It was the first thing I cast aside when I reached my pitiful abode. Collapsing onto the fur roll, I wiggled out of my sweater, doubled it, and wrapped it like a package around its own heavy pocket. It became a pillow that I clutched the entire night.
Something softer than a kiss brushed my ankle. It woke me up instantly, but I somehow managed to be still and keep my eyes closed. Which proved to be for the best. Something furry and coarse as a cat’s tongue slid at a snail’s pace over the crevice of my ankle and made no rush to fall from my Achilles.
Chills rolled up my spine, and my shoulders ached to crawl toward my ears. I knew without looking it was the Leaker. A fur covered insect much like the caterpillars of the forest land. The only difference was that the Leakers were small, only the size of a fat sewing needle. Their name came from the insect’s ability to squirm into wounds or orifices. Once it was inside, it caused internal bleeding and insanity.
You’re not wounded, I told myself until the sensation ceased. My eyes flew open, and I shuffled like a spider away from the damn thing. Grateful to still have boots on, I stomped on it until there was nothing left and collapsed back onto the fur.
It was the final straw. The realization of how close I had been to dying alone in the woods shook me to the core.
I took my time, combing my hair with my fingers and wetting it down with what little water remained in the canteen. My reflection didn’t look half bad over the water’s surface when I finished. The dress had been beat until the dust was little more than what might be expected from a travelling lady.
I put the sweater on and ran my fingers over the details of the stitch work. They began to shake without the pressure of the basket against my palm. It felt wrong to head to the bridge empty handed, but the sun warming my back made me think that perhaps my mother was up there, shining her blessing and encouragement down over me.
With only the dagger and a pocket full of coins, I stopped on the Mountain side of the bridge and hesitantly glanced toward the docks.
The Dock Master was responsible for rentals. I wasn’t eager to sleep outside the gate, but it was all I could afford, and it was better than sleeping out in the wild.
A commotion in the other direction caused me to linger. Curiosity was becoming a weakness of mine. Soldiers moved through the crowd, bidding them aside, though it wasn’t necessary. Many were sweeping themselves to the curbside. After a moment of this, I made out three figures in the distant parade. The long, black fur-lined cloak and tanned willowy arms told me at once that it was “The Krypt”, as the people had called her. She was flanked on either side by formidable looking gentlemen. They were dressed in wealth with rich cloaks of their own and the lazy, lanky gait of old money.
“Tis the Kyrpts. Best inside, child,” a woman murmured beside me. She ushered a small child through the gaping door of her shack and peered back down the lane with me.
Some dozen or two feet behind the Krypt, women flocked about. All of them wearing cheap imitations of her exotic apparel. Their lips were painted crimson, and a sea of dark hair announced the trend of trying to be… her.
I used the distraction to dismiss myself. Most of the sketchy looking characters were pressing closer to the opportunity, leaving me free range to scamper past their territory without any hassle.
The problem was, once I made it, the sign announced that creepy looking building as both the Dock Master and Prison. My brows furrowed as I took in the shanty. I’d be lucky if I could fit inside it with two other persons. How the fuck was it a prison?
I glanced over my shoulder to find the crowd dispersing in the distance. Fuck. Scowling, I gingerly made my way up the rickety looking steps. Each one gave an aged squeak of protest that left me absently shivering.
“You’ve some business?” a voice drawled.
I nearly lost my footing. A hand flew out and firmly staked claim to my upper arm. “With grace like that, you’ll soon find yourself requiring attention at the hospital as well.”
A throaty, smothered laugh proceeded the flash of teeth. I’d never seen anyone like him up close. A Spice Lander. My mother said they could swoon the pants off a rooster with just their accent alone. It was true; I felt snared and bared before his hazel eyes. Dangerous eyes.
My breath caught, but I couldn’t look away. Long twisted strands of dark hair draped about his broad shoulders. He ran his tongue over the top of his lower teeth and casually tipped his head toward the shack.
“It isn’t me you’re looking for, young lady. Dock Master is inside.” His mouth twisted up on one side, and he winked on his way past.
I turned and watched him take his leave. Like the Kyrpt, he, too, wore an abundance of black. His coat split up to his waist in the back, with sleeves that concealed his hands.
I shifted, preparing to go inside, and found myself eye to eye with a rot toothed bastard with foul breath. I sucked in air and jerked back, only to taste the laughter that chased me. He had one good eye that was so dark it matched his pupil, the other was ghosted.
“What’s a matter girl? You need a bit of work for supper?”
I grabbed the rail and hopped off the steps. “I have my own wage. I only seek a roof.” I cursed myself for sounding as if we were negotiating and tried my best to summon the bold woman I had been the evening prior.
He laughed so hard spittle sprayed and dramatically slapped his knee. “Ain’t no decent wage for no woman.” He snorted. “Not in these parts. Tell you what… I got a roof in back o’ that cell yonder.”
His brows hefted the insinuation, and I wished more than anything that I had brought that basket. It would have given me something to whack him with. Anger glistened over my eyes, but I was determined not to cry.
I took a deep breath and met his gaze again. “I do. I have good coin and I am prepared to do business in exchange…” I attempted, but he rudely shut me down.
“I’ve called the exchange. Either you get your skinny ass in there or get the fuck off my porch.” His face scrunched up and he spat over the railing. I flinched in disgust and started to turn away. There was no sense arguing with the man.
His calloused hand snatched my wrist and jerked me so hard I fell up the steps and landed against his big belly. Debris littered his beard and the rancid smell of bodily odor made me cough and flail long before I had consciously realized what had occurred.
He grabbed me by the upper arms and plucked me up the step beneath him. A loud double clack sounded viciously behind me. The intimidating sound and its proximity left me squirming back toward the filthy Dock Master rather than away from him. He, too, seemed keen on backing up, which only left us collapsed atop one another and staring up at Ender.
“Be a shame if Rochambeau needed to find another Dock Master. Damn tide. Always so unpredictable,” Ender taunted, the crazy looking double balled weapon dangling from his hand. A flail, that’s what he had called it.
“Ender, be easy…” the Dock Master pled. He grabbed the rail and desperately tried to find his feet.
“Do you know what I love about Thunder and Lightning?” Ender continued, undaunted and waving the weapon so it was clear who—or what, rather—Thunder and Lightning were. “They can’t be stopped. Little fuckers reach right around the edge of a shield, snatch a sword clean out of a man’s hand. Speaking of hands…”
He drew back and hurled the thing like a whip. The Dock Master’s arm shot out to protect his face. Rather than swat the thing away, a nasty crunch left him howling and curled up like a beetle.
“Breaks the hand when resisted.” Ender sighed before stepping over the wounded creature and hovering low enough to conspire with him. “Mind your fucking place, or I will dig you a new one.”
He left without a glance or a word, leaving me to explain myself to the gathering crowd. I shook so bad I had to curl my toes and remind myself I was still very much on two feet. Each time I did so, I felt my body sway. Every moment the crowd bickered louder until, alas, Reverie was birthed through a tunn
el of people.
“Chali… Chali, my word! Are you okay, love?” Her arms enveloped me, drawing me into a honeysuckle embrace. I wanted to weep. She smelled clean and felt safe. I wanted to be her in that moment. I wanted to be anyone and anywhere as long as I wasn’t in the center of the growing mess at hand.
“I just wanted a home,” I whispered lamely before taking another peek at the writhing Dock Master.
“Girl. Don’t worry about anything that simple. Don’t you worry one little bit! My momma will take care of you!” She spoke of me as if I were a pet for her to present to her family. As much as I appreciated her company, my dignity flared. I wiped my face and turned only to find Ender standing on the other side of me.
It was only then that I realized the crowd had not closed its entry path. The fur cloak muffled the sound of sharp heels over cobblestone, but her appearance made up for it. The moment she drew close enough to be distinguished the crowd lit with whispers.
“The Krypt. The Krypt,” the words repeated in a hundred hushed tones, each cranking my anxiety another notch.
“Momma, this is Chali,” Reverie whispered happily.
The Krypt hauled her into a side hug and blessed Reverie’s blond crown with a kiss. “A Chali, is it?” she whispered.
“Chalice. My name is Chalice, if it pleases, your Excellence.”
The crowd hushed at once. People looked at each other knowingly, but her full lips turned up in a broad approving smile. She leaned forward like she might kiss my cheek, but instead, her breath fanned over my earlobe.
“Not yet, love. Not yet.” The Krypt’s long tanned fingers tangled with my own and she gave a maternal pat to the top of my hand. “No daughter of mine sleeps in a dock rental.” Her tone grew as she straightened herself back to her full height and cast a look over her shoulder to Ender. “Take her to the villa.”
Chapter Five
The Other Shoe
Chalice
Ender’s finger slid against my wrist, but he made no effort to take my hand. Instead, he tipped his head toward the gate and led me through the crowd. We hung a left and passed Blazian’s shop and the bizarre mountain entrance.
I lost myself in thought—and everything, really—until he swung a door open and motioned for me to enter first. I hopped inside, blindly trusting him. He had saved me, why wouldn’t I?
“The servant was ill, forgive the mess,” he mumbled, rounding the corner.
I followed him, only to stop in my tracks when we entered a room with a desk. To the left was the cabinet I had watched the woman dig through only yesterday.
“This is the…”
“Surgery. Yes.” He opened another door; this one had a staircase made of rock and descended into darkness. He grabbed the lantern from the desk and twitched his head toward the staircase.
“How… how do you have access to the surgery after hours?” I asked. It had long since grown dark between my travels and the hiccup over rentals.
“It’s my surgery. I come when I like.” He winked and dipped into the darkness, leaving me to follow quickly or break my neck trying to catch up in the dark.
“What do you mean, it’s your surgery?” I awkwardly laughed. He was young, mysterious and clearly a soldier. Did he truly think I would fall for his shenanigans? I scoffed and shook my head as he led me into a well excavated tunnel. The chill of the earth was trapped in between the smooth buffered surface of natural rock.
I kept close to him, fearing the ceiling would cave and bury us alive at any moment. It didn’t appear to be in any foul condition. The stone ceiling bore no cracks or signs of burden, but still, I didn’t like it.
After several turns and slopes, we came across what was, for all intents and purposes, an underground doorstep. He popped the door open, and we ascended another stairwell that brought us back to the street surface. I hadn’t realized how nervous I was until I took that first gulp of fresh air.
I took a few actually, which left him staring at me in open curiosity. For being a physician, he sure didn’t ask if I was alright. He merely turned and started for what I assumed was the villa. It may as well have been a modest castle.
It was a sturdy brick structure that formed an L. Where the two ends met, a large cylinder shape betrayed what was likely a circular stairwell or a tower, of sorts. The villa was larger than anything I had ever seen and tucked away in its own private corner of the city.
“The Krypt Villa,” he announced.
I stared up at the massive building until my neck ached. “This is where I am to sleep tonight?”
“Tonight?” he whispered on a chuckle. “This is your home. Isabella has dubbed you family, and what Isabella wants… she gets.” He leaned forward until the last two words were left to hinge between an insinuation and a threat.
I had no doubt Isabella was as powerful as she was beautiful.
“Krypt… is her House name?” I clarified, only to be met with a nod that caused his hair to feather lazily against his cheek.
I stepped inside and soaked it all in. The welcome and home was more than anyone could dream of, especially in my circumstances. An important family of beauty, wealth, and power. Everything in the villa said as much. Polished floors reflected my likeness almost as good as the water’s surface. Arched ceilings left me feeling small and in a world all my own. It felt like a sanctuary, with bizarre and attractive pieces of art and furniture sprinkled about.
I almost felt silly when I realized it was merely the receiving room. Doors allowed for access left or right, while a spiral staircase lay in wait near the back. I felt naked. Nothing I had or ever could hope to possess would compare to such things. I felt like a stain upon its existence until his finger brushed the edge of my wrist again.
His smile and wink did little for my blush, but he didn’t comment on it. Rather, he led the way to the back, and we climbed to the second floor and made our way toward a large arched doorway. It was impaled with pieces of ancient iron that gave it more than a little character. I tested one of them with my thumb, carefully inspecting the rough solid surface.
“Short cut,” he explained without stopping.
I ambled along behind him gawking at the expensive display of china and glass. To the left an entire corner had been dedicated to a winery. The thing could have rivaled Blazian’s in options and size.
Two steps led the way to a door that was identical to the first. Before I passed it, though, I stared in awe at the imported harp. My fingers ached to taste its strings, but Ender cleared his throat gently, bringing me to focus.
I smiled and quickly shut the door behind me. Side stepping widely, I careened into an easel and nearly ruined the canvas with my efforts to save the display. Ender offered no assistance. When I looked up to see how pissed he might be, I found him rubbing the back of his neck and offering the floor a sheepish smile.
“I… told you. The servants were off today.” He jerked the door a bit wider and cocked his head once more.
I hurriedly stumbled after him.
Near the door, a large wooden triangle was suspended from the wall. An interesting and scary array of wooden and leather devices caused me to suck in a deep breath. Before I could expel it, Ender reached through the door and snatched ahold of my sweater. He pulled me out and shut the door with a laugh.
“What… that was,” I stammered, not really brave enough to ask.
“Messiah’s room… Never mind.” He laughed guiltily and massaged his brow with his palm while we crossed a short but lovely fenced in courtyard. A picture of Blazian and the Spice Lander from the docks hung near the door.
“Ah. Here. This one is all you.” He announced.
The door opened, bathing us in the glow of an impressive hearth. It was so large it took up a third of the length of the room and proved tall enough for me to walk into—if I ducked my head.
The lure of the room pulled a sigh from me. I gravitated toward an elegant, stuffed-to-the-max, royal blue and gold sofa. It was the perfect ch
oice of color. The gold lining and embroidery caught the glow of the fire and gave the piece an exclusive appeal. I felt compelled to run my hand down the length of the tufted back.
“It was imported from the Spicelands for Isabella. Most unfortunate, as she prefers a purple-wine hue, so it has been here on display unused ever since,” he confessed on a whisper.
It was mine. And it was brand new? Fuck. For a moment I felt light headed. It was a dream. It had to be.
Ender moved slowly, sensually, like a cat. He stretched his long, toned body across the sofa and propped himself up on an elbow, so close we were a breath from touching.
Reality snapped back, and I turned to flee.
“You belong here,” he quickly offered before rocking up to a sitting position and claiming my wrist. The moment he caught it, he loosened his grip apologetically and tilted his head so that he could look up into my eyes. “I know that much. What I don’t know is, what is a girl like you doing with enough Nirvana Root to see ten men hanged?”
My heart stopped, and the world turned to ice around me. He wasn’t joking. He was the physician, and I had swindled his pocket book.
I blinked and moved my lips but nothing sensible spilled from them. His finger came up to rest against his mouth like it was our secret.
The door flew open, banging against the wall so hard it caused Ender to fly off the sofa and me to bump into the tea table. The twin vases clinked together and danced for the table’s edge. Reverie caught them before they fell, already babbling and laughing.
She turned with a sigh toward the area Ender had been standing, but he was already gone.
“Damn him,” she exclaimed softly. “He never sticks around to say goodbye.”
Chapter Six
The Truth and The Test
Chalice
Reverie was a force all her own. She buzzed from scattered topics and ideas faster than she could commit to them. I found myself exhausted just listening to her. She announced I needed refreshing and called for the carriage driver to lug a bit of water up to my room.
Chasing the Night (The Krypt Series Book 1) Page 3