Page 158 of Shades of Silver City

When those in power neglect their duty to protect the city, the Nightcrawlers ensure safety—they fight back against the harm caused by greed and corruption.

Like the nightcrawler worms surfacing at night to feast on decay, they, too, emerge from the shadows, feeding on the city’s waste.

In the underbelly of our tainted city, the Nightcrawlers prowl.

"The majority of individuals exhibit a persistent and invariant shade. However, recent research showcases a capacity for alteration and adaptability…”

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

EPILOGUE

FANTASIA

Two months go by, and Arlo doesn’t make an appearance. Pixel stays glued to her screens, running all sorts of programs to search for his face and track the web for chatter about him. Other than rumors about his unusual disappearance during his bid for High Chancellor, nothing interesting comes up.

We successfully distributed small samplings of my antidotal blood through the public water system, which minimized the amount of dreamdust deaths, while the Nightcrawlers worked to clear the streets of the remaining dust. Other than the increased presence of Silver Scouts, and the same lingering injustices, things are going pretty okay.

“Maybe you should try to get the Ministries’ backings,” I say, rubbing Archer’s shoulders after a long day of helping people move. He finally convinced a dozen or so cityfolk to move off the street and into his mother’s old building. Glamour-free, I might add.

I’m glad the space isn’t going to waste.

Now, we sit in the newly furnished lobby while the new tenants—for lack of a better term, since Archer is charging them nothing—get situated in their rooms upstairs. Cleaning, remodeling, and moving has been a massive undertaking, and we’re all beat.

Archer moans, leaning his head back in pleasure as my fingers continue to knead his flesh.

“Get a room, you assholes,” Godric mutters from a nearby ladder, where he screws in a new lightbulb. “We’re in public.”

Pixel giggles from a table across the lobby, where she curls over her laptop and types furiously.

“Shut up, jerk!” I call to Godric. “You’re just jealous no one wants to touch your grumpy body.”

Godric snorts. Archer shakes his head, reaching back to grab my hand. He turns his head and places a tender kiss on my palm. “What’d you say about the Ministries?” he mutters, continuing to pepper me with kisses.

“Edict twenty-four,” I say. “If you get at least eighty percent of the Ministries to back you, you can run for High Chancellor.”

He laughs, shifting on the couch and pulling me toward him until I sit between his legs with my back to him. His fingers begin working the knots in my shoulders, and immediately I see why he moaned the way he did.

Gods, his hands feel so good.

“Why are you wearing this?” he asks, giving the sleeve of my hoodie—or rather, his hoodie—a gentle tug. “It’s hot out.”

I shake my head. “I’m comfy. Plus, I like that it smells like you. So, Chancellor?” I tease.

He chuckles. “Who says I want to run for Chancellor?”

“Uh, you’d be the best man for the job, Arch. Are you kidding me?”

“She’s got a point.” Godric descends from the ladder, moves it over a few feet, and climbs back up to repair another light fixture. His eyes flick to Pixel in the corner, and I don’t miss the way his gaze softens as he watches her work. A small smile forms on my lips. As if he can tell I’m staring at him, he turns his attention to me and narrows his eyes. “What’re you looking at?”

“Oh, nothing.” I smirk. “Hey, Pixel?”

Godric’s gaze turns murderous.

“What’s up?” she says, looking up from the computer screen and adjusting her glasses.

I let Godric sweat in the silence that stretches, let him worry that I’ll make a joke about his little crush and embarrass him.

But I figure it’s not my place to intervene with a blossoming love. Especially when it’s one-sided.

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