Chapter 11

Rationing of Essential Resources

Silver Edict #17

“…Every citizen is ensured access to essential provisions necessary for survival and enhancement of life quality. In situations requiring it, the Ministry of Resource Allocation reserves the authority to implement stringent constraints to preserve resources citywide…”

ARCHER

After leaving Tasia’s apartment, I hustle downtown to check The Rising Star. It’s the only other place I’ve seen her go during the past few days. If she’s not there, I’m out of luck.

I arrive at my destination a short while later and push the bar’s rotting door open. A bell overhead chimes with my entrance, but it’s quickly drowned out by a woman’s scream.

My spine turns to ice as I quickly locate the source of the terror.

Two aggressive men loom over Tasia, who’s on the floor between them.

“Hey!” I yell. My head pulses, red coloring my vision.

In three long strides, I make it to them.

With a surge of protectiveness, I clock the taller one square in the face. My fist lands with a sharp crack, and pain explodes across my knuckles. The force causes him to stagger back, and he topples into the jukebox, rattling the old machine. His body thuds to the ground, out cold.

“Tasia!” I say. “Are you—”

The other man jumps on me from behind, wrapping an arm around my neck. I’m only caught off guard for a moment, though. Quickly, I reach up and press my fingers into the pressure point at his wrist, causing him to yelp and release me.

Like his friend, he’s sloppy, untrained. Slow.

Spinning to face him, I quickly chop his throat with the side of an open hand, causing him to choke. I use the advantage to kick my foot out, sweeping his legs out from under him. He loses balance and slams into a table, releasing a strangled cry before rolling onto the ground.

I lean down, pressing a knee against his chest, holding him in place.

Then I smell it.

Death.

The scent is bitter, cloying.

The man beneath me gasps for air, holding his neck with one hand and beating on me with the other while making a slew of desperate noises.

Leaning forward, I inhale the sweet scent. It calls to me, stirring something inside of me. I lock the urge away, refusing to acknowledge it.

I growl, turning toward Tasia. “You need to get out of here.”

Despite the tears streaming down her face, she seems fine.

She rises to her feet. Inhaling deeply, she squares her shoulders, standing tall.

“No,” she says with a surprising calmness.

She shifts into a staggered stance and lifts her fists. I raise a brow. The sight of her—fierce and determined, not a victim, in spite of being attacked—unravels a sense of pride deep inside of me.

“Tasia,” my voice comes out raspy. I clear my throat and shake away the mesmerizing hold she has on me. Death’s scent calls to me, reminding me of our urgency. “You need to go. Now.”

“Fuck that. I’m not going anywhere.”

I sigh at her foul language and stubborn attitude, but I don’t have time to argue. It’s only a matter of time before the Reaper scents the deaths, too, and comes to reap these souls. Godric and I wanted to find him, but not like this. Not with Tasia here.

“Fine,” I say, going for option number two.

I jump up, leaving both men on the sticky bar floor. Gripping Tasia by the waist, I toss her over my shoulder.

“Hey, asshole!” she screams, pounding on my back as I bolt for the door. As we pass the table, she stretches out and swipes something off it, but I can’t tell what it is. “We can’t leave them like this!”

“We have to.”

“Their souls turned grey!”

I had a feeling that was the case. Pushing through the door, I exit and step onto Pub Path. “Exactly why we need to move. The Reaper will be here any second.”

“No!” she screeches in my ear. I exhale heavily and grit my teeth, picking up my pace. “That is exactly why we need to stay!”

When I don’t respond, she swings her arms and kicks her feet harder. I wince, gripping her tightly so she doesn’t wiggle loose.

Continuing to ignore her ruckus, I reach into my pocket with my free hand and pull out my phone. I quickly locate Godric’s name and press the dial button. I put the call on speaker, keeping my eyes forward as we navigate the street. Luckily it’s not as crowded as the evenings.

Part of me feels incredibly stupid to leave behind the dying men. The Reaper will be upon them soon, and I might’ve just given up the chance to gain insight into what’s going on around here. But my instinct was to get Tasia out of there.

Protect her.

I’m already responsible for the deaths of two women; I refuse to be responsible for another.

“What is it?” Godric’s voice rings out, crisp and urgent.

“Go back and save them!” Tasia yells, drawing eyes from a passerby.

Her little fist slams into my spine with much more force than I would have expected, and I grunt. She has more fight than both those men combined.

“Is that the bartender?” he asks. “What do you need?”

“The Rising Star,” I say, losing my breath…and my patience. “Hurry. The Reaper.”

I end the call and shove my phone into my pocket as Tasia continues to yell and struggle against me.

There’s no sense in arguing with her. My energy will be put to better use getting us the hell out of here. I stick to alleys and side streets to avoid curious gazes while Tasia continues to kick and pound like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

It’s very unlikely anyone would intervene, but it’s better to avoid attention as much as possible. Some noble-hearted citizen might call the Scouts.

A few streets over, I find the abandoned building I’m looking for.

Stepping inside, I maneuver through the maze of rooms in the dark like a pro, careful not to step on the rotting planks or gaping holes that lead to the floor below. It’s pitch-black, and all the windows are boarded up now, but it hasn’t always been this way. I’ve been here so many times that I can get around by simply counting my steps.

Tasia complains the whole time. I ignore her, keeping my grip tight as I step up to a wall that hides a secret passage. My hand roams across the crumbling wallpaper, searching for the hidden button. When I find it, I press it.

A piece of the wall pushes inward, and I step into the passageway. Before me, a staircase spirals downward. Right now, I can’t see it, but I know the layout by heart.

“Where the hell are we?” Tasia asks.

“Almost there.”

The tunnels beneath the Packing District are the last remnants of an ancient underground fae city. The land was long ago bargained away to the humans who built Silver City atop the ruins. Shortly after, an iron wall was erected around the perimeter. When the fae breached the wall back when I was young, it was reinforced and infused with salt.

I’m pretty sure the salt and iron can’t really ward off the fae—that’s just a myth the fae fed to the humans—but the wall seemed to work well enough…until the Reaper showed up.

We bounce down the steps, and Tasia’s breasts press against my back. My cheeks flush, but then she starts cursing again, causing me to flinch.

“You sound like a banshee,” I mutter.

“And you sound like an asshole.”

“Mature.”

“Says the kidnapper. Again with the kidnapping!”

At the bottom of the stairs, I push a door open with my hip. We’re greeted with dim light and the scent of earth. I blink a few times, letting my eyes adjust.

The tunnels are like arteries running through the city’s underbelly. Just as our own arteries carry blood away from our heart, these tunnels carry secrets away from the city’s heart.

This is one of the lesser-used passageways down here in the Underground. The illumination comes from small bulbs attached to cords that dangle from the ceiling every so often. Although the Nightcrawlers work to maintain the electric wires, we’ve not done much else. The pathway, made of packed dirt, is framed with wooden beams and lined with doors leading to vacant rooms.

I kick the door shut behind me and plant Tasia on the ground.

She stuffs something into her pocket and immediately runs for the door, kicking up a small cloud of dirt in her wake. When she realizes there’s no handle, no way to exit from here, she launches into a curse-filled tirade.

“You said you’d protect them!” she yells hoarsely, then coughs and rubs her throat.

I frown. “I’m protecting you.”

At that, she goes quiet, and her cheeks turn pink. “I don’t need your protection,” she whispers.

Maybe she’ll change her mind when I tell her the Scouts are searching for her. But for some reason I don’t want to alarm her. And Pixel is on top of things, so it might not even matter, but if someone wants to find Tasia as desperately as they seem to, she might truly need my protection.

“Does your throat hurt?” I ask.

She stares at me with narrowed eyes before nodding, continuing to rub her throat. “A fuckton.”

“We really must work on your vocabulary,” I say.

“You’re gonna get me fired.” Reaching up to rub her temples, she begins pacing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I stare at her, aghast. “Two guys attacked you, and you’re worried about losing your job?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time men have used violence to get their way,” she mutters. “Won’t be the last.”

Sorrow slices my gut. Suddenly, I want to know the name of every person who ever hurt her, so I can make sure they never do it again.

“It’s fine. I don’t love bartending anyway,” she says quickly, brushing off the previous comments she made as if they’re nothing.

“Good. Then you’ll accept my job offer.” When she shoots a glare at me, I can’t help my responding smirk.

Then I can keep her close. Make sure no one bothers her again. Problem solved. Everyone wins.

She steps forward, planting her dainty hands on my chest, and shoves me backward with more force than I would have expected. I stumble, and my eyes widen as my back crashes into the dirt wall. My smile grows.

I think I like her aggression.

“What the hell are you smiling at?” she asks.

I shake my head. “You’re stronger than you look.”

“And you’re stupider than you look if you think kidnapping me is the way to my heart.”

“Good thing I’m not trying to win your heart. Just your assistance.” I chuckle. “And I view it as life-saving, not kidnapping.”

She pauses, studying me. “You don’t want me. You want my ability as a soul-seer.” Before I can respond, she says, “When someone’s soul-shade turns grey, the Reaper comes for them. Because they’re dying.”

“I surmise that is the case, yes.”

“Not a question.” She glares at me. “I’m processing aloud.”

“All right. Process away.”

“So, I can essentially sense death,” she mutters, “and you can also sense death…but in another way?” When I don’t reply, she sighs. “That was a question.”

“You’re awfully hostile.”

“I know,” she says, catching me off guard. She inclines her chin. “I’m sorry.” She sighs. “These last few days have been a lot. I found a dead body, got assaulted at work, and got kidnapped twice by a gangster.”

And all things considered, she’s handling the situation well. She’s right. I did sort of kidnap her, even though my intention was to help. The profanities she’s been hurling my way are deserved.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I mutter.

“For what it’s worth…I am.” She takes a deep breath and glances away.

An awkward silence stretches between us. Something tells me she doesn’t apologize often, and somehow, that makes her effort more meaningful. I rack my brain to think of something to say—anything to dissipate the weird energy.

“Yes,” I say, answering her earlier question, “I can sense death another way.”

“Do you sense it right now?”

I give her a puzzled look. “Well, no.”

“Good.” Her lips tilt into a small smile. “That means I’m not dying. Which would mean the Reaper wouldn’t come for me, right?” She crosses her arms.

“Technically, no. He only reaps the souls of those who are dying.”

“Then how did you save my life? It sounds like I wasn’t in any danger. If you hadn’t come for those drunken men, the Reaper would’ve. And if I’m perfectly alive, he couldn’t have claimed my soul.”

“Ah, Tasia. You are forgetting the small fact that you can see him.” I rub my forehead. “All bets are off. Normally, humans can’t see the Reaper in his death-form. You seeing him puts you at risk.”

He uses a glamour to hide himself, so—considering she’s immune to mine—I’m not exactly surprised he’s visible to her. I can’t imagine that a reaper fae with his notoriety would take kindly to a human watching him siphoning off souls.

“Are you sure that’s not just your excuse to keep kidnapping me?” she asks with a sly smile. This time, her voice holds a teasing tone rather than its earlier animosity.

My heart picks up its pace. Is she flirting with me?

Unsure of how to respond, I simply say, “Quite frankly, no.”

She snorts. “But you think this will make me wantto work for you…”

“Not exactly. I think it will, however, keep your stubborn self alive.” I squint at her. “And I think you’ll want to work with me sooner than later.”

I open my mouth to tell her about the wanted photos right as her phone buzzes. She yanks it out, glancing at it.

“Nice,” she says, grinning. “I’ve got service down here. I’m getting the hell out of this place.”

Her eyes skim the screen, and slowly her smile fades. Her face goes dark. She tilts her head up to look at me.

“Please,” she says, “explain to me why my boyfriend thinks I’m cheating on him with, and I quote, ‘some broody, blond asshole with too much ego, leather, and stupid finger tattoos’?”

I’m debating how I want to answer when Tasia bursts out laughing. Slowly, her eyes roam my body, her smile growing. When her gaze meets mine, a charged energy passes between us. Her laughter subsides, but the amusement lingers.

I raise a brow. “You find this humorous?”

Once again, her reaction is surprising.

“It’s the whole all-black leather vibe you have going on.” She gestures toward me. “It’s way too hot.”

My cheeks heat at the unexpected compliment. I glance down at my fitted pants, boots, and leather jacket. My typical uniform.

“Thank you,” I say, biting back a grin.

“No.” She snorts. “I mean, it’s as hot as Satan’s balls, and you’re wearing that.” She cocks a brow. “But yes, it’s also hot in the other way, too.”

This time, I can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto my lips.

We hold eye contact for a beat, neither of us speaking. The intensity in her coy, pale-blue eyes sends heat through my spine, and it’s almost too much. The air between us grows thick and heavy.

She breaks eye contact first, and even in the dim light, I notice the pink dusting her cheeks.

It’s adorable.

I lean back against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest, and try to appear unaffected.

“I went looking for you at home before I stopped at The Rising Star,” I say.

She glances at her phone again, and her brow pinches.

“Reed was with Alisha, wasn’t he?” Her face falls. “The really pretty girl with the big boobs and curly hair?”

My jaw tightens, and I nod.

She sighs, looking back down at her phone and angrily punching out a message. My gut tightens. I expect her to start crying or yelling, to let out some sort of emotion, but she simply shakes her head.

“So, when can I start?” she asks after a beat.

“What?”

“Don’t make me repeat it.”

I’m normally not such a dunce, but something about her brash attitude and ability to laugh in the midst of dark situations has me at a loss for words.

“When. Can. I. Start?” she says, enunciating each word slowly.

This time, I’m the one who bursts out laughing.

“Shit,” she says. She clears her throat, then winces, rubbing at her neck. “I didn’t realize I said anything funny.”

“I just—you’re not what I was expecting.” I run a hand through my hair. “I figured you’d be livid about your boyfriend and roommate.”

“I am! And I am seriously annoyed that you knew and you weren’t going to tell me.” Shooting me a glare, she starts tapping her foot. “But damn.” She rubs her chest mindlessly. “Weirdly, I’m kind of relieved.” Her body relaxes as she lets out a long breath and leans against the wall across from me, staring at a spot above my head. “Reed’s a good guy, but he was never truly invested. I mean, come on. He didn’t text me at all last night or this morning. Not until you showed up all barbaric, apparently, calling him names and ordering my roommates to clean up.”

She glances at me and chuckles.

“That isn’t quite how it happened.” I check that my phone volume’s up so I won’t miss Godric’s call. “And I beg to differ that Reed is a good guy. Good guys don’t make their partner feel like they’re not ‘invested.’ They certainly don’t sleep with their roommates, either.”

Tasia seems intelligent enough. Surely, deep down, she knows this already.

She holds my gaze, as if she’s studying me, and then her features soften into something indecipherable until finally she swallows and looks away.

“Well, I would’ve paid to see that.” She looks down at her phone again and groans, kicking at the dirt. After stuffing her phone back in her pocket, she says, “Speaking of pay, I just officially lost my job.” Her eyes flutter shut for a brief moment. “At least the timing works out. Since we’re going to work together and all that, can I at least get your real name?” She levels me with a dark stare. “Not your vague-ass gang name. It sounds as stupid as the Reaper. You two could be related with those names.” She snorts. “Phantom.”

“I didn’t choose that name.” The Scouts dubbed me the Phantom—for my ability to go undetected in the city. To them, I’m more myth than man. A specter. A legend.

In reality, thanks to the glamour Godric and I cast, combined with Pixel’s hacking skills, it’s fairly easy to go about unnoticed. Having an alias makes it even easier. “I agree—it’s not my first choice.”

“Then give me your real one.”

I swallow, holding her stare unwaveringly. “Names hold power.”

“Exactly.” She lifts a brow, crossing her arms. “And you know mine.”

Stroking the scruff on my jaw, I contemplate the repercussions of acceding to her request. There’s a chance she’ll need to know my real name anyway, especially if I take her to the masquerade.

“Fine,” I say, noticing the sparkle in her eye. “Archer. Archer Acciai.”