Page 147 of Shades of Silver City

“So he was a good guy.” That’s enough to bring me a small sense of relief. It won’t bring my dad back, but it at least explains why he did what he did. And they must’ve thought my mother knew about my dad’s experiments with magic, even though she was mentally incapable of understanding any of his work. “If he was glamoured into creating the dust, it wasn’t his fault—it was against his consent.”

“Yeah.” Archer swipes a hand over his jaw. “After all this time, why did Arlo choose to come after you now?”

“Maybe for my dad’s journals?” I say. “He stole them, after all.” Thinking of my dad’s words, I reach into my bra, pulling out the note.

“Does it really matter?” Godric asks. “I’m ready to murder the bastard.”

“He’s cunning,” Archer says. “We need to come up with a plan.”

“Can you read this?” I ask the men, unfolding the paper and showing it to them.

“No.” Archer and Godric both say. They shake their heads, looking at me curiously.

“Good. You said he’s in the city still?” I ask, wheels turning. “So he doesn’t know I escaped?”

“Shouldn’t,” Godric says.

“I don’t like where this is going,” Archer growls. “Whatever you’re thinking, Tasia—”

“Godric,” I say, ignoring Archer, “can you use your magic to put the glass back together?”

“In theory, yes.”

“Take me back.” Meeting Archer’s gaze, I say, “I have an idea. But I need dreamdust for it.”

Ignoring their protests, I rise, heading out of the room. They have no choice but to follow.

Help me out here, Scathe, I say. Lead the way out.

Tell me your plan at least so someone can have your back. Scathe whines, trotting ahead of me. He glances back, and I swear the beast has a glint of judgment in his blue eyes.

Fine, but you can’t tell Archer. If he doesn’t know my plan, his bargain with Arlo can’t stop him. No harm, no foul.

Icy fear freezes my veins as I go over the plan in my head. The note from my dad had a line that didn’t make sense before, but now I think I understand it: Blood is thicker than water, but blood can wash away dust.

Blood, as in my blood. Washing away dreamdust. As in cleansing the poison. Maybe I’m overthinking it, but it feels right, especially after reading my dad’s journal. Plus, the Scout blew the dust into my mouth, and I never got high. I’m still alive today, with no apparent issues.

I think…I think I’m immune to dreamdust, I say to Scathe. I can hide it in my mouth and blow it into Arlo’s face. Just like the Scout did to me.

If I’m wrong? Well, I won’t live long enough to find out…

"Any concerns I harbor about becoming obsolete are alleviated by the certainty that I alone possess the requisite knowledge and expertise to carry out this research. It has taken two decades to reach this point.”

-Excerpt from the personal journal of Dr. Claude Foster, Director of Faeology at Mesmeric Labs

CHAPTER 35

FANTASIA

“Tell me your plan, Tasia,” Archer growls. I’ve never seen the man so terrifyingly angry, not even when he sucked Reed’s soul down.

“Not happening,” I say for like the tenth time.

Godric gets behind the wheel of his SUV and drives away, presumably off to locate Stace and Alisha, to find more dreamdust, if he’s a man of his word.

I can only hope he finds them and that they have access to more.

Without my cell phone, it’s not like I can call them and check on them.

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