Page 88 of Shades of Silver City

“Where the hell are we?” I whisper, not wanting to raise my voice and shatter the eerie silence. Archer said this was his mother’s old apartment, but this place is hauntingly empty. Not a soul to be found.

The only reply I receive is the groaning of old pipes. Godric gestures for me to follow him further down the hallway. I hesitate, glancing around at the rows of doors before shuffling after him.

At the end of the hallway, he stops, and we enter one of the rooms. Inside, he flicks on a light, and I glance around, taking in the sight of a cluttered but clean apartment not much different from my own.

Books are scattered on every surface—the coffee table, the two-person dining table, the long counter that separates the living room and kitchen.

The fridge is covered in papers and pictures. I stride toward it, viewing the various images of Archer at all ages. Many of the images have Godric, Sofia, and the dark-haired woman I saw before—his mother—in them.

Godric remains near the door, fiddling on his phone. After about twenty minutes of perusing the photos and books in tense silence, I turn to him.

“We grew up here,” he finally says, shoving his phone into his pocket. His face is rigidly impassive, as if he’s suppressing his emotions. “My parents left when I was young, so Archer’s family looked after me.”

It doesn’t feel appropriate to ask where his parents went, so I nod, offering him what I hope is a sympathetic look.

“We both loved Sofia,” he says as he pulls a photo off the fridge. Longing fills his eyes as he stares at the image. “In different ways.”

The door creaks open, and Archer steps inside the apartment. His hair is even messier than usual, and his shirt is rumpled. Frowning, I scrutinize his unbuttoned jeans.

“You left us for a quickie?” I say, narrowing my eyes. It was meant to come out as a joke. There’s no way I believe Archer would hold my hand one minute, then leave me to spend time with someone else…

Right?

A sharp, annoying pain pierces my stomach.

Archer gives me a tight-lipped look as if to say, “Really?”

My eyes travel downward, to his unlaced boots, covered in dirt.

He glances down, then quickly slides his boots off.

“Where were you?” I ask.

“The Underground.” He brushes past me, into one of the rooms beyond the kitchen. “I’m changing really quick. Then we can go.”

Okaaaaay.

I raise a questioning brow at Godric, but he turns away from me, striding to the window and focusing his attention outside.

Whatever Archer was up to, it doesn’t concern me, so I plop onto the sagging sofa and browse through more of the books on the coffee table.

The Lost History of Silver City

What Lies Beyond the Wilds

The Science Behind Magic

“Interesting reads,” I mutter.

There’s no dust or grime in the apartment, and it smells like dried herbs, which leads me to believe that Archer spends more time here than he does his house in Sweetcreek. It would explain why his house is so bare and empty.

I have plenty of stuff, he said.

A thin, unlabeled leather spine peeks out from a stack of books on the coffee table. A weird sense of familiarity crawls up my spine.

I glance over my shoulder. Godric is still at the window, his back to me. Quietly, I slip the thin book out from the stack and examine the cover.

Everything around me fades away.

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