Page 31 of Shades of Silver City

I uncross my arms, striding over to Godric. We clasp each other’s right forearm in greeting, then quickly pull apart. I jerk my chin toward the door.

“What’s that about?”

“Another one last night.” He runs a hand down his face. “Out of the blue. No apparent cause of death. Her body just shut down—violently, I might add—right in front of them.”

Sofia’s face flits through my mind, and a pang of grief slices my chest. Although I try to remember her as the happy, vibrant girl she once was, I can only see her in those final few weeks—ill and fading away. All color leached from her clammy skin, her eyes vacant.

The grief turns to hot, visceral anger.

I clear my throat, trying to swallow the lump forming there. “Where were they when it happened?”

“Downtown. By the bars.”

Again.

I don’t bother to ask if anyone saw the Reaper. They can’t see through his glamour. Only Godric and I can…and apparently Tasia, too.

“They spot anything unusual right before her death?”

He swipes a hand over his mouth. “Onlookers claimed she was wasted. Running around barefoot, cursing up a fucking storm.” He shakes his head and releases a heavy sigh. “Sounds like she was high off her ass. Could explain the sudden death.”

I run a hand through my hair, reminding myself that she’s not Sofia. “Any history of use?”

“Unconfirmed,” he says. “Pixel?”

“I’m on it,” she says from where she sits, clacking away at her keyboard. “Thanks to Zeke sending over the fingerprints, I’ve located her file within the Ministry of Records, and I just need to update my code to get through this monolith of a mainframe…” She glances over her shoulder at me. “They updated their firewalls this morning… Beautiful encryption. A shame to destroy it…” She clears her throat, her fingers working rapidly. “I have another system running her social accounts. Once I get those and her records, we’ll know more.”

Godric’s forehead wrinkles, and I reach up, patting him on the shoulder. I know this affects him as deeply as it does me. “Zeke do the full autopsy already?”

“Nah. Sent the prints, but we’re waiting on lab work,” he says.

“Send it to me when you get it,” I say. “You’re doing good work, brother.”

Godric is a good man. He joined the Nightcrawlers for all the right reasons—he wanted to make a difference and help the neglected citizens of the Packing District.

He lost Sofia, too. He gets it.

Sure, we have a hand in illegal dealings and often flout the law—and some of us even have enough blood on our hands to paint the city red—but we look out for the cityfolk. The people overlooked by the upper echelon.

People like Sofia who would’ve lived if things were different.

“I really need to go, Godric.” I glance at the matte-black watch weighing down my wrist. “Scathe might eat the couch out of boredom if I’m not home in a timely fashion.”

Godric grunts, then cocks his head. “Wait—you telling me you finally bought some fucking furniture? It’s about damn time you spent some money on you.”

“Well, I didn’t technically buy it, but…” I whip out my phone and press a few buttons, pulling up a picture of a forest-green sectional. “It’s an Yvonné. Entirely customizable. Modular. Made of sustainable—”

“Sofa.” Godric snorts a laugh. “That’s a fucking sofa, but it’s a big one. I’ll give you that. Now make some friends so it can get some ass.”

“Crude,” I mutter, giving my head a shake. “Sorry about him, Pixel.”

She chuckles. “Used to it.”

I have an unfortunate feeling that Godric and the bartender would get along great—if he would stop accusing her of being like her father. The thought of the sassy, scowling woman sends a zip of excitement through me. “You didn’t have to tie up Tasia like that, by the way.”

“Tasia? Nickname basis already?” He narrows his eyes knowingly, and his lips curve into a smirk. “I wasn’t trying to hurt her. Was just doing my job, boss.”

I nod. “Also,” I say, lowering my voice, “I propositioned her.”

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