Chapter 24

”Color is associated with electromagnetic radiation of a certain range of wavelengths visible to the human eye. The spectrum visible to humans is much more limited than what is available to the fae.”

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

FANTASIA

Splendor Hall is twenty minutes north of Archer’s house in Sweetcreek. Godric is driving us in his SUV, which has freshly repaired—and reinforced—windows.

When we got into the vehicle, Archer slid into the back seat beside me instead of sitting up front with Godric, and the resulting flutters in my stomach caught me off guard. His presence has me on high alert. I’ve never been so attuned to someone before. Every time he shifts, my breath hitches. It’s as if my body is secretly hoping for contact with his.

After what we’ve been through the past few days, there’s no going back to being just friends. At least not for me. Pretending to be his date—when I want nothing more than to truly be his date—is excruciating, and the event hasn’t even begun yet.

Neither man has said a single word for the entire ride. I stare out the window, watching the colorful houses and landscapes whiz by. It’s so…empty and quiet in this part of the city. Unlike the PD, which is filled with constant ruckus and chaos, the streets are mostly deserted, the yards empty.

This is eerie.

Turning to Archer, who’s staring straight ahead through the windshield, I study his profile for a moment. As if he can sense the heat of my gaze burning into him, his eyes snap to mine. The wrinkles lining his forehead slowly soften, and his lips curve up slightly on one side.

I twist my hand in my skirts and wiggle around, adjusting myself in the seat.

Archer’s soft expression morphs into a frown. Leaning in so his breath tickles the shell of my ear, he says, “Nervous?”

I shake my head.

“You’ll be great.” The heat of his breath causes all the little hairs on the back of my neck to prickle, and I try to repress an involuntary shudder.

As if I wasn’t already nervous, now I’m a wreck.

“Just relax and let me take the lead,” he says. “Will that help?”

His scent—natural, manly, with a subtle hint of smoke—fills my nose, and my insides begin to melt.

The air between us crackles, and suddenly, the back seat is much too small. We’re too close.

He pulls back slightly to scrutinize me, but he’s still leaning into my space.

The car jerks, and we jolt to the side as Godric swears under his breath. Archer’s arm flashes out, and he braces himself against my door so he won’t crush me with his muscular body.

“Sorry bout that!” Godric calls back with a chuckle.

There’s humor in his voice, but I’m too distracted to wonder if his swerving was intentional. I’m busy being caged in by Archer. Instead of releasing me, he remains there with his right arm reaching across me. His jaw clenches, and he gives me a concerned look, his golden eyes roaming my face.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” I whisper. My heart thumps rapidly.

We stay like that, staring at each other, for an extended minute.

My cheeks flush. Why is he not making any move to pull back? His eyes flick to my lips, then back up. Heat builds in my stomach, blossoming lower and lower. I freeze in anticipation of his next move.

“What’re you doing?” I finally mumble.

His brows rise. “Waiting for you to let go of me.”

It takes me a second to realize I have him in a death grip, my hands clutching onto his biceps.

“Sorry,” I mutter, releasing him.

Smiling softly, he settles back into his own space and adjusts his jacket. If my cheeks weren’t already blazing before, they’re flaming now.

When we pull up to the hall, my lungs squeeze. Massive spotlights illuminate the property. The angular building, made mostly of dark stone, stretches wide and tall. It has a steepled roof made of iron and sits atop a small hill. An abundance of stairs stretch from the street up to the entrance.

In the distance, beyond the hall, a section of the wall separating Silver City from the Wilds is visible.

My heart thumps in overdrive, and I lean closer to my window, desperate to get a better look. The wall has the same grim, dark coloring as Splendor Hall, almost blending into the shadows completely, and it stands at least a dozen stories high, running as far as the eye can see in each direction.

I never stray near the wall. I’ve always heard it’s where the majority of Scouts roam, on the lookout for fae enemies who might attempt to breach the barrier.

Shuddering, I tear my eyes away from it. “I didn’t realize we’d be so close to the wall,” I mutter.

Godric snorts, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “A reminder of what the hall is for—worshiping our wonderful Council and the High Chancellor himself, for protecting us from the treachery beyond.” Sarcasm drips from his words.

“I hate these events,” Archer mutters, rubbing his jaw as Godric drives us closer to the entrance, where all sorts of well-dressed, masked folks climb the stone stairs. “But now that the lab’s destroyed, we can see who’s really behind the endeavors at Mesmeric.”

We come to a complete stop at the curb. Godric puts the car in park.

“What?” I scrunch my nose. “Destroyed?”

Archer and Godric go silent, exchanging a look in the mirror. “It…burned down,” Archer says. Godric makes a noise in his throat, and Archer’s cheeks turn red. “I burned it down.”

My eyes just about pop out of my head. “You burned it down?”

“Not entirely. Just a portion.” He scratches the back of his neck nervously. “We have a plan. Tonight is a fundraising event for Mesmeric—or, it was supposed to be. Without a lab, there are no experiments. There is no dreamdust—so we theorize.”

“But they’ll just build a new lab,” I say, not following.

“Exactly,” Godric says.

“They need a lab,” Archer says. “It’ll be expensive, but those who are most invested in the lab’s…research will ensure the appropriate funding is there.” Archer looks contemplative for a moment. “We track the major funding, we can follow it back to those with ties to the lab.”

“Why burn it down, though?” I ask. “Why not just track who donates at the event tonight?”

“It’s a threat.” Godric laughs. “Sweetheart—”

“Don’t sweetheart me in that condescending tone, you asshat.”

Archer chuckles, shifting in his seat and watching me with rapt attention.

“Sorry, Tasia,” Godric mutters. “Those who fund the small events like this are mostly people with means who hope to get in the good graces of those with true power in the city.”

“Those with…personal attachments or a true stake in the lab will need it built as soon as possible,” Archer says. “They’ll donate quickly and generously, under the guise of serving the city.”

“Why exactly does it matter?” I ask, eyeing a woman with a gorgeous teal dress and a peacock-feathered mask as she walks past our car, headed toward the stairs. Her soul-shade blends with her outfit almost perfectly.

“Eyes on the enemy,” Godric says. “That’s why it matters.”

“There will always be another lab, more dreamdust, more experiments.” Archer sighs. “It will never end, unless we can find those at the top.”

“And then what?” I ask.

He purses his lips and glances away. “Cut the head off the snake.”

“I gotta move,” Godric says. “Can’t park here.”

Archer pulls out our masks, handing me mine before pulling his own on. I’m careful not to mess up my hair or makeup as I slip it into place. The butterfly stretches up on the left side, reaching a few inches higher than the right. I was worried the asymmetrical design would make the mask heavier on one side, but the thicker material on the right balances the weight distribution.

His mask is much simpler than mine. Its coloring is black and gold like mine but is entirely matte, understated. It covers the top half of his face, leaving his defined jaw and soft lips exposed. I’ve never noticed before how beautifully sculpted his face is. Yeah, he’s handsome. Hot. But with his mask putting the bottom half of his face on display, he looks downright beautiful.

Like he’s on a mission to break hearts.

When he catches me staring unabashedly, his face slowly lights up. He breaks out into the smallest, cutest grin, and Sirius save me, I practically melt.

Something flutters in my stomach, and heat builds in my core again.

How can this powerful, dangerous, asshole of a man be so fucking cute at times? A gangster who helps out old ladies and blushes.

For a moment, I let myself forget that he’s already turned me down once. Instead, I wonder what it might be like between us if this date were real—if I could act on my attraction to him. Before Reed, I had plenty of enjoyable encounters. But during the last year or so of my relationship with Reed, that side of me died. Even before that, since the beginning, our intimacy was a monotonous routine—something done out of requirement—lacking the passion, lust, and spontaneity that’s suddenly begging to be released.

I yearn to hike up my dress and straddle Archer—masquerade ball be damned.

“If you two are done eye-fucking each other back there…” Godric says.

He presses the button, and the locks disengage. Archer breaks eye contact, smoothing his hand down his thigh and straightening his posture.

Godric glances at me in the mirror, and I flick him off before opening the door and jumping out, nearly tripping over my feet.

And I’m in flats. At least Archer had the sense not to subject me to heels.

“I was supposed to open the door for you,” Archer says as he rounds the vehicle with a scowl.

Once we’re on the sidewalk, Godric drives off, leaving us alone. As I watch the plain black SUV depart, I notice the windows are incredibly tinted from the outside, making it impossible to see the driver. Good.

“So you’re courting me?” I ask.

He glances around, likely to ensure no one is listening to us, then leans in so only I can hear. “For tonight, I am indeed.”

His low, furtive tone sends a shiver up my spine, and I narrow my eyes at him, stepping back. “Stop whispering in my ear.”

His golden eyes light up in amusement, and he holds an arm out. “May I?”

I once thought his eyes and soul-shade were the same bright, rich hue. But now, there’s no mistaking the fact that his soul-shade is definitely darker than his eyes…and darker than it was before.

It unsettles me briefly, but I shake it off.

Reaching up, I wrap my arm around Archer’s bicep and try to ignore how solid it is in my grip. And how warm his body is next to mine… How good he smells…

“This is going to be a long night,” I murmur. His body shakes with silent laughter.

As we head toward the stairs, my limbs grow heavier and heavier. There are so many people around. I scan the various soul-shades, searching for grey. Everyone is surrounded by color, but that does little to ease my panic.

My lungs tighten, and suddenly there’s not enough air out here.

“I can’t do this.” I stop moving, squeezing Archer’s bicep even tighter. “The Scouts are still—”

“They’re not here,” Archer murmurs. “And they won’t recognize you.”

That absurd thought does little to calm my anxiety. “A mask isn’t going to keep them from recognizing me, Archer.” It’s nice to be able to use his name openly for once, because here, he is Archer.

Not the Phantom.

“Not only that. But they’re not searching for you here.”

The implication of his words hits me. I’m just a low-life bartender who wears stained shirts and curses too much. Tonight, I’m done up and mingling with the city’s finest. I’m hidden in plain sight.

He places his hand on mine, giving me a brief squeeze that only makes me more nervous. “You’re not alone. We’re doing this together.”

“Yeah, but I don’t belong here.”

“And you think I do?” he murmurs. “Then you don’t know me at all.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I take a deep breath. My hands shake as we continue walking. Archer reaches out to cover my hand with his, giving me comfort.

Whether it’s intentional or not, it works.