Page 89 of Shades of Silver City

I go still, blinking a few times, as if that will clear away the image before. My veins go cold, and an uncanny feeling swallows me whole.

It looks identical to the journal I left in Godric’s car. I flick through the pages, immediately recognizing the handwriting.

Dad’s.

Unlike the journal I have, which is filled with scientific speculation, words of wisdom, and rational advice, this one is filled with formulas, scribbles of nonsensical numbers, random words, and tons of scratched-out bits.

Without hesitation, I stuff the journal under my shirt, jumping to my feet. I turn, bumping into Godric’s broad chest.

“Gods!” I scream, almost losing my balance.

“No—just Godric.” He backs away, not bothering to steady me, his brow furrowing. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I say. “I just…need a minute.”

Without waiting for him to respond, I bolt out the apartment door.

“Where are you going?” his voice carries down the hallway.

I run until I hit the elevator, then start jamming my finger into the button rapidly.

Nothing happens.

“Fuck,” I say. Pulling the journal out of my shirt so I can continue running, I turn and locate the stairwell. “Double fuck!”

I burst through the storm door, taking the stairs two and three at a time. My lungs threaten to explode as I spiral downward. When I finally hit the first floor, I double over, catching my breath.

Attempting to quiet my sharp gasps, I listen carefully. The stairwell is silent.

Either they’re not following me, or they somehow got the elevator to work and are already waiting in the lobby. I’ve been a fool to trust Archer. What was I thinking? He has one of my dad’s journals.

He knows who my dad is. How could he not? The title page literally says “Dr. Claude Foster” in big letters. And I’ve mentioned my dad was a faeologist.

Like Archer said before, there is no such thing as a coincidence.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!

Sucking in another big breath, I grip the journal and bolt from the stairwell, rocketing straight for the lobby door and out onto the street.

I glance around, ensuring I’m in the clear before rounding the corner into the alley.

Archer knocked me out once before; I wouldn’t put it past him to do it again. When I reach Godric’s SUV, I yank on the door handle. To my dismay, it’s locked.

Cursing under my breath, I kick the tire angrily. My foot bounces off the rubber, making my toes throb with pain.

I’ll have to leave the other journal.

“Tasia,” Archer says from behind me. “What’s wrong?”

“Stay the fuck away from me,” I say, turning to face him. The alley is dim, save for a little yellow light seeping in from the streetlight, and it’s blocked in on three sides. A dead end. The only way out is the way I came in—past Archer.

“I never meant to keep it from you,” he says. His voice is strained, a little desperate even.

For a moment, he sounds so broken that I give him the benefit of the doubt. He has his own abilities—he’s never kept that a secret from me—so what if my dad experimented on him, too?

Maybe his possession of my dad’s journal isn’t nefarious at all…

“You knew who I was,” I say, taking a gamble to try and uncover his intentions. “When you met me.”

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