Chapter 33

Citizen Confinement and Perimeter Security Directive

Silver Edict #2

“In the event of a successful border crossing, the individual will be on their own to navigate the Wilds. Reentry is forbidden, and any attempt to cross back into Silver City will result in immediate on-site neutralization.”

ARCHER

Time becomes a blur.

Trusting that Scathe will watch out for Tasia, and Godric and Zeke will take care of Reed’s body, I focus on myself for once. I need to release this soul before it becomes a permanent part of me.

I’m not sure what the implications of that would be, and I don’t care to find out.

The soft dirt underfoot swallows the sound of my footsteps as I navigate a less-traveled section of the Underground. I follow one of the tunnels east, away from the coast and toward the Wilds. There are a few tunnels that run beyond the wall, but I seldom use them. We have no business out there.

The unsettling buzzing in my blood continues, pestering me to find another soul.

It’s still hungry for more.

I take a sharp left, and the tunnel narrows into a smaller path that barely allows me to stand at my full height. My shoulder brushes against the wall. I pick up my pace.

I’m half-fae.

Reaper fae.

The irony isn’t lost on me, but I truly had no idea. Godric and I have always known we were different, assumed we were part fae, but I hadn’t expected this. And it’s not like we could start a magic support group and find others like us.

As far as we knew, since fae and magic are banned, we were the only ones like us in the whole city. Two boys who got lucky in finding one another.

The dirt path begins to curve upward, growing steeper. I grab a rope that rests on the dirt beneath me and give it a tug to ensure it’s still sound. Using it to pull myself up the steep slope, I walk slowly, taking small steps and moving hand over hand.

As I get closer to the surface, birdsong reaches my ears.

Eventually, the ground levels off again. Early, pink daylight seeps in from a hole overhead. It took hours to walk the distance to the Wilds—zigzagging through the tunnels. Hours of being alone with my thoughts.

Hours of hating myself.

Gripping the edge of the hole, I hoist myself up and out, landing on a bed of plush, thick grass. I lie there for a minute on my back, reveling in the soft morning sun on my face and the chattering of birds flitting in the trees nearby.

A shudder racks my body as the sweet arms of nature wrap around me, welcoming me back with warmth and tenderness.

When I get up, I glance toward the city. The wall sits a few miles away in the distance, an ominous black thing cutting off nature from the sprawling metropolis.

Sighing, I search my surroundings to ensure I’m alone. From what I’ve heard, fae normally don’t wander this close to the city—why would they? They prefer nature to the horribly polluted metal and brick wen.

This area lives up to its name. All around me lush wilderness stretches on, teeming with flora and fauna. There are a few trails cutting through the dense foliage, but most of them are overgrown, untamed. Everything is alive with color.

Putting my back to the city, I face the expanse of nature and exhale forcefully, attempting to free the soul I consumed.

Nothing happens.

I try again, closing my eyes, focusing on Reed’s spirit within me.

Once more, I exhale audibly. Then I draw in another deep breath and do it again and again.

After a few minutes, when nothing changes, I release a frustrated grunt and run a hand through my hair. I growl and start to pace.

What am I doing wrong?

According to my understanding, nature has a process of recycling souls… My intuition led me here.

“Ah, nature in its purest form is breathtaking, is it not?”

I whip around, catching sight of Arlo Osiander. He’s quite out of place here in the wilderness, in his shiny loafers and fitted, luxury suit.

“Much better than that horrible concrete prison you prefer to reside in,” he says.

Gritting my teeth, I think of what I could possibly say to him. But his presence is the least of my concerns right now. When the silence between us stretches on, he sighs as though he’s annoyed. His features begin to change, shifting into something beyond human.

Something sinister.

His mouth widens into a gaping hole. His black irises bleed into the whites of his eyes.

Staring at me is the face of the Reaper.

My spine tightens, and I stand up taller, watching him with rapt attention.

The revelation should bring me a sense of vindication at the very least, but nothing trumps the concern I have about consuming a soul.

“You,” I mutter. A plethora of thoughts spin through my mind like a hurricane. But right now, the most important thing is figuring out how to release the soul. “Help me.” I’m ashamed to have to ask, but not too obstinate that I don’t. “How do I get it out of me?”

Arlo’s face shifts again, bones cracking as his previous features return. There’s something familiar about him. Something I can’t quite place.

“I’ll tell you,” he says, “for a price.”

“Name the cost. I can afford it.” It’s honest, not arrogant. Whatever it is, I can pay it.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “The price is not your human silvers. It’s a bargain.”

Through gritted teeth, I repeat what I said earlier. “Name the cost.”

I don’t know what will happen if I don’t release Reed’s soul. Will it become a part of me? Will it feed the monster inside of me until I’m the one stuffed away—at its ravenous mercy? I’m not willing to take that chance. Keeping it inside of me isn’t right.

“I’ll show you how to be a proper reaper, but in return, you hear me out and cause me no harm.”

“Hear you out?”

“It’s a very fair price, is it not?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. He wants me to listen to him? Surely I can do that without issue. As for causing harm, I try to avoid doing that in general, so it’s not a big ask. “Fair enough.”

He puts out his hand, and I eye it warily before shaking. A buzz courses through my palm and up my arm, and although I have no formal experience with bargains, I inherently know that magic has sealed the deal.

“You need to become one with nature,” Arlo says, stepping closer to me. Stray brambles scratch at his pressed pants, but he seems to pay them no mind. “Find a quiet place that calls to you, and focus your mind.”

I wait for him to go on, but he gestures toward the forest behind me, as if urging me to heed his advice. Obliging, I turn to face the woods and wait for a call. A tug. Something.

Nothing comes.

I choose an ash tree nearby, stepping up to it and placing my hands on the rough bark.

“Close your eyes,” Arlo says. “Focus.”

I do as he says, shutting my eyes and trying to summon the foreign spirit within me. Minutes go by, and my arms begin to protest the static position.

“Focus,” Arlo says again. “I have quite the packed schedule. A lab to rebuild—thank you—ministries to glamour, and a pretty little soul-seer who awaits my return.”

“What?” My eyes fly open, and my chest tightens. Whirling around, I storm toward Arlo and grip his jacket in my fists. “What the hell does that mean?”

He chuckles.

“If you touch her, I swear to the Gods—”

“You’ll what, Archer?” He smirks. “We made a deal.”

Instantly, the gravity of the situation weighs me down. “That was before I knew you had Tasia.” I try to tighten my grip, but my fingers freeze, unresponsive. They loosen their grip of their own accord, and my body jolts back a step.

Magic.

From the bargain.

He has Tasia.

My pulse quickens.

“Alas, here we are,” Arlo says. “I imagine she’ll need human facilities and sustenance rather soon, so perhaps we can move along with our little lesson and I may be on my way.”

My mind trips over itself trying to figure out a way around Arlo’s bargain. Perhaps I can have Godric harm him for me—on my behalf. Or perhaps I can tie him up and keep him somewhere safe yet isolated. That’s not technically harming him.

With more force than I intended, I slam my palms against the ash tree, closing my eyes and shutting out the world around me.

I search for the tree’s soft buzz of energy, the one I find when drawing replenishment from nature. I locate it swiftly, but instead of drawing the energy toward me, I focus on expelling my own energy outward.

It works. A steady stream of spirit begins to leave me.

My vision goes black, and my hearing fades into nothing but a low hum as I force it out.

After a moment, I’m no longer forcing it. It’s flowing naturally, like a steady stream. When the last of the unfamiliar soul leaves my being, I gasp for air, sucking in a big breath. All at once, my vision and hearing come back. Quickly, I draw in nature’s regular energy, replenishing my magic stores.

Like the fae I am, I realize.

A boiling fury courses through me, and I turn, striding toward Arlo until we’re face to face.

“I will never be a monster like you,” I spit.

“You call me a monster, yet you are exactly the same as me.” He gestures toward the tree I utilized to liberate Reed’s soul.

“No. I released the soul to find its peace.” He doesn’t need to know it was selfish, that I did it to rid myself of the ill feeling it gave me. “I do not consume souls for my own gain.”

He laughs, a surprised look crossing his face. “No wonder you fight me so.” He shakes his head. “There’s much you’ve yet to learn about your own folk.”

“You’re not my people.”

“Am I not?” He smiles smugly. “I’m surprised your whore of a mother didn’t tell you—”

Red fills my vision, and I vibrate with rage, unable to physically make a move on him. “You will not speak of my mother in such a manner,” I yell.

“—about our father,” he says, ignoring my outburst.

My heart stalls.

Ourfather.

“Shut your Gods-damned mouth,” I growl.

“Archer,” the Reaper sing-songs. “I’m Arlo.” He places a hand on his chest and smirks at me. “Artair is our father. Archer. Arlo. Artair. You can’t tell me you don’t see the significance there. Quite adorable, really.”

“You’re not my brother.”

“Ah, but we share blood.”

Like Godric has said many times before, blood does not make brothers…but it does explain how Arlo got into my ma’s apartment.

Why has he been poking around?

My temples throb in tempo to my pounding heart. What he’s saying—no. It can’t be true. Ma said she didn’t know who my father was.

My mother wasn’t the best. She was often high, incoherent, unreliable, but she wasn’t a liar.

Turning, I trudge back toward the tunnel entrance, desperate to put some distance between Arlo and me. I need to get to Tasia.

“Your mother was offered safety here with us in the Wilds. Before and after your sister was born. She chose to keep you both in the city, knowing our plan to take it back.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” I call over my shoulder.

“Archer Acciai…you’re quick to protect half your kind, but what about the other half? The half that was here first. The half whose land the city was built atop?”

“That’s your plan? To destroy the city?” I laugh humorously.

“I don’t need to destroy the city when it’ll destroy itself.” His voice fades out as I pick up my pace.

“Go to hell, you fucker,” I mutter as I drop back into the hole.

If only Tasia could hear me now.

I start running toward the city. It’s the memory of her contagious laugh that propels me forward, desperate to find her. Protect her. And win her back.

I fear I’ve lost her. And selfishly? The fear of losing her is more terrifying than any of today’s other revelations.