Page 27 of Shades of Silver City

The Phantom looks much too young to have been in a leadership position all those years ago, when the dust first hit the streets, but it doesn’t matter. Whether it was him or someone else, the Nightcrawlers are all the same to me. Selfish, uncivil instigators of mayhem.

The air leaves his lungs in a long, slow whoosh as he turns to face me. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So you’re a law-abiding citizen?”

His mouth opens, and then he clamps it shut, fury blazing in his eyes. “We have more important things to discuss than my civil disobedience to a corrupt political system that takes advantage of the working class.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“We have more important things.” Cracking his knuckles, he says, “The Reaper is a type of fae meant to ferry souls to their final resting place. However, I have a working theory that he’s consuming souls for power rather than releasing them as he should.”

My skin prickles. “Releasing them where?”

He holds up a hand. “Beyond.”

“Your sarcasm isn’t appreciated.”

“It isn’t sarcasm. And the minor details don’t matter.”

“They do to me.”

“Simply put, when you die, you’re dead for good. Your soul is no longer identifiably human. It’s more…energy than anything else. And it settles back into nature.”

“How the hell do you know this?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

I grit my teeth. “So you think the Reaper is behind the deaths?”

“I don’t know—reaper fae can only consume the souls of those who have died.”

“Wait…” The gears in my mind spin. “Those men—they were alive when the Reaper took their souls. So how is that possible?”

“I don’t know.” The Phantom runs a hand over his face, and the sight of his skull tattoo reminds me of who I’m in cahoots with currently. “I was wondering how he was able to consume a living soul, too.”

“I’ve only seen grey soul-shades around people who are…no longer living.”

“Which leads me to believe that something—or someone—is causing peoples’ souls to die before their body does.”

“How?” I whisper, shivering at the implication.

“It’s too coincidental that he is simply in the right place at the right time,” the Phantom mutters, more to himself than to me. “I believe their deaths were unnatural. I can sense death. And you can see it.” A beep comes from his pants. Sighing, he pulls his phone out. His eyes dart across the screen before he stuffs the phone back into his pocket.

My blood pounds in my skull. This is an opportunity for me to get some answers, to find out more about what happened to my parents. I work to stay collected so he won’t pick up on my excitement and take advantage of it. Right now, he needs me. I have the upper hand, and I would like to keep it that way.

“Wait—how the hell do you have service down here?” I snap.

“Jammer.” He points to the pocket where my phone sits. “Blocks your service. Doesn’t affect my phone.”

“You can’t keep me down here forever.”

“No,” he agrees, squinting at me.

“So, what, you want me to find people with grey soul-shades and bring them to you before the Reaper gets them or something?”

His jaw tenses as he levels me with a piercing stare. “Not exactly.”

“You can sense them, too. Why don’t you do this yourself?”

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