Chapter 9

Prohibition of Fae and Magic

Silver Edict #3

“All fae entities and magical practices are banned from the city. Any involvement in magic, enchantments, or the arcane is deemed treason and may be met with the penalty of death…”

ARCHER

The crooked, faded numbers of apartment 3663 stare at me as I raise my knuckles to knock.

I am not stalking Tasia.

Just because I’ve followed her home a few times, it doesn’t make me a stalker. My intentions are truly to protect her…and maybe gather intel while I’m at it. But after that second photo of her went up on the city’s UIS system the other day, I’m more than a little concerned. With all the crime around the Packing District, I find it unusual for the focus to be on one ordinary, blonde bartender.

Well, ordinary as far as anyone else knows.

I yawn, stifling it with the back of my hand. Godric and I stayed up all night, roaming the city in search of the Reaper. For better or worse, we had no luck.

Taking a deep breath, I steel my shoulders and rap on Tasia’s door.

“Coming!” a high-pitched voice calls.

A few seconds later, the door is yanked open, and a tall raven-haired woman with sleep-crusted eyes and barely any clothes on greets me.

“Oh,” she says. Her hands fly up and smooth back her hair, and her eyes widen. “How can I help you?”

She plasters on a toothy smile. She’s a cute girl, but she stirs nothing in me.

Not like Tasia does.

I clear my throat, shaking the inappropriate thought away.

“I’m looking for Tasia,” I say.

“Oh.” The girl’s smile drops, and she glances over her shoulder. “Come in.”

She holds the door open wider, allowing me to step inside. The place is trashed, with cups and cans everywhere. Stains litter the aged carpet. It reeks like a gym bag in here.

“I’m Stace,” the girl says. Shuffling past me, she flops down on the sagging couch, which groans under her weight. She picks up her phone and presses a few buttons. “Tasia’s not here. Slept somewhere else last night. I texted her, though.”

I stand awkwardly in the doorway, glancing around the place with disdain. It takes me back to the apartment I grew up in—with Ma and Sofia—and I hate the mixture of nostalgia and guilt that rises with the memories.

“Make yourself at home,” Stace says, waving a hand around.

I skeptically eye a stool that sits by the kitchen bar. Would it be worth it to wait for Tasia?

Deciding to remain where I am, I cross my arms and scan the apartment. The place is small—it’d be a tight squeeze for even two people—but based on the varying sizes of shoes by the door, I’m willing to bet more than two people live here.

Sofia, Ma, and me—and oftentimes Godric as well, whose own parents would go on benders and accidentally leave him locked out—stuffed ourselves into a two-bedroom apartment about this size downtown when I was a boy. Those were deplorable circumstances that I remember all too well.

But through it all, our place was always clean and neat. Sofia made sure of it. She always looked out for Ma, taking as much off her shoulders as she could.

I’m shocked it’s been such a challenge to get Tasia to accept my offer. The money I’ll pay her would surely get her out of this environment.

“How long until she’s back?” I ask, glancing at my watch.

Stace shrugs. “I dunno.”

“Any idea where she is?”

“I dunno.”

I’m about to depart when one of the doors off the living room flies open and a shirtless man steps out. His reddish hair sticks up in all directions. He scratches his chest, yawning obnoxiously. When he spots me, his mouth clamps shut and he goes rigid. A curvy, curly-haired woman crashes into him from behind.

“What the hell, Reed. Move.” She pushes past him, wrapping her raggedy robe tight around her body.

Reed.

The boyfriend.

My chest squeezes for Tasia.

“Where’s Tasia?” I ask Reed, narrowing my eyes at him.

He glares back. “Who the hell are you?”

“I asked you a question.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom. “Yeah, about my girlfriend.”

My eyes flit from him to the girl beside him—who closes her eyes and shakes her head.

“It’s interesting that Tasia thinks so highly of you,” I say. “All things considered.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” His face turns as red as his hair. “Who the hell are you? And why is my girl chatting about our relationship to you?” He straightens, squaring his shoulders.

“Maybe if you spent more time with her, you’d know why.”

I move toward him until we’re practically chest to chest. I don’t often like to use my glamour outside of work, but at times like this, it comes in handy.

Keeping my eyes locked on his, I ask in a low voice, “Where is Tasia?”

He blinks a few times, indicating the persuasion is working effortlessly.

“I don’t know,” he mutters.

He doesn’t know? She could be in danger. The Scouts could’ve picked her up. And this jackass is sleeping with her roommate instead of looking for her.

Something I haven’t felt in a long time—fear—crawls through my veins.

“Tasia deserves better than you,” I say, tightening my jaw. Then I turn to the girl at his side. “You deserve better than this moron, too.”

She gives me an appraising look, then strides past me. I turn, catching Stace staring at me from the raggedy couch, her mouth hanging open. “I think I’m in love,” she mutters.

The other girl snorts as she rifles around the kitchen cupboards, searching for something.

Well, if Reed is the type of man they keep around, it figures it wouldn’t take much to win them over. I offer Stace my most charming smile and step closer, until we’re about a foot away from each other. Then I lean down, peering into her wide, green eyes.

“Stace?”

“Yes?” she asks breathlessly.

I can practically see the hearts dancing in her eyes. Too easy. I’m not sure I even need to use my glamour. But I do anyway.

“Clean this place up. It smells atrocious.”

She smiles up at me and throws her phone down on the couch. Before I’m out the door, she’s gripping a black trash bag and stuffing cans into it.

I have to find Tasia before the wrong person does. The need to protect her is impossible to ignore. I could tell myself it’s because she reminds me of Sofia, but it’s more than that. I’m drawn to her, and despite Godric’s skepticism, I truly believe she’s innocent in whatever war her father quite possibly started within the city.