Page 151 of Shades of Silver City

“Before you say I consume it, let it be known that I eat food for sustenance. The same as you. I enjoy the PD’s street tacos and a greasy hamburger as much as any two-legged being in this city does.” He pauses, offering me a coy smile. “Or four-legged, if we’re bringing that crafty little dog into it.”

After a beat of silence, he leans in and whispers, “I am the scythe not to destroy but to sow the new harvest.”

I squint. Before I can ask what that means, the air shimmers besides me and a dark shadow of fur appears in my periphery.

“He can veilwalk?” Arlo whispers, his face morphing into something akin to shock.

Take it. Scathe says urgently. Now, Tasia!

Without hesitation, I open my hand. Scathe drops a small bag into my waiting palm.

The dreamdust.

I don’t know where Godric is, but they got the dust.

This plan might work after all.

“I’ll tell you where your soul is going,” I say. Moving deftly while Arlo is still close—distracted by Scathe—I dump the dust into my hand and blow it straight into Arlo’s face before darting away from it. “Straight to hell.”

He staggers back, blinking a few times as he coughs. Glittering grey dust speckles on his shirt and floats like ash onto the ground around him.

“What did you do?” he asks, alarm pinching his handsome features. His eyes dart from me to Scathe.

His breathing increases, and he shakes his head in panic.

Scathe flickers out of sight, reappearing at Arlo’s side. He snarls, his white teeth gleaming with saliva as he clamps down on Arlo’s hand.

“Scathe—!” I yell. That isn’t part of the plan!

I can’t risk you and Archer, Scathe says frantically. Sorry, Tasia.

Arlo flinches, although he’s staying much more composed than I’d expect after being blasted with a deadly drug and bitten by a hellhound.

Clutching his bleeding hand to his chest, Arlo glances at Archer’s body, then back at Scathe. “You’ll regret that, Fantasia. Let me die, and you’ll regret it.” His voice warbles. Then his body flickers, fading into a shadow. “I’m the only connection to your father…” His voice fades as his body disappears from sight.

Scathe sneezes. He stands there, frozen, for a moment, watching the spot where Arlo disappeared.

Dropping to my knees, I wrap my arms around Scathe’s neck and sob. I bury my face into his thick midnight fur, inhaling his canine scent.

“Sirius save me,” I say, my body shaking from the adrenaline. “I can’t believe that worked.”

There is no remedy to the dreamdust. It works fast, and Arlo’s body was already showing signs of the drug working its way through his system. Which means my plan worked. Arlo disappeared to lick his wounds and die in private.

For a brief second, guilt squeezes my chest, but I turn my attention back to Archer and push the thought aside.

“We need to get Archer up,” I say, letting go of Scathe. I drop down beside Archer and pull his head into my lap. I check his pulse. It’s still strong and steady. “Where’s Godric?”

When no response comes, I glance up. “Scathe, can you wake Archer? Maybe you can mindspeak to him and get him to wake up?”

The hellhound is curled into a ball on the floor, his breath coming in quick pants.

“Scathe?”

Sliding out from beneath Archer’s head and gently placing it down on the ground, I dart back toward the mutt as quickly as I can.

“What’s going on?” I run my hands over him, looking for any signs of a wound. “Where are you hurt?”

A rumble shakes his body, like a growl he’s trying to suppress. When I peer into his blue eyes, I notice his irises are almost concealed entirely by his pupils.

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