“No one will see us. There’s no way you can keep up otherwise. I told you, I’m faster than you. For that matter, I’m faster than Jorick.” He looked up and met her eyes. “Every second you delay is another second he gets closer to a jail cell.”
His logic was skewed, but it still made sense. Hesitantly, she put her arms around his neck. He stood quickly and hitched her up, then took off into the darkness with the obvious advice to “hold on.”
The houses moved past them quickly, gaining speed, and she squeezed her eyes shut to keep from being sick. He hadn’t been exaggerating. This was much faster than she’d ever seen Jorick go. She opened her eyes, only to find that they were in a midair leap from one rooftop to another. She quickly mashed her eyes shut again and visions of smashing on the pavement filled her mind and twisted her stomach.
It was mere minutes later when they came to a halt and Verchiel’s voice cut into her terrified imaginings. “I don’t suppose you have a key to this either?”
Slowly, she allowed herself to look around, and discovered that they were on the roof of Jorick’s old apartment. She didn’t want to think about how they’d gotten there so quickly, or how they ended up on the roof. It made the paranormal kangaroo idea an even truer, scarier one. “No.”
“I thought not. Hang on.”
“But-” she didn’t get to finish. He raced across the roof and leapt over the edge of the building. Katelina screamed as the ground seemed to slam towards her. He grabbed the thick stone ledge of one of the windows and swung them towards it. Before she’d even processed the images, she was through the suddenly opened window and lying on the blue carpeted floor.
“Sorry,” Verchiel said unapologetically as he straightened his long black coat. “I suppose you’re not used to the speed.” He offered her a grin and pointed to the phone. “I suggest you call. Oren doesn’t know who I am.”
Though she wanted to stay where she was, the urgency of the situation prompted her to crawl across the room and pick up the phone. She closed her eyes, still dizzy from the trip, and mashed the redial button. The musical tones died away into a series of rings. One after another peeled off. Finally, someone picked up. “Hello?”
“Oren.” She gasped out. “Is Oren there?”
“That depends on who this is.”
“Katelina.” She rushed to explain, “Jorick… he’s in trouble. He told me to call -”
“Ah, hey Lunch!” It was Micah. Fantastic. “What’d he do, huh? Never mind, I’ll get Oren. Predictable, though.”
Katelina muttered a few choice words about the bald vampire. The only one who heard them was Verchiel and he seemed amused.
She glared at him, but didn’t have time for more before Oren’s voice came through to her. “Katelina? What’s going on?”
She quickly spilled out the story, and when she’d finished Oren was far from helpful. “I could have told him that was a bad idea, not that he’d have listened. It would take me all night to get there, and by then it would be too late. I’d advocate escape at this point. It should be easy enough and Jorick should be able to do it with minimal casualties. Of course, The Guild won’t see it that way.” Someone spoke in the background and Oren explained the situation to them. The laughter that followed was distinctly Micah’s.
“That’s your plan?” she demanded over the noise.
“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do. I cut all of my ties in that area some time ago - except - ” he stopped mid-sentence. “There is Baltheir. I believe he settled close to Dunwick. It’s a long shot.” Micah said something and Oren repeated it to her, his tone business like. ”How much is the bail?”
“Um, I don’t know. He told me to call you first thing.”
Micah said something else, and Oren agreed before he repeated, “If it’s a murder or kidnapping charge they probably won’t set a bail. All right, I’ll try to get hold of Baltheir. You stay with your mother.” He broke off and then asked, “That is where you’re at? Or are you at the police station?”
“Neither,” she answered uncomfortably. “I’m in Jorick’s apartment. I don’t have your number.”
Oren made a noise of annoyance. “Have you something to write on?”
She lowered the phone and glanced at Verchiel. “Do you have a pen?”
“No. Why? What do you need?”
“His number,” she said hesitantly.
“I’ll remember it. Just repeat it to me.”
“Who is that?” Oren demanded. “Who are you talking to?”
“Oh, that Verchiel guy. The one Jorick found last night.”
“Why is he with you? I wouldn’t trust him, and I know Jorick wouldn’t either. Go back to your mother’s and wait.”
Part of her wanted to do exactly as he said, but there was something almost familiar about the strange redhead; something she couldn’t quite name or understand. She was pretty sure he wasn’t going to harm her. “It’s all right,” she said as she wound up her mental debate. “Just give me your number and I’ll call you soon.”
Oren swore loudly. “I’m not responsible for this. Make that clear to Jorick. I told you not to trust him! I want him to know -”
“Yeah, yeah,” she assured him impatiently. “The number?”
She repeated it to Verchiel and then hung up and explained the pathetic plan in a few words. Verchiel shook his head in disgust. He crouched down and seized the phone. “If that’s the best he’s got, then it looks like I‘ll need to call in a favor.”
Katelina drew across the room and sat huddled beneath the windows while he talked quickly and quietly to someone on the other end. She tugged her coat tightly around her, and tried to pick apart his words, but he spoke too softly.
“There, that’s done,” he announced and hung up the phone.
“What’s done?”
“A lawyer, of course. One of the best. He should be calling the station soon, so unless we want to miss the fun, I suggest we get going.”
Her stomach heaved at the idea of another dash across the city. “Maybe we should call a taxi?”
He waved her suggestion away with a gloved hand. “Nonsense. Always travel light and stay self-sufficient, that’s the best way. Come along and try not to scream this time.”
Despite Verchiel’s instructions, Katelina shrieked as they leapt out the window and repeated their arrival procedure in reverse. She kept her eyes closed as he nimbly hopped from rooftop to rooftop, laughing delightedly at her misery. The cold air stung her bare hands as she hung on for her life, begging God not to let her die.
They dropped to the ground a block from the police station and Verchiel carefully peeled her loose like a pair of too tight leather pants. “You did better this time,” he said as she dropped dizzily to the sidewalk. “You still need to work on it though.”
“No thanks.” She fought her heaving stomach. “That’s worse than a roller coaster.”
He got her to her feet and they walked to the brightly lit station. By the time they reached the parking lot, she’d quit staggering like a drunk. They wove between the vehicles and walked to the front door. A type-written sign proclaimed that after hours visitors needed to use the intercom to be admitted.
“That’s damned inconvenient. This is a quaint place, isn’t it?”
Katelina didn’t answer, and he pressed the button and gave the woman inside a brief explanation for their presence. The heavy door clicked loudly and he thanked her before they went inside.
“Stay with me. Not that I think there’ll be much opportunity for trouble here, but better safe than sorry.” She wasn’t sure whether he sounded relieved or disappointed, though she nodded just the same.
They left the entrance hall for a small room painted white and lit with fluorescent lights. There was a counter where the woman who’d admitted them sat, and a table in the corner where two police officers were drinking coffee and waiting for shift change. A spattering of chairs served as a waiting room and revealed how little action the s
tation really got, while two doors in the back wall led into other rooms.
“If you’ll have a seat.” The woman indicated the plastic chairs and added, “Someone will be out shortly.”
Verchiel thanked her and they sat down. He seemed calm and collected as he scooped up a hunting magazine and shuffled through it aimlessly. Katelina, on the other hand, couldn’t imitate his carefree attitude. She restlessly tapped her fingers on her leg, while her ears strained for Jorick’s voice.
The clock on the wall ticked each minute off noisily, until Katelina wanted to scream. She unfastened her coat and refastened it, bounced her leg and unfastened her coat again. None of the useless actions did anything to release the building tension. The waiting cops clocked in, swapping out with another set who left, and still the time dragged in an interminable silence that was excruciating. Relief came when the door opened and an officer wandered in, his hands in his pockets and his brow puckered.
The receptionist looked up from behind the counter. “What’s the problem?”
He stopped next to her. “Nothing in particular, I suppose. There’s something odd about him though.”
“No warrants?” she asked conversationally, and took a sip of coffee.
“No. His license is expired, but other than that, nothing. Not even a traffic ticket. It’s like he’s been squeaky clean his whole life, and that’s not right.” He glanced up, suddenly aware of Katelina and Verchiel. “Can I help you?”
“Are you charging him?” Verchiel asked, dropping the magazine and swinging his gaze towards the counter.
It took the cop a moment to figure out what he meant. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t say right now. You’re with Mr. Smit?” His expression said that affiliation with Jorick was not in their favor.
Verchiel shrugged noncommittally. “All right. His lawyer should be calling soon.”
The cop registered incredulity, then turned back to the receptionist. When he spoke his voice was lower and Katelina had to strain to hear. “He’s never even had his fingerprints taken, and he’s very vague about where he’s been or what he’s been doing.”
“Think it’s a fake ID?”
“I don’t know. Things have been weird around here the last few months. First the murder, then that fire and the double kidnapping, and you heard about that mess that happened in Dunwick, didn’t you?”
“They ever figure it out?” the receptionist asked, though she sounded only half interested.
“Dunwick? Nah. They contaminated the crime scene too bad. There were fingerprints from half the town there before they ever closed the scene off. I hear they tracked blood all over the place. Amateurs.” He sniffed disdainfully.
Before the receptionist could reply, the phone rang. The cop jumped at the sound and the receptionist held back sniggers as she answered it. She nodded her head while the caller gave an obviously long spiel and then she put them on hold.
“Who is it?” the cop asked.
“A Crevel Lorson, he wants to speak to his client, Mr. Smit.” The cop started to move away when she added, “Warn Richards, this guy’s in a mood. He says they have under two hours left to charge Smit and then he’d best be released or else he’ll be forced to take action.”
“One of those. All right, I’ll pass it on.”
The receptionist narrowed her eyes at Katelina who looked entirely too interested in the conversation.
“Won’t be long now,” Verchiel muttered under his breath. “You can relax.”
Katelina didn't relax. She made a trip to the small public restroom and back, flipped aimlessly through a cooking magazine that was a year old, and chewed her fingernails down to nubs. Only when the irritated cop returned did she perk up.
“They’re letting him go,” he announced to the receptionist with disgust. “Richards says the woman won’t press charges and he refuses to, though I don’t understand why. They can’t prove the guy had anything to do with Mullens, and they haven’t even questioned him about the other missing woman.” He leaned against the counter and glared at Katelina and Verchiel with open hostility. “Lorson has been on the phone three times or more. Even weirder, it took two calls before Smit would acknowledge that the guy was his lawyer.”
“Are they doing the paperwork back there?” the receptionist asked.
“Yeah. I just don’t understand it. Richards was so gleeful when we got the call earlier tonight, he even came in special for it, and now he’s just as enthusiastic about letting the guy go.”
“He’s strange,” the woman agreed absently.
Moments later, the door opened and Jorick strolled through it, his dark eyes snapping with anger. When he saw Verchiel, he all but bared his fangs and his hands compressed into tight fists at his sides. Katelina leapt up to run to him but, without even bothering to look up from the magazine, the redhead caught the back of her coat with one hand and stopped her.
Detective Richards appeared behind Jorick, talking fluidly and explaining that he didn’t want to have to see him in there again. Then, he thanked him for his time and for his cooperation. “A lawyer wasn’t really necessary,” he continued, oblivious to Jorick’s fury.
“No, it wasn’t,” the dark vampire seethed.
They stopped at the counter and the receptionist dropped a paper on it. “You’ll need to sign this,” Richards said cheerfully. “You’ve got all your effects back?”
Jorick scrawled a signature across the paper and shoved it towards them. “Yes.”
Paper signed, Verchiel released Katelina’s coat and she hurried to Jorick and threw her arms around him. “I was afraid they were keeping you!” she cried and buried her face against him.
Jorick returned her hug, but it did little to abate his fury. He stared past her to Verchiel who stood and made to join them. “Let’s go,” he muttered against her ear, then added firmly, “We need to talk.”
Verchiel came to a stop beside Jorick and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “So nice to see you out and about again.”
Jorick’s growl was audible, and Katelina quickly towed him out of the station, Verchiel trailing behind with an air of effected innocence. When they reached the broad sidewalk outside, Jorick spun around and grabbed the redhead by the front of his coat. “What are you doing here?”
“Now, now,” Verchiel said, his voice smooth. “Is that any way to say thank you?”
“Thank you?” Jorick demanded. “For what? I told you that I didn't want to see you again.”
Verchiel ignored Jorick’s anger. “Lucky for you I stumbled in on things when I did. But might I suggest we have this conversation elsewhere? You’ve only just been released.”
Jorick growled again, but let him go. He turned to look for the car. When he didn’t see it, he turned to Katelina. “How did you get here?”
“We walked. Sort of.”
Katelina’s thoughts made her meaning clear and he glared at Verchiel. “You could have dropped her!”
“Hardly. By the way, nice trick with that detective. How do you get them to sound so natural?”
Jorick muttered something dark under his breath. After ascertaining that Katelina wasn’t harmed or dying, he tugged her down the sidewalk at a brisk pace. They’d only gone a few steps when he stopped and looked back, an angry remark on his lips, but Verchiel was nowhere to be seen.
**********
Chapter Six
Katelina and Jorick were nearly to a gas station when a beat up car pulled over next to them. The driver’s window wound down and a man stuck his head out. He had a long black beard that was shot through with gray. A shapeless felt hat perched on his head and long gray and black hair trailed over his shoulders. His voice was rough and tinted with a faded southern accent. “So, you’re out already?”
“Yes,” Jorick answered, and approached the car. Katelina tried to place the unfamiliar vampire. As if in answer to her silent question, Jorick said, “This is Baltheir; he was once in Oren’s coven.”
“You mean Jesslynn’s,�
�� Baltheir corrected gruffly. “Do you want a ride? I’ve driven all this way.”
Jorick nodded. “Of course. Thank you.”
Katelina was tempted to object, then decided that it was better than calling her mom from a payphone. Wordlessly, she climbed into the backseat. She twisted around a mound of junk, her nose wrinkled.
“I’m not used to passengers,” Baltheir barked by way of apology.
Jorick slid silently next to Katelina, folding up tightly in the available space. He gave directions to the hideous green house and leaned back as best he could. His dark eyes still burned angrily.
“How did you get out so fast?” Baltheir asked as he pulled back onto the road.
“Ask Oren. Apparently he saw fit to get Lorson involved.”
Baltheir didn’t hide his surprise. “You don’t mean -”
“Yes, that’s exactly who I mean! I’d like to know how he managed it.”
Katelina shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat. She didn’t understand why Jorick was angry about the lawyer, though she suspected if he knew Verchiel had called him, he’d be even angrier. Still, he’d find out soon enough. “I don’t think Oren did that.” She hesitated. “I think that was Verchiel.”
Jorick’s eyes popped in furious disbelief. “Why do you think he’s responsible for Lorson?”
She already regretted her decision to tell him. “Because he called him.”
Jorick swore loudly. When he saw Katelina’s confusion, he explained, “Lorson is The Guild’s official lawyer.”
The Guild. The word made her shudder. “He’s not a vampire, is he?”
“Of course he is!” Baltheir snorted.
“A vampire lawyer? Don’t people notice he keeps practicing law? How does he pull it off?”
“Carefully.” Jorick rolled his eyes. “He’s one of the few who didn’t turn everyone he knew. He left his family human so they can keep churning out descendants. There’s a new Lorson lawyer every generation. Of course, he just needs them for public appearances.” Jorick growled in his throat and changed the subject. “You were right. I should have killed the redheaded clown when I found him.”
Amaranthine Special Edition Vol II Page 8