Chasing the Night (The Krypt Series Book 1)

by Tyranni Thomas

  “It’ll be breathtaking on the way home,” I promised.

  Her amber eyes snapped toward me, and a knowing smile spread over her lips.

  Laughter bubbled from me again. “I didn’t—” I started, but she only cemented the ‘I call bullshit” expression.

  By the Fated Few, what the fuck had she taken me for? I couldn’t stop smiling as I led her out of the gate. Instead of going toward the bridge, we weaved between a few residentials to the left of the gate and arrived at the Sip House.

  I reached out to open the door, but hesitated. What the fuck was I doing? Had I really brought a Lady of House Krypt to a fucking lower district Sip House? Mortified, I turned to lead her away. It didn’t work out as I intended. She was so close, it caused me to hug her or trip over her. I chose the former and ended up dancing around. Her intent on the door, and me desperate to redirect her.

  “Lady Chalice…” I breathlessly grasped. “I… I had a lapse in…”

  “In what?” She laughed, looking up at me like I was being silly.

  I eyed the door and glanced back to her, before rubbing my neck.

  “Stop dawdling or someone will see us,” she quietly cooed before jerking my hand. I opened my mouth to object, but she had already thrown the door open. A dozen or so patrons glanced our way.

  A bit of a hush fell over the room when she entered, but the moment they saw a Kantor behind her the place was a chorus of whispers. I pointed to a table near the stairs, choosing it for its exclusivity rather than thinking about what might be going on above.

  She settled into the booth while I nervously gazed at the stairs and then back toward the counter.

  “Are you going to stand guard over me, or keep me company?” she teased, without a word about the thatch roof or the servers in various stages of undress.

  They didn’t bother sending their menu of beauties with the complimentary drink; instead, a girl much too young to be of service scampered over and curtsied before sliding a bit of watered-down wine in front of us.

  “She’s adorable,” Chalice announced.

  “No. That’s...that’s not necessary, wee one. Look, just bring us some thick wine and get yourself a bite to eat, hm?”

  She nodded and happily skipped toward the serving area.

  “Are you sure… you’re okay?” I mumbled, studying her for some sign of outrage or objection.

  “I like it. It’s not so… stuffy.” She smiled and sipped the cheap peasant’s wine without complaint.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw a half-dressed serving girl leading a patron up the steps. I stood up without warning and snatched her wrist, hauling her toward me so I could whisper in her ear.

  “I’ll give you three times what he is offering to use the office or wash room instead.” She glared at me like I had lost my mind and shifted her arm. I hauled her back so fast it probably rattled her brain, “A week. I will give a week of your wages if you direct him elsewhere. Anywhere. Just not up there.”

  “A week?” she repeated, spiking her kohled eyebrow.

  “Two!” I promised.

  She all but bowed and took off the way she had come dragging her eager customer with her. I waited until they disappeared across the room before setting back down.

  “What was that?” Chalice asked on a laugh.

  “Peasant politics!” I quickly offered, all but banking on her innocent nature.

  “Oh,” she slowly whispered, giving me the courage to sample the thick wine. “Do you vote often?”

  Chalice

  It was amusing to see him ruffled. He wasn’t hardened like Ender and Messiah. Keifer’s every thought registered across his gentle features. It wasn’t my fault they all assumed my inexperience to somehow equate to ignorance.

  “Sorry, Keifer…” I finally managed once I was able to rid myself of the vision of him sputtering his drink and smearing the evidence from his lips.

  “Only my mother and the authorities call me Keifer. My name is Keif.” His voice was deep, but his tone was low and meant for me alone. I leaned into him out of instinct… and to hear better, of course. He was easy to be around. Intriguing yet familiar. I felt safe and free with him. Able to be myself for a moment.

  “I think I’ve seen her once,” I absently mused.

  “Trust me, you’ll hear her long before you see her,” he groaned.

  “Actually, I did…” I laughed, almost feeling ill-mannered for admitting such. He laughed and leaned against me in a playful nudge of sorts.

  I glanced around the tavern, taking in the quaint paintings and pottery that was on display.

  “My mother would have loved this place,” I mused.

  “Isabella… yeah right,” he scoffed.

  I blinked at him and canted my head. I knew I looked like Isabella, but did people really think we were all her children?

  “Isabella is my adopted mother.”

  He stared at me in disbelief and shook his head with a laugh.

  “You are her double, what the fuck are you talking about… the same rare beauty.” He leaned toward me and let his eyes drift over me, before they found mine once again.

  “Nothing,” I whispered, losing my train of thought to his big brown eyes.

  “She’s really not your mother?” he asked, tipping his drink up and killing it. The place was starting to fill up with people, so I followed suit only to find him staring at me and the glass in disbelief.

  “My mother is gone.” I winked and nudged him, encouraging him to slide out of the booth. “Are you going to walk me home, Keif of House Kantor, or has my presence in this flesh den sullied my reputation beyond all repair?”

  His face flushed, and he tipped it back as if I had gone too far before the smile gave way.

  We walked home like the oldest of friends, joking and reminiscing. I didn’t realize we had passed his stop until we were at the edge of House Krypt’s District.

  “When will I see you again?” he whispered, coming to a still without releasing my hand.

  “Tomorrow, if you can get the same table,” I challenged.

  He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it tenderly while offering me a wink over top. “Until then, Lady Chalice of House Krypt.”

  My hand tingled with the memory of his affection, and the smile lingered, long after he had rounded the corner.

  “Real sweetheart, that one,” Ender cooed, ripping me from the moment. I spun around so fast I almost made myself dizzy, or maybe it was my brain scrambling for some excuse that simply wasn’t there.

  “What are you two doing out here at such an hour?” Messiah’s voice drifted from behind me. I didn’t know where to turn, or hide, for that matter. My breath and entire existence stilled and hinged on Ender’s next few words.

  I stared at him, imploring his silence with my eyes.

  “Enjoying the stars,” Ender thoughtfully mused, even glancing toward the sky to lend belief toward his cause.

  “Indeed. A night to be appreciated.” Messiah sighed before wrapping his arm affectionately around my shoulders and escorting me inside.

  His scent snared me, I closed my eyes and caved to the sanctuary of his embrace while he led me down the halls. It made me hate Blazian all over again. She prowled with him brazenly while I was forced to settle for stalking him in secret. It was a pitiful existence, but it had passed the days since darkness claimed the Villa and everyone in it.

  Reverie had been the humanity of House Krypt. I was determined to be both its weapon and weakness.

  Messiah

  She was hiding something. I felt her hiding it deep inside when my arm met her shoulders, but I left her secrets be. All women had them, right? I gave her a gentle squeeze without realizing it and led her down the hall.

  “I bid you good evening, Lady Chalice,” I offered, opening the door to her chambers for her.

  She cast a glance over her shoulder, only returning her attention to me when Ender had left her sight.

  “Of course… Go
od night, Messiah,” she softly offered before raising up to her toes and planting a kiss to my cheek. It was a chaste display of affection, but coming from her, it held the potential for so much more.

  I turned around and started down the hall, listening closely for the click of her door. It took a while, but it finally came, a moment before I questioned the fruity scent she had carried. I stood at the base of the stairs and stared back down the hall toward her door. Five minutes. Ten.

  I started for Ender’s room. I knew he was sober when the door opened in anticipation of my arrival.

  “Good to see you’ve found yourself again,” I quietly sang before rounding the corner for his sofa. He sat on the other end of it, grinding his Nirvana Root between his fingers. We stared at each other for a while, him crumbling the narcotics, and me blinking as if I could have somehow telepathically squeezed some sense into him.

  We both worked for the authority of Rochambeau, he was the authority on expiration, and I was the authority over corrections. Amazing what affluence and position could do for a person.

  I was a branded thief and responsible for every convict in Rochambeau.

  “We both know if you tie me up, it isn’t going to be in that jail,” he sang under his breath. His head was tilted as if he were going to attend his drugs, but his eyes were still very much on me. Coy little fucker that he was.

  I shut the door and sank down on the other end of the couch, helping myself to a glass of his wine and avoiding his general direction. My efforts were for naught. The moment he got the stuff lit, a wide circle of cloud crept toward me. The undeniable scent of his forbidden delicacy filled the room, instantly making me light headed, though I continued to decline his repeated offers to join him.

  “She’s following you, you know…” He laughed over a cough.

  “Oh, I know,” I drawled, sharing the laugh. The root must have taken a little hold on me, because my tension left, and I almost felt swaddled by the sofa.

  “You do?” He coughed, choking on the smoke. His shock was genuine, and he looked toward me with more than a little concern in his bloodshot emeralds.

  “Mm.” I nodded.

  “Well… why the fuck do you let her keep on doing it? Aren’t you afraid…”?

  “Afraid of what?” I chuckled. “That she will get better?”

  “You’re training her?” he whispered in disbelief.

  My eyes met his, but I revealed nothing.

  “It’s almost comical. You’re watching her watch you. And Uncle Icarus and Atticus are constantly peeking her way… It’s amazing anyone misses anything,” Ender rambled, letting his head tip back against the sofa.

  “Icarus is still here?” I mumbled, fighting the narcotic induced fog to follow along.

  “Mhm,” he murmured, already half asleep. “Can’t take his eye off her…”

  I finished my drink to the gentle rhythmic breathing and threw a cover over him on my way out.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Caught in the Mix

  Ender

  I woke the next morning with her name strangled in my throat. In my dreams, she had been staring up at me the same way she had Keifer, and for a fraction of a second, I felt like a Fallen God.

  “Fuck,” I groaned, burying my face in the pillow. I needed to go find a peasant girl, a Painted Lady, something. Anything, to get rid of the thoughts and legion of things that came with them. I couldn’t let her be another Reverie.

  Get a grip, Ender. No, not on that.

  Who was I kidding? I nearly ended the most harmless of Kantors, simply for his being in her presence. For sharing a moment that I desperately wanted. A moment I knew would never come because I would never allow myself to put her in such danger.

  I flung the linen aside and scrambled to look out the window, suddenly compelled to get to her before Kantor did. The sun was barely kissing the noon hour on the great sun scale.

  Perfect.

  I splashed water on myself and found some spiced lotion. A few moments later, I was dressed and ambling down the stairs just as fast and loud as my brother had descended them not so long ago.

  By the time I reached the lower level, everyone was coming out to see what the fuss was.

  “Chalice!” I called with a smile. “I thought we could get some lunch, and perhaps you might give your opinion on the inventory down at the surgery?”

  Isabella looked at me the way she did the dock mongers, a pure sense of astonishment, followed by disgust and dismissal.

  “Yeah…” Chalice hesitantly agreed. “Okay.”

  She went back into her room and returned a few moments later with a long-crocheted shawl. Her gown was leather, from the corset down to the toes, with intricate lace from the corset to the shoulders. A matching leather and lace high-fashion collar rested over her lace-clad shoulders and spanned up to cup the bottom of her jaw.

  She was immaculately put together and had perfected the art of walking in high spiked slippers. I was smitten and too struck by her appearance to conceal it. Satisfaction shone in her honey brown eyes as she sauntered past, clicking her tongue as if I were slacking.

  I laughed at myself and followed along, jogging to keep up with her while accidently falling behind, on purpose occasionally. It was a sight that left me silently sucking my teeth and smiling every time she looked my way.

  Once I had the door unlocked and her ushered inside, I paused, completely losing my train of thought.

  “The inventory?” She smiled skeptically.

  Shoving my brows upward, I stifled a nervous laugh and waved her toward the side room. I unlocked the tonic cabinet and let her see for herself. She stepped forward, keeping her eye on me like I might pounce.

  “It looks like you need more honey. Perhaps a bit more astringent… Ender, where’s the root?” Her voice rose with alarm and her face froze with concern.

  “I… guess I need more,” I quietly acknowledged. She wasn’t buying it. Who would? She’d delivered a years’ worth of root less than six weeks ago.

  We stared at each other, both hoping not to find something. I could see the pain and confusion in her eyes. She was assessing me for signs of addiction, while I was searching for some sign that she was a snitch. Her mouth slowly opened, only to close without consequence. I could see the queries dancing behind her big brown eyes. More numerous than either of us would ever aspire to count.

  “I don’t have any more in Rochambeau…” she stressed almost inaudibly.

  “Then where?” If I could get her on a journey, no way was Kantor seeing her tonight. “You were travelling back and forth to sell your herbs… it can’t be far.”

  Her jaw set and she searched my eyes again. Fuck. I guessed that had sounded rather fiend-like.

  “Find me more, and I’ll prove it isn’t what you think…” I kept my voice low, even though we were alone. It was a habit when discussing product.

  Her lips pursed, and she narrowed her gaze. “How do I know you won’t memorize my spot and steal it all?” she asked, tipping her chin as if she had out maneuvered me. I didn’t give a fuck about the root. We could have gone in search of a four-leaf clover, for all I gave a damn. Anything to be the one she shared that alone time with. She was always sneaking off with Kantor or sharing an evening with Messiah.

  I shook my head, uncertain why I even cared about such things, but my rational reasoning wasn’t enough to purge the craving. Fated Few. I was craving her. “Fuck.”

  “Excuse me?” Chalice laughed, settling a hand on her hip.

  “Even if I did memorize it, one spot isn’t enough to serve me.”

  “Serve you…” If her brows climbed any higher her scalp would eat them.

  While I stammered for words, she shook her head and jerked a basket off the cabinet.

  “Fine. Let’s go, Root Eater.”

  “Eater? You can’t eat root… it will kill you…”

  “Well, you certainly didn’t smoke or seep that much,” she quipped, flashing a knowing loo
k to the cabinet and settling it briefly on me.

  “Hmm,” she mused, tucking the basket over her arm. She sashayed out the door of the Surgery.

  Leaving me to appreciate the view and debate over whether I’d point out those spiked slippers or leave her to suffer the journey. Would her ass do the serpent’s sway in flat slippers? The internal conversation was over, and I took up her other arm before she had time to think over such things.

  I’m not sure what I expected. Maybe a small trip toward a spring? A hop, skip, and jump into the forest? Definitely not the five-mile trek we ended up with. She wore the spiked slippers without complaint, only removing them when the path turned rocky. Even in my own well-cobbled shoes, I was sliding and stubbing my toes.

  I was surprised by how comfortable she was in the outdoors. Once the slippers were off, she didn’t put them back on. The hem of her gown started to grow a modest layer of dust. When she noticed it, rather than become frantic and swat-happy, she gathered it about her knees and tied a knot on either side.

  I started to object, but we were miles from the Rochambeau Bridge. Fuck it. Her calves were shapely enough, and I was willing to bet that Kantor hadn’t seen that much of her. Had I really reduced myself to bragging about a glimpse of a woman’s leg? I frowned and tried to appear as if I were studying the ground and nearly bare trees.

  “Are you sure it will grow… in the winter?” I asked.

  “Nirvana Root is blessed. It grows in any element,” she assured, grabbing onto a tree trunk and steadying herself. Rather than ask for help, she hauled herself up the small but steep incline.

  “You’re pretty at home in the forest.” I observed.

  “I lived in it for a time,” came the quiet confession.

  I stared at her backside for a moment before picking up my pace.

  “A wild woman?” I asked with a provocative chuckle. Of course she wasn’t a wild woman. She still blushed and allowed herself to be led into sketchy situations. No, that wasn’t it.