Chapter 12

”…the manifestation of golden-hued soul-shades is exceedingly rare… Extensive investigation spanning two decades substantiates that gold tones denote an intrinsic quality of purity… Does the soul-shade influence the individual, or is it the individual’s qualities that shape the shade?”

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

FANTASIA

Archer’s phone rings, and he excuses himself, jogging further down the tunnel to take the call.

Archer Acciai.

I like that a lot better than the Phantom.

Despite being only one or two floors underground, it’s like an entirely different world down here. It’s quiet, away from the bustling city above.

The rough, earthy tunnel stretches off into the distance until it disappears in shadow. I squint, noticing that it branches off in a few places. This appears to be a complex system of caves held up precariously by brick archways and sagging beams. But the modern lighting throws me off.

Agitation blazes through me, but I subdue it with a sigh, plopping onto the floor. I’ve been in much shittier positions in my life, and although I’m annoyed at being manhandled and carted off like a child, I’m not fearful. Oddly enough, despite his barbarian tactics, Archer’s presence puts me at ease.

In fact, him worrying about me is a huge turn-on. Hell, Reed didn’t even care that I ran off in the middle of the night. Yet Archer, a virtual stranger, has come to my rescue twice in a few days. His methods may be questionable, but based on that golden haze around his body, he’s truly doing what he thinks is right.

Craning my neck in Archer’s direction, I subtly try to eavesdrop, but he speaks in a hushed tone. I pick at some of the reddish-brown clay beneath me.

Wiping my hands on my jeans, I turn my attention back to my own phone. My most recent message from Jeremiah stares back at me:

Bossman: Your fired.

Leaning my head back, I exhale heavily. The adrenaline has finally settled, and in its place a numbness has taken over.

The thought of leaving The Rising Star makes my head a little lighter.

No more serving Fredrik and dealing with his condescension. No more getting slapped on the ass by drunken twats. No more worrying about what fights will break out during my shift. No more stressing about whether or not I’ll earn enough tips to justify the exhaustion.

And damn, I am exhausted.

I smirk as my thumbs dart out to compose a message to Jeremiah. I’m putting the nail in my coffin. But after what happened this morning, and with Archer’s generous offer dangling in front of me, I can’t pretend to care anymore.

Me: YOU’RE* fired.

Bossman: No, YOU are.

Me: Yeah, I’m aware.

I chuckle when three little dots appear, indicating Jeremiah is forming his response. Quickly tapping his contact icon, I hit “block” before he can say anything further.

Mellie will be pissed, if she isn’t already, but I’ll talk to her later.

When I glance up at Archer, he’s leaning a shoulder against some exposed brick and watching me with a curious expression. His phone is pressed to his ear, and every few seconds, he opens his mouth and says one or two words.

We continue to watch each other. Ever so slowly, his mouth curves up in an amused grin.

I fight the urge to smile back, reminding myself that I should be pissed off—or at the very least, annoyed. But still, only numbness settles inside me.

That and a migraine.

Massaging my temples, I try to relieve some of the tension there. It’s probably due to the pile of hair on my head. Reaching up, I give the elastic band a few tugs until my hair falls free and cascades in jagged waves around my shoulders. A few white-blonde pieces fall into my face, and I blow them aside.

Sneaking another look at Archer, I catch him watching me with a heated gaze. When our eyes meet, he straightens up and quickly turns away, putting his back to me.

Mindlessly, I finger the lump where the small baggie sits in my front left pocket. Luckily, I was able to snatch it up as Archer caveman-carried me out of the bar. It’s gotta be dreamdust.

I’m tempted to pull it out and examine it, but I don’t know if that’s safe. I’ve heard that even the smallest of inhales can get you high off your ass. It’s allegedly infused with magic that causes you to think you’re dreaming—which causes you to act like a real jackass. Even having it on me is unsettling.

I snatch my phone back up and open the message chain from Mellie.

Mellie: What the hell!!!!!!

Mellie: J just dropped the towels off. Where the hell r u?

Mellie: Girl, he’s gonna fire u.

Mellie: Hello?

Mellie: U ok?

Mellie: U better be ok. When I find out ur ok, I’m kicking ur ass.

Heat blossoms in my face as embarrassment and guilt finally make an appearance. At least it’s a step up from the ice-cold numbness I was experiencing a moment prior.

Another notification pops up, this time a text from Reed. I groan, tossing my head back against the wall behind me. My eyes shutter, and I take a few deep breaths, steeling myself. I guess he did me a favor by cheating on me—he gave me the nudge I needed to finally end things between us.

Reed: I’m at the apt. Waiting for you.

Reed: It wasn’t what it looked like, I swear.

Rolling my eyes at the cliché of a line, I keep reading.

Reed: Nothing happened. Promise.

Reed: I hope you know that I love you so much, Fantasia.

I frown at his usage of my full name. My father was the only one who ever called me that—Fantastic Fantasia.

Without hesitation, I shoot Reed a message, letting him know that we’re over. Maybe I’m a coward for ending things over text, but I’m more of a coward for letting things drag out as long as they did.

Mellie was right. Settling for comfort is a terrible option, especially when it’s really not comfort at all…only a distraction from discomfort.

I also text Mellie, letting her know I’m fine, that I will explain everything to her soon.

Before anyone can reply, I power my phone down, stand, and stuff it into my pocket. Brushing the dirt off my jeans, I stride toward Archer, who finishes his call and swiftly pockets his own phone.

“Sorry about that,” he says, rubbing the thin layer of scruff on his chin. His mouth is in a tight line, his forehead wrinkled. “Godric…took care of the bar.”

I squint at him. What the hell does that mean? “Took care of the men?”

Archer gives a sharp nod.

“Like, he killed them?”

“They were dead when he arrived.”

My eyes widen. “The Scouts?”

“Weren’t called. No one else knows what happened.”

No wonder Jeremiah and Mellie didn’t say anything about the men being drunk and knocked out—or dead. Archer’s friend got there before they did, apparently.

Fuck it. Let them think I simply abandoned my bar shift. I definitely don’t trust Mellie enough to tell her the whole truth, because that truth includes Archer. She’ll only see the price tag on his head.

I rub my eyes, processing.

“Why are your fingers stained?” Archer asks suddenly. Before I can reply, he grips my hand in his, inspecting my fingers. “Is this…paint?”

Snatching my hand back, I groan under my breath. “Oil pastels.” Without giving him a chance to reply, I ask, “How’d they die?”

“To be determined.” He pulls out his phone, punching out a message before pocketing it again. “We have someone on it.”

The baggie in my pocket grows heavy. I’m certain the drug I found has something to do with their deaths.

“I found a—” I say at the same time Archer says, “We have a problem.”

We both pause, staring at one another.

After a beat, I say, “You first.” My inquiry can wait. The men are already dead, and the drugs aren’t going anywhere.

“You sure?” He quirks a brow.

“A problem sounds pretty fucking ominous, so yeah, I’m sure.”

He shuts his eyes and sighs—likely because of my offensive language, oops—but he chuckles. When he returns his attention to me, his face is serious.

“The night after we found that girl in the alley…” He shifts his weight, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. “A photo of you went up on the UIS.”

My heart skips a beat or two. For a second, I can’t speak. “Of me?”

He nods, holding my gaze. “We got it down…but another one went up a few days ago.”

“Why was I on the UIS?” I ask, my voice small and hoarse. The Urban Information Screens only share shit that the city finds important. If I’m up there, then that means I’m in the public eye. And I have a feeling it ain’t for anything good.

“Wanted…” He swipes a hand over his jaw, shaking his head slightly. “For murder.”

My body jolts. “For…murder?” I yell. He winces, an apologetic look crossing his face. “Murder?”

Fear like I’ve never felt before floods my chest, and I begin pacing, trying to catch my breath.

No. No. No.

This isn’t happening.

I’ve never harmed anyone in my life, let alone murdered someone!

“Why?” I ask, throwing my arms up.

“I don’t know,” Archer says, his voice low and soothing. “The first photo was of the night we met. The second photo was of you with the bat…chasing those men down the alley.”

“I didn’t kill them!” I whirl on him, my pulse rising. “The fucking Reaper did!”

“They can’t see him, Tasia.”

“So they blame me? Without any proof or evidence or anything?! What about you? You were there both times. And if someone was watching me, taking photos, then surely they saw when you…” I wave a hand toward him. “You know.”

“I—” His cheeks turn pink, and his eyes shift to the side. “I don’t matter. You’ve made an enemy of someone. Someone powerful.”

“How the flying fuck did I possibly do that?” My throat aches, and I clear it a few times to alleviate the pain. “I go to work. I go home. I go to work. I go home. Rinse and repeat. Every fucking day!” Glaring at him, I raise a finger in his face. “I swear to the Gods, if you scold me for my language right now, Archer Acciai…”

The bastard grins. It doesn’t last long before his somber expression returns, but I saw what I saw.

“You’re safe,” he says.

“Safe?” The Scouts are going to kill me—just like they did my parents. And there’s nothing I can do. I’m well and truly screwed.

“Stay with me, and I’ll protect you.”

Freezing, I simply stare at him for a few moments, trying to gauge the implication there. The only thing that keeps me from laughing in his face is the fact that his wanted photo has been in my bar for as long as I can remember, yet he’s evaded the Scouts.

“I’m not dying,” I say. “I’m not letting the Scouts get me.”

“They won’t get you. My team intercepted the photos and took them down the moment they went wide.”

“But what if someone saw them before then?”

He shakes his head. “All photos of you in the city’s system have been altered.” He opens his mouth to speak before clamping it shut so tight that a muscle in his jaw twitches. There’s more he’s not saying—I can tell by the way he’s fighting his own words—but I don’t press him. After a few seconds, he says, “If you stay with me, I can and will protect you, Tasia.”

The way he says it sends a bolt of heat through my body. The heat only intensifies when he continues to stare confidently, unwaveringly into my eyes.

“Fine,” I say hoarsely. “If I have to choose between you and the Scouts, I choose you.”

“I’ll need you to trust me.”

“That’s a big ask.”

“Whoever wants you has resources. I’ll need you to trust that I have your best interests at heart and can keep you safe. You’ll need to do what I say.”

My eyes roam over his body’s gilded aura. That damn golden soul-shade leads me to trust him…as much as I possibly can. “Why do you care?”

He breaks eye contact, glancing away on a big inhale. “Like I told you before. You’re valuable to me.”

I sigh. “My ability is.”

“If that’s easier to believe, we’ll go with that.”

“So when is my first payday?” I ask.

Archer’s face transforms from tight and angular to soft and carefree as he bursts out into full-blown laughter.

I frown. “It’s not funny.”

“No, no. It’s really not.” He shakes his head, giving me a lopsided grin. “Your attitude changed fairly quickly, is all.”

“My situation has changed.” I narrow my eyes at him, crossing my arms.

His eyes flick down to my chest, pausing there for a moment too long.

“Eyes up here, asshole.”

His attention quickly snaps back up to my face. Pink tints his cheeks as he scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “There’s a—”

“If you’re one of those leering pervs, I’m out.”

He reaches out, pointing a tattooed finger toward me, and I slap his hand away.

“Don’t touch me.”

“No,” he says, chuckling. “It’s a—”

Something tickles my collarbone, and when I reach up to brush it off, my fingers make contact with something fuzzy.

“What the hell?” I pluck the thing off of me.

Holding it up, I see way too many furry, dangling legs.

A scream bursts from my raw throat as I fling the creature as far away from me as humanly possible. I jump onto Archer, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. A shudder goes through my body as I cling onto him.

“Is it gone?” I whisper into his neck.

His body shakes, and I pull back to see that he’s wearing a huge grin. He’s laughing at me.

“It’s not fucking funny,” I say.

He squeezes my hip, and his touch sends electricity through my body, sobering me up. My cheeks burn. Disentangling myself, I let go of him. When my feet hit the dusty floor, I take a few steps back, putting space between us.

I wipe my hands aggressively on my jeans and shudder.

“Yep.” Archer stuffs his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels and laughing. “I was trying to warn you.”

I glare at him. His laugh turns into a fake cough.

He leans casually against the wall across from me. The soft, golden light from the overhead bulb gilds him like a piece of framed artwork. Something flutters in my chest, and I walk in the opposite direction of the spider—and him.

“Try harder next time!” I call over my shoulder.

“You didn’t have to chuck the poor little guy.”

“Little my ass.” Fire shoots through my chest, and I grit my teeth. I’m not even afraid of spiders; it just scared the shit out of me. “That thing was huge—stop laughing!”

He quickly catches up with me, and I stop to face him. Though he’s stopped laughing, his eyes still twinkle with humor.

“You’re more afraid of a harmless little spider than you are of the Scouts hunting you down.”

“Not true,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Sure seemed like it.”

“You’re an ass.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, chuckling again. “I’m not trying to be…”

I turn toward him, planting my hands on his chest and shoving him up against the wall. “You are infuriating, Archer Acciai!”

His smile grows.

“What is possibly funny now?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “I rather like the way my name sounds on your lips.”

Exasperatedly, I throw my hands up and continue walking.

“I’m suddenly jobless, homeless, and single. Your fault—all of it—by the way. Not to mention there’s a fucking bounty on my head now! And you’re thinking about that?”

There’s no way I’m headed back to the apartment where both Reed and Alisha are. Something tells me someone might end up with a fist in their face—and it won’t be me. Plus, my roommates would surely be the first ones to turn me in if they saw my photo blasted on the UIS.

Archer kicks at the dirt underfoot with the toe of his boot, his features pinched together. “No—sorry. I don’t laugh often, but with you…”

“Me what? You find it easy to laugh at my pain?”

“That’s not it at all.” He gives me a sidelong glance. “It’s just that, despite everything going on, being around you makes me forget the horrors of this city.”

“Well…shit.” That weird, warm tightness spreads through my chest again. I don’t admit it aloud, but I sort of feel the same way.

Even though my biggest fear is coming true—the Scouts are after me—somehow I’m not afraid.

Not with Archer by my side.