Chapter 36

”The antithesis of life is death, and the opposite of a soul is…a void. I aim to delve into uncharted territories of soul-magic, venturing beyond the limits of our current understandings, including the intersection of death magic and life magic.”

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

FANTASIA

Iwake to an angelic being hovering over me. His tan skin and dark-blond hair are gilded by the bright light above him.

“Archer?” I croak, pushing myself to a sitting position.

“Don’t move—”

His words are eclipsed by a sharp pain that shoots through my arm, so intense that my vision turns to spots. I bite back a scream.

“Scathe?” I moan, squeezing my eyes shut.

“The bite isn’t that bad. I stopped the bleeding. His venom is working its way out of your bloodstream now. The pain will subside any second now that you’re awake.”

I don’t give a fuck! I want to yell. I’m consumed with grief and heartbreak. My body is so heavy, it’s like an anchor—and I want nothing more than to drift down to the sea floor. To drown in my sorrows.

I like a lot of things about you, Tasia, a deep, steady voice says in my head, but that manner of talk is malarkey.

You can hear me? I think, trying to direct it toward my furry pal.

Heard all that melodrama.

A warm, wet tongue slathers my face with saliva, and my body instantly lightens. This time when I open my eyes, it’s Scathe’s furry face and pointed ears hovering over me. I squint, making out his vibrant, cool blue eyes—with normal pupils.

Sorry about the wound. One might say I wasn’t in my right mind.

Gasping, I sit up and wrap my arms around the mutt’s neck. My left arm is wrapped haphazardly with a dark piece of cloth, but the pain is already a whisper of what it was a moment ago.

“Holy shit—you’re okay.” Tears streak down my face and into the hellhound’s fur as I nuzzle him.

Keep that up and my fur will mat. I’d rather not entice Archer to brush me any more than he already does.

I laugh, making a snotty, bubbly sound.

Gross, Scathe says. But his voice is filled with dry humor.

Laughing harder, I release the mutt and run my hands over his neck fur—hitting the spot he likes. His back leg thumps involuntarily against the concrete floor as he leans into my touch.

Right…there… Ahhh yes.

“Tasia,” Archer says. The spell of the reunion is semi-broken as everything comes rushing back to me. Archer’s rich, golden eyes are filled with warmth as he gazes down at Scathe and me. “How’s your arm?”

“Forget about me—how are you? Arlo knocked you out!”

His lips slowly curve up into a grin as he kneels down beside me. Gently, he places his big, strong hands on either side of my head, working his fingers into my hair and holding me reverently.

“Look at us.” I chuckle. “We are one hell of a pair.”

“You’re one hell of a woman,” he says.

Before I can respond, his lips descend on mine—firm and demanding. Reaching up with my good arm, I pull him closer, deepening the kiss. When I make a soft sound of satisfaction, he groans and pulls away, releasing me.

“How is Scathe alive?” I ask. As ecstatic and grateful as I am that Scathe made it through the dreamdust high, panic courses through me at the thought that Arlo might’ve survived, too. “How is he okay?”

Archer and Scathe share a long look, and I realize they’re probably mindspeaking. After a few beats, Archer turns back to me with a serious expression on his face.

“Your blood.”

“What?” I frown in confusion.

“Scathe told me your theory on immunity. We think when he bit you…your blood neutralized the magic.”

“‘Blood is thicker than water, but blood can wash away dust,’” I whisper as it clicks into place. It’s not just immunity I possess, it’s an antidote.

My father must’ve known something terrible was coming to Silver City. He was in the thick of it. How else could he have planned all of this the way he did? Injecting me with the soul-magic mRNA. The bear…the note…the journals. The puzzle he left behind.

He didn’t just inject me with artificial magic, but with a solution.

Iam the antidote—for everyone.

My pulse picks up.

“Archer,” I whisper. “We can save them.”

My thoughts race.

Dreamdust needs to get off the streets completely, but with Arlo gone and my blood as the remedy, we stand a chance at turning this city around.

Archer shares a look with Scathe, who whines excitedly.

“What are the chances?” I say. “The entire time you were looking for an antidote, it was me you were searching for without even knowing it.”

Archer bows his head, his shoulders relaxing. For a moment he stays like that, his hand squeezing my thigh. “I always knew you were special.”

After a moment, I glance around the warehouse, realizing it’s still only the three of us in here. “How long was I out? Where’s Godric?”

“Not long.” Archer lends me a hand, helping me to my feet. “Godric got caught up in a security check in the inner city.”

I had a feeling your little plan was going to go awry. I took things into my own paws. Got to Godric in time to snag the dreamdust and veilwalk back here, Scathe says.

Of course the crazy ol’ mutt can veilwalk. Typical hellhound shit, I suppose? There’s so many questions I still need answers to.

“You did good,” I tell Scathe. “Just don’t ever put yourself at risk again.” Scathe bares his teeth, pinning his ears back, but I shake my head. “Nice try. I’m serious.” I turn to Archer. “What about Arlo? Where’d he go?”

“Pixel’s running his face through the system. She’ll let us know if the cameras flag him anywhere in the city. So far, nothing at all.”

“The drug was affecting him, Archer. I saw it. His pupils were blowing out; he was panicking. If he survived it…”

“Based on what we’ve seen, I don’t think he could’ve.” He clears his throat. “And even if he did, we’ll be ready.”

“He’s a powerful fucker.”

“He’s also by himself,” he says contemplatively. “We have the advantage of knowing what he wants. We know what he’s capable of. We also have each other, and Scathe, and Godric. And Pixel.” He grunts. “Zeke, too.”

I nod, thinking of my two ex-roommates who proved to be even kinder than I expected, despite their prickly exteriors. Once I recover from the chaos of the past few days, I plan to make an effort with them. We might never be friends, but it doesn’t hurt to try.

“We have a lot of people who would support us, I think,” I agree.

Arlo wanted to take the city back for the fae. He failed spectacularly, and it’s safe to say his intentions were misguided.

“We’ll win, either way,” I say, steeling my shoulders.

“We will,” Archer says, his expression shining with unwavering certainty. “After we get the fuck out of here.”

My brows rise at his cursing, and I exchange a look with Scathe.

The hellhound tilts his head, and his tongue lolls to the side as he says, You are a bad influence, woman.

Snorting a laugh, I shake my head. Gods, I am so glad to have your judgmental ass back.

Archer and I walk out of the building hand in hand. I can’t help but glance back at Scathe every so often, ensuring he’s truly okay. His tongue hangs out of his mouth as he trots. Slowly, my shoulders relax.

“Arlo said some things about my dad…” I pause, trying to gather my thoughts. “If my dad was truly obsessed with his work as a faeologist, do you think the dreamdust resurgence is his fault?”

Archer squeezes my hand. “I think everyone’s responsible for their own choices, regardless of their personal history.”

I sigh, disappointed by the betrayal from the man I’ve regarded so highly all these years. A new wave of grief rattles through me, shaking my bones—grief for my dad as I knew him, as I thought he was. Even if his intentions were good, his impact was awful. And if his intentions weren’t good…

No.

I can’t think about that.

“I still don’t understand what exactly Arlo wanted,” I say.

Archer leads me to his bike, then starts pulling out the helmets. “We might never know, Tasia. If I had to guess? Obsession. Vengeance, even? Maybe he was as obsessed with your father as your father was with the fae. Arlo did buy Mesmeric, after all. He found a way to remake dreamdust, albeit years later. He wanted your father’s research—his daughter, his lab, and who knows what else.”

He puts Scathe’s helmet on, and the hound jumps into the sidecar.

“Why, though?” I ask, unsatisfied with the few vague answers we’ve received. And with Arlo dead, I’ll likely never understand.

“Obsession is a scary thing. It causes us to act irrationally. It’s like a current pulling us along, and all we can do is swim with it, hoping it doesn’t drown us.”

“Spoken like someone familiar with it,” I whisper as I take the helmet from him and slip it on.

“I’m very familiar,” he mutters, swinging a leg over his bike. “Come on, let’s get some rest. We need to meet up with Pixel and Godric downtown as soon as we can.”

I climb onto the bike and wrap my arms around Archer, nestling against him. Exhaustion weighs on my bones.

As we weave through the backroads toward the city, my mind wanders.

Before I know it, we’re parking the bike and heading into his mom’s old apartment. The place is tidier than it was before, the books arranged in neat stacks again, and the kitchen floor glistens.

I shudder, remembering the blood that stained it—and my hands—the last time I was here.

Before I can hyperfixate, Archer leads me to the bathroom. We clean ourselves up, then proceed to his bed, where we fervently and gratefully explore every bit of each other’s skin. Afterwards, we cuddle, whispering our appreciation for one another as we succumb to a much-needed sleep.

The next day we head to the Underground to meet with the crew.

I hear Godric before I see him. “I swear to the Gods, Pixie, if you don’t give me that bastard’s name, I’ll find it myself.”

“Just give it to him, Pix,” another man says.

We enter a room with actual flooring and walls, equipped with tons of nondescript electronics and a wall of computer screens. It’s less like a cave or derelict house and more like a legitimate office. Godric has a chair pulled up beside Pixel in the corner, and he’s staring at her intensely while she clacks away on a keyboard.

The prominent scent of weed draws my attention to a guy who’s leaning against a wall nearby. It’s the same guy from Godric’s apartment, with that unforgettable green mohawk.

“Zeke.” Archer nods at him. “There’s not enough ventilation down here for that.”

“Sorry, boss, was just takin the edge off,” he says, taking another long drag from his joint before using his fingers to snuff it out. His bracelets jingle as he wipes his hands on his skintight jeans. His eyes swing to me. “Oh shit, where are my manners? You want a hit? I can relight it real quick. If the Phantom don’t mind.”

Archer sighs, rubbing his forehead.

I shake my head. “I’m good. Thanks.”

Godric stands, meeting us in the middle of the room. “I wasn’t about to tell him to put it out. Not after the shit we saw the other night.” He grunts. “Figured there’s more important shit to fight about.”

“Appreciate that, Ricky,” Zeke says, joining us.

“Shut the fuck up with that nickname,” Godric mutters.

So much for not fighting.

Zeke chuckles, reaching for a hit of his joint before seeming to remember he put it out.

My mind wanders back to the night of the masquerade. The tragedy at Splendor Hall. I vaguely remember Godric saying he and Zeke would go back and investigate. I shudder, thinking of what the scene looked like when we left. I can’t even imagine how horrible it must’ve been at the end.

Archer frowns, running a hand over his jaw. He strides over to Pixel, and I follow him. “Anything?” he asks.

“Hey, Arch,” she smiles up at him, and then her eyes shift to me. “Hey! We haven’t officially met, by the way. It was kinda chaotic the other day. I’m Pixel. I’d shake your hand, but uh…kinda busy.” She keeps typing even as she talks to us, and this time I can’t help but laugh.

“Tasia.” I nod. Her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles, and the warmth there eases my nerves. When her focus returns to the screen, I notice the tattoo on the back of her hand—the skull with a worm. I’m pleased to meet another important person in Archer’s life. “You’re the one who keeps these guys in check, huh?”

She snorts a laugh. “Not by choice.”

These people are more than just coworkers. They’re his family. It hits me then how Archer has a whole life I don’t fully know yet. A life I desperately want to be a part of.

“No sightings of Arlo Osiander,” she says, bringing the conversation back to its origin. I study the abundance of screens, trying to understand what we’re looking at. A few monitors have grids of greyscale footage from surveillance cameras—real-time feeds, if the timestamps are any indication. Other screens blast lines of bright green code, scrolling faster than I can keep up with.

Archer makes a contemplative noise. “I’m assuming you have both his name and face flagged?”

“Oh yeah,” she says.

I’m in awe. Something tells me she’s the true brains behind many of Archer’s operations. Archer is the obvious leader, Godric the brawn, Zeke the resources, but Pixel is clearly the one who ties it all together with her wit.

“Tell her to give me that ministry prick’s information,” Godric says to Archer. “That prick left her the night of the masquerade. She could’ve fucking died because of that asshole.”

“Godric,” Pixel says softly, giving him a long look.

“I’m with him on this,” Archer says.

“He didn’t hurt me,” she mutters, cheeks flushing. “Good Gods, this is the last time I mention my dating life in front of you guys. You’re a bunch of overbearing brothers.”

Godric seems to deflate. “Yeah…brothers,” he mutters, frowning.

“Okay,” Pixel says, clearing her throat. “What I did manage to do is unseal the previous lab owner’s records.”

Zeke steps forward, planting a kiss on Pixel’s head. “You little genius,” he says excitedly into her hair. Her cheeks turn as red as said hair.

“Get off her,” Godric says, jerking Zeke’s skinny frame back.

Curiously, I watch the three of them for a moment. What exactly is their dynamic? It’s entertaining, to say the least.

Archer, on the other hand, seems unfazed. “What did you find?” he asks.

“Well, turns out the previous owner bought Mesmeric under a shell company—a fake name. We never noticed before because it was well hidden. But…something felt off about it, all things considered. I took another look, tracing it back, and…”

“Who is it?” Archer leans forward, eyes scanning the words on a screen Pixel points to. “Artair Münryn…” He mutters something under his breath before yelling, “Fuck!” He slams a fist on the desk, and we all jolt, staring at him with shocked expressions.

“Who is that?” Godric asks slowly, seeming to sense the significance of the revelation.

“If Arlo’s word is true,” Archer says, running his hand obsessively through his hair and starting to pace, “I think that’s my biological father. The lab’s original owner.”

Thick silence blankets the room. I place a hand on Archer’s bicep, giving him a comforting squeeze. He softens under my touch, interlacing his fingers with mine.

“Apparently Artair died…a few years ago,” Pixel says.

“Shit,” I say. “So Arlo was upholding a family legacy—trying to get their land back? Maybe Arlo tried to replicate my dad’s dreamdust formula and took it too far?” Maybe that’s why the drug was so intense—so deadly when it came back. Maybe Arlo has actually been looking for the journals hoping to learn the original formula and scale it back. “What if he wasn’t trying to kill everyone but was only trying to cause enough mayhem for the city to destroy itself and fall from within? So he and his family could take the land back? He did say he wasn’t consuming souls for power, after all.”

“It’s making more sense now.” Archer sighs. “If Artair was living in the city, that explains how my ma met him. Her clientele was high-class. Rich. Powerful.” He pauses, stroking his jaw. “You know, Arlo did say she knew what the plan was—for them to ‘take back the city.’ I think you’re right. Arlo was trying to follow in his dad’s footsteps, and both times I’ve thwarted their plans.”

My pulse picks up as I rush to say, “That’s how my dad was glamoured, Archer!” I grab his arm, looking at him with wide eyes. “Arlo said he didn’t glamour my dad, but someone must’ve. My dad’s note implied it. It had to have been Artair. I bet his power is just like yours and Arlo’s, which means he can totally glamour.”

My dad didn’t betray me or the city. He wasn’t a bad guy, after all. He was a good guy, and an even better scientist, who got caught up with the fae, glamoured to do their bidding. Relief courses through me. I want to cry happy tears.

Is Artair the reaper I saw the night of my parents’ deaths? Maybe it wasn’t Arlo at all. He did say there were many reaper fae and that their job is to ferry souls.

“Uh, guys?” Zeke asks. “What the shit are you talking bout?”

I realize the room has gone silent. Even Pixel has stood from her computer to watch the interaction.

“There’s something we need to tell you,” Archer says to her and Zeke. He glances at Godric, then me, jaw tense. I nod in reassurance. “It’s time.”

Thirty minutes later, Pixel and Zeke are filled in on almost everything: what Godric and Archer really are, who Arlo really is, and even about my dad and the magic he injected me with. If Archer trusts these people, so do I. Plus, after everything that’s gone down during the past few weeks, it’s not exactly like I can ignore that side of me anymore.

It’s a relief to be my true self, without stuffing parts of me down and pretending I’m normal. It’s like taking off a bra after a long day—I can breathe, relax.

I’m not alone anymore.

“So, like, magic,” Zeke says once Archer has finished explaining things. His eyes burn bright with curiosity. “Can you make joints roll themselves and shit like that?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Godric mutters, squeezing his eyes shut. When he reopens them, he turns to Pixel. “What about you? How do you feel about all this, Pixie?”

She shrugs, looking from him to Archer. “I’m really not surprised. It makes sense, all things considered.” Without another word, she turns back to her computer.

I laugh, realizing just how much I like her.

We quickly shift topics, nailing down our plan to fix the dreamdust problem.

“Godric and I need to glamour the lower-level Crawlers to clean up the streets…again.” Archer exhales slowly. “But this dust isn’t like the old batch. The formula is different now. It’s deadlier. People don’t even have time to develop an addiction, considering they seem to die the first time using it.”

This morning, when Archer and I woke up, we talked about my idea to protect the city from dreamdust. I remembered something my dad wrote in his journal, about potentially distributing magic through the water supply systems, and it spurred an idea.

I clear my throat, drawing everyone’s attention to me. “We think, since my blood seems to be an antidote, if we can figure out exactly how much is needed to counteract the effects of the drug, we can add just enough to the public water supply to prevent people from dying.” I pause, letting them absorb the information. “We don’t have the time or resources to pinpoint who will use the dust, and because death happens so fast, we need to be preventative rather than reactive. But hopefully, if we can keep the antidote in the water, it will protect people if they choose to use, until we get the drug fully off the streets.”

“Zeke,” Archer says. “Since you still have access to your lab, we need you to take a sample of Tasia’s blood and ensure she’s clean—that there’s nothing else there that might cause harm.”

My cheeks heat at the implication, but we already talked about this. We need to make sure this is as safe as possible, that the benefits outweigh the risks, or it’s all for naught.

“We need to move fast,” Archer continues. “Get this done as soon as possible, then run some tests to find out what the smallest effective amount possible is.”

“Test it how?” Pixel asks, her full attention on us again. “On someone?”

“Well, Scathe agreed to let us test it on him first, since he’s already gone through it once. We know with certainty that Tasia’s blood can save him and counteract the effects. But we’ll need a human test subject afterward.”

“I’ll do it,” Zeke says, puffing up his chest.

Pixel’s eyes widen. “But…what if it’s not safe?”

Godric eyes them speculatively and jumps in. “Nah, I’ll do it. Your system’s already fucked up with drugs, skinny-boy.”

“Oh, come on, Ricky. We both know you don’t really wanna do it.”

I roll my eyes. “I can barely breathe through all the testosterone in here,” I deadpan.

Pixel snorts. “Now you know why I prefer computers to people.”

“No one is doing anything until we test my blood first,” I say, “so let’s get on that and see if this plan is even feasible.”

“You know, I think this might work,” Zeke says, fingering his joint as if he’s itching to light it up. “My lab tested some of the food and drinks from last night, found out someone spiked the liquor with dreamdust. It’s why it hit so fast, so hard.”

“What?” I ask, turning to Archer, who seems just as shocked. We’re lucky Pixel and Archer didn’t drink anything.

“Yeah, you can totally ingest the dust and get the same effect. I’d imagine your blood might work the same way.” He flips his mohawk out of his face, bracelets jangling. “Didn’t hear it from me, but official word is someone was trying to be smooth—get everyone to loosen up. Some rich asshole thought he’d get everyone high. They’re calling it a tainted batch. An accident. But publicly? They’re using this as a reason to crack down even harder on the city—blaming the tainted drugs on the PD and calling it a terrorist attack.”

“Holy shit,” I mutter.

“We might never know the truth,” Godric says. “The best we can do is take control of this shit before it gets any more out of hand.”

“Well,” I say, “let’s get to work.”

Something tells me the city will never truly be safe. There will always be something, someone, or some fae trying to fuck shit up.

But with Archer by my side? I’ve never felt safer. And I’m starting to see the true power of his gang—his family—and how they are Silver City’s true heroes.

When those in power neglect their duty to protect the city, the Nightcrawlers ensure safety—they fight back against the harm caused by greed and corruption.

Like the nightcrawler worms surfacing at night to feast on decay, they, too, emerge from the shadows, feeding on the city’s waste.

In the underbelly of our tainted city, the Nightcrawlers prowl.