Page 141 of Shades of Silver City

Sorry, Tasia. I was only trying to help.

“All right then,” Godric says, blowing out a puff of air dramatically. “We’re only trying to help. I’m going to get you out of here.”

“That’s what it just said, too,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my face. “The voice.”

Godric presses his palm into the door and closes his eyes. His palm glows white.

“I’m sorry, Godric. I’m on edge. After Reed overdosed and Archer turned into a freaking ghoul and slurped up his soul like a freaking spaghetti noodle and then Mellie turned me in and I basically murdered a Scout to get away—oh, with Stace and Alisha’s help, of everyone’s? Not to mention thinking Scathe got shot and accidentally inhaling dreamdust, thinking I was going to die, only to wake up here and find out Arlo is the Reaper and he’s Archer’s brother, all on top of the weird voice in my head. I’m losing it.”

I pause, sucking in a huge breath to compensate for the lack of air during my rant.

“Whoa.” Godric stills, his hand pressed against my glass prison. The white light on his palm flickers. His jaw goes slack, and he stares at me with a blank expression. “You said—Archer what?”

Of course out of everything I rambled, the mention of Archer takes precedence. He’s his brother after all. I can’t blame him. “Looks like you and Archer have a third brother in the mix,” I say, throwing my hands up. “The cocky lab owner.”

“Arlo? The one making a bid for High Chancellor?” Godric shakes his head. Keeping one hand on the glass, he runs his other hand over his face. “Fuck,” he mutters, shutting his eyes again. “Where the fuck is Archer?”

“I don’t know—wherever reapers go with souls?”

His eyes flick open, and the glow emitting from his palm subsides. “He’s not a reaper.”

“I saw it with my own eyes.” Unless I’m going crazy.

You’re not going crazy, Tasia. Well, maybe a little, but certainly not because of me.

“Get out of my head!” I glare at Godric. “You don’t hear that?”

He pauses, glancing at Scathe, then back at me. His eyes narrow contemplatively. “What exactly does this voice sound like?”

“I don’t know. Deep. Sassy. Kind of annoying.”

Godric sighs and turns his attention to Scathe, who sits patiently like a good boy at his side. “Knock it off, hound.”

“He’s not doing anything. Don’t snap at him.”

“You want him to leave you alone or what?” Godric shuts his eyes again, and his palm begins to glow once more.

It takes me a minute to understand what he’s implying. “No. No. Scathe isn’t—he can talk?”

“Mindspeak,” Godric murmurs. His hand is glowing brighter now. “Can you give me a second, please? Trying to get you out of there.”

“Shit, yeah, sorry.”

I focus on my own thoughts. You can speak?!

Woof, woof, bark, Scathe says into my mind as sarcastically as ever. Yes, Tasia, I can.

What the ever-loving fuck?

Scathe barks. If Archer was here, he’d scold you for that, you know.

A loud cracking noise grabs my attention, and I notice the glass beneath Godric’s palm is cracking upward in a long zigzag.

“Back up,” he says.

I do as he says, and a second later, the glass shatters, collapsing in a pile of jagged edges at his feet.

“Holy shit.” I stare at the broken glass in awe. “That was pretty cool.”

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