She followed him into other stores. He browsed through lots of things; CDs, silver rings, posters of girls in bikinis, but never bought anything, just rifled and winked at the women.
They left yet another store in time to see a tall, thin vampire leading a young man on a chain. The youth had a thick black collar around his neck and messy blonde hair that hung in his eyes. It wasn’t hard for Katelina to tell that, unlike the others, he was still human.
Whether the boy was willing or not, the sight made her uncomfortable. “Can we go?”
Verchiel’s eyes flicked to the pair she didn’t want to look at. “Ah, Sorino’s back. And he’s still carting that kid around.”
She didn’t want to know, but Verchiel continued anyway. “He’s been leading him around for years. I expect he’s waiting for him to grow up enough to bother with. According to the stories, he found the kid overseas somewhere; the lone survivor of a Rogue attack. The kid certainly has enough scars to make it plausible, though I always imagined those were Sorino’s doing.”
“He keeps him on a leash?”
Verchiel nodded and she shivered. It sounded sick and bizarre to her. Almost as sick as hanging out with a vampire who attacked you only the day before.
Verchiel changed the subject. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded and they started to the door when she saw a familiar figure striding towards them. The anger swimming in Jorick’s dark eyes made her pause. Verchiel seemed oblivious.
“Hullo! Did Malick let you out early?”
Without a word, Jorick swung at the redhead, who dodged neatly out of the way.
“What kind of a greeting is that? Here I am, babysitting your human and-” He side stepped another blow. “Really!”
“She doesn’t need you to babysit her!”
“On the contrary. Better me than someone with less noble intentions.” He gave Jorick a broad grin and suddenly appeared behind her.
Vampires stared with open curiosity. Sorino and his boy on a chain moved towards them.
“Stop it,” Katelina begged. “Please. Everyone’s staring.”
Sorino interrupted her.
“Is that you, Jorick?” He came to a stop near them and his dark eyes moved from one to the other. He suddenly noticed Jorick’s silver medallion. “This is a surprise.”
Jorick made a low noise in his throat and glared past him to Verchiel. “Yes, it is. If you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”
Sorino went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “I didn’t know you were back. We’ve only just returned from Brazil, ourselves. If you’re not set on killing Verchiel right now, I’d like to borrow him. I’m sure you can rip his heart out tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I’ll keep overnight. I’m not going anywhere.” Verchiel flashed Jorick a grin and then mussed Katelina’s hair. “You two run along now, Jorick has a lot of things to shout about and he doesn’t want to do it here.”
Jorick’s face twitched and he raised a threatening fist. “Stay away from her, or I will rip your heart out.” He caught Katelina’s arm and dragged her away. She glanced over her shoulder to see Verchiel and Sorino talking affably, though she couldn’t catch their words.
Jorick’s stony silence lasted even after they were back in their bedroom. Katelina threw the bags on the bed and demanded, “Where have you been? I was worried about you!”
“Were you?” Jorick asked coldly. “I thought you were too busy.”
“You’re the one who was gone on a fucking pout and left me here alone! After all that shit with Malick, you just took off!”
“And why shouldn’t I? Excuse me, Katelina, but I don’t really want to watch you give yourself to him!”
“Give myself? Maybe you missed it, but that’s not what happened! My God, you make it sound like I had sex with him!”
His eyes glowed. “And what do you think it was? I told you before how it works with vampires!”
“Don’t start that! I’ve been bitten by other vampires, and I wasn’t having sex with them!”
“And you didn’t drink from any of them!”
She stepped back and bit her lip. He was right, but... “I don’t remember drinking from him!”
“So it doesn’t count? You don’t remember when we do it, either, but that counts? You can’t have it both ways!”
“Damn it, Jorick! You said yourself it has to do with intent! I didn’t have those intentions, and neither did he! For the love of God, he was just starving!”
“How the hell do you know what his intentions are? I don’t! I don’t know what he’s thinking and I don’t know what he wants with you!”
And there it was. Jorick, the all knowing, didn’t know. And he couldn’t stand it.
She tried to sound calm, but failed. “He doesn’t want anything with me! And even if he did, you’re the only one I want, you moron!”
Jorick’s anger flickered, like a light bulb with a faulty connection. “Then why are you always with him?”
“I’m not always with him. We’ve only been here two days! Yesterday Malick took me there, to punish you, and today I just didn’t want to be alone! Did you ever think that I get tired of waiting by myself for you to come back?”
“Yes! That’s why I encouraged you to spend time with Rachel!”
That wasn’t the reply she expected, but she fired back, “And look how that turned out!”
“It’s not my fault!”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “Yes it is! You knew what she was going to do and you didn’t stop her! You could have warned me, or Joseff, or fucking manipulated her mind so she didn’t do it!”
“And the minute we left, or my influence slipped, she’d have killed herself!”
“But then I wouldn’t have had to see it!” She turned away. “Damn it, Jorick! How much do you think I can take without a break?”
Jorick moved to stand behind her, but didn’t touch her. “I warned you that my world isn’t a pretty one. I’m only trying to protect you. I don’t trust him.”
She wiped her eyes savagely. “He isn’t going to kill me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Death isn’t the only way to lose someone!” He clamped his mouth shut as if he’d said too much.
She turned to face him. “You’re not going to lose me. You couldn’t get that lucky.”
He caught her hand in his. “I’ve heard that before. You don’t know what will happen.”
“Neither do you.”
He relented and pulled her to him. She nuzzled her face in his chest and he wrapped his protective arms around her. “I’m…sorry for leaving this morning. I didn’t realize it upset you. I wasn’t…thinking clearly.”
“And for the scene at the mall?”
“I’m not sorry for that. When I get my hands on him, I’ll make him pay for feeding on you.”
She sighed. “I don’t think he knew what he was doing. It was Malick’s fault, not his.”
“Perhaps,” Jorick agreed thornily. “But I can’t rip Malick’s heart out, so Verchiel will have to suffice.”
“You know that’s stupid logic, right?”
He didn’t answer.
**********
Chapter Eighteen
Katelina asked Jorick about his new job. The answers were strained and edited, so she gave up. She supposed he was trying to protect her from whatever hideous deeds Malick had dreamed up for him. The idea made her hate the ancient master more.
The following evening, Jorick gave her a kiss and left to Malick’s summons. Alone again, she slumped to the bathroom for a shower, then tried on her new clothes. The jeans were stretch denim and too tight for her comfort. She’d had a hard time finding anything normal, though she had to admit the gothic wedding dress had been tempting. When would she have a chance to buy clothes like that again? On the other hand, she wasn’t brave enough to wear them, so what was the point?
She doctored Verchiel’s bite and cringed. It was going to leave a noticeable scar. Damn,
just what she needed; another one. This one looked like it might turn into the lumpy kind the junkies wore like badges of honor. Wonderful.
She popped open her new makeup box and selected one of the shiny bottles of nail polish. Once she was seated in the little lounge area, she cracked the lid and inhaled the sharp, chemical odor of the polish. The smell was comforting; that little bit of sanity in all the weirdness. With neat, tidy strokes she swiped the dark polish over her nails, as if painting the world into some semblance of order.
When her nails dried, she ordered breakfast and had just started eating when a knock sounded on the door. Her visitor didn’t wait for an answer, but strolled in, keycard in one hand, grinning broadly.
She eyed the card. “How did you get a key to our room?”
“I didn’t. It’s a master key. We all get one.” Verchiel shoved it in his pocket and dropped into one of the chairs. “How are you this fine morning?” As promised, his black Executioner garb was gone, replaced by a bright red T-shirt that said “Bloodsucker” and a pair of low slung blue jeans.
She stared at the outfit. “First off, it’s not morning and second, what are you wearing?”
He tugged at the shirt in mock offence “What? You don’t like it? I thought it was amusing. I found it at a truck stop in Michigan. They had a bunch of fun slogans.” She stared at him incredulously. “Come on, surely you have a tiny sense of humor?”
“The color’s bad.” She went back to her scrambled eggs. They made more sense.
“It was a truck stop, not a made to order boutique. And what do you mean it isn’t morning? It’s our morning.”
“Morning is when the sun comes up.”
“It’s all a matter of opinion. Morning is when you wake, evening is when you go home - if you’re unlucky - and night is when you go to sleep. It’s all relative to your schedule. Once you’ve lived the night life for a few months, you’ll see.”
She let the conversation drop and finished her breakfast. When her plate was clean, Verchiel told her to pack up. “You’re being moved into a more permanent residence in the Executioners’ block.”
At the word permanent, her shoulders slumped. He patted her consolingly. “Ah, it’s not so bad. You’ll be closer to me. That should make Jorick happy! I know how much he wants to be my neighbor! We can have block parties. Maybe a luau. Won’t that be fun?” He broke into a bad imitation of a hula dancer. “Senya would be just perfect with an apple between her lips, slowly roasting over a pit.”
Katelina couldn’t argue with that, though Executioner block parties didn’t appeal to her. For that matter, neither did living in the Executioners’ block.
Despite her reservations, she packed her clothes in the shopping bags. As she finished, she realized there was nothing of Jorick’s. He was still in the same outfit he’d been in when they were kidnapped. Vampires might not sweat, but that was too much!
“We can buy him stuff later!” Verchiel grabbed half the bags and practically shoved her out the door.
The Executioners’ Block was on the second floor, too deep in the citadel for comfort. Instead of the hotel style corridors of the upper floors, the hallways were done in parquet wood and ugly paintings that denoted a public area. Verchiel had once told her that the “fun” spilled into the second floor, and she assumed that was where they were.
They walked past several off-shooting corridors and open areas where vampires milled around. The movie theatre he kept suggesting they visit had a second floor entrance, right next to what looked like an arcade. There was a cyber café, though she shuddered at the idea of what the occupants were drinking, and something called “Restful Haven”, which Verchiel told her was a spa/beauty parlor. “I’ve never been inside, but some of the chicks dig it.”
They left the common areas behind and came to a silver door that was decorated like the elevators. Instead of buttons it had a card slot next to it. Verchiel swiped his master key and a lock clicked. The door swung open under his touch to reveal a broad hallway carpeted in black. Lined with occasional doors, it went forward for several feet and then made a sharp left turn.
“This is the Executioners’ block,” Verchiel explained. “The corridor forms a square; well three sides of one. Get it? Block?” She rolled her eyes. “You’re in Dismas’s old quarters. He was only here two months. I think he wins the award for the shortest career. Executioners don’t usually get killed so quickly. Until Oren’s little blood bath, I was the new guy. Now there’s three newbies under me!” He seemed a little too excited. “You’ll be living between Beldren and Jamie, and across the hall from Zuri. I hear he’s a prisoner of your friend Oren, so it should be quiet over there.”
“Oren isn’t my friend!” Her last memories of Zuri made her stomach twist and she looked away.
“Youch. Okay then. Moving on, I’m not sure who you’ve met and who you haven’t. Jamie’s got dark hair. He usually wears it pulled up in a bun and he’s got what’s left of a Scottish accent. He’s a Whisperer like Jorick, so he can make you feel things.”
“I’ve met him.”
“Beldren’s a blonde, very vain, too. He thinks he’s a ladies’ man, though I beg to differ. He’s an Illusionist, which means he can alter your perceptions of things for a short time. It might last longer on you since you’re human and have kind of a weak mind, no offense. Some people are just mentally more resilient than others. Anyway, he’s more uptight than Jamie. If either one was likely to pound on your door at three in the afternoon to complain about noise, it would be him, though he’s not always so quiet himself.”
She ignored the comment about her mind. “I’ve met him, too, several times.”
“You’ve just met everyone, huh?” Verchiel stopped before a door that was numbered 3. Like the main door, it had a card slot next to it. After he swiped the card he handed it to her. “Don’t lose this or you’ll get locked out. It will open the main door back there and the door to your house.”
House. She didn’t like that word.
It was a good description, though. The first room was basically a living room and furnished with a plain tan couch, two matching chairs and a coffee table. A telephone sat on the floor in the far corner. Two shadowy doorways led into other rooms, one on the far wall and one to the right.
“They left the furniture.” Verchiel deposited the bags on the coffee table. “No one wanted it. Of course you guys can replace it.” He moved to the doorway on the right and clicked on the light, like a real estate agent trying to make a sale. “There are two bedrooms and two bathrooms. This is the smaller of the two, but its bathroom is the only one with any ‘human’ facilities. The other bedroom is bigger, and so is the bathroom.” He moved across the room and flipped the light on in it too. “Dismas was a bed man, but if Jorick prefers a coffin, he can get one and swap it out.”
She peered first in the empty smaller room, then the master bedroom. There was a double bed complemented by twin nightstands, a desk, a bookcase, and a closet. The bathroom door stood open and she could see the edge of a large bath tub.
“You’ll have to get sheets and all that. Oh, and there’s no kitchen. You can order down, I suppose. You’ll have to meet them at the block door, because they can’t get in.” He tapped the keycard in her hand as a reminder.
She nodded absently. “What’s the deal with the two bedrooms?”
“It got popular back in the forties to have a human. There was a lot of back biting, and some of the Executioners didn’t get along, not that they do now, so they felt they needed a ‘guard dog’. It was at the same time the plumbing renovations went in, so they just did them all. It’s been taken out of a few rooms since; Ark’s and Zuri’s I know.”
“Guard dogs? Seriously?” She rolled her eyes. “So it’s a 1940s bathroom?”
“The human guard dogs stayed around until the 70s, so it was probably updated. Hell, it’s probably been renovated since. They’re obsessed with remodeling around here. You just get used to one thing and they’r
e slapping something else up. Half the fourth floor’s closed for renovation at the moment.”
“Why’d you give up your guard dogs?” she asked sarcastically.
“Humans get old. You have to turn them, swap them out, or watch them whither.”
“What did you do?”
He faltered. “What makes you think I had one?” She cocked her head disbelievingly and he shrugged. “I swapped for awhile. The last one is happily married and has grandkids, I believe.”
She couldn’t fathom moving back to a normal life after living in the Citadel. “I didn't know The Guild would let them go.”
“Do as I say,” Verchiel replied cheerfully. “The rules only apply to the masses, never the elite.” He gave her a wink. “Are you going to put that stuff away or what?”
The master closet still had hangers in it. She shuddered when she thought about whose clothes had hung on them before. Dismas. The black Executioner who’d smashed Loren’s face. It was strange to think that she was standing in his old bedroom. The Executioners were their enemies and yet here she was, living among them.
Allegiances may change.
Like hell.
She put her things away and found Verchiel sprawled lazily across the couch. When he saw her, he stood so quickly that he disappeared and reappeared holding the front door. “Shall we?”
She followed him into the hallway. Like a nagging mother he asked, “Got your card?”
“Yes!”
“Good. This way.”
The “block” ended at a blank wall, and it was at the very last door, number twelve, that they stopped. Verchiel opened it with his master card and then mock bowed. “After you.”
She stopped just inside. Though the rooms of the apartment were arranged like the one she’d just moved into, there was no comparison. Instead of sterile beige, the walls were painted in glaring electric blue. The furniture was sleek and modern and every square inch of space was stuffed with junk, most of it brightly colored and mismatched. A plasma TV sat on a black stand. Scattered at its feet were a DVD player and a range of game systems. A laptop lay open on the couch. A silver stereo, with blinking red lights like a spaceship panel, was on a small table next to a CD storage tower. On top of the stereo was a bright orange, plastic jack-o-lantern. Above it was a poster that was made to look like an old beach postcard. A collection of oriental swords hung over a tower of Japanese anime DVD’s. The tower was topped by a precariously balanced glass skull and a large incense burner shaped like a coffin. It went on from there.
Amaranthine Special Edition Vol II Page 54