Chasing the Night (The Krypt Series Book 1)

by Tyranni Thomas

  “Chalice! Wha- are things well?” He rolled his finger and thumb, ridding them of any sticky particles and reached toward the wall for his sword.

  “No!” I waved the sword off, with a panic I couldn’t place. “I just… I didn’t know this was your...I’m sorry.”

  I weaved without balance for a moment atop the stair, and images of my life flashed before my eyes. His strong arm curled around me and he crushed me to him.

  “It’s a bit of an odd layout,” he mumbled, his head down. Shutting the door behind us, he bid me to the sofa and sat back down on the opposite end. Once settled, he began pinching the little mount of green sand and transferring it into a long wooden pipe. A piece of wick lay in wait on a little tray with assorted sticks and pipes. He held it to the fire until it turned red, then placed it against the root he had packed into his pipe.

  A few puffs later, it was smoldering, and he was exhaling large billowing clouds of pungent smoke. He coughed into the crook of his arm and nudged me a few times without bothering to look my way. He seemed desperate to be rid of it, so I took it and placed a hand on his back when he doubled over.

  Finally, he sat up, red faced and smiling from ear to ear.

  “What the fuck… don’t just sit there, puff,” he insisted before encouraging me to bring my hand to my mouth. I did as he instructed and sucked in deep as I had seen him do. My lungs spasmed and my throat burned as I choked on the mess of it. Tears watered my eyes, and I flailed the pipe about, certain I’d never draw another breath.

  “Hey… oh fuck,” he slowly managed, “you’ve never smoked root before?” His hand slid about my shoulder as I tried to nod. In the span of a breath, I became aware of the subtlest things my body did. The rise and fall of my chest. The way my corset caught my flesh with each swell of my lungs. The rustle of the hem against my ankle, and the way the upholstery teased against my neck.

  He tried to help me into a reclined position, but rather than his hand, I felt ten. Caressing and roaming over my body. He used his hip to shift me and I ended up feeling like I was sailing. Weightless and without a worry or a cause. The pillow fluffed under me and I gave in to the sudden compulsion to reach up and lock an arm around his neck. My fingers slid through his short dark hair, and we fell together until the darkness caught me.

  ***

  Someone thundered on the door so loudly I thought we were under attack. My eyes shot open and I shoved the body next to me. Ender landed on the floor. Having awoke mid fall, he was cursing long before he landed.

  We stared at each other in confusion until the door was knocked on again.

  “Get your ass up boy and get to my office. Fetch everyone. Now.” Atticus barked on the other side of it. Moments later he loudly descended the steps.

  I looked toward Ender and then down at my rumpled gown. All I could do was sit there, slack jawed and thanking everything that was that Atticus hadn’t managed to get in.

  A flung shirt caught purchase of something on the table, sending root, scale and all scattering across the floor. I looked up and immediately lost the ability to form protest. He wore only the thin long underwear of the mountain. I wasn’t sure the purpose of men’s underwear. All it did was cast a shadow over their unmentionables. The things couldn’t possibly afford any means of concealment or comfort.

  Finding bravery in the fact that his back was to me, I let myself take a closer look. He was tall, not skinny, but nowhere the muscular detail that Messiah had possessed. It didn’t matter, I still wanted to climb him. Which is just what my gaze did. It crawled over his shapely calves, then to his back. He had been carved and stained like the pirates of the Kingdom Isles. Not the petty little anchor or crossed swords like the common dock bandits. No, Ender had the Winged Inferno, the freedom bird of the slave people. Always in red and black, it was the pride of all revolters. And to those brave enough to sport such, a walking death sentence, depending on which soil they stood upon.

  A magnificent creature. Its marvelous wings spanned alongside his spine, the other wrapped up his ribs and curled about the right side of his chest. His nipple was the centerpiece of a blazing feather. My breath caught as I realized I was seeing his front side and my eyes scrambled up to his amused emerald pools.

  “I have to… he said everyone,” I rambled, letting myself out.

  Chapter Twelve

  Roll with the Blows

  Ender

  I’d forgotten her awkwardness. Her innocence. It was palpable in that brief second before she shot out the door. The sight of it in her eyes shook me. I was terrified for her, and yet I knew in my soul, I’d not be able to stop it. Not even a whisper of warning. Atticus would shatter her with her own strengths until all that was left was weakness. The resigned spirit of something that’s life had been flipped upside down. Their entire reality redefined in a way that even they would never truly fathom.

  My jaw clenched, and I reached for the pipe only to find its contents scattered about the floorboards.

  “Fuck me,” I groaned before snatching a shirt from the hanger like it had offended me. I stuffed an arm in the sleeve and was preparing to do the same with the other side when the door flew open. It connected with the wall unapologetically and Atticus entered. He looked at me in a way that I could only define as murderous.

  It froze me in place and demanded my spine straighten.

  Rather than fly toward me as I had expected, he filed between the table and sofa. Uncle Icarus, Demetri, and Messiah followed. In the span of a breath, my chamber had become standing room only and stuffier than the depths of Lake Last.

  Uncle Icarus looked particularly tense. His eyes scanned the floor as if he intended to take inventory of each and every Nirvana flake.

  “Look, I haven’t time for either of you. All this stalling and mum. Out with it!” Atticus snapped. His face was a brilliant shade of red, and his eyes bulged. He looked every bit the predator that he was.

  Icarus swallowed hard before meeting his brother’s eye. “The girl…”

  “The girl. Had. A fucking. Name,” Messiah growled. His outburst had everyone at arms, it was so unlike him. His chest heaved, and his glare glossed until he was gritting his teeth and shaking his head.

  “Reverie chose to jump overboard before we could reach the Torch of the Sea,” Uncle Icarus hauntedly whispered.

  I’d never met a silence so thick. It spanned so long and intense, I almost swore I could hear the sand falling through the hourglass. My blood turned to ice. I was staring at Icarus, but I wasn’t really seeing him. Not after the meaning of his words really sank in.

  “Fuck her and curse her name!” Atticus bellowed. He jumped up from the sofa and flipped the table, leaving me no choice but to half climb the wall or risk being struck by it. I ended up standing on top of the damn thing while he raved on.

  “This is on all of you. All. Of. You.” He left, nearly splintering the door in the processes.

  Uncle Icarus sat staring at the bricks for a while before he, too, got up and made his way back downstairs.

  “Are we done here?” Demetri snorted, rising from the sofa.

  Before I could react, Messiah snatched ahold of him and hurled him out the door. I raced after him, chasing the sick thud he made against each step on the way down.

  I stooped over Demetri, checking for a pulse, while Messiah stepped over my brother’s tangled legs and continued on his way as if nothing had happened.

  “Bastard,” Demetri groaned, carefully collecting himself. His shoulder slumped oddly, and he was holding his arm in a guarded position.

  “My sentiments exactly. Who do you think has to patch you up now?” I sighed, leveling a look at him that left no question to whom I was assigning the blame.

  “What the fuck…” Demetri mumbled, trying his best to act outraged that I might side with the truth.

  Chalice

  Something told me black was my color today, so it was what I wore from head to toe—a long form-fitting gown that rested off my
shoulders. I had twisted my hair up like Isabella wore hers. Then I sat. For an hour that slowly stretched into two. When the servants brought up my lunch, and Ender still hadn’t arrived, I began to grow suspicious. Of course, suspicion brewed into frustration rather quickly.

  I gave up on waiting and made my way toward the parlor. The house was quiet, and the servants seemed disheartened. I followed the heavy feeling toward the dining area instead. A quick peek revealed Ender and Icarus deep into their drink. Atticus stood as stiff as a statue staring into the fire as if it had all of life’s answers. Perhaps it did, but I didn’t give a fuck.

  All I wanted was a chance to get the fuck out.…

  I turned tail and quickly but discreetly made my way toward the front entrance. No one lingered in the corners. The guards avoided eye contact at all cost, and not even one made a move to question or halt my escape. I wished I had my staff, but it was all the way back in my room, and besides, it would have only made me stand out more.

  Fuck that. I could taste freedom.

  The door opened without a sound and I slipped out without a backwards glance. I knew better than to take the paved walkway; Messiah would see from his bedchamber window. Nope, I hugged the wall, cursing the pointy heeled shoes when they sank into the soil with each step. I did a tap dance of sorts once I found the street and left a clumpy mess in my wake.

  I wasn’t sure where I was going or what I intended to do with myself. I just knew I had to get out of that house. It was playing tricks with my mind. One minute everyone was great and welcoming, and the next, people were being traded and ordered about. Now they were having family meetings without me.

  That couldn’t be good.

  I might have been young, but I wasn’t stupid. They were planning on bartering me off, too. I could feel it. Just as deer stilled and listened before the arrow found them, I, too, was quickly feeling like prey in wait.

  The more I thought, the faster the stalls passed. A blur of faces and voices carried me around the same square twice. I stopped, realizing my absent-minded error when my eyes met that of the seamstress.

  I smiled at my former customer which only caused her eyes to bug even more. She nearly tripped over her own basket of goods trying to back pedal into her tent.

  “Ah, the power of the Krypt,” a voice sang on a whistle behind me.

  I turned and had to look up to find Keifer’s gentle eyes and easy smile. “You feeling alright, Lady Chalice?” The back of his fingers tenderly brushed my cheek, and his eyes filled with concern. “Has this peasant offended you? I’ll have my slave girls beat the sleeves off her, have no worries.”

  I stood staring up at the immaculately dressed man before me. The genteel suit and family heirloom cufflinks starkly contrasted his deep-toned, gruff Inlet talk and stocky, labor-conditioned appearance. Men who wore cuffs that cost more than most men’s coffers didn’t come with muscles. Lazing about in luxury day after day had a way of softening a man’s physique, not hardening it.

  Lost in my own thoughts and observations, my hand came out and rested on his upper arm. Realizing I was doing so, I jerked it back toward myself and motioned toward Blazian’s tent, suddenly realizing why it had been Reverie’s favorite spot. It was somewhat secluded with a lot of dark corners.

  I led him to the back, instinctively choosing the table that had always been mine and Reverie’s. He sat down and tossed Blazian a wink, leaving me no choice but to sit or risk standing out. It was too late to change course now.

  She flashed a brilliant smile and wiggled her fingers in a friendly greeting. Moments later, she presented us each with a goblet of her best syrup. We sipped them in silence—well, I sipped mine in silence, he slurped from the thing like he was in an Iron Inlet long hall. I’d never met a Fallen God, that’s what my mother used to call them. She said they were as dreamy as any God known to man and twice as fierce in battle, giants amongst men. She always swore their ancestors were of the Sacred Few.

  “Silver for your thought…” He teased, reaching out to cover my hand with his. A simple gesture, but one that conveyed his concern and blanketed me with warmth and reassurance. I stared down at the contrast between my long slender fingers and his thick digits, while using my thumb to tease along his.

  “I was just… memories.” My voice trailed off, and another rose confidently above it.

  “She was just leaving,” Messiah announced before peeling Keifer’s hand off mine. He stared down at the unflinching man but said nothing. Neither did Keifer; he simply stared back with the smile still reaching his eyes.

  Messiah’s fingers coiled around my upper arm and abruptly hefted me from my seat. I was forced to hobble along behind him like a fucking toddler in front of the Mountain and everyone on it. Humiliation burned through me. When we rounded the corner to our district, I jerked my arm free and glared back at him.

  “Am I a hostage or a member of House Krypt? I won’t have this half-life,” I passionately announced. People trickled by us, but no one acknowledged our heated and none too concealed confrontation.

  “Lower your tone and mind your position. You are not a painted lady to be uttering profanities over polite society. You are Chalice of House Krypt and far too good for the likes of any Kantor.” He reached for my arm again, and I lunged to the side.

  “Chalice…” He said my name like it pained him. “I’m just saying you’re worth more.”

  I shook my head and stared toward the Villa in the distance. “I’m not a part of the Krypt. They held a meeting without me this morning. They mean to pawn me like Reverie. I won’t do it, Messiah. I won’t be steered or whored!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Truth

  Messiah

  It’d been a while since I had been struck like that. It was only words she had hurled, but damned if they didn’t land heavier than experienced fists. I took a deep breath and hunted for words. I wasn’t even sure for what… comfort? Scolding? She was a moment away from spewing family business to anyone with ears, but even the afflicted could have seen the pain that was openly bleeding from her.

  She was the opposite of Reverie… and yet they shared the same grandiose fear of abandonment. Her golden eyes so prone to emotional disclosure had been keeping secrets from me.

  It was my job to know people. Not to take names and addresses. No, my job, my very life’s obsession and continued existence, revolved around my ability to read the language of the human body.

  Fuck Father’s orders.

  She needed me, and I needed to study her. It was a done deal. Lust, love, and grief hadn’t managed to seal an attachment. In the end, it was the discovery of her natural born gifts that broke my reserve. I had to protect her. I didn’t have a choice anymore.

  I canted my head in warning and snatched her by the hand. She took a sharp breath but didn’t bother wasting it on objections. Rather than the Villa, I turned about and marched her back the way we had come. Past all the market stalls and Lady Blazian’s winery. All the way out the gate.

  That was when she lost her mind. The woman started scratching and slapping me like she had gone mad.

  “Chalice! Chalice, stop. Be reasonable, woman. People are looking!” I hissed and danced with her until we were both red in the face; her from exertion, and me from embarrassment.

  Realizing that she likely wouldn’t calm down until she saw that I meant her no harm, I proceeded to tug and haul her through the market. The crowd grew and thinned every few feet as curiosity was stroked. Of course, as soon as they realized who it was causing the commotion, they quickly put their heads down and tried to look busy.

  “Go about your business, folks. All is well,” I called with a forced laugh. It took what felt like an eternity, but I managed to get her past the bridge. Once we passed it, she settled somewhat, but maintained the deadly glare and doubled fists.

  I threw the door of my jail open and motioned for her to choose a seat. She looked past me, saw the cages and made no effort to move. With a sigh t
hat took every ounce of patience I possessed, I smacked the door open and led the way in.

  “Come. Come,” I groaned.

  The door clicked shut, leaving me to stare at the handle or go out and chase her down.

  The knob turned but the door didn’t budge, not for a moment, anyhow. She stood in the doorway for some time, unwilling to commit to being in such a building.

  “You wanted to know about the family meeting. Change your mind?”

  Her gaze narrowed on me until I was certain I had scared her off. She scratched her neck, cast a cautious glance over her shoulder, and stepped inside.

  “Who did he sell me to?” she whispered, nearly placing her shoulder to me once it was verbalized.

  “Chalice… no one will ever sell you. You are a free woman. A Lady of the highest House in Rochambeau.”

  “Nayana’s is the highest house…” she quietly pointed out.

  I swallowed a laugh and flashed her a reassuring smile.

  “Never mind the Houses and the Buzzards that speak for them. I want to speak to you.” I ran my hand over the top of my desk, instinctively searching for that groove I always picked at. “None of us were born Krypt. Their biological children were all assassinated or executed. If we’re being honest, it was all part of the same big facade. Murder… I care not what fancy descriptive they try to paint it pretty with.”

  She folded her legs modestly and settled back a bit. I had disarmed her, but she was still protecting something.

  “A drink,” I quickly offered, as if it were my manners speaking.

  She shyly nodded and took a slow look around the open floored office while I fetched two goblets and filled them with some Kingdom Isle Cognac. Almost the color of her eyes, it went down smoother than any liquor known to man. To the pirates with the rotgut, Cognac was for captains.