Page 75 of Shades of Silver City

Archer swallows a few times, his gaze locked on the floor again.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. The last thing I remember of my dad alive that night was him yelling at me to stay hidden. His face was uncharacteristically somber. And shortly after, he was gone, his soul consumed. Those days were a blur, and I’ve worked hard to block them out until now, not wanting that shadow to follow me.

If we can figure out who the faeologist is, who hired him, maybe we can uncover the truth of what happened to my parents—why they were wrongfully killed by the Scouts.

“I think my dad turned down someone powerful. It got him killed.”

“Tasia—” Archer runs a hand through his hair as his lips tighten into a grim line.

He opens his mouth like he’s going to speak, then shuts it. He does this a few times before shaking his head.

Finally, he looks me straight in the eye and says, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you lost your family.”

Waving a hand, I play it off as if I’m unaffected. But my gut swirls with a renewed grief.

A lump forms in my throat, and I have to swallow a few times before I can talk again.

“How can I help you?” I ask, remembering that I’m supposed to be working for him, technically. “Didn’t you hire me for this?”

“Everything I said before about the Reaper is true. We need to find him, rid the city of him.” He cracks his knuckles, slowly pacing the length of the living room. “I’m wondering if the uptick in grey soul-shades is what attracted him to the city again…” He hesitates. “If Zeke confirms the dust is connected to the deaths, we can use your power to find the grey soul-shades before the Reaper does, just like we were planning to do.”

He clears his throat and stops pacing to turn and face me. “The event we’re going to at Splendor Hall? It’s for Mesmeric Lab’s newest venture. I’ve heard rumors it’s under new ownership, too.”

Archer mindlessly twists the ring on his thumb.

At the mention of my dad’s old place of employment, my chest tightens.

“We can use your ability,” he says, “if you feel comfortable, of course, to determine who is morally sound versus who might be corrupt.”

Corruption? At the lab? Dad’s journal never mentioned anything about corruption. Instead of admitting I don’t know what the different soul-shades mean, I say, “Can we go get my dad’s journal from my apartment?”

I should brush up on his notes if I’m going to be expected to actively pay attention to soul-shades.

Archer scratches his chin, shifting his weight. For a second, he almost appears nervous. “There will be many of the city’s influential at the event, not just those associated with the lab.” He pauses. “And yes we can go. Tomorrow?”

“Please!” I say. I may not see the full picture yet, but I understand why this event is so important now. All the power players will likely be there, in support of the lab. I glance at Archer, trying to imagine him among the uptight, wealthy city leaders, and a giggle escapes me. “Wait—how the hell are you on their roster, Nightcrawler?”

He grimaces, tugging at the collar on his shirt. “They don’t know me as Phantom. They know me as Archer Acciai from Ataraxy, my tech security company.”

With a frown, I glance down at the shirt I’m wearing, processing this revelation. Is that where he gets all his wealth from? Or is the company just a front for his gang dealings?

“I didn’t take you as a tech guy.”

“I’m not,” he says sheepishly.

“Then how the hell are you in— You know what? Never mind.” I chuckle when I realize I answered my own question. His business is a front. Probably a way to launder his dirty money. Hell, he probably has hackers stealing it. “Wait a second. Are you rich because you steal?”

“I’m not rich.” His cheeks turn red. “It’s not like that.”

I giggle into my hands, giddy at the idea. “You’re a freaking thief!”

“We only move money from the corrupt, the large corporations who prey on the low-income folk. It’s not stealing—it’s taking their money back and using it for things like rent, medical bills, education… I don’t keep it for myself.” He speaks with such conviction, such passion. I shouldn’t have teased him about it.

“You owe me no explanations,” I say softly. My heart swells at what he’s openly shared with me. He’s still blushing, and his eyes avoid meeting mine, so I change the subject and take the spotlight off him. “Aren’t I supposed to be in hiding? What if someone recognizes me at that event?”

“Ah.” He stands, adjusting his pants. “It’s a masquerade, luckily.”

My brows shoot up. Something about that sounds…oddly appealing. I can be anyone I want, for once. The excitement wanes when I think of my wardrobe options. “I have nothing to wear.”

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