The Charmed Locket, page 1
part #1 of Treasure Hunter's Heart Series
The Charmed Locket
Treasure Hunter's Heart, Volume 1
Elina Vale
Published by Elina Vale, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Elina Vale
All rights reserved.
ISBN 978-952-69108-4-0 (PRINT)
ISBN 978-952-69108-5-7 (EPUB)
ISBN 978-952-69108-6-4 (MOBI)
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
PART 1 | The Locket
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
PART 2 | Arganda
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
PART 3 | The Divided
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
PART 4 | Monsters
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
TO BE CONTINUED...
MORE FROM THE AUTHOR
To all who desire something more of their life.
PART 1
The Locket
CHAPTER 1
MY FINGERS WRAPPED around the silver sapphire necklace. There were many beautiful items in this jewelry box, including earrings and bracelets, but the necklace was enough for now. Mrs. Hogdea was sleeping right next to me, but I didn’t have to worry about her overhearing me—the sickly smell of drowsiness floated in the room. She had been at a tea salon until midnight. After she left, I followed her home, and watched from the window as she put that beautiful necklace back inside the box on her nightstand. Seeing her fall into bed, nearly asleep before her head hit the pillow, I knew I had nothing to worry about—the tea salon’s opiates would keep her asleep for the rest of the night. Placing a white lily on top of her jewelry box, I snuck away from her room.
Nobody in the house was awake at this hour so I didn’t have to use the window to escape. It had been difficult to climb in through it, and I was happy to sneak out through the door. I stepped onto the soft carpets of the hallway, lazily examining the paintings on the wall. There were so many valuable objects in this house to steal and sell, but I wasn’t that kind of a thief. I never took too much. I wasn’t like Peter the Pork or the others.
I was doing good.
As I reached the main hallway and slowly opened the door, nobody had stopped me. I snuck out, closed the door, and walked away.
Securing my pouch on my belt, I remembered that I had one more place to visit tonight—Nancy Burrow’s home.
When I reached her house, I snuck from shadow to shadow, creeping behind the building where I knew Nancy’s balcony awaited. Glancing up, I prepared myself. Three floors up. I wasn’t sure if I could do it, but if I wanted to become better, I had to challenge myself. Reaching up with my hands, I tucked my fingers into the cracks of the tiles. I jumped up and clung on the wall. I had to reach the next ledge, and then the rest of the climb would be easier. But as I tried to reach higher, my boot slipped, and I fell, smacking my shoulder against a stone on the lawn below.
Tears welled in my eyes, but I remained silent. I needed to be more careful.
I stood, breathed a couple of times, and tried again. My boot slipped once more, but I remained calm and stayed silent on the wall. My task for the past months had been to learn to control my nerves. It hadn’t been easy, but I had learned. It was worth the effort. I loved this—I loved the magic of the thrill that rushed through me on my nightly trips.
That magic came from the wait, from the anticipation, from the silence of the streets. It lurked in dark alleys and was fed by the feeling of danger. I needed that magic. My heart craved it like Mrs. Hogdea craved her opiates or like Peter the Pork craved respect.
I had become addicted to it.
My normal life—the life my father had planned for me—was not a bad life, but I didn’t want it. I was a merchant’s daughter and the only heir to our mansion. I had duties. Obligations. These nightly adventures were something else. These were for me alone, and at the same time, I had the chance to help people.
Finally reaching my destination, I stopped and steadied my breathing. I gazed up. Seeing the stars again after weeks of clouds and rain felt good. The stars reminded me of my mother, who had spent her last nights on our mansion’s roof, gazing upon the night sky. I thought that she was now with the stars, looking down at me. Would she approve of my actions? She wanted me to follow my heart, so at least she would love my intentions.
The city below my feet twinkled in the night.
A balmy breeze from the ocean brought the smell of salt into my nose.
It was a serene evening, and the stars and the moon gave the city an attractive magical glint. From up where I was, I could see the main square and all the way to the harbor. It was quiet on these streets, but I knew this city never slept. Over the past year, much in my life had changed, and I knew a lot more about this city and its inhabitants than I had known earlier. I finally felt like I had discovered my purpose in this life.
I tied the black scarf over my mouth and nose, barely leaving enough of a gap through which to see. I carefully pushed all the dark curls of hair under the cap. If anyone saw me, no one would connect the swift, black-clothed thief to my true person. Squatting down, I eased my way toward the edge of the balcony. My grip was firm and I tried to control my fear as I danced there, thirty feet above the ground. My heart pounded. The blood rushed in my ears. My palms were sweaty and my throat was dry, but it didn’t matter. This was the magic. This was my opiates.
As I had hoped, Nancy’s balcony doors were open. She had told me earlier this week that she slept with the doors open to get some air. That was a mistake, and now she would have to accept my visit. I tiptoed along the balcony rail, stretched toward the window, and peeked in. No movement caught my eye, only heavy snoring echoed behind the lace curtains. I wanted to laugh—Nancy would not like the idea of someone hearing her snore.
I dropped down to the balcony and snuck through the open door. The moon just barely illuminated the room, but it was enough for me to see my untidy surroundings. The room was furnished with rosy colors, ruffles, and lace, though heaps of clothing and cast-off shoes were scattered all over the floor. Plates of food were left on the table with some papers and books. I quickly stalked to her dressing cabinet, unlocked it, and without making a sound, pushed my hand between her gowns. My gloved hand traveled through the silks and satins until I finally found the small handle on the back wall of the cabinet. I pulled and it made a small click. I froze to my spot when Nancy sighed, rolled to her other side, and continued to snore. “Oh, Maximilian . . .” she mumbled in her sleep. I grinned. It was a shame I couldn’t use these fascinating bits of knowledge when I met her next time.
Behind the handle was a drawer, inside which concealed a box. The box was big enough to hold a pair of shoes, but there was something far better inside. I crouched down, placed it on my lap, and opened it. Pearls, rings, earrings, gold, and even a tiara were nestled inside. I rolled my head. Did she think she was a princess? When would she need a tiara? I lifted it from the box and examined it. A gorgeous ruby sparkled in the middle. Oh, she would hate losing this one, but the ruby was worth too much to be kept here for her amusement. I opened the pouch on my belt and put the tiara inside, along with a set of pearl earrings and a gold necklace. Like always, I wouldn’t take everything. Nancy may have been vain and self-absorbed on the outside, but that didn’t make her a bad person at heart.
I put the box back in its place, closed the cabinet doors, and snuck to her bedside. There, I took a single, white lily from my pouch and placed it on her nightstand. She would know who had visited her. I shot the last glimpse over my shoulder, climbed out of the window, and snuck away.
“WELL, WELL. IF IT isn’t Lily again,” Peter the Pork said, greeting me with my thief-name as I stepped into the House of Burglars. The house was nearly at its breaking point—the paint had peeled off and windows were broken, but nothing was as awful as the smell. I truly hated that pungent stench of urine, sweat, and opiates. The House of Burglars was located on the west side of the harbor, in the ominous area of Merguttle, where all the low-life of Karis were located. Small shacks and smelly gutters crawled with destitute people who had little more than sickness and misery.
“Hi, Peter.” I started forward.
The room was thirty feet long and fifteen feet wide, with tables and benches scattered on the sides. At the front, Peter’s desk stood on a wooden pedestal. He liked to think of himself as the ruler of thieves in Karis, and this was his filthy throne.
The men glared at me as always. I shivered but didn’t let them see my discomfort.
A smile emerged on my lips as I walked toward Peter’s desk. I lifted my jaw a bit.
They weren’t laughing anymore.
I was a better thief than most of them. Sure, I could be clumsy and scared, but I found the most valuable things to sell.
The men here were cruel killers, and I always had to stay alert. Karis was the kind of city where women did as the men told them to, and a young woman such as myself in here, in these circles, was a rarity. There had been some females, of course, but not in a long time, as Peter the Pork once said to me. Though I was frightened, there was a rule that none can be harmed or robbed under the roof of the House of Burglars. This was the place of trading, and that was the only reason I ever dared to come in here.
Sander, an ugly, middle-aged thief, who spent his days stealing money pouches of walkers, stepped in front of me. His breath stank and his greasy blond hair hung over his face from beneath a shabby hat.
“Lily,” he said with his rugged voice, “when are you gonna reveal your pretty face to us? We won’t bite. Promise.”
“Speak for yourself! I wouldn’t mind to ‘ave me a bite of that!” one man hollered behind me and slapped my butt.
I turned around slowly and tried to remain calm. “Touch me again and you’ll have one finger less to pat girlies’ bums.”
He smirked with his toothless mouth. I squeezed my hand into a fist. I wished I could smack that look off his face. I knew this man was a rapist and a woman abuser, but he wouldn’t dare break the house rules and harm me with everyone watching. For my part, I refused to provoke him. I was not like these men. I wasn’t.
“Enough!” Peter yelled. “Leave her be.”
I set my eyes on Peter again and the rapist skulked into shadows.
Peter nodded to my pouch. “What’s you got me this time, Lily?”
I flung the pouch at him, then leaned my weight on my back leg and placed my hands on my hips, trying to appear confident.
He opened the strings, peeked in, and smiled. “Lily, Lily, Lily. Why won’t you come work for me? Do you want me to grovel? You know I can give you better prices, and you’d get the protection—”
“Just tell me if you can sell any of those,” I interrupted. I could feel the eyes on me and was ready to get away from here. If there was any other way to change the jewels into gold and silver petos, I would not come here at all.
Peter frowned. “A few bits, yes, but the tiara? Looks unique. I must sell it somewhere else than Karis and that’ll cost me extra . . . and to you. I can give thirty gold petos for it.”
I snorted. “Thirty? No thanks. I sell it myself.”
He removed the earrings and necklace and handed the pouch back. “Not gonna work in this city. But good luck. If I were you, I’d take the petos and be happy.”
I grabbed the pouch and held my hand to Peter. He dropped one gold and fifteen silver petos into my hand, and I nodded to him.
“Thank you, Peter.”
He seized my wrist before I could pull my hand away. My heart pounded, but I looked into his eyes.
He spoke with a lowered voice, “One day, I’ll find out who you are, Lily. And then you will work for me.” His eyes were cruel and the hunger within them frightened
I took a breath and whispered back, “I’ll never work for you.”
He let go my wrist and swiped the air with his hand. “We’ve heard it, yes,” he said in a louder voice. "The orphanage, the women’s temple, the poor house . . . they’ve all received purses with petos with a white lily flower. Why?”
I pursed my lips and didn’t answer. I knew the flower was foolish, but I wanted them to know that the offerings were from me. And I had succeeded—many in this city knew about the thief Lily. At first, I had only left the flower in my victims’ homes, but for some time now, I had delivered it to the poor as well. But now, I thought it might not be the best idea. What if someone knew who I was?
I withdrew another step, but Peter stood and circled the table. I could feel all eyes on me, and I started to think of a way to escape. There were at least fourteen men around me, and they would capture me before I could reach the door.
Peter crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re wealthy.”
I couldn’t allow them to see my fear. The trading would end if they knew I was intimidated. I stayed put, holding my place, squeezing the pouch in my hands. “None of your business.”
He glared down at me from a foot above my head.
“Maybe not, Lily, but know this . . ..” Leaning close to my ear, he whispered, “One day, you might be the victim.”
I pushed him away. “You would never steal from me. I’m too pretty.” With a wink, I turned my back to him. I wanted to get away from there fast.
He laughed. “But we don’t know who not to rob, Lily the Lovely. Let us see your face.”
Opening the door to leave, I called back, “That will never happen.”
CHAPTER 2
I LEVELED MY breathing after the sprint across the practice room. Still crouched, I lifted my training blade. After becoming Lily the thief, I started taking my training more seriously.
Master Ross, my tsikodu and fencing teacher, stood ten feet away, smiling. “Well done, Gina! The flip was timed perfectly.”
He was a fair-haired, middle-aged man with a quick, pearly-white smile. He stroked his mustache and nodded. “Your skills have improved considerably since we started a year ago.”
“You’re a more skilled teacher than my previous one. He let me off too easily!” I noted and sprinted in his direction. With my surprise attack, I managed to get in striking distance. I lifted my arms to smash him, but he tripped me over and I fell, losing my blade. He approached, but I rolled aside and jumped up. He always said, ‘An attack is the best defense,’ and I wanted to get a hit today.
I jumped in the air with a twirl, kicking and simultaneously striking with my right hand at his shoulder. I delivered a hit! My foot found his right thigh, but then he twisted away and my hand swiped thin air. Suddenly, I was hurled onto the floor. It jarred me, and I nearly didn’t notice him coming on top of me. I struggled, but he had me pinned.
“Gina,” he said and paused.
I held my breath and stared into his twinkling eyes.
“One point.” He offered his hand to help me up.
I let out a scream of joy. I had never managed a single point in our matches. Undoubtedly, I could never beat him if I ever had to fight him for real. But this, this was a victory.
I jumped up and down. “Ha, I was good, wasn't I?”
He nodded and winked. “Much improvement in a year, as I said.”
I shook his hand, as it was customary with us after the class. “Thank you, Ross. I had fun today.”
He suddenly got serious and squeezed my hand a bit longer. “Gina, some people are talking about this.”
Frowning, I stared at him and loosened my grip. “About what?”
“You, a merchant’s daughter, being taught like this by . . . a man.”
I snorted and leaned to grab my towel. I was sweaty and exhausted after my class. I patted my face with the towel. “That's utterly foolish and you know it.”
He sighed. “We know it. Your father knows it, but the people in Karis . . .. Well, you understand how they are.”
“I don't care about them,” I said. “This is good for me, and it keeps me safe if I know how to defend myself.”
He lifted his hands in the air. “Fine. You know it's up to you, Miss Mansfred, but you need to think about your reputation. There can't be any stains on your reputation if you intend to get mar . . .. I mean, to continue your father’s merchant business.”
“Miss Mansfred . . .” I mumbled and then looked at him. “I'm not quitting. Not a chance.”
“Wait a moment,” Ross said and touched my shoulder with the bruise I got last night. “Did I hurt you? Did those bruises come from our training?”
“Eh, I don’t know. It’s nothing. Maybe I stumbled on something,” I said. I leaned closer and gave a peck on his cheek. “I must go. I’ll see you, Friday at ten. Give my love to your kids.”
