Chapter 7

Citizen Confinement and Perimeter Security Directive

Silver Edict #2

“In accordance with the directives set forth by the Ministry of Public Safety, it is mandated that no citizen be permitted to breach the city’s protective walls, entering the Wilds…”

ARCHER

Two days go by without another sighting of the Reaper.

Wiping the sweat off my brow, I quickly navigate the maze of tunnels deep beneath the city, inhaling the dank stench of soil and sawdust. Deeper in the tunnel, loud voices yell over each other, and I head toward the sound.

“—she was just standing there, man. Then her eyes glazed over and her whole body shook. Like a seizure, but she was standing!” a voice bellows. “Then she just—she just slumped to the ground!”

I arrive at one of the main tech rooms. Godric stands facing the door, next to our hacker, Pixel and two men.

“Just dropped, man. Dead as a rock,” says one of them.

“Rocks are not dead,” Pixel mutters, pushing her glasses up her nose. Her shaggy, feathery hair is freshly dyed—a bright red this time. She’s always changing it. “It’s too early for this,” she mutters.

“They sure ain’t living though, man,” one of the lower-rank Nightcrawlers says, elbowing her in the ribs.

Pixel winces.

“Excuse me,” I say. Everyone pauses, their eyes flicking to me. I stare down the guy who elbowed Pixel. “Don’t ever touch a lady without her consent.”

“Who?” The guy glances around, then points at himself. “Me?”

“Yes. You.”

“Bro,” the guy next to him whispers, his eyes wide. “That’s the Phantom.”

“Oh shit,” the first guy says. He strides toward me, extending a hand. “Sorry, man.”

I ignore his offering, crossing my arms instead. “Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to her.”

Pixel rolls her eyes, a blush overtaking her pale cheeks. But when the guy apologizes, she stands a little taller, squaring her shoulders and giving him a polite nod. “Apology accepted.”

“I like the red,” I tell her. Her cheeks flame even brighter, and she covers her mouth before turning away from me. I meet Godric’s eyes. “Resume.”

Godric clears his throat, amusement dancing in his expression. “You heard the boss.”

We listen attentively as the guys pick up where they left off, giving their eyewitness accounts of a dead body they found this afternoon. The city has always had its fair share of unsavory events, but we’re all concerned about the increase in violence and deaths lately.

My teeth clench so hard I fear they’ll crack. After a few more nods and exchanges, Godric thanks the trio and excuses them. The men scurry past without a word. Pixel gives me a shy smile, mouthing thanks as she heads to her station in the corner.

It’s a massive, ergonomic setup with a wall of monitors, several high-powered towers that hum with quiet intensity, and a snake nest of wires. My eyes roam the screens. Some of them display camera feeds of the city streets. Some of them run lines of code. It’s impressive how Pixel can keep track of so many information sources at once. She loves her tech, though, and she’s good at juggling multiple tasks.

I’d go crazy stuck down here in the tunnels, with no fresh air or sunlight, just staring at screens. We’d get nowhere without Pixel, so I’m glad she enjoys it.

I uncross my arms, striding over to Godric. We clasp each other’s right forearm in greeting, then quickly pull apart. I jerk my chin toward the door.

“What’s that about?”

“Another one last night.” He runs a hand down his face. “Out of the blue. No apparent cause of death. Her body just shut down—violently, I might add—right in front of them.”

Sofia’s face flits through my mind, and a pang of grief slices my chest. Although I try to remember her as the happy, vibrant girl she once was, I can only see her in those final few weeks—ill and fading away. All color leached from her clammy skin, her eyes vacant.

The grief turns to hot, visceral anger.

I clear my throat, trying to swallow the lump forming there. “Where were they when it happened?”

“Downtown. By the bars.”

Again.

I don’t bother to ask if anyone saw the Reaper. They can’t see through his glamour. Only Godric and I can…and apparently Tasia, too.

“They spot anything unusual right before her death?”

He swipes a hand over his mouth. “Onlookers claimed she was wasted. Running around barefoot, cursing up a fucking storm.” He shakes his head and releases a heavy sigh. “Sounds like she was high off her ass. Could explain the sudden death.”

I run a hand through my hair, reminding myself that she’s not Sofia. “Any history of use?”

“Unconfirmed,” he says. “Pixel?”

“I’m on it,” she says from where she sits, clacking away at her keyboard. “Thanks to Zeke sending over the fingerprints, I’ve located her file within the Ministry of Records, and I just need to update my code to get through this monolith of a mainframe…” She glances over her shoulder at me. “They updated their firewalls this morning… Beautiful encryption. A shame to destroy it…” She clears her throat, her fingers working rapidly. “I have another system running her social accounts. Once I get those and her records, we’ll know more.”

Godric’s forehead wrinkles, and I reach up, patting him on the shoulder. I know this affects him as deeply as it does me. “Zeke do the full autopsy already?”

“Nah. Sent the prints, but we’re waiting on lab work,” he says.

“Send it to me when you get it,” I say. “You’re doing good work, brother.”

Godric is a good man. He joined the Nightcrawlers for all the right reasons—he wanted to make a difference and help the neglected citizens of the Packing District.

He lost Sofia, too. He gets it.

Sure, we have a hand in illegal dealings and often flout the law—and some of us even have enough blood on our hands to paint the city red—but we look out for the cityfolk. The people overlooked by the upper echelon.

People like Sofia who would’ve lived if things were different.

“I really need to go, Godric.” I glance at the matte-black watch weighing down my wrist. “Scathe might eat the couch out of boredom if I’m not home in a timely fashion.”

Godric grunts, then cocks his head. “Wait—you telling me you finally bought some fucking furniture? It’s about damn time you spent some money on you.”

“Well, I didn’t technically buy it, but…” I whip out my phone and press a few buttons, pulling up a picture of a forest-green sectional. “It’s an Yvonné. Entirely customizable. Modular. Made of sustainable—”

“Sofa.” Godric snorts a laugh. “That’s a fucking sofa, but it’s a big one. I’ll give you that. Now make some friends so it can get some ass.”

“Crude,” I mutter, giving my head a shake. “Sorry about him, Pixel.”

She chuckles. “Used to it.”

I have an unfortunate feeling that Godric and the bartender would get along great—if he would stop accusing her of being like her father. The thought of the sassy, scowling woman sends a zip of excitement through me. “You didn’t have to tie up Tasia like that, by the way.”

“Tasia? Nickname basis already?” He narrows his eyes knowingly, and his lips curve into a smirk. “I wasn’t trying to hurt her. Was just doing my job, boss.”

I nod. “Also,” I say, lowering my voice, “I propositioned her.”

Godric pats my shoulder. “Listen, I know she has a nice ass.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” I rub my temples.

“Sorry, sorry.” He holds his hands up placatingly. “That’s not who I meant when I said meet a girl.”

“Regardless.” I fiddle with my watch. “I proposed we work together.”

His brow scrunches. “Doing what?”

“I really don’t think she knows about her dad. She knew about the dust but blames the Nightcrawlers.”

“She might know more than she thinks. Or she might have access to information,” Godric says.

Pausing, I take a moment to consider the fear she demonstrated in the alley when I first met her. “She hates the Scouts. There’s no way she’d talk openly about things that threaten her.”

“Do you think you can get more information out of her?”

I stroke my jaw, hating his implication that I’m using Tasia—getting close to her to learn what she knows about her father’s work. “Yeah. I think I can.”

He laughs, patting me on the shoulder. “No glamour either, bro.”

“I’m aware,” I say. Godric can sense truths like I can sense death. But if glamour doesn’t work on her, his magic might not either. “Okay, I’m going to walk Scathe. Then I’ll scout the area again. Meet me downtown in about an hour?”

His frown finally softens, his lips turning up ever so slightly at the corners. “Yeah cause the mutt really needs you to walk him.”

“Appearances, Godric.” Having a routine—especially in Sweetcreek—is crucial to maintaining our cover.

“You walkin him? Or he walkin you?”

“Both,” I mutter.

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen that old mutt.”

Scathe is not old. And he’s definitely not a mutt, but I grin regardless. “And whose fault is that? Maybe if you came around more…”

He snorts. “Tell the mutt to come visit me sometime.”

I chuckle. “I’ll tell him.”

“The ball is coming up,” Godric says. “Got your suit?”

The grin melts off my face. “Hasn’t exactly been my priority.”

“I know, but this is important. We can find out who bought the lab.”

Tightening my lips, I give a sharp nod.

The masquerade ball is an annual event hosted for the power players of the city. Though I’ve earned an invite for the past five years thanks to Ataraxy, my successful tech security company, this year is different. Rumor has it that Mesmeric Labs sold in a private auction and the new owner will be there.

If Godric is right, and the dust is back on the streets, this could be a huge lead. When Pixel tried to find information on Mesmeric’s new ownership, she was unable to locate any records at all. Everything in their servers was mysteriously lost a few months back.

I need to attend this ball, pretend to play the game, and mingle with the people I despise.

“Got a plus-one yet?” Godric asks, a sly look crossing his face.

Glancing at Pixel, I say, “Would you care to attend with me?”

She smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear and glancing at Godric. “I can’t.”

“Scored her own ticket this year,” Godric says, eyes narrowed. “Got a date.”

My brows fly up. “A real one?”

She giggles. “A real one.”

“With someone in the Ministry of Public Safety,” Godric says flatly. His lips purse with disdain.

I cough, nearly choking on my spit. “That’s—unexpected.”

“Unexpectedly traitorous,” he says.

“A Scout?” I ask, trying to keep the disbelief from my voice.

“No. He does paperwork in the Ministry Assembly Center.”

“Still,” Godric says. “You’re dating the enemy, traitor.”

An awkward tension fills the air. I wait for one of them to start laughing, but they hold each other’s stares, wearing equally serious expressions.

Finally, Pixel shrugs, turning her attention back to the computer. “If you’re jealous, just say so.”

Godric scoffs. “I’m not jealous,” he mutters.

I fight to tamp my own smirk down this time as I realize my best friend is indeed envious. Turning to Pixel, I pat her shoulder softly.

“If you’re happy, I’m happy for you,” I tell her honestly. “If he breaks your heart, you tell us.”

“Yeah, Pixie,” Godric says. “We’ll fuck him up.”

“Okay, Godric.” She rolls her eyes at him before returning her attention to her computer. But not before I catch a hint of a blush on her cheeks.

“It’s best if we attend separately,” I say, striding toward the door with Godric. “The less attention on us, the better.”

“So, find a date,” he says, slapping my back playfully.

I pause at the doorway. “Text me if any updates come in. I’m leaving.”

He grunts in response.

“Uh…guys?” Pixel’s voice is quiet now, lacking the playful luster it held a moment ago. “Speaking of your cute bartender friend… Come here?”

I’m back at her side in four long strides, peering down at her multiple computer screens. She points to the largest one in the middle, and immediately I notice what she’s referring to.

Another photo of Tasia. This time, she’s holding a bat that has nails on it, a crazy look in her eyes.

Rubbing my forehead, I sigh. Could be worse. “How long until you can wipe this one?”

She gestures to another monitor, where fast-scrolling green code fills the black screen. “Any second now.” She types rapidly, inserting a series of numbers and symbols. I might own Ataraxy, but I know very little about technology. This is why I have people like Pixel in my circle. “My concern is that they’ve boosted her photo twice now.”

I glance at Godric, trying to process what it could mean. “Someone’s taken an interest in her. Not a good one.”

“They want her gone, huh?” he mutters. “Fuck. She knows something. I know it.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” I say. The photo of Tasia morphs before our eyes, her features changing into those of someone unfamiliar.

“You said she was freaked out by the Scouts? Now this?” Godric gestures toward the screen, then stands up straight, cracking his knuckles. “Fishy shit.”

I agree; it is odd. Of all the criminals to pursue in the city, someone’s fixated on finding Tasia. They’ve plastered an image of her on the UIS twice now, without any real evidence or justification. She might not want to work for me, but would she want my protection? She might find that worth bargaining for.