“Wait, Mom had a heart attack, remember? That’s what Brad said.”
Jorick scribbled it down and moved on. She closed her eyes and thought back to what had brought her here. She remembered Malick summoning her. She remembered the gold room and the shiny piano. Then there was a gray prison cell. Someone was in it. Someone-
The nurse returned. She took the clipboard and announced that Katelina needed blood. With expert precision she slung the bag on a pole and hooked it up. Katelina could feel the liquid flowing into her, like someone shoving a stick of ice through the vein in her arm.
Jorick’s anger was palpable and obviously aimed at her. She tried to start a conversation, but it fizzled under his angry gaze. Finally she snapped, “I’m sorry, all right? I don’t know what you want.”
He turned to her. His usually warm eyes were cold and hard, and he hid his thoughts behind them. “What makes you think I want anything, Katelina?”
Her stomach clenched at his sarcastic indifference. “You obviously do or you wouldn’t be waiting for it.”
“I’m waiting for them to finish so that I can escort you back to your room, where you might stay for a change. I realize that when faced with him, my request seems less appealing. You might have mentioned how desperate you were to see him.”
Him who? Greneth? Malick?
“I didn’t want to see anyone. Greneth came for me. He said I was summoned.”
The vampire in the cell?
“I don’t want to discuss this right now!”
And then she remembered who it was.
“That was Malick’s idea. He told me to follow him.”
“Only because you were already thinking about it!” Jorick turned away. “I don’t want to discuss this right now.”
She looked absently from her arm to the little plastic tube pumping blood into her veins. Memories dropped back into place. Verchiel was in the corner, ragged, starved, dirty and Malick held him. Only then, he let him go and -
“Oh God.” Her hand went to her neck. She felt the lumpy gauze with her fingers. He’d bit her. He bit her and he drank from her and then…and then the memories disappeared into a blur. There was some shouting towards the end, and then she was in the infirmary, being placed in the bed and freezing under Jorick’s gaze.
It took hours for two bags of blood to pump into her, ironic since it took only so many minutes for her to lose it - hadn’t it? Jorick stayed silent for the duration. Katelina went back and forth between trying to remember and not wanting to know.
When it was done, she was dismissed and advised to get something to eat. Jorick walked stiffly at her side. At the restaurant, he left her in the hallway and ducked in long enough to order a meal to be delivered.
When they were back in the room, Katelina slipped into the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror made her gasp. What stole her breath wasn’t the lumpy gauze bandage on the left side of her neck, well above her old mark, but the crimson stain around her lips.
She licked it experimentally. Though dry, it tasted salty and tangy and she knew what it was. She wadded toilet paper in her shaking hands and wiped away the evidence. It didn’t matter. The image was burned into her mind, as it no doubt was in Jorick’s. Now she knew why he was angry.
She leaned against the wall and stared at the wad of damp, bloody tissue in her hand. “You’re just getting a taste for it.” Was that really what was happening?
When too many minutes had passed, she expected Jorick to bang on the door. The concerned knock didn’t come. She forced herself to shuffle back into the bedroom where she found Jorick sitting tensely on the edge of a chair.
“Jorick?”
“Your food has arrived.” He stood and gestured towards a plate on the low table. “You should eat.” He marched to the door and stopped at the threshold. “I imagine you can take that brace off now. It’s probably healed.”
He slammed out. Her eyes skipped to her broken wrist and she realized he was right. The deep, throbbing ache was gone. With trembling fingers, she unwound the layers of cloth and gently removed the metal pieces. Her wrist was stiff and hurt a little, more like a sprain than a broken bone. At least it meant she hadn’t had enough to completely heal her. But then how much was that? A glass full?
Her stomach heaved and she stared at her food. She tried to eat, but her eyes kept moving to the clock, then the door, waiting for Jorick to come back. Once he was calm, he could read her mind. Then he’d know it wasn’t her idea. He’d know what had happened.
Though how could he if even she didn’t?
She stripped off and climbed under the covers. She turned on the TV and let it chatter. The fake company felt better than being alone. Time ticked past, marching into the early morning. Soon it was six and then seven. There was still no Jorick. The morning shows ended in favor of daytime programming and she surrendered. She knew vampires weren’t forced to sleep at sun up, though he’d have to drink more blood than usual to replenish the energy that rest normally did. She’d once asked how much, and he’d said one or two person’s worth for a whole day. How much was that? Three bags? Four? Five? As exhaustion took over, her last thought was, did she really care?
She woke in the late afternoon, more exhausted than when she’d gone to bed. Nightmares clung like cobwebs; flashing fangs, lifeless eyes, pain, pleasure, burning vampires. She needed Jorick, and where was he? He’d stormed off and left her alone in the middle of a vampire fortress!
She peeled off the bandage and checked the wound in the mirror. The puncture marks were bigger and rougher than usual. They nearly blended into one another, as if Verchiel had tried to bite clear through her neck in his frenzy.
Her wrist was sore, but she could finally get it wet. She took a shower and dressed in the same old clothes again. As she flopped on the bed, she decided that she should start carrying extra underwear in her pockets. Then she wouldn’t feel so disgusting.
The room closed in on her. The noise from the TV did little to break the suffocating atmosphere, and in desperation she called to the sixth floor for food. When it was delivered, she had to stop herself from latching onto the delivery boy and begging him to stay.
She poked through the scrambled eggs and contemplated a life without food. Meals were like little landmarks on the map of the day, but vampires generally fed only once. Jorick spent the free time reading, Rachel and her crew had been renovating, and Oren and company made war plans. What did normal vampires do? Was there even such a thing as a normal vampire?
The TV bored her and she thought about calling her mother. She could wish her a belated happy New Year. She wondered what the Citadel came up as on caller ID. She imagined her mother getting a call labeled “Vampire Citadel”. For some reason it made her laugh more than it should.
Several hours had passed when a knock sounded on the door. She doubted it was Jorick, so she made no move to answer.
Like yesterday, the knock repeated and then the door opened. Instead of Greneth’s sneering face, a red head poked inside. “Hello?”
She stared with wide eyes, then leapt off the bed, her hand on her throat. “What are you doing here?”
Verchiel stepped into the room. He was back to normal, including his cheerful grin. “About yesterday-”
“I don’t want to talk about it! Where’s Jorick?”
Verchiel shut the door and stepped towards her. “Malick has him jumping through hoops.”
She backed away warily. “Just stay where you are!”
He sighed. “Look, Kately, about what happened-” he searched for words. “It’s just a thing, you know? That’s a risk you take when you hang out with vampires.”
“Funny, it’s never happened to me before!”
He grinned good-naturedly and came to a stop before her. “Sure it has. Lots of times. Don’t make me count off the scars and guess who made them.”
“I said get back!”
“What? Are you afraid I’m going to do it again?” He snapped his fangs at he
r teasingly.
She jumped away, a hand to her throat. “Maybe.”
He rolled his eyes. “Have I ever attacked you before? Seriously, I wouldn’t have gone after you yesterday if I wasn’t starving to death.” He stuck his hands in his pockets; the picture of casual innocence. “I didn’t even recognize you at the time.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“I dunno. Just telling it like it is. People do the same kind of things when they’re starving to death. Ever hear of the Donner party?”
“That’s different!”
He leveled his gaze with hers. “You’re right. I attacked you on base instinct. They put forethought into murder and cannibalism. Good point.”
She turned away from his logic and stared at nothing. The part that Jorick was upset about, the part that was the most disturbing-
“Wasn’t my fault. I can’t help what you did.”
She spun around and slammed her fist uselessly into his shoulder. He caught her wrist and discarded it with a laugh. “There’s no need for violence. What? Is Jorick worried I taste better?” She gaped, horrified, and he laughed. “Ah, he’ll get over it in a couple of days. It all comes with the territory of being a vampire junkie.”
“I am not a vampire junkie!”
His insanely red eyebrows shot up. “You could have fooled me. Who else would have followed Malick into a cage with a starving vampire?” He turned suddenly serious. “Malick will use you to keep control of Jorick. That was just a demonstration of what he can do. If he has to use you again, it will be much worse.”
Before she could contemplate Malick’s horrible plans, Verchiel was his chipper self again. “In good news, I’m grounded for awhile for ‘disobeying’, so we can pal around. Isn’t that wonderful?” He ruffled her hair and she jerked away. “Go make yourself presentable because this room is boring.”
She knew she should stay put, but after the last few days, she was desperate for a friendly face. Naïve or not, she didn’t believe Verchiel would attack her again. She couldn’t really reconcile the smeary memories of the blood crazed vampire in the cell with Verchiel, anyway. It was as if they were two separate entities. She decided that was the way to leave it.
She finger combed her hair, tugged at her clothes, and pronounced herself done. Verchiel asked, “Are you sure?” then snickered and led her to the elevators. While they waited for one to arrive, a woman in a short skirt and a low cut blouse ambled up, a dark male vampire on her arm. She gave Verchiel an obvious once over. He returned the favor and she ran her fingers over a collection of knotted scars on her neck and shoulder. Before he could comment, the dark male snarled and pulled her tighter to his side. Verchiel smirked, and when the elevator doors slid open, he motioned for the pair to go ahead of them. Katelina assumed they’d wait for another elevator, but he walked in behind them, seemingly oblivious to the thick tension.
The pair thankfully exited at the second floor, while she and Verchiel’s destination was the first. When the elevator stopped, they climbed out into a broad, tiled hallway. Between the elevators was a bank of silver trimmed glass doors that led into the atrium. Katelina had been in there on her last visit and had tossed a penny into the pool at the base of the waterfall. She’d wished to never come back, yet there she was. What could she expect from a wish made on a vampire waterfall?
Verchiel led her next to a copper wall fountain and stopped. “So what do you want to do? I think there’s a new movie playing.” He eyed her clothes. “Or maybe you should go shopping.”
The idea of a vampire city, complete with entertainment, still boggled her mind. She couldn’t comprehend a shopping center, not that it mattered. “I don’t have any money.”
“You don’t need to. Old Jorick’s back on the payroll. Besides, The Guild probably handles at least half his stash. How else do you think he’s paying for the room and all the meals? We can charge it to his account.”
“That will just piss him off more.”
“So? He should have thought of that.” He gave her a wink and caught her arm. “Come on. He’s got plenty to spare. I doubt he’ll notice.”
He led her down the corridor, away from the atrium and towards the sound of talking and tinny music. They turned down a side hallway and through a doorway draped in vines. The room inside was a large circle made of brick and plaster and lined in doorways and open spaces, like a shopping mall. Just like Malick’s office, the ceiling was made of glass and electric light imitated the sun. Vampires milled around in various kinds of clothing, many with shopping bags.
Katelina coughed and Verchiel reminded her, “Some vampires live here. We have to buy things just like everyone else.”
“I suppose.” Her eyes moved from what looked like a music store to one full of home décor and another with shiny shelves of electronics.
Like a kid in a hurry to share a secret treasure, Verchiel excitedly steered her towards a vine draped door on the back wall. It led to another circular room and a ring of clothing stores. One had cloaks and ruffled shirts on display. The next one had bikinis and miniskirts. Across the common area was one that sold designer clothing; skimpy bits of clothes in crazy colors and sequins. Next to it was a shop called “Across the Decades” whose main window display consisted of a kilt ensemble neatly sandwiched between a gothic-style wedding dress and a pin striped zoot suit. The rest were just as strange. It was like time was bunched up in one brightly lit place.
It was too much for her to deal with. “Which one do you shop in?”
“Whatever catches my eye. Geneva usually has a good stock of black.”
“What’s with all the black?” She pointed to his clothes. Like the other Executioners, he wore a black shirt, black jeans and a long black coat. “It’s so cliché.”
“Cliché’s have to come from somewhere. It starts as an original idea, then becomes a cliché when everyone embraces it. Who’s to say we weren’t the originators?” She rolled her eyes and he added, “I do wear other things.”
“Prove it.”
“I will tomorrow.” He patted her on the head. “Now, come along, Kately.”
“That’s not my name.” She scowled, but followed him to a store that had a fat, stuffed crow perched over the door. Inside looked like Jorick’s wardrobe. Though there was an occasional splash of red, purple and dark blue, most of the racks were filled with black.
There were two vampiresses browsing the selections. They looked like they’d stepped off of a Goth website; black hair, black makeup, skinny jeans and corsets. They smiled at Verchiel in a way that seemed familiar. He winked back.
Geneva turned out to be a brunette vampiress. She stood behind the cash register, wearing a crushed velvet dress and an amused smirk. Verchiel gave her a long once over and instructed Katelina to “find something.” Then he draped himself over the counter and started a lively conversation. Katelina rolled her eyes. It was obvious he was trying to pick Geneva up, so why drag her along? What was she supposed to be? His wing man? He was as bad as Jorick. He’d dragged her here and abandoned her among unfamiliar clothes and worse, unfamiliar vampires. Customers came in and out. In her paranoia, it seemed that even the ones who ignored her were staring.
She found a few clothes and followed the sign to the dressing room. Finished, she hauled her purchases to the counter and dumped them in front of Verchiel. “I’m done if you are.”
He gave her another condescending pat on the head. “Took you long enough.”
She jerked away and Geneva rang the clothes up. When the total flashed across the screen she asked, “Who’s paying?
“Put it on account,” Verchiel said airily.
“Yours?”
“She’s not mine, sweetheart. She’s Jorick’s.”
Geneva tapped the counter impatiently. “Fine, whose account?”
Verchiel over enunciated, “Jo-rick. No surname that I know of.”
“Regular account or Government?”
“Government. H
e just got a new job.”
“Sorry, I don’t recognize the name. What do I look for him under? The guards?”
“Nope. He went straight to the top. Look under the Executioners.”
She stopped tapping. “He went straight to being an Executioner? That’s unusual.”
“He’s unusual. Anyway, charge it to him.”
“I don’t suppose you know the account number?” When Verchiel and Katelina stared back blankly, she sighed. “Only as a favor to you, but if this Jorick comes down here throwing a fit, it’s all on you, got that?”
Verchiel agreed quickly and, after a few keystrokes, Geneva packed up the clothes and sent them on their way. He promised her he’d come back and see her later, but she took it as though she’d heard it too many times before.
Once in the common area, Verchiel snapped back to business. “Well, that’s clothes. What else do you need?”
Her first thought was underwear, but there was no way she was going to look at that with Verchiel around. As if he’d read her mind, which he might have, he tugged her into a nearby store full of pink, frilly ruffles and deposited her in front of a display of thong panties. Her cheeks turned red. Before she could protest, he disappeared to the front of the store where an attractive female employee giggled.
Katelina found some decent undergarments and, against her better judgment, dropped them on the counter. Verchiel cheerfully flapped the purchases around and went so far as to hold a black bra over his eyes and shout, “Buzz, buzz! Human fly!” Katelina jerked it away from him and told him to grow up.
They charged them to Jorick’s account too, as a “favor”. When they purchased toiletry items and makeup it was the same thing. Between the “favors” and attention, Katelina got the impression that Verchiel spent a lot of time in the shopping area, mainly in the back rooms.
Amaranthine Special Edition Vol II Page 53