Page 43 of Chasing the Night
“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 look 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.
She shook her head, casting a look over her shoulder as if she might comment further, but merely smiled instead.
“There.” She pointed to a half-hollowed out tree. Inside the tree, a blanket of Nirvana Root lay in wait. I turned sideways and let myself slide down the tiny hill, not giving a single fuck about the avalanche of mud that now painted one ridiculously expensive shoe.
“How long were you a slave? Before Isabella and Atticus…” Her voice trailed off as if the paralysis I suddenly felt had been contagious. With a fistful of root, I turned back to face her. How did she know?
“...Yes.” She hadn’t asked if it was true, but the question threw me so much I had forgotten the original question.
“Before I found them, I lived out here. With my mother. I lived in exile. She was exiled.” She offered. Her gaze searched the crumbling leaves that littered the forest floor as if she were too ashamed to lift it.
“So?” I asked, stuffing the leaves into the basket.
“What do you mean so?” she whispered over a sardonic laugh.
“So, what?” I scoffed, looking over my shoulder while plucking two more handfuls. “Who gives a fuck? No one will ever call you on it. You were what you were. And now, you are what you are. A fucking Krypt.”
I deposited my loot into the basket and moved toward a similar tree a few feet away, it, too, had a steep offering of Nirvana Root hidden inside.
“Did you really murder your owners?” she hesitantly asked.
I placed the root into the basket and dusted my hands off before answering her.
“The only thing I murdered was my own misery. But yes, I took the lives of the individuals who were responsible for it. Those who thought to own us.”
Rather than some sign of sated curiosity, I saw a narrowing of her amber eyes and another kindling of questions.