The door opened slowly, like a horror movie but without the creak. Still calm, Verchiel led the way. Jorick clutched Katelina tightly and followed, Oren behind them. They had barely cleared the door when it slammed shut, plunging them into darkness. Katelina struggled not to scream as the last of Jorick’s soothing hold slipped away from her.
“Come in,” a rich, deep voice boomed.
The room was suddenly flooded with light, and Katelina shielded her eyes. They were in a small antechamber, faced with a set of partially open doors. Verchiel motioned to them and, wordlessly, they filed into the room beyond.
The large sitting room was walled in stone and full of big, exotic plants that reminded Katelina of a jungle. Spotted furs were thrown on the floor, and a zebra skin hung on one wall. A second dark doorway led away to another room. She tried to see where it went but, against her will, her attention was pulled to a long, low couch.
The man who sat on it was Arabic. His skin was smooth and flawless, and seemed to almost glow, tempting her to touch it. His long hair and beard were both brilliant white, and his dark eyes suddenly dominated the world. They were like two sparkling jewels set in a statue, and she couldn’t look away. Hot power rolled from them and crashed over her. It left her drowning in sickening honey sweetness, unwilling to save herself.
He laughed softly and stood. His figure was diminutive in comparison to Jorick and Oren, still he seemed taller than both. He wore a long purple robe over a dark shirt and slacks, but his clothes were so trivial compared to his presence that she barely noticed them.
He broke eye contact with Katelina and moved to stand before his guests, his arms open in a welcoming gesture. His voice was rolling thunder and pouring rain, haunting and rhythmic like words spoken to music. “Jorick, my son, it has been too long.”
Jorick’s face stayed hard as he bowed his head. Though not warm, his tone was respectful, “Greetings, Master.”
Malick looked at Verchiel, a picture perfect smile on his face. “And you have brought them. Very good, very good. You shall be rewarded. For now, I ask you to wait outside.”
Verchiel hesitated, though only for a second. “Of course.” He quickly bowed his head. “As you wish.” He withdrew silently and shut the heavy double doors behind him.
Malick brought his hands together and quickly closed the distance between himself and Oren. “At last I get to meet your fledgling.” His gaze was critical and probing, but Oren refused to look away, his golden eyes hard. Katelina could feel the mental pressure that Malick applied to him, and when Oren’s eyes finally dropped, the ancient vampire seemed satisfied.
He turned to Jorick, as though Oren wasn’t present. “I’m surprised. He has more backbone than I expected, though he’s still weak.” He drew his thick eyebrows together. “They always are with you, aren’t they?” Irritation flickered across Jorick’s face, and the older vampire laughed. “You are still trying to protect the world, aren’t you?”
When Jorick didn't answer, Malick looked at Katelina again. Just like when Jorick soothed her, the world seemed to disappear, only instead of dropping into a place of comfort, she felt as though she’d suddenly been stripped naked and left to stand before all the world. Prying eyes stared at her. They peeked into every crevice of her consciousness and uncovered every secret. She’d have cried out at the intrusion, but she couldn’t. All she could do was stand perfectly still and try to mentally cover herself.
And then the world shifted. She wasn’t in Malick’s chambers anymore. She was in Patrick’s apartment. The smell of clotting blood filled her nostrils. She could see his body sprawled on the carpet, his spine gleaming in the light from the open door. Her stomach twisted and heaved. She was going to be sick.
The apartment melted into a shadowy basement. Jorick was there. He talked in a carefully guarded tone about Claudius and Patrick. She could feel Malick’s boredom and the scene changed to another basement; one with a rusty cage. She was naked and cold and stared between the bars. Fear tasted bitter in her mouth. The cage opened, Troy pulled her out and threw her to Claudius. His cool eyes stared into hers and he shouted-
“No! I won’t relive that!”
She felt Malick’s laughter and then she was in the empty room at Jorick’s house; only it wasn’t empty. It was full of broken furniture. She hung by her bound wrists from a hook in the wall and screamed while a vampire jammed a knife into her stomach. He brought the blade up, slicing. Jorick charged in. Like a wild beast he killed her tormentors, and then he turned to her, his dark eyes terrified. The scenes that came next weren’t her memories, but his. Ones she’d dreamed about: a bathtub, blood, a bite.
She could feel Malick’s amusement. They moved on. Other faces and scenes flashed past, some terrible, some so personal they made her want to cover the memory up with her hands. And then they were in Kateesha’s stronghold. Jorick lay seemingly dead. She howled in agony. She ripped and clawed the vampiress’s dead body.
With a jerk she was suddenly thrown into a more recent place. Oren’s brick house. The woods. Cold eyes stared at her from the trees; eyes no one believed existed. The living room window exploded. Verchiel flew through it.
And then it was over and she was suddenly back in the stone room, surrounded by jungle plants and zebra skins. Too many emotions had assailed her too quickly. Too many horrors pressed together at once. It left her sick and shaken. Tears burned in her eyes. She suddenly realized they were silently running down her cheeks, but she was too ashamed to wipe them away.
Jorick’s grip on her hand was almost painful and he made a low, furious noise. Malick only chuckled. “She is exactly what I expected from you. I must admit I was intrigued when I heard the story of her exploits. I see now that it was a misplaced excitement.”
He moved away and sat on the couch again. “And so the stories are true of Kateesha’s demise.” Something cold and hard flashed beneath the surface, though his tone remained neutral. “I will not hide my disappointment, my son. You know what my hopes were for you and her. I can see my mistake now. She was too strong for you. You are unable to love one who does not need you to take care of them.”
Jorick’s eyes smoldered and then went dead. “She was too cold and too cruel for me, Master.”
“Ah, but are you so different? Do you not kill without compunction?”
“Only when necessary. Kateesha killed for sport.”
Malick eyed him critically. “And should it be any other way? Why should she not have indulged her nature? Do you not do so with yours? You long to fix the broken and do you not collect them? What right has anyone to stop you? And by the same token, what right do you have to repress another? Because you find it offensive? Perhaps others find your habits equally so.”
“And if they do? My habits don’t infringe on anyone else.”
“Don’t they? When you must kill to defend your weak ones.” He pointed to Katelina and Oren. “How many have you murdered in their name? How many have you helped to kill simply because they asked it of you? In the end, my son, you are no different than Kateesha, and no different than I. You indulge in your passions and your moods and allow others to die to maintain them. Life begets life, and only from death will other lives continue, for without passion there is no life.”
“Is this why you brought us here? To bandy philosophies?”
“And do you not miss that now and again? As always, your reasoning is fascinating; if it were not, I’d have never granted your request so long ago.” The smile returned to Malick’s face. “Do you not miss the days of your childhood, when you were still young and hungry for blood? When there were still vampires worth fighting, instead of these weak excuses that populate the world now!” Disgust shadowed his features. “No more do you see a fledgling with great powers! The new vampires have no patience. Rather than waiting for the centuries to pass and slowly selecting the perfect jewels to immortalize, they turn everything they can lay their hands on, and each generation is weaker than the one before. Mea
nwhile, the old are dying or wasting away, unwilling to change. What is to become of our race if this continues? Do those whose blood runs old not have a responsibility to one another and to themselves? Not only to preserve that which has already been made, but also to pass their power to those who are worthy of it?”
“I don’t know,” Jorick answered stiffly.
Malick looked sorrowful. “How you have changed in so short a time. Your inner fire has been all but quenched.” His smile turned threatening. “I wonder if I could do something to coax you from your coma of indifference. Your human, perhaps?”
Jorick took an angry step forward. “Leave her alone! She’s not a toy for your amusement!”
Malick’s laughter echoed around the chamber. “And so you do still live beneath the cold exterior.” Jorick growled and Malick tried to appease him. “Come now, I have not harmed her. Can you blame me for my actions? Surrounded day in and day out by those whose age is near my own. Too cold grow old hearts. Why do you think we make new ones? It is through their youth and their passion that we are revitalized. Have you not discovered that for yourself?” He tilted his head questioningly, but silence was his only answer. “I see that your conscious mind has not realized it, though your heart already knows the secret. Why else do you attach yourself again and again to another broken child? You need a new battle to keep you alive, and when that one is won, you must seek out another or else fall into darkness. That is why Kateesha killed. The need to feel alive and connected to this world drives more of our actions than we wish to admit, because when we cease to feel, do we not truly cease to exist?”
“You would exist through another?”
“No. Not through you any longer. It seems your time alone matured you, my son. It is not the company of a cold master that I crave.” He looked at Oren, pressing into his mind again. “He has fire, but he is too lost.”
His eyes skipped to Katelina, and she physically flinched as he pried behind her eyes, mentally pressing different triggers and applying pressure to painful spots. She tried to resist him, but she broke. Fresh tears dripped down her face and Jorick squeezed her hand until it hurt.
Malick withdrew and sighed heavily. “And like so many of this modern rabble, she lacks the spark of true imagination. Is it too much to ask for someone with spirit?”
Jorick’s voice was cold and sarcastic, “And what of Verchiel?”
Malick dismissed the name with a gesture. “He is amusing, in his own way, but he is not as intriguing as you were. He doesn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders as you did.” His voice turned wistful, “You were always so beautiful in your guilty agony, and it only served to fuel your anger! Ah, the way that fury used to dance in your eyes when you killed! What I wouldn’t give to see that again!”
Thick silence descended on the chamber. Katelina still couldn’t focus her thoughts on anything except Malick and the desire to run. Oren was also quiet, though his amber eyes glowed in attempted defiance. Only Jorick seemed able to really resist Malick’s overpowering nature and he said nothing.
Malick stared at them, and the minutes turned into hours. Katelina prayed for an end to the horrible interview. As if in answer, he said suddenly, “I cannot say that your visit has been all that I anticipated or hoped for, but it has been, nonetheless. “ He turned thoughtful. “No, on second thought, I would have your presence longer, my son. You and your fledgling. The human may go. She is of no interest to me.”
Jorick relaxed visibly and his hold on Katelina’s hand loosened. “She will be sent back to the room and left unmolested?”
“Of course.” Malick gestured to indicate her unimportance. “Verchiel can escort her.” Though Jorick made no comment Malick suddenly broke into an amused smile. “This displeases you?”
“I don’t like him near her.”
“And why is that?” Malick’s smile grew. “Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps there is something else that angers you besides the threat of harm. Or do you fear he will hurt her?”
Jorick’s voice was icy, “I don’t trust him.”
“Ah, so you don’t.” Malick’s eyes glowed with unvoiced laughter. “Regardless, he will take her to your room, and perhaps he should stay and guard her to be sure that she remains ‘unmolested’?”
A muscle twitched in Jorick’s jaw and his eyes flamed. “Leave her out of this.”
“Ah, but I am. I am sending her away, aren’t I?”
The double doors opened to reveal the redheaded Executioner in question. He bowed low and then moved to Katelina’s side.
“You will not touch her,” Jorick snarled.
Verchiel smiled politely. “I fear our master’s presence is too much for her so, unless you want me to leave her, I’m going to have to ignore your request.” Jorick growled, but Verchiel took her arm. He tugged her towards the door until she was stretched between them, one hand still in Jorick’s possession. He made a low, angry noise in his throat and reluctantly loosened his hold until her fingers slipped through his and Verchiel pulled her out the door.
**********
Chapter Fourteen
When they reached the elevator, Malick’s spell evaporated, and with it went all of Katelina’s strength. She leaned against the elevator wall to keep from falling. Every inch of her trembled. Warm tears ran down her face and she fought to pull herself together.
Malick hadn’t physically touched her, still there was a similarity between the way she felt now and the way she’d felt after Claudius’ stronghold. As with him, it was the mental invasion that was the worst. Malick had invaded the inner most recesses of her mind and taken glimpses of her secret thoughts. Though more probing, it hadn’t been as painful as Claudius, which was just as well because Jorick wasn’t there to make it okay. There was only Verchiel who casually watched the Atrium slip past outside and whistled to himself.
The song ended abruptly.
“It’s like that for most people, the first time.”
She wiped her face clumsily, though she refused to look at him with her tears. “What?”
“Malick,” he answered nonchalantly. “It isn’t as bad if you don’t try to fight him.”
She could only stare at her feet and snuffle miserably. The elevator stopped. Before the doors could open Verchiel smacked a button, and sent them towards another floor. She gave him a curious glance but looked away when their eyes met.
“Riding the elevator is fun,” he said simply, and leaned back against the wall, his hands in his pockets.
They rode up and down for several minutes. Verchiel watched the Atrium through the green tinted glass and Katelina slowly calmed down. When she could stand on her own, he let the doors open on the fifth floor and they headed towards the room she shared with Jorick and Oren. With each step she reminded herself that they’d be leaving soon and they’d never have to come back.
Verchiel opened the bedroom door with a keycard and stood to one side to let her enter first. “I thought you’d want to freshen up,” he explained as he followed her inside. “Then we can find something to do. Jorick’s going to be some time, if for no other reason than it amuses Malick. And since you were ‘requisitioned’ they put you in the boring block of rooms. You don’t even have a TV.”
She snapped the suitcase open and rifled through it for her makeup. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Aw, come on. Don’t be like that. You know I didn’t do anything.”
She slammed the suitcase and glared at him. “Like hell! I’m here because -”
“Because Malick wanted to see you. I was just sent to get you. It wasn’t my idea. It was a lucky break running into you with Hectia, though. I might have gotten stuck with her for weeks.” His smile grew and her anger deepened. “Oh, come on. Malick was just hoping you were really a bloodthirsty killer. If you were, he was going to turn you. You were never in any danger, and Jorick isn’t either. Hell, even Oren doesn’t need to worry. Malick finds his war amusing.”
She stared at him wi
th wide eyes, oblivious to his last two points. “Turn me?”
He slouched against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Of course. What did you think he wanted? To punish you over Kateesha?” The answer was in her eyes and he laughed. “He’d probably like to now, but when he heard about it he was excited. It’s not like she was listening to him anymore. He planned to replace her with you - even better that his favorite son Jorick actually liked you - but then you didn’t turn out to be what he was looking for. I don’t know why you’re acting so surprised. I mentioned that back at Oren’s den.”
“He wanted to make me a vampire? But he can’t! I don’t want to be a vampire! I don’t -”
He talked over the top of her cries. “He isn’t going to, now. Geeze, calm down. It’s not like he was planning to kill you or anything.”
“That’s easy for you to say! You’re already one!” She shuddered lightly then spun on her heel and slammed her way into the bathroom. Her hands trembled as she splashed cool water on her face and tried to relax from too much fear in too short a time. She’d been afraid that Malick would kill her. Turning her had never entered her mind, past Verchiel’s comments back at the brick house. She’d thought he’d only said it to piss Jorick off. It never occurred to her that there was any seriousness to it.
When she was calm, she freshened her makeup and headed back into the room to find Verchiel where she’d left him. Though he still looked amused, he didn't comment on their previous conversation. “Ready?”
“I guess.” She stuffed the makeup back in her bag. “Where are we going?”
“That depends. We can go hang around the lounge upstairs with the rest of the humans, or we can go to the first floor. It’s a lot bigger and much more interesting, but it’s mainly vampires down there and I wasn’t sure you were in the mood to deal with them.”
“Not really.” She’d rather be left alone, but it seemed unlikely to happen.
“Shall we?” He held out his arm, though she ignored it. He chuckled and took the lead.
Amaranthine Special Edition Vol II Page 18