Page 45 of Shades of Silver City

“Is that the bartender?” he asks. “What do you need?”

“The Rising Star,” I say, losing my breath…and my patience. “Hurry. The Reaper.”

I end the call and shove my phone into my pocket as Tasia continues to yell and struggle against me.

There’s no sense in arguing with her. My energy will be put to better use getting us the hell out of here. I stick to alleys and side streets to avoid curious gazes while Tasia continues to kick and pound like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

It’s very unlikely anyone would intervene, but it’s better to avoid attention as much as possible. Some noble-hearted citizen might call the Scouts.

A few streets over, I find the abandoned building I’m looking for.

Stepping inside, I maneuver through the maze of rooms in the dark like a pro, careful not to step on the rotting planks or gaping holes that lead to the floor below. It’s pitch-black, and all the windows are boarded up now, but it hasn’t always been this way. I’ve been here so many times that I can get around by simply counting my steps.

Tasia complains the whole time. I ignore her, keeping my grip tight as I step up to a wall that hides a secret passage. My hand roams across the crumbling wallpaper, searching for the hidden button. When I find it, I press it.

A piece of the wall pushes inward, and I step into the passageway. Before me, a staircase spirals downward. Right now, I can’t see it, but I know the layout by heart.

“Where the hell are we?” Tasia asks.

“Almost there.”

The tunnels beneath the Packing District are the last remnants of an ancient underground fae city. The land was long ago bargained away to the humans who built Silver City atop the ruins. Shortly after, an iron wall was erected around the perimeter. When the fae breached the wall back when I was young, it was reinforced and infused with salt.

I’m pretty sure the salt and iron can’t really ward off the fae—that’s just a myth the fae fed to the humans—but the wall seemed to work well enough…until the Reaper showed up.

We bounce down the steps, and Tasia’s breasts press against my back. My cheeks flush, but then she starts cursing again, causing me to flinch.

“You sound like a banshee,” I mutter.

“And you sound like an asshole.”

“Mature.”

“Says the kidnapper. Again with the kidnapping!”

At the bottom of the stairs, I push a door open with my hip. We’re greeted with dim light and the scent of earth. I blink a few times, letting my eyes adjust.

The tunnels are like arteries running through the city’s underbelly. Just as our own arteries carry blood away from our heart, these tunnels carry secrets away from the city’s heart.

This is one of the lesser-used passageways down here in the Underground. The illumination comes from small bulbs attached to cords that dangle from the ceiling every so often. Although the Nightcrawlers work to maintain the electric wires, we’ve not done much else. The pathway, made of packed dirt, is framed with wooden beams and lined with doors leading to vacant rooms.

I kick the door shut behind me and plant Tasia on the ground.

She stuffs something into her pocket and immediately runs for the door, kicking up a small cloud of dirt in her wake. When she realizes there’s no handle, no way to exit from here, she launches into a curse-filled tirade.

“You said you’d protect them!” she yells hoarsely, then coughs and rubs her throat.

I frown. “I’m protecting you.”

At that, she goes quiet, and her cheeks turn pink. “I don’t need your protection,” she whispers.

Maybe she’ll change her mind when I tell her the Scouts are searching for her. But for some reason I don’t want to alarm her. And Pixel is on top of things, so it might not even matter, but if someone wants to find Tasia as desperately as they seem to, she might truly need my protection.

“Does your throat hurt?” I ask.

She stares at me with narrowed eyes before nodding, continuing to rub her throat. “A fuckton.”

“We really must work on your vocabulary,” I say.

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