Page 94 of Shades of Silver City

“You’d be surprised,” he mutters.

“Can Godric glamour?” I ask. Archer gives me a look of surprise. I take that as a yes. “Speaking of, I tried to call him.”

Archer reaches for his phone, glancing at the screen with a scowl.

A brick drops into the pit of my stomach. “Would Godric—would he turn me in?” I ask, unsure.

“Never.” But Archer’s features tighten in contemplation, which does little to settle my nerves.

“He said he loved Sofia…” If he knows who I am, who my father is, he likely blames my father for Sofia’s death. “What if he wants retribution? What if he takes it out on me?”

“I trust Godric with my life, Tasia.”

“He knew we were here. He can glamour. He likely hates me. Archer, I’m no detective, but that sounds like means, motive, and opportunity to me.”

“Never…” Archer runs a hand through his hair, sharing a look with Scathe. The two engage in some sort of unsettling, silent conversation. After a few seconds, Archer breaks into a run, beckoning for me to follow.

We enter the building and head straight for the elevator. Archer pushes an unlabeled button. It turns black, then lights up with a green glow.

Well shit, that would explain why I couldn’t get the damn thing to work earlier.

When we get to the tenth floor, we sprint down the hallway to find Archer’s old apartment door wide open. Books lay scattered around chaotically, and pages flitter across the ground, as if someone has just strewn things about.

The small table is broken, the two chairs on their sides.

“Godric?” Archer calls out.

I notice a pair of shoes peeking out from behind the kitchen counter. “Over here!”

We rush toward the kitchen. Godric’s on his back. Blood gushes from his abdomen.

“Shit,” I say. Instinct takes over, and I grab a hand towel from the counter, pressing it to his wound. “I thought you said the building was safe!” I snap at Archer.

“It should’ve been,” he growls. He whips out his phone, calling someone and barking out instructions.

When he hangs up, I give him an apologetic look. “Guess he wasn’t the one who turned me in?”

Archer sighs, rubbing his brow. “I need to let the guys up. The elevator is only supposed to work for us.” He gestures at himself and Godric, confirming my earlier suspicion. “Stay here. Scathe will stay with you.”

He pauses long enough to give his dog a serious look, then jogs out of sight. Scathe whimpers, licking my hands as I hold the towel against Godric’s wound.

“For such a vicious creature, you’re a softie,” I whisper. “Just like your daddy, huh?”

Scathe’s blue eyes twinkle with mischief as he lays down beside Godric. With Godric’s wide frame taking up most of the floor, the three of us barely fit in the narrow kitchen.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, my friend.” My eyes wander to the fridge, finding the photos of Archer and his family. There’s no father figure to be found in any of the photos. Nor are there any girlfriends. It’s only Archer, Godric, Sofia, and their mother. “I hope for Archer’s sake, you’re okay, you big brute.” I sniffle, trying to hold back the tears. “You’re all he’s got.” My voice cracks.

Scathe whines, lifting his head to nuzzle my hands again.

“In here!” Archer yells from the hallway. I turn my head, using my shoulder to dry my face while keeping my hands on Godric’s wound.

A flurry of boots pound into the apartment, and everything moves in a blur. Archer pulls me off Godric and into his arms, hugging me tight to his chest. We break apart to watch a couple of Nightcrawlers put Godric on a stretcher, stabilizing him and toting him out of the apartment.

A guy with a lime-green mohawk, which somehow almost perfectly matches his soul-shade, and a half-dozen jingling bracelets turns and salutes us, saying, “We’ll bring him to Doc’s. He’ll be fine. Strong pulse. Superficial wound. Looks worse than it is, boss.”

I notice this man doesn’t have the gang logo on his hand, like the two carrying Godric’s stretcher.

Archer gives him a responding nod and says, “Call me the moment he’s awake, Zeke.”

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