Chapter 11 #2
Atticus looks over at me, confused. “I thought you had them.” My face slackens instantly, and I frantically pat my pockets, knowing they’re not in there but praying I absentmindedly grabbed them on the way out.
“I—I don’t have them. Where did I put them down? I don—”
Atticus interrupts my mumbling with a cackle of laughter, and my body immediately freezes. “Sorry, that was a perfect opportunity, and I couldn’t pass it up.”
My shoulders slump, and my head lolls to the side. “Very funny. Odeyssa didn’t tell me you had such a…unique sense of humor.”
I fight the urge to ask, but when seconds tick into minutes, I lose the battle. “You do have them, right?”
“Yes, Kallie. I have them,” he assures, sounding annoyed, but he pats his front left pocket anyway. “You can check if you want,” he teases.
“No, it’s fine. I believe you.” But again, I hesitate. Even though it’s obviously a joke, part of me still wants to take him up on it.
We pass by tons of people, and suddenly, I feel like I’ve been transported back to my first time in Nefarium.
All the double-takes, low whispers, and strange looks are very déjà vu, and it makes me wish I would’ve worn a hat or something.
If Atticus notices, he doesn’t comment on it, and I appreciate it.
Aside from not being from here, there’s no doubt in my mind they recognize me from the fire last night.
The soft snow beneath my feet quickly turns into wet, soppy mush when we enter the town square.
Stalls full of locals line the street on either side, placed in front of existing storefronts.
Some are littered with barrels full of different fruits and vegetables.
Others have tables lined with artifacts, weapons, and odd-colored vials.
Atticus makes a beeline for the third store on our right, and I quicken my pace to keep up, noting a few stalls I would love to stop at.
Even if I can’t buy anything, I can at least look.
He pulls open the door, and the chime sounding above makes me think of Belladonna’s store—which is stupid.
It’s just a fucking bell. And yet, my mind still wanders.
My chest still concaves, and the air rushes out of my lungs, heavy with the disappointment of not being met with flourishing greenery on the other side.
I stay close to Atticus while he meanders through the store. I try to keep my head down, not making eye contact with anyone while he figures out what we need to fix the house.
“Shouldn’t we, like…I don’t know, go sell…the goods?” I ask, suddenly realizing we came straight to the…hardware store? That’s what it looks like to me. They probably have a funny name for it, just like the forest buns.
Don’t go there, Kallie.
“The goods?” he questions, raising an eyebrow, amusement clear in his tone.
“Well, yeah. You know.” I make small gestures to his front pocket. He stares at me for a moment before letting out the most obscene version of a laugh I’ve ever heard.
“You’re not wrong. Those are definitely my goods.” My mouth pops open, and I smack his arm, unbelieving the sheer audacity.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it!” I exclaim.
“This isn’t a drug deal, Kallie. You can say scales. I guarantee you nobody is listening to us anyway. And if they were…well, the whole town knows not to mess with you. You’d burn the place down if they did.”
I roll my eyes and mumble, “I should’ve stayed at the house.
” Standing there for a few more minutes, I decide I’m bored and tell him I’m going to explore the rest of the town.
Whatever or whoever he’s waiting for is taking forever, and truthfully, I don’t care to stay and be the next topic of discussion.
It’ll be no secret where the scales came from anyway.
Voraxis seemed to be the only dragon that’s ever been here.
Leaving Atticus to his own devices, I leave the store and fade into the sea of people scurrying about the cobblestone pathway. Remembering one of the vendors that caught my eye when we walked past, I weave through the crowd, my target gleaming in steel ahead.
“Looking for anything in particular?” The woman is a bit raggedy, a little rough around the edges.
Her voice is scratchy and reminds me of someone who probably smokes a pack a day, but I don’t think that’s the case.
It sounds worn—broken and exhausted. Like she’s seen her fair share of ugly in the realm and has finally come to accept the inevitable.
Her cloak drapes over her shoulders, and the hood is pulled up, concealing half of her face.
“Not really. Just browsing,” I respond. She gives me a quick nod before slipping away to assist someone else. The blades differ in size and thickness. The hilts of each knife, dagger, and sword are unique, none of them the same as their neighbor.
My eyes track each of the daggers scattered on top of the wooden table.
But something pulls me to the one resting in the middle of all the others, calling to me like a siren’s song does a passing ship.
The handle is the darkest shade of obsidian.
It would seamlessly blend into the night, and the blade glows faintly, reflecting light with a subtle sheen.
Muted and soft, scattering the light, too polished for ordinary metal.
My hand instinctively reaches for it, but before I make contact, someone grips my shoulder. “Serena?” Instantly my body locks up. I know that voice, and the last time I heard it, the conversation didn’t end well—for her.
Turning around cautiously, our eyes meet, and she retracts her hand like I burned her. And boy do I want to. It might even bring me a semblance of joy—for a moment at least. “Nope. Sorry to disappoint,” I say to Miranda.
“Kallie? What are you doing here?” Her question seems odd. I would’ve thought she wouldn’t give me the time of day. Honestly, I expected her to turn around in disgust.
“Just visiting,” I answer. But then I remember what Callum had said about her special gift, and I tread lightly.
Miranda eyes me curiously. “Where have you been? Benny and Belladonna have been beside themselves with worry. Is Callum here too?” It’s no surprise that she’s asking about him. Still, hearing his parents mentioned twists something deep inside me, but I keep my expression unreadable.
“No, he’s not.”
“Aw, trouble in paradise?” she mocks.
Scoffing, the urge to light her ass on fire is back with a fiery passion.
“Spare me, Miranda. I don’t have to explain anything to you.
So just be on your way, and leave me to my day.
” But as the words escape me, doubt creeps in.
I really need to be more mindful of what I say and to whom. Gods, this is a recipe for disaster.
“Sorry. It’s kind of a reflex.” She sounds almost sincere, and that makes my guard rise more. “Seriously, where have you been?” The sound waves she used on me in Nefarium don’t come, and I’m surprised. Maybe she figured it didn’t work last time, so why bother? I don’t know, but something feels off.
“I’m not sure,” I tell her honestly. Because I really have no idea. I hardly know where I am now.
“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. I get it. But you should come back. At the very least, Callum’s parents are really worried. I haven’t seen them this way since…” She trails off, lost in thought. I don’t pry. It’s not my business anymore.
“You knew Serena?” The question comes out before I can stop it.
“I did. Here and there. From the back, you looked just like her. It was like seeing a ghost.”
That piques my interest. “What makes you say that?”
“I haven’t seen her around for a while, and those are her clothes.
I just thought you were her.” I try to get a read on her.
I can’t tell if she’s lying, or if there is something deeper in her meaning.
But before I can respond, she continues, “I have to get going, but I’ll see you around.
” This whole interaction is blowing my mind right now.
“Wait! Don’t…don’t tell anyone you saw me.” Regardless of how I feel, my eyes plead, hoping there’s a decent human being somewhere in the depths of all that bitchiness and she hears me.
“Saw you? The last time I saw you was a few months ago, right before I had to get a nose job.” She throws me a wink and blends into the crowd. This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder.
“Find anything you like?” The lady behind the table startles me, and I whip back around to face her.
“Yes, actually. But I’m afraid I don’t have any…coin with me.” Coin? Coin. I have no fucking clue.
“There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Atticus says behind me, and I nearly jump in the air. “Which one were you looking at?”
“This one.” I point to the intricate onyx handle, still captivated by its detail.
The merchant picks it up, a glow shining on her face. “Ah yes, this is a good one. I carved the design myself. I carve all of them, actually, but this one was particularly difficult.” She goes on and on about the design, which—don’t get me wrong—is stunning, but the blade is also just as unique.
“What is the blade made out of?” She raises her eyes to meet mine, and her small smile quickly widens to a full grin—kinda creepy, honestly.
“Bone.”