Page 30 of Chasing the Night
Chapter Eleven
In a Pinch
Ender
“I don’t give a rats ass how it makes you feel. What the fuck does that even mean? Do you hear yourself? It’s disgusting,” Atticus raged atop me. The high-backed velvet chair of his office held me captive while he bent so that his face was inches away from mine. His entire face was red, his eyes were bloodshot, and spittle baptized me to the point I could no longer contain the twisting of my own face.
What the fuck was going on? I possessed the ability to kill a man without leaving a trace of malice. My position as dentist and surgeon in Rochambeau afforded me the power to rule things homicide or natural, but even that wasn’t enough to inspire hesitation or fear in Atticus Krypt.
Thoughts of extended torture and all the things that would satisfy the creature I was inside, passed one by one, but somehow, I found the ability to turn my neck and dismiss the smug mother fucker without incident.
I stood up, my body grazing his until I was looking down at him. His nostrils flared, and he stepped back until he could look at me without having to tip his head.
“Get. It. Done,” he loudly enunciated.
Fated Few, how I wanted to piece him up. He knew it, too. His eyes shone with victory, even before I had turned and slipped politely past him. I had patients to see, papers to forge, so many other things that I could be doing.
But no.
Today, as per Atticus’ orders, I would drag our already traumatized and beyond emotionally exhausted Reverie to the docks. I would place her in the care of Uncle Icarus and watch her set sail for the Iron Inlet. As if that weren’t bad enough punishment for his plans being thwarted with the Kantors, she was completely unaware and being sent alone.
No matter how many deep breaths I drew, I couldn’t stop the pounding in my head. The guilt. The knowledge of what scene lay in wait.
I closed my eyes, brought my hand up, and lightly rapped on her door. A few moments later, it opened an inch or two, before hesitantly allowing me admittance.
I made sure my body was inside before I met her eye. “I need you to dress, Reverie. Warmly.”
I had all of two seconds to duck before a vase careened past my head and smashed on the floor beyond. Atticus did this shit on purpose. He knew if I came and fetched her the anger would be aimed at me. Every time she reflected on the memory, it would be me that she connected with the pain.
I dodged two more ceramics before I finally managed to secure her wrist and tug her into my arms. I smothered her with my body and rocked until the wailing stopped and we were both collapsed on the floor.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen. You promised you would take care of it, Ender! You promised.”
I had promised. Messiah and I both had, but neither of us could have foreseen this madness. The insult to her reputation and person was beyond catastrophic.
“I should not have promised what I couldn’t have full control over. I…” Apologies were never my strong point, so I placed a kiss to the top of her head and rubbed her upper arm instead. “Come, before he plots both our deaths,” I mumbled, helping her to her feet. I could feel the resignation in her body. The limp posture of her shoulders and vacant nature of her once bright blue eyes.
She stood like one of my demented patients, allowing me to remove her night clothes and fit her with suitable travelling wear. It wasn’t compliance, not really; she had removed herself from the world around her entirely.
“Rev…” I attempted, once I had her dressed and her hair pinned up. “I love you, Reverie.”
I rubbed her arms, until she blinked and sluggishly searched for my face. A mere half-hearted nod acknowledged what I had said. A half hour later, we handed her off to Icarus and watched as the boat disappeared into a speck on the horizon.
Messiah
Everything went dark in the days after Reverie left. Such things had a way of shaking the hive. Especially when they set precedent. Never had any of us been expelled in the name of family. The mountain was our focus, why the fuck would he send his bargaining pieces off to what may as well have been a third world country?
He had to know it wasn’t her that killed him. Reverie was a lot of things, but a murderer was not one of them. She was kept on the surface layer of family business as a shiny for a reason. She knew she belonged to a family that was powerful, wealthy, and shrouded in secrets. It made her feel special, in the loop, and more than a little prestigious. Much more than her previous life could have afforded, even in her wildest dreams.
A girl starved of attention and even the simplest of human affection, she had done whatever she could to maintain the place she had been given in the family. Ever the pleasant and obedient daughter. The gem. She had been pampered to the point of being spoiled.
Her mistake had been growing comfortable. She, like the rest of us, hadn’t anticipated the arrival of our Dark Jewel. Such a rare beauty, a priceless piece amongst Atticus’ collection, could not be tarnished by the cloudiness surrounding the original gem.
We all knew it. Well, all of us except possibly Reverie. I doubted she was even aware of the manipulative web she had been slowly cocooned in. She had been so proud and disillusioned by being a part of it, that she never realized the spider’s intent had always been the same.
I swigged from the bottle and tipped my head back, allowing the evening breeze to blow across my chest. It was my second bottle. I still hadn’t told Chalice that she wasn’t allowed to be in the company of men. I assumed Isabella had. Nevertheless, I dutifully kept watch of the Villa’s entrance. The steps lead out beneath my window so that no one came or went without my knowing it.
“What are you doing?” a gentle voice called on a laugh.