Page 121 of Shades of Silver City

“Zeke’s on site,” Godric says, staring at his cell phone. “I’m dropping Pixel off in the city and meeting him up at the hall.”

“Keep me updated,” Archer says. He opens the door, placing one foot on the ground. “I’m staying with Scathe and Tasia until we figure out what’s going on.”

He exits fully, holding out a hand for me. I accept it, sliding out of the car with his assistance. Scathe jumps out after.

Godric wastes no time speeding off. Clearly he has things to take care of with the Nightcrawlers.

“I need to go to my apartment,” I say to Archer as we step toward his house.

“Not safe.”

I knew he would say that. His first instinct is to protect me, keep me away from any harm. It’s the primitive side of him. However, I’ve noticed I can get through to him by appealing to his logical side.

“It’s a lot safer tonight than it will be tomorrow or the next day,” I argue.

“After what happened at—”

“The majority of Scouts will be deployed to the hall, trying to figure out what happened. They’re not looking for me while this is going on. Now is the best time to go. After this, the streets will be flooded with Scouts. I need to get to my apartment. Tonight.”

He strokes his jaw, his muscles tense. “What’s so important that you need to risk your safety?”

“My bear.” The teddy bear my dad gave me when he was still alive. “It’s the only thing I can connect to the message my dad left for me.”

He nods. “Fine.”

I tilt my head. “You’re not going to tell me it’s a stupid idea? Or that it’s a reach?”

“Why would I do that?” He studies me. “If you think he left you a message, I’m inclined to believe you. It’ll also be up to you to decipher the meaning, all things considered.”

“All right then.” I try to keep the relief off my face, but I’m glad Archer’s starting to trust me as much as I trust him.

“Let me get my bike.” Archer heads to the garage while I run into the house to change.

Scathe follows me like a silent shadow. His presence is reassuring.

Upstairs, in Archer’s room, I exchange my dress for a pair of sweatpants and a light hoodie. It’s still muggy outside, but the hood seems like a safe option if I end up needing to hide myself. Not caring to wash my makeup off right now, I throw my hair into a braid, locate some socks, and bolt down the stairs to slip into my boots.

As I head back outside, the night’s events keep replaying in my mind. Everything happened so quickly. Arlo Osiander knows who I am. What I am.

Did he know my father?

Or worse, was he responsible for my father’s death?

Archer wheels his motorcycle out of the garage. “Let’s make this quick,” he says. “I don’t want to be on the streets long.”

Scathe lets out a long, low whine that grabs our attention.

“You’re not coming,” Archer says.

Scathe pins his ears back and growls.

“I know.” Archer pauses, and a silent stare-off ensues between them. “Okay, point made. You’re right. I’m wrong.” Another pause. “I’m not telling her that.”

“Archer?” I say carefully, not wanting to interrupt whatever weird silent conversation he’s having with his dog.

He turns to me, pink lining his cheeks, as if he’s just remembering I’m there. “Scathe is…”

“Struggling with separation anxiety?” I offer when he doesn’t finish his sentence.

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