Page 68 of Shades of Silver City

Considering the state Tasia’s apartment was in when I was there, I’m surprised to see how neat she is—organizing her trash and dirty laundry. Chuckling softly to myself, I scoop up her clothes so I can wash them for her.

Something falls out of one of the pockets, hitting the ground with a soft swish.

I bend to pick it up. My fingers skim the package, and I freeze.

No.

My blood goes cold.

Fury works its way through my veins—whispering at first, getting louder and louder until my skull throbs with its screams.

Just the sight of the powder—a grey dust with silvery specks—in the small baggie brings an indescribable ache to my heart.

Squeezing the bag in my fist, I try to process how I missed the signs of Tasia being on the dust.

I missed them in my sister, too, until it was too late. In hindsight, I should’ve known. Should have seen the way her smile slowly faded. The way her liveliness dimmed out. The way she stopped enjoying our moments together—instead becoming lost to her own mind.

Sofia’s face pops into my mind. Not the bright, beautiful, smiling girl I adored, but the girl with dull eyes. The girl with the faded pallor of someone too far gone.

One night she took too much.

Her scent in those final moments had a soft hint of anise that grew stronger by the second. But by the time I smelled her impending death, it was too late.

Always too late.

Sniffing the air, I begin to pace, my heart beating erratically as I try to figure out what to do with this revelation about Tasia. I’m relieved to detect no sickeningly sweet scent of imminent death.

Maybe it’s not too late for Tasia to quit. She doesn’t seem as hooked on it as Sofia was.

But that does little to quell the roaring in my ears.

I grip the edge of the bathroom counter, steadying myself, taking one breath at a time.

My heart rate comes down, finding a baseline. With one last lengthy exhale, I walk back into the bedroom and lean against the wall across from Tasia, watching her sleep, outraged that she brought the dust into my home but also deeply concerned that I almost didn’t catch the signs.

“I can’t do this again,” I whisper. “I can’t lose someone else.”

A short while later, Tasia wakes and mumbles something to Scathe. She plants a kiss on his head. The tender adoration there almost dissolves my anger, but I glance away, fingering the baggie in my hand. Reminding myself that Tasia can’t be trusted.

Not if she’s on the dust.

My phone buzzes, and I fumble with it, quickly turning the vibration off so it doesn’t disturb her. Zeke’s name pops up.

Zeke: The bodies from the bar tested positive for an unknown substance. Matches something I found in a few others.

Zeke: Would’ve found it sooner if my labs weren’t messed with…

Frowning at my phone, I text him back, letting him know we’ll talk in person. Then I delete the messages before swiping out of the thread and stuffing the phone into my pocket. If Zeke’s work is being messed with, I guarantee it’s being done by someone powerful with something to hide… Maybe even the same someone trying to scare—or harm—Tasia.

It’s almost a guarantee that whoever it is will be at the masquerade.

Tasia screams, and my heart stops.

Something soft but firm hits me in the face. I stagger backwards. The pillow she threw at me rests at my feet. I pick it up and toss it back onto the bed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asks, her voice a few octaves too high.

She sits up in bed, the blankets pooling around her lap, and puts a hand on her heart. The soft glow of light from the bathroom leaks into the room, illuminating her. With her wild blonde hair framing her bare face, she looks like an angel.

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