Page 134 of Shades of Silver City

“Nah, but he brought us a free sample, said it gives us power. Maybe it can help—”

A bright light washes over us, and suddenly, it’s as if I’m underwater. The voices and sounds around me fade to a low buzz. I barely register any of it.

A Scout stands before us with his weapon pointed in our direction.

Not again.

I clutch the baggie of dreamdust in my sweaty hand as my mind races to solve the puzzle. There must be a way out of this. There needs to be.

Scathe isn’t coming to save me this time. He could be out there on the street, injured for trying to protect me, and I need to find him. My gut tells me Archer isn’t coming either…

The Scout commands us to put our hands up. Slowly, Stace and Alisha lift their hands, panic painted on their faces. It takes me all of two seconds to realize they really aren’t here to turn me in. Archer must have glamoured them to have my back. If the Scouts win here, it’s not just me they’ll take in. It’s Stace and Alisha, too.

For the first time, people are counting on me.

The Scout steps closer. “Get on your knees!”

I think of the reward being offered for turning me in. How desperate they are to find me—plastering my photo on the UIS. This Scout won’t kill me. Whoever wants me wants me alive.

“Come get me, asshole,” I say, proud of how steady my voice is.

I can’t make out any of the Scout’s facial features behind the bright light bursting from his helmet, but I don’t need to. They don’t matter. In this moment, I see the person who shot and killed my parents.

Suddenly, I’m eight years old again, crying in the closet. Staring at a murderer through the wooden slats of the door.

Except I’m no longer eight years old.

I’m not weak and fragile. I’m not hiding from the violence.

I embrace it.

“Back up,” I tell Stace and Alisha. “Now!” Surprisingly, they both scamper backward. “This is for my dad, you fucker.” Before the Scout has time to react, I pinch the baggie open, jerking my arm toward his face and releasing the dust into the air. I blow as hard as I can, forcing the glittering powder toward him.

He staggers backward, but it’s too late. I was too close, and my aim was spot on.

He coughs, stowing his weapon to claw at his face in desperation.

“Run!” I yell at the girls. “Let’s get out of here!”

They bolt past me toward Pub Path. I kick the Scout in his balls, bringing him to his knees. He goes down with a thud.

I pivot to make my escape, but his hand constricts forcefully around my ankle, impeding my movement. It tightens, yanking me backward. I land with a thud and find myself on my back. The Scout holds me down, leaning in and locking lips with me.

As I fight him and try to scream, he blows air forcefully into my open mouth. Something chalky hits my tongue, and I gasp and cough when I realize what he’s done.

He wasn’t forcing a desperate kiss.

He was blowing the dust back into my mouth.

"My involvement in faeology has transcended the confines of mere employment; it has transformed into a profound and enduring life passion.”

-Excerpt from the personal journal of Dr. Claude Foster, Director of Faeology at Mesmeric Labs

CHAPTER 32

FANTASIA

When I awaken, my head throbs, and my throat is dry and scratchy. Peeling my eyes open, I squint at the sight before me. It looks like there’s a layer of thick glass between me and an industrial ceiling overhead. With a groan, I sit up on my elbows. The floor beneath me is hard cement.

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