Amaranthine Special Edition Vol I

by Naylor, Joleene

  The driver’s voice interrupted her thoughts, his tones low enough that he probably thought she couldn’t hear him.

  “So this is the... erm... her?”

  “Yes, this is Katelina,” Jorick answered.

  “What are you planning to do with her?”

  The question hung in the air and Katelina felt herself wanting to know what he’d say, her ears tensing for the sound of his answer. Finally, after what felt like uncountable minutes, Jorick cleared his throat. “I don't know,” his voice was sad. “I admit I didn't expect things to happen this way.”

  “I told you it was a bad idea, Jorick.” His tone was flat, as though they’d discussed it too many times already.

  “I know, I know.” Jorick seemed resigned to that fact. “I just hated to leave her never knowing what really happened to him. Besides, who's to say that Claudius wouldn't have gone after her sooner or later? She is a reasonable suspect, you know. Would it be better for it to come as a complete shock?”

  “And I suppose you broke it to her gently?” The driver snorted. “I understand your reasoning, Jorick, your true reasoning, but I still stand by my original opinion.”

  “I'm sure you do, Oren. I'm sure it wouldn't have haunted your dreams, but we're different.”

  “We didn't used to be, not before....” Oren trailed off.

  “Yes, I know. I'll bet you don't even dream anymore, do you?”

  There was silence and then very quietly he said, “No, Jorick. I don't.”

  With the danger past, a strange sense of safety settled over her. Boredom and the rhythm of the highway eventually lulled Katelina into the uneasy sleep of a bored passenger. She woke in the backseat, a scream trapped in her throat, her head swimming with dreams of blood and fanged vampires ripping her to shreds. She rubbed her head and then checked her watch to find that it was one-thirty in the morning.

  She blinked the sleep from her eyes and glanced into the front seat. The pair of men were wrapped in silence, both staring through the windshield. The blonde’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white with the effort. A palpable disagreement hung in the air, but she couldn’t identify the cause.

  Jorick seemed to sense her gaze and turned his head to look at her. His warm, rich voice rolled back to her through the darkness, “How are you feeling?”

  “I'm... okay,” she lied. Truthfully she didn’t know how she felt. She didn't think she was okay – how could she be? But for the moment she didn't seem to be hysterical. Mostly she was numb.

  “Good.” He nodded sharply and then jerked his head towards his companion. “I’m sorry I haven't introduced you. This is Oren. We’re going to be staying with him and his wife for a little while.” He acted as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

  “Okay,” she murmured. She couldn’t think of anything else to say. She had a few questions, such as where exactly did Oren live, but she supposed she’d find the answers soon enough. Right now she just wanted to relax and forget.

  Jorick gave her another tight smile before he asked, “Did they say anything to you before I got there?”

  She realized that he’d never asked her what was going on, almost like he’d already known and maybe even expected it. “They wanted to know where you were.”

  His voice grew serious and his eyes bored into her. “Did they call you by name?”

  She raced over the scene in her head; it was jumbled and confused and tasted like fear in her mouth. “I – I don't think so....” How the hell was she supposed to remember that after everything else that had happened?

  “Good.” He gave another quick, satisfied nod. “They aren't aware who you are yet – which is an advantage.” He paused and rubbed his chin. “Perhaps Michael didn't make it after all.”

  “I can find out, if you want me to,” Oren offered unenthusiastically.

  “Yes. I'd like to find out how much Claudius knows. I’m sure that someone made it out alive last night, at least one of them.” Jorick seemed to be musing aloud rather than actually conversing.

  The talk ceased and the night flew by. Katelina had finally decided she was really being kidnapped, and hauled to a shadowy pier to be sacrificed, when they came to a wrought iron fence that stood open and waiting. They followed the curving driveway and came to a stop before a huge, red brick mansion. Many of the windows were lit with the comforting glow of electrical lights. Katelina wondered if Oren's wife had left them all turned on for him, or if there were other people who lived there, after all why would a single couple need such a huge house.

  The men climbed out of the car. Katelina didn’t move, just clutched the bedspread and gazed at the imposing building. It was like a scene from a horror movie; the scene right before the girl died. She suddenly wondered if she really had been kidnapped. That mansion was huge – big enough for a whole “coven” as Jorick had called it. What if the only reason Jorick had saved her was so he could bring her to Oren’s house and sacrifice her? Maybe the dead things in the trunk weren’t really vampires, just warring cult members. The image of the lonely pier was now replaced with a picture of a shadowy basement and lots of candles.

  When she didn’t climb out Jorick opened the door and stuck his head inside. “Are you all right?”

  She shook her head repeatedly and tried to keep the fear from her voice. “I want to go home. I want to go home now.”

  “Shhhhhh.... it's all right.” He smiled tightly but reassuringly and laid his hand on her shoulder. “Let's go inside and you can get a bath and some fresh clothes.”

  “I can take a bath at home. Where it’s safe.”

  Jorick looked at her, seemingly confused. Then he seemed to understand the effect the scene at the motel room had had on her. “Don't worry,” he said gently as he crouched down, his eyes at the same level as hers. “You are safe. No one is going to come for us here.”

  “I’m not particularly worried about that.” Her eyes went over Jorick’s shoulder to the blonde man who waited impatiently.

  “Oren will not harm you, either. He is no mass murderer or psychotic killer. Trust me, I won't let anything happen to you, I promise.” His gaze held hers, his black eyes shining luminescent in the brightness from the yard light.

  Something in his voice and his gaze made her believe him. It was almost like a soft, comforting blanket wrapped around her, though she couldn't have said why. “All right,” she said slowly. He helped her out of the car and they followed Oren across the lawn.

  He opened the large front door and led them into a stone tiled foyer. Under the bright lights Katelina noticed that Jorick was covered in spots of blood. Her wet clothes had dried, but she realized now how stained and dirty they looked. Suddenly she felt very stupid and filthy.

  They left the foyer for a broad hallway with deep green walls. Halfway down it, a large staircase of gleaming wood rose to the second story. Polished tables stood along the walls beneath large painted portraits.

  Oren opened a nearby door and Jorick stepped into the room. Katelina followed to find a woman with long black hair and sad brown eyes sitting on a couch and rocking a baby. Beside her, a man with the same dark hair and eyes gazed inquiringly at them. On his other side lounged a redheaded woman. The slinky green dress barely covered her body, and her lips seemed to be in a permanent sexy pout. All three were pale and there was something pinched and unhealthy about them.

  Despite the fact it was nearly three in the morning, a small boy of about five sat in front of the fireplace, playing with a pile of colored wooden blocks. Next to him crouched a blonde girl whose tongue darted out to lick her lips. She wore a pale lavender dress and could have been anywhere from twelve to twenty, her features ageless but beautiful, like Katelina had always imagined a wood sprite.

  Another man, his hair a mixture of black and grey, sat in the corner holding a worn book. He didn't bother to look up from the pages, but absently stroked his long gray beard, ignoring his surroundings all together.

  Oren�
��s eyes went to the black-haired beauty on the couch. “Jesslynn, they're here. I'm going to see them to their rooms.”

  Jesslynn looked up, dark eyes flicking from her husband to the other two, but she made no comment. The redhead moved ever so slightly, oozing sensuality from every pore. She started to open her mouth but Oren cut her off.

  “We'll do the introductions tomorrow, it's very late. Besides, not everyone is here.” He gave the redhead a stern look, his lips still tight. Now that Katelina could see him in the light, he seemed unnaturally pale, too, like the others.

  The redhead stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout and crossed her arms over her ample chest like a spoiled child. Oren ignored her and led them back to the hallway. Even as the door swung closed, she could feel the eyes of the strangers trying to stare through her, picking her bones like vultures. As if sensing her worries, Jorick squeezed her hand.

  They followed their host up the carved wooden staircase, then down a long hallway, past ornately carved doors. Oren stopped in front of one near the end of the corridor and opened it to reveal a lilac scented room.

  “This will be your room, Katelina.” Oren paused and cleared his throat. He gave Jorick a sharp look. “I assume you know the way to yours?”

  “Yes, I do. Thank you, Oren.”

  “You're welcome,” he replied stiffly. “We may have our differences, but I can never forget our... relationship,” and with that Oren turned and strode off down the hall.

  Katelina pondered what their “relationship” could possibly be, and suddenly wondered if maybe he and Jorick were.... lovers?

  “No, nothing like that.” Amusement twinkled in the depths of Jorick’s dark eyes.

  She stared up at him, unguarded surprise on her face. How had he known her thoughts?

  “Come.” He smiled slightly, almost as if enjoying a secret.

  Inside the room, the walls were painted pale, soothing lavender. In the center stood a massive canopy bed of carved wood. Its white bedspread and lace canopy looked sweet and old fashioned. A wardrobe sat against the farthest wall, and next it was a stand with a pitcher and basin on it. Tiny violets decorated the porcelain in a delicate pattern that gave the room a quaint, charming look and made Katelina feel like she’d stumbled into another time, despite the polished chrome of the bathroom that peeked from the opened door to her right. The only other furnishings were a heavily carved nightstand next to the bed, that bore a table lamp, and a trash can. Draped over the foot of the bed, as if waiting for her, lay a filmy, lacey nightgown.

  Jorick caught Katelina’s other hand and pulled her closer. “Take a bath, change your clothes, get some sleep. But – ” he stared into her eyes, “No matter what time you wake, do not wander the house. Do not leave this room until I come for you – no matter what. It is important that you listen to me. If you don't... well...” he let it trail off as a vague threat of something evil.

  His hands moved up to grip her arms just below the shoulders and she half expected him to shake her for emphasis, but he didn’t. She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong with the people living in the house, but stopped. Beneath the soothing lights she saw for the first time that there was something not quite right about him, either. It was as if he had the same mysterious malady. Her mind whispered something to her, but she couldn’t catch the words and half phrases it said; the truths it already knew but she refused to accept.

  “You must promise me that you will remain in here, no matter what happens,” Jorick pressed, obviously taking her silence for disagreement. He stared at her harder, and she could almost feel him willing her to agree.

  She nodded. She didn’t want to go meandering through any part of the house. Something was very wrong and she didn't want to find out what it was. “I promise.” She looked away from his intense gaze, her heart pounding in her chest at his nearness.

  Jorick’s smile was small but warm. “All right, then get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gazed into her face as if he might kiss her, but to her disappointment he only released her arms and moved away.

  He left quickly and she berated herself as she ran a hot bath. She’d just decided that something was wrong with all of them, so how could she want him to kiss her? He might have a contagious disease!

  She scrubbed herself clean and then ran a second bath to soak in until she felt sane again. Her mind tried to replay the day’s events but she refused to let it. She needed a few moments of quiet peace where she thought of nothing.

  When her eyelids grew heavy, she climbed from the bath and dried herself off with large, soft towels. The nightgown provided for her was the color of cream and she slid it over her head. The feel of the material against her skin was almost exciting as it settled into place. The neckline dipped low, with just a swag of lace covering her breasts.

  She examined herself in the full – length mirror on the bathroom wall. She moved her hips, admiring the way the silky material clung to her curves. It seemed to shimmer, almost see – through yet opaque. If it wasn’t for the wound on her shoulder she’d look hot. Damn, she needed to buy a nightgown like this!

  She moved to the bed and rolled back the blankets. She yawned as she settled down into the soft mattress. She’d slept much of the trip, yet strangely she was still so tired. She supposed it was probably shock.

  Outside the wide windows, the sun hadn’t come up yet. The predawn left the world in a moment where anything in the universe was possible; the strange stillness when nightmares and reality mix to form something new and twice as frightening, where everything is wrapped in shades of gray and purple, frozen expectantly in the dimension of dreams.

  Without another thought she rolled over and closed her eyes, too tired to wait breathlessly with the rest of Mother Nature for the sun's cleansing appearance.

  **********

  Chapter Eight

  Katelina woke with a start, covered in a fine layer of sweat. The last of the sun’s golden light fell through the window and illuminated the old fashioned bedroom. It brought with it a measure of comfort after the nightmares of her sleep.

  She wiped absently at her face and tried to forget her dreams. Blood, so very much blood! The red liquid filled the sink and spilled onto the floor and, no matter how far she’d climbed, the tide had continued to creep higher and higher, until she knew there was no escape from the dark, sucking liquid.

  She repeated aloud the mantra her mother had so often used when she was a child, “They’re only dreams; they’re not real. They can’t hurt you.” Her voice sounded small in the large room and, rather than comforting her, it made her feel more alone.

  She wondered about her mother. How was she doing? Had she discovered her daughter was missing? It had only been two days, so maybe she didn't know yet, but “Grave Day” was quickly approaching. If she didn’t meet her mother at the cemetery she’d certainly notice, and then she would be hysterical.

  And what if she was? What difference would it make? It wasn’t as if there was anything Katelina could do about it without putting her mother in danger. If she’d had any doubts about the peril facing them, last night’s attack at the motel had ended them.

  Whether a throwback to childish desires or simply because she knew she shouldn’t, she wanted to see her mother. She just wanted to hug her and tell her that, despite their differences, she loved her.

  Katelina shook her head in disgust at the sentimentality she was indulging in, then slid out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. It was time she faced the truth: she was mixed up in something far beyond her normal sphere of understanding. No amount of her mother’s usual advice would help. Even Sarah couldn’t do anything at this point. For better or for worse, her only hope was a dark haired stranger who called himself Jorick.

  She checked the bedroom door to find it was locked from the outside. She rattled the handle uselessly and cursed. He’d told her to stay in the room, and she’d agreed, so why had he locked her in? Or had someone else done it? Were they
holding her prisoner?

  She forced herself to calm down but, when she reached the bathroom, she discovered that the clothes she’d left abandoned on the floor were gone, as was the ugly orange bedspread. She was locked in a room with nothing to wear but a filmy nightgown and no food. She wanted to scream, though she knew it wouldn’t accomplish anything. Instead she turned to going through the rooms in search of clothes, a phone, or anything that might be of use.

  In the bathroom she found a hairbrush, as well as a bottle of sweet smelling perfume which she used as a morale booster. In the bedroom she turned up several worn books in the top drawer of the wardrobe and some dust bunnies.

  In defeat, she flopped onto the bed and flipped through the old books. They appeared to be romance novels from the mid eighteen hundreds. She inhaled the faint musty odor from their yellowed pages and wondered how long they’d lain in the drawer, forgotten. Despite the renovations of modern conveniences, the house was likely a couple of hundred years old and she couldn't help but entertain the romantic notion that the books belonged to some previous owner who left them when she went away to get married, or else died some tragic death. The latter option made Katelina shiver, and she decided to abandon it. Her situation was scary enough without adding imagined ghosts.

  She dropped the books on the bed and stared through the window at the deep purple sky. It would be full night soon, time for all the monsters to come creeping out of the shadows.

  The door rattled then opened to reveal a tired looking woman in an almost sarcastic rendering of a maid’s uniform. The dress was reminiscent of a too large Halloween costume. The skirt hung down to her bony knees, the neckline sagged too low and the sleeves draped down to nearly her elbows. The effect was like one imagined a sack dress. Her lank blonde hair was pulled up into a sad attempt at a bun. Long thin wisps had escaped it to fall all around her pale, almost sickly colored face. To complete the picture of surreal oddity, the woman’s arms and legs were covered in white gauze bandages at strange intervals.