Chapter 22

Power Distribution: High Chancellor and Ministries

Silver Edict #9

“To ensure effective governance, with the people’s interests at the forefront, this edict establishes a harmonious power distribution, with the High Chancellor overseeing overarching policies and ministries, which exercise authority in their specific domains…”

ARCHER

“I’m fine, brother,” Godric says for the tenth time. “Your girlfriend is fine, too.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I mutter.

“You sure about that?” Godric side-eyes me, and I face forward, continuing to walk through the tunnel. The packed dirt muffles our footsteps, but our voices echo and carry through the tunnel.

“What are we, twelve?” I ask.

Godric barks a laugh. I’m glad he’s able to heal faster than regular humans. It’s probably why he’s alive despite losing so much blood last night.

“You like her.”

I grunt.

“You really like her.” He snickers again. The only reason I let him tease me is because I’m so damn happy he’s up and fine. “When’s the last time you got laid, brother?”

“You know I don’t sleep around,” I growl.

“It’s fun. You should try it.”

“I’m not like you.”

“Ah, that’s right. You need connection and love and all the fluffy feelings to get off.” I elbow him, and he stifles a laugh. “Do you cry and tell your dick I love you when you masturbate?”

“Shut the hell up, Godric.”

“Holy shit, I got you. I finally got you riled up. She is your weakness.”

“Not all of us lead with our dicks,” I mutter. “Some of us actually have brains and morals.”

Godric coughs, then chuckles. “You know, both your pulses skyrocket around each other.”

“Have you considered maybe it’s because I’m stressed out?”

“Is that what they call aroused these days?”

“Good Gods,” I mutter. “Glad you’re feeling better, but you’re pissing me off. Yes, I like Tasia. Now leave it alone.”

Godric snickers. “That’s the first honest statement out of your mouth today.”

Once again, he’s trying to provoke me. Normally, it doesn’t bother me, but today my self-control is weak. Yesterday’s attack roused a dormant fury inside me. I’m sick of always doing the right thing only to end up losing the people I care about.

If something were to happen to Godric…or Tasia…

“You still don’t remember anything?” I ask, switching to a more comfortable conversation.

Godric grunts. “Nothing new. Only what I told you. Heard the door open. Thought it was you or Tasia coming back. The room went dark. Woke up at Doc’s.”

“You didn’t hear or see anything else out of the ordinary?”

“Like I said, nothing.”

Soon, we reach the end of a tunnel, and I push open a metal storm door. Muffled cries fill the dark space. I reach around, searching for the string I know dangles above. When my fingers brush against it, I give a tug, and dim light washes over the room. Two men, bound and gagged, sit in the middle of the space.

The foul stench of sewage assaults my nose. One of them has apparently soiled himself. Without their Scout uniforms, they look weak and pitiful. They sit there glaring at us in nothing but their briefs. Neither is particularly built, and both have pale skin, as if they never see the sun out of uniform.

“Pathetic,” Godric mumbles. He steps toward one of the men, ripping the gag out of his mouth.

The man immediately spits, and Godric backhands him, drawing blood.

Bending forward, Godric says, “Tell me your name.”

“Roman,” the man says, dazed.

“And your partner?”

“Paul.”

Godric turns to me, a smug look on his face. “Minds are pliable again.”

“Hmmm.” I consider this for a moment.

Stepping forward, I level my gaze with Roman. “Who gave you orders to arrest Fantasia Foster?”

The man opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. His eyes widen as he tries to say something again. He can’t. It’s as if the glamour hasn’t fully worn off… Or perhaps it’s not glamour at all but something more powerful keeping the men from speaking.

“Fae?” I ask Godric. “Or artificial magic?”

“Whatever it is, it’s strong as fuck.”

I can’t imagine the fae would enter the city to glamour a couple of Scouts into hunting a random bartender. There’s something missing here… Artificial magic seems more likely, especially considering how corrupt the city’s elites are. I wouldn’t put it past the High Chancellor in particular to find a way to use magic in his favor.

And there’s only one place that manufactures magic: Mesmeric Labs.

It all leads back to the lab. The dreamdust, Tasia’s magic…

When I went back to the alleyway yesterday, the Scouts were still knocked out, but Godric’s SUV had been broken into. Tasia’s dad’s journal was gone, stolen along with the one she dropped in the scuffle.

Perhaps they assume she knows something about her father, or maybe they think she’s a risk. That she might expose them. It could explain why they want her out of the equation.

Even if these men were glamoured to stay quiet, Godric should be able to use his ability to sense the truth. We might be able to work around it.

I turn my focus to Roman. “Where were you before arresting Fantasia Foster?”

“Mesmeric Labs,” Roman responds.

My jaw tightens, and I lean against the wall, watching with rapt attention as Godric takes over the line of questioning.

“With Paul?”

“Yes.”

“Were you injected with something?”

“No.”

Godric and I exchange a look.

“Who was the last person you talked to at the lab?”

Silence.

“What was the last thing you remember?”

The Scout blinks a few times, as if he’s puzzled. “I—I don’t know.”

“Who are you working with?”

More silence.

Godric takes the gag out of Paul’s mouth, glamouring him into obeying his commands, then repeats the same line of questioning.

We get the same answers.

“Come on, Godric,” I mutter. “We’re going to Mesmeric.”

Leaving the men behind in the makeshift dungeon, we head back to Nightcrawler headquarters to get set up for a nighttime escapade.

Two hours later, I’m tightening my grip on the gas canister as we trudge through the tunnels, away from the inner city and toward the outskirts.

“You sure this is the right thing, boss?” Godric keeps pace with me, his voice gruff.

I hate that he calls me that, considering it’s a title I didn’t technically earn. It could’ve just as easily been him leading the gang. He’s always been stronger than me, physically and mentally. I’ve been kinder, more patient, but that’s gotten me nowhere. All it’s gotten me is a fridge decorated with memories.

“I’m sure,” I say.

“It’s barely gonna make a dent. Most of the building’s fireproof.”

“It’s not about burning it down. It’s about making a statement, showing them they have enemies—and we’re powerful, too.” Powerful enough to get past their guards and onto their precious property. Brave enough to take a stand and openly show opposition. “Sometimes, to cut the head off the snake, you need to smoke it out first.”

Godric makes a contemplative noise. “You’re gonna be late for the shit in Sweetcreek.”

I don’t care about being late to the masquerade. I’ll get there eventually.

“It’s now or never.”

I focus on the sloshing sound of the gasoline, willing time to go faster. We could’ve taken the streets, but with the Scouts out for blood, I didn’t want to risk it. Someone already made it past my apartment’s wards. I can’t even guarantee the Underground is safe anymore, but it’s safer than the streets above.

“You good?” Godric asks.

I’m a coiled spring filled with tension, but I swallow it down, keeping my focus on the winding tunnel before us. “All good.”

A short while later, we emerge from a warded door and step out into an alley. Behind us, the entrance to the tunnel disappears from sight. Glancing around, I examine the dark alley before trudging toward the main road. It’s a quiet street on the very edge of the city. The area is mainly open space and government buildings, such as the Ministries, which are mostly empty tonight.

The lab sits straight ahead—a two-story building with a row of smokestacks toward the back and a distinct lack of windows. An electric fence runs along the perimeter, and there is a small, shack-like building serving as a check-in point by the street.

My phone buzzes, and I glance down at the text.

Pixel: Cameras are offline. You’re good.

Nudging Godric, I show him the message before typing out one of my own.

Me: Did T get the dresses and shoes?

Three dots appear and disappear, and then Pixel’s response comes in.

Pixel: Affirmative.

I sigh in relief and stick the phone back in my pocket. If Tasia doesn’t want to go tonight, I’m not going to force her. This morning, she seemed back to her normal, dynamic self. She swore she would go with me to the ball but was fairly uncommunicative otherwise. When I tried to talk to her about last night, she brushed it off like it was no big deal.

I hate that she stuffs her emotions down so deeply and won’t talk to me about how she’s truly doing.

Godric and I make our way toward the security shack, sticking to the shadows as we cross the street. Godric and I move forward, ready to glamour our way into the property.

I grit my teeth, clutching the gas can and reminding myself why I’m doing this. Tasia and Godric could’ve been taken from me too easily last night.

I’ve been too dismissive of the threats facing the people closest to me…too passive in ensuring their safety. What’s the point in trying to cause the least amount of harm possible when it ends up hurting me and mine?

A Scout exits the shack. “Name and purpose,” he says. I swiftly step toward him. “What do you—”

“Quiet,” I say. “Eyes on me.”

The Scout’s face goes slack, and he stares at me expectantly. Godric steps around us, entering the shack to take care of any remaining Scouts.

“You will not remember anything from tonight,” I say, digging deep into my reserves to instill the glamour. The deeper it runs, the more magic it requires, and the more drained it leaves me. My next instruction is lighter, less taxing on me. “Leave and go home. Now.”

The Scout nods, walking away in a dazed state. A moment later, his companion exits the hut doing the same. They both walk down the street without looking back.

Then Godric must hit a button or something, because the electric gate slowly wheels open, and he exits the shack.

“Let’s go,” he says.

I hand the canister to him and watch as he douses the ground with gasoline, creating a trail up to the lab. The building is made mostly of steel, to protect the chemicals and experiments inside, undoubtedly, but a good chunk of the front offices are made of wood and glass.

Once Godric has emptied the container, he backs up, joining me a good distance away from the building. He pulls a pack of matches out of his back pocket.

“Wait.” I reach out, stopping him from striking the match.

Every time I blink, I see Godric lying in his own blood on my ma’s kitchen floor. I see Tasia’s shell-shocked face as she stands before the Scouts. I see her crying in the shower over wounds I can’t see.

I see the look on my ma’s face before she left the apartment for the last time, never to return.

I see Sofia’s face, pale and gaunt, as she seizes from too much dreamdust and fades from the world.

And then, it’s as if the pipes inside me burst, letting out the rage I’ve stifled down. This lab and its drug are not taking anyone else from me. Whoever is behind it will pay dearly.

Red fills my vision as I snatch the box from him. I strike a match, holding it up in front of my face. I stare at the flickering flame, and its heat reaches out as if it’s itching to burn something to the ground.

Tasia’s sobs in the shower last night gutted me.

“Never again,” I mutter.

Her father might not have hurt her physically, but he hurt her nonetheless. Everything vile in this city can, in some way or another, be traced back to Mesmeric.

With zero remorse, I toss the match. The moment the flame kisses the spilled gas, it ignites into a roaring monster. Heat bursts over me, gripping me with its intensity. Fire explodes down the slick line, ready to consume the building.

“Come on!” Godric yells. He tosses the canister into the grass, and we break out into a run.

We barely make it across the street when the explosion rocks the world behind us, the blast forcing us to the ground. Debris clatters all around us. I cover my head with my arms. My ears ring, and I glance back at the inferno.

What did I just do?

I never get my hands dirty.

Ever.

Not even after losing Sofia. But the thought of losing Tasia, too? It shattered something crucial inside of me.

Godric is the first to get up. He rushes to my side. His mouth moves rapidly, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. A persistent, high-pitched tone reverberates through my skull. A sharp ringing.

Flames burst up into the night sky, reaching for the stars and consuming the front of the lab. The sight is so bright that I’m forced to squint.

What did I do?

My gut sinks as the gravity of the moment settles in.

What bothers me most is not that I did it, but that I’d do it all over again.

For her.