Amaranthine Special Edition Vol II

by Naylor, Joleene

  “No one.” Jorick examined the heavy door and surrounding area. “I hate to have to do this.” He motioned for her to step back and then kicked the door. The heavy wood splintered, but didn't give immediately. A second well placed kick made the door collapse on itself and left a yawning black hole.

  She stared at the destruction, aghast. “It’s a shame you don’t really have some kind of super unlocking ability.”

  Jorick took her arm again and led her inside. “True. Or that Claudius didn’t have the good sense to leave a spare key.”

  “Claudius?” His name was enough to freeze the blood in her veins.

  “Yes, but you don’t need to worry, little one. He’s dead. You saw it yourself.” He came to a stop in the middle of the room and gave her a reassuring smile. “This was his ‘Summer Home’, or his retreat. Whenever he got bored he’d come here, sometimes only for days and sometimes for years at a time. He usually brought most of his coven and a host of friends.”

  Jorick shone the light around the cavernous entrance hall. Katelina did the same. The beams bounced off of polished marble floors and huge crystal chandeliers. Formidable white columns rose to the ridiculously high ceiling, their bases flanked in gold. A matching pair of curving staircases, garishly carpeted in red, sat at the far end of the room, connected by a balcony that ran the width of the hall.

  “Holy shit,” Katelina muttered, overcome. “This is like something on TV.”

  “Yes, a bit cliché. Claudius enjoyed that. He had a flair for drama but he lacked originality. I’m sure you’ve noticed that in his other dens.”

  “The one Kateesha took over was different.”

  Jorick smirked. “Maybe to you, but it’s classic subterranean dungeon den.”

  Katelina bit her lip to keep from commenting that he sounded like something from a twisted version of the Home and Garden Network: “Stylish Crypts of the Undead.” She was sure that could be a catchy show.

  “Shall we?” he asked again, and again she nodded her head. He led her between the staircases to a pair of French doors. He opened them easily and they walked into the next room. One wall was made of mirrors and shot the light back at them. Large, glimmering chandeliers hung from the high, carved ceiling. They caught the refracted light and threw it all around, illuminating what was a giant ballroom; complete with parquet floor and suits of armor at strategic intervals. A bank of French doors graced the farthest wall and led out onto what was probably a veranda. The wall opposite the mirrors was painted in complicated murals, depicting strange scenes that looked familiar, yet skewed.

  Katelina caught her breath as she stared at the murals, but Jorick only chuckled. “I told you he wasn’t very imaginative.” He pointed to the wall. “There’s Adam and Eve and Lilith, if you even believe in that story.”

  She followed his gesture to see a man and woman holding a blood red apple, while a beautiful vampiress stared at them from behind a twisted tree. Katelina’ eyes locked with the painted eyes of the vampiress. The mural was almost disturbing in its clarity and the illusion of reality made her shiver. “Wasn’t Lilith supposed to be Adam’s first wife or something like that?”

  “Yes, something like that.” Jorick snorted in contempt. “You’ll find she’s very popular among some of the Old Ones. At one time it was believed she was the Great Mother of the vampire race. I find it all a bit ridiculous myself.”

  She tore her eyes away from the painting and looked at Jorick. The reflected light splashed across half of his face and left the other half in deep shadow; half dark, half light, much the way she sometimes thought of him. “You don’t believe in God, do you?”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his voice bitter. “I don’t deny that God may exist but, if he does, he does not protect my kind.”

  She cocked her head to one side and studied him. “Why? If God created everything, then he created vampires. Why would you be any more eternally damned than the rest of us?”

  A smile stretched across his full lips, though it held no mirth. “And why would God create a vampire?” Before she could answer he added, “Let’s not stand here quoting old legends. Come, I want to check the cellars. With Claudius dead, there’s a chance that rogues may be nesting here. I have no doubt that Kale will eventually take possession of this den.”

  “Why would he?”

  Jorick seemed to choose his words. “When Kateesha killed Claudius it became her property, and when she died it should have gone to the vampire who claimed her heart. Since it was agreed that no one claimed the coven, that means no one claimed her possessions. As you know, Kale collected up most of the vampires that were left from her coven, and as he used to belong to Claudius, I imagine he will eventually claim all of Claudius’ property. Though I doubt he plans to start trouble, I’d rather he gain no new followers.”

  “Is that why we’re here?”

  “One reason.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “And what’s the other?”

  He winked. “To explore, of course. How many mansions have you been in?”

  They made their way to the wall of mirrors and stopped at a calculated spot. Jorick ran his hand along the wall, as if feeling for something. Suddenly, a look of satisfaction filled his eyes and the mirror sprang aside to reveal a dark, narrow stairway. “You’ll notice the dramatics again.”

  He led the way down the stairs and Katelina followed, cringing. Despite Jorick’s cheerful cellar, she had a general superstition of dark, underground rooms, and the suggestion of “nesting rogues” didn’t help.

  The gloom in the cellar seemed thicker than the darkness upstairs and their flashlight beams seemed narrower. Jorick stopped at the foot of the stairs and sniffed before he plunged forward. The stone room was large and filled with ten plain, smooth coffins. “For his personal army,” Jorick explained. “In case of attack they’d be killed first.”

  She nodded and flashed her light around, uncovering a doorway that sat in the farthest wall. Jorick led her to it, still sniffing, and they found themselves in another room that held ten more coffins. Their corners were reinforced with silver and shining silver crosses decorated the lids.

  “For the rest of the coven and the guests.” Jorick pointed to doors that flanked either side of the room. “As are those. He could house quite a few, it appears.”

  He checked the side rooms while Katelina added up how many vampires had been living off and on just a stone’s throw from her hometown. The numbers made her shiver.

  With the rooms checked, Jorick led her through the last doorway. The third room was different from the others. Instead of simple stone, the walls were hung with heavy crosses. In the center was a large, carved dais, resembling an altar. On it sat an intricate coffin made of a dark, shiny wood and accented with gold. Surrounding it were five coffins that, though ornate, looked plain when compared to the one in the center. One of the five was on a smaller platform, directly in front of the elaborate affair, while the others sat on the floor, two on each side.

  “That would be Claudius’.” Jorick indicated the largest, though he needn’t have bothered. He pointed to the smaller dais. “That would be Arowenia’s, and I imagine those belonged to his three personal servants and Troy, who I’m certain you’ll remember.” Though the words were flip, both his bitter tone and tight jaw proved they weren’t meant to be.

  Katelina shuddered at the mention of Troy’s name and evil memories flashed through her mind. She wasn’t surprised that he spent his time lurking in a dark basement.

  “It’s more theatrical,” Jorick commented to her thoughts. “Claudius couldn’t be a ‘proper’ vampire with a bedroom, now could he?” He gave her a teasing wink, then turned serious. “However, it appears that someone else has decided to set up shop, as I suspected.”

  “Where?” She turned a panicked circle, expecting a vampire to leap from the shadows.

  “They’re gone at the moment.” Despite his words, he tightened his grip on her hand. He drew in a deep
breath through his nose. “There are three. Two males and a female. It’s no one I recognize, which may or may not be good.”

  She started to ask how he knew, but the answer was obvious. Of course he could smell them. Why not?

  Wordlessly, they walked back through the basement, and upstairs. Their footsteps echoed eerily in the darkness and each shadow seemed like an enemy waiting to kill them. Something moved in the darkness and she jumped. Jorick followed her terrified gaze and offered her a comforting smile. “There’s no one there. It’s just your imagination.”

  Imagination or not, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was creeping along behind them. She spun around several times only to find the empty hallway staring back. When they entered a lavish den, her eyes darted around suspiciously. The room was large and the shadows were thick and long. The huge bookcases, massive desk and heavy leather chair made the perfect hiding places for an ambush.

  “I told you, there’s no one here or I’d smell more than just a lingering scent. Besides, in case you haven’t noticed, I can sense the presence of others.”

  “Is that one of those vampire super powers?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” He tipped her a wink and moved to the nearest bookcase.

  With an odd faith in Jorick’s senses, she released a pent up breath and sank into the chair behind the desk. She stood the flashlight on the dusty surface so that it shone upwards and lit the room like a lamp. Jorick nodded to her and pocketed his flashlight. She watched as he examined the bookcases. He drew an old volume out now and again, only to make a clicking noise and stuff it back. When she couldn’t stand the crushing silence anymore, she asked, “What are you looking for?”

  “Something I haven’t read yet. But it seems his library is as uncreative as he is.” He suddenly tensed and his eyes shifted to the door. “And they’re here,” he whispered. “And probably very aware of us.”

  “You did kick in the front door.”

  He shrugged, but regret showed on his face. “What’s done is done. Come.” He held his hand out and she crossed to him quickly. He took her arm and drew her behind himself, so that he stood between her and the door. “Stay behind me until I tell you otherwise.”

  She agreed wordlessly, and strained her ears against the silence. Though she couldn’t hear anything over her pounding heart and rapid breath, he could.

  “They’re heading to the basement first. No, the female and one male,” he corrected. “The other male is coming this way, but slowly.”

  The mysterious male’s footsteps became audible to her only a second before he appeared through the door, a fireplace poker in his hands and a snarl on his face. He was tall and looked to be in his early thirties with dark hair and light eyes. He wore a heavy parka and a pair of dark pants complete with snow boots. If not for the vampire fangs shining in the glow from her abandoned flashlight, she’d have taken him for a human.

  “Who are you?” he demanded. “What do you want?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” Jorick responded casually. “What business have you here?”

  The new vampire took an uncertain step forward, brandishing the poker threateningly. “What’s it to you? You’re the one trespassing.”

  Jorick narrowed his eyes coldly and the tension thickened. “Who is your master?”

  A high, lilting voice rang out from the doorway, “I am.”

  Katelina’s eyes snapped to the room’s entrance as a slender woman stepped through it. Her hair was long and dark and her eyes were large and fringed in heavy lashes. She wore a white coat that swished around her legs as she moved and a pair of high-heeled boots. “And I know you. You’re Jorick, the master of Oren.”

  “And who are you?” Jorick kept his attention focused on the male vampire. “What right have you to claim this house?”

  “I’m Hectia, and this was my master’s house. He’s dead now, thanks in no small part to you.”

  Katelina clutched Jorick’s back, but didn’t make a sound, content to hide from Hectia’s dark, piercing gaze. She ran through tangled memories of her encounters with Claudius’ coven to try and place the vampiress. She’d all but given up when a picture jumped out at her, like a still framed photograph. It was of a scantily clad vampiress holding a white towel and bowing low to her sulky blonde master. Hectia was one of Claudius’ three personal servants, all of whom were supposed to be dead.

  “And how is it that you came to be here and not in Kateesha’s coven?” Jorick asked.

  Hectia growled low. “I wouldn’t follow a usurper such as her, no matter what The Laws say!”

  “Kateesha is dead and Oren has her coven now.”

  Katelina recognized the lie, but she had no intention of correcting him.

  “It makes no matter.” Hectia’s eyes were fire. “I will follow no one but Claudius.” Her head snapped around to her fledgling, as if she’d just remembered him and was trying to calculate if he could be useful.

  “Should I kill him?” he asked. His gaze flicked from his mistress to the intruders and he took a menacing step forward.

  Katelina stiffened, but Jorick only asked calmly, “Do you think you can?”

  Just then, the second unidentified male walked into the room, holding a long, slender club. His shoulder length hair was so red that it looked fake, and his slanting eyebrows were bright slashes of crayon colored on his pale face. He wore a long black coat and a pair of leather gloves. His eyes darted from one occupant to the other as he quickly appraised the situation. “Maybe he can,” he answered for his companion. “And maybe he can’t.”

  Hectia didn’t bother to acknowledge the newcomer. “You’ve broken into my den, Jorick, and you’re not welcome among my coven. I believe you know what the laws are concerning that?”

  “Oh yes,” he answered and Katelina could hear the smile in his voice. “But your own breech warrants death. By rights this den, and your allegiance, belong to someone else.”

  “Do you serve them again?” Hectia asked suspiciously and took a cautious step back. She looked quickly between Jorick and the redhead. Katelina realized she feared him as a member of The Guild, though he could kill her just as easily without them.

  Jorick was slow to answer, as if trying to decide whether a lie would make a difference. “No. But that won’t stop me from reporting this.”

  Obviously relieved, Hectia walked towards the desk. She perched on the edge of it and picked up the flashlight. Thoughtfully, she turned it over in her hands. The light danced around the room as it moved from one palm to another. “If you hadn’t helped to kill Claudius, Jorick, I’d have treated with you, but I’m afraid I cannot, not when I know that you had a hand in his death.”

  The flashlight shut off with a loud, echoing click. Katelina bit back a scream as darkness swallowed them and then Hectia’s voice rang out, cold and clear. “Kill him.”

  **********

  Chapter Three

  Jorick shoved a weapon into Katelina’s hand. “Stay back!” he shouted and flung her away from the impending fight. Surprised, she skidded and crashed into the bookcases. An invisible shower of books fell around her. She crouched and shielded her head against the avalanche.

  After the last book landed with a thud, she stayed on all fours. Her ears strained in the darkness and her imagination filled in the visuals. She’d seen enough vampire battles to know what one looked like.

  Something crashed loudly and she jumped. She squeezed the weapon tightly, ready to defend herself, but something was wrong. It wasn’t as heavy, or as metal, as it should be. She felt around it experimentally to discover that it wasn’t a weapon at all. It was Jorick’s flashlight. “A flashlight? How’s that going to help?” Then she figured it out.

  She fumbled for the switch and the beam of light snapped to life. She swept it through the room to see Hectia on top of the desk, her coat at her feet. Her hands were wadded into fists, and her red lips were pulled back from her sharp teeth.

  Jorick put out
minimal effort as he grappled with the newbie vampire. However, the young one had flung aside his parka and his face was screwed up in intense concentration. The red headed vampire stood back, the long club balanced casually in his hands as he watched the proceedings.

  One of the large bookcases lay broken on the floor, books scattered around it like a pool of blood from a fallen monster. Jorick hopped up on it. He caught his opponent’s arm and twisted it effortlessly. The loud snapping noise was drowned out by the vampire’s scream.

  “Verchiel!” Hectia cried. “Help Drew!”

  Verchiel, the redheaded vampire took a cautious step forward, but made no move to join the battle, even when Hectia snarled and shouted, “I said help him!”

  Though he only had one good arm, Drew charged Jorick again. With an expression that bordered on amusement, Jorick lightly stepped out of the way, and then spun so fast that Katelina missed the motion. When he reappeared, he was holding the vampire by the throat and smirking. “Is this really necessary, Hectia?” He nodded towards the redhead. “Your friend doesn’t seem interested in joining.”

  “Damn it, Verchiel! He can’t do it on his own.”

  “I see that,” Verchiel agreed. “But, as he just asked, is this necessary? If someone else has a claim on this den, then it’s theirs. It’s too big to heat anyway.”

  “I deserve this! It’s mine!” Hectia stamped her foot like a child. “You promised to help me!”

  Verchiel sighed heavily. “Fine, Hectia. I did at that.” He turned his attention towards Jorick, and brandished his weapon. “You’d better put him down. He’s too young for you to mess with.”

  Jorick snorted contemptuously. “Yes he is, but even a young one can stab you when your back is turned.” Drew struggled as Jorick pried the fireplace poker out of his good hand and held it up. “I’ll kill him, Hectia. This is your last chance.”

  Not to be beaten, Hectia leapt off of the desk and grabbed the club from Verchiel. She charged at Jorick, swinging it above her head. Jorick rolled his eyes and dodged her. As he did, Drew twisted loose. With a savage cry, he lunged for a piece of broken bookcase.