Page 153 of Shades of Silver City

I don’t give a fuck! I want to yell. I’m consumed with grief and heartbreak. My body is so heavy, it’s like an anchor—and I want nothing more than to drift down to the sea floor. To drown in my sorrows.

I like a lot of things about you, Tasia, a deep, steady voice says in my head, but that manner of talk is malarkey.

You can hear me? I think, trying to direct it toward my furry pal.

Heard all that melodrama.

A warm, wet tongue slathers my face with saliva, and my body instantly lightens. This time when I open my eyes, it’s Scathe’s furry face and pointed ears hovering over me. I squint, making out his vibrant, cool blue eyes—with normal pupils.

Sorry about the wound. One might say I wasn’t in my right mind.

Gasping, I sit up and wrap my arms around the mutt’s neck. My left arm is wrapped haphazardly with a dark piece of cloth, but the pain is already a whisper of what it was a moment ago.

“Holy shit—you’re okay.” Tears streak down my face and into the hellhound’s fur as I nuzzle him.

Keep that up and my fur will mat. I’d rather not entice Archer to brush me any more than he already does.

I laugh, making a snotty, bubbly sound.

Gross, Scathe says. But his voice is filled with dry humor.

Laughing harder, I release the mutt and run my hands over his neck fur—hitting the spot he likes. His back leg thumps involuntarily against the concrete floor as he leans into my touch.

Right…there… Ahhh yes.

“Tasia,” Archer says. The spell of the reunion is semi-broken as everything comes rushing back to me. Archer’s rich, golden eyes are filled with warmth as he gazes down at Scathe and me. “How’s your arm?”

“Forget about me—how are you? Arlo knocked you out!”

His lips slowly curve up into a grin as he kneels down beside me. Gently, he places his big, strong hands on either side of my head, working his fingers into my hair and holding me reverently.

“Look at us.” I chuckle. “We are one hell of a pair.”

“You’re one hell of a woman,” he says.

Before I can respond, his lips descend on mine—firm and demanding. Reaching up with my good arm, I pull him closer, deepening the kiss. When I make a soft sound of satisfaction, he groans and pulls away, releasing me.

“How is Scathe alive?” I ask. As ecstatic and grateful as I am that Scathe made it through the dreamdust high, panic courses through me at the thought that Arlo might’ve survived, too. “How is he okay?”

Archer and Scathe share a long look, and I realize they’re probably mindspeaking. After a few beats, Archer turns back to me with a serious expression on his face.

“Your blood.”

“What?” I frown in confusion.

“Scathe told me your theory on immunity. We think when he bit you…your blood neutralized the magic.”

“‘Blood is thicker than water, but blood can wash away dust,’” I whisper as it clicks into place. It’s not just immunity I possess, it’s an antidote.

My father must’ve known something terrible was coming to Silver City. He was in the thick of it. How else could he have planned all of this the way he did? Injecting me with the soul-magic mRNA. The bear…the note…the journals. The puzzle he left behind.

He didn’t just inject me with artificial magic, but with a solution.

I am the antidote—for everyone.

My pulse picks up.

“Archer,” I whisper. “We can save them.”

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