out since you’ve been here?”

Her question irritated me, and I nearly shoved my way out from under the bed. “You try getting information out of the stone wall who walked me around the facility.”

Coop had certainly been less than helpful most days. Locke, too.

“I don’t have a talent like you mean,” I said. “I’m not a supernatural anything.”I only murder.I winced as the thought took hold in my head and in my heart. “I destroy,” I murmured. “That’s my talent.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

“Listen. They don’t make mistakes here. If they’re interested in you, it’s what you can do for them.” She’d stopped whispering as low, urgent words seemed to spill out of her instead. “The government is building an army capable of spying on enemies and taking down terrorists or neutralizing their threats without the need to deploy actual troops. Youmusthave a talent. You wouldn’t be here otherwise. Hasn’t anyone told you what it is? Have you been taken for tests yet?”

She was mad as a box of frogs, but there was still something oddly comforting about the idea that another person wanted to spend time talking to me—even though we both probably had nothing but time at the moment. Maybe this was as important to her for the same reasons. There was definitely irony in the fact that one of my longest conversations in this place was taking place in solitary confinement.

“Meira?” she prompted. “What’s your talent?”

I shrugged, the movement half-hearted and constricted by the small space beneath the bed and the handcuffs I still wore. “I saw Dr. Anderson. He mentioned light magic, I suppose.”

Dr. Anderson was mad as a box of frogs, too.

“Fuck.” Her curse was quiet but clear, but she didn’t say anything else.

“Hello?” I whispered. “Are you still there?”

She stayed silent, and I touched the air vent again.

“Hello?” Despair crept into my chest at the continued silence, and I strained to hear even soft breathing. But nothing came through. She’d gone.

I shifted my position again, trying to find something more comfortable so I’d hear if she came back. I didn’t want to lose the voice. It was all I had.

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