Page 128 of Shades of Silver City

There is no beast inside of me, not actually. It’s only me and the part of my power I’ve stifled for so long.

Stuck in place, I stare down at the man at my feet. Tasia’s ex. Reed.

“Where is Tasia?” I ask Scathe, frantically searching the room.

The bar.

You let her go? I scold. You should’ve stayed with—

I’m your bonded, Archer. You are my concern.

Not wanting to argue with the hellhound, I locate my phone and dial Godric.

“Call Zeke. We need his services.” I tell him to come to Tasia’s, then hang up. Turning to Scathe, I ask, “Did anyone else see?”

No one is here. Scathe whines, low and dramatically. Your face—it’s normal now, but it changed. You weren’t…you.

A flicker of power buzzes to life inside of me, and instinct tells me I need to get rid of the soul I consumed. The sooner, the better. I’ve never done this before…never given in to the craving for death. I’ve always been strong enough to fight it.

Until her.

She is my weakness, and seeing her hurt is my undoing.

Without waiting for Godric and Zeke to show up, I dart outside and down the stairs to my bike. I situate Scathe’s helmet on his head before putting on my own, and then I take off toward Ma’s apartment.

My thoughts race as we fly down the streets, the buildings blurring past.

The boy would’ve died anyway. I didn’t actually kill him—only took his soul. I can still release it into the Wilds, free him, even though he doesn’t deserve it.

It’s not for you to decide what he deserves, Scathe says.

Get out of my thoughts, you meddling mutt!

I’m looking out for you, he thinks. I’m worried about you.

Gripping the handlebars tighter and leaning forward, I propel us forward faster, weaving in and out of traffic, mindful of the extra space I take up with Scathe’s sidecar.

I’ve always known I was different. When we were kids, it was clear that Godric’s magic was simple—he could make doors disappear, create illusions, ward objects. My power seemed weaker in comparison. But it was darker. Heavier. The scent of death on the wind. The gnawing hunger in response.

I was always afraid of following the rope and finding out what was tied to the other end.

I need to find the Reaper, I think to Scathe.

You are out of your damn—

He’s the only one like me. He can help.

Gritting my teeth, I pull into the alley beside Ma’s apartment and shut off my bike. Without taking off my helmet, I begin pacing. The hunger lingers, and I find myself sniffing the air, desperate for a hint of sweet anise.

I need to get this out of me, Scathe. It’s affecting me.

The only way I know to reach the Reaper is through death.

There’s no way I’ll kill someone to summon him. I can’t. Not an option. Especially not with this unchecked desire inside of me. I can’t guarantee I won’t ache for their soul myself.

“I’m not a monster,” I say, silencing the debate in my mind. It doesn’t even deserve contemplation.

What do I do, Scathe?

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