She scoffed. “He is here because he was a sentimental fool.”
“And it’s good he is or he would kill you where you stand!”
The redhead moved to Oren and caught his shoulder. “Why don’t you see what Bethina has to say?”
“I care not for what she will say!” Oren snapped angrily, pulling away from her. “Jesslynn has used her as a puppet before, and might do so again. I sense nothing but fear from this human.” Oren turned and met Jorick’s eyes. The black haired vampire nodded slowly and gently pulled Katelina in front of him again.
Oren looked into Katelina's eyes. His amber gaze was penetrating and probing, and, though she tried, she found she couldn’t look away from him; held as if by invisible hands that forced her to remain still. And then, as quickly as he had ensnared her, he released her, as if dismissing something that was no longer useful.
He turned back to Jesslynn, his face and voice cold. “I know that she did not come to you willingly, my wife. Why do you lie?”
“You take Jorick's side because you fear him.” Anger and mockery dripped from her words and her eyes challenged him to deny the accusation.
He looked at her severely. “I do not fear him, I only show the proper respect for the one who made me.”
Jesslynn shook her head in disgust and hissed between her pointed teeth, “You’re a coward.”
Jorick's grip tightened on Katelina, though she didn’t bother to resist. It wasn’t as if she could get away when she was surrounded by the creatures. The only other human in the room was Margaret, who was currently pulling the baby vampire from her naked breasts and would be of no help. Katelina knew that she was alone now, more alone then she’d ever been in her life, and there was a chance she might not live to look back on it.
Jorick interrupted the dispute. “I'll leave you to deal with this as you see fit, Oren. I expect it won't happen again.” An intense look passed between the two men, then he turned for the door, still holding Katelina in front of him. Though her legs wobbled, she made it back to her room.
Once they were inside, Jorick shut the door. Panic flared in her chest. What would happen now? Would he kill her?
He released with a suddenness that left her lurching for the bed. She missed and landed on the floor in a heap.
Anger danced behind his words, “I told you not to leave the room until I came for you!”
She folded herself into a sitting position, as if that might protect her. “You're going to kill me, aren't you?” Her voice shook with unshed tears and she buried her face in her hands. “Oh God!”
Jorick took a deep breath, and when he spoke again his voice was even and soft. “No, I am not going to kill you.” He crouched down beside her and met her gaze. “If I wished you dead, would I not have killed you already?”
“I don't know,” she sobbed in reply, her voice muffled by her hands. “Maybe you and... the rest of them are going to sacrifice me or something.” She was too afraid and embarrassed to look up. “Maybe... maybe you don't really know anything about Patrick. Maybe it was a lie to get a new victim...”
“An elaborate hoax for so little reward.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “If I wanted a victim, why not go out on the street and catch the first one I saw? Why go to so much trouble simply for the thrill of a kill?”
She hated his logic as much as she hated him. She dropped her hands and violently pulled away from his touch. “Damn it! You said that ‘they’ were the bad guys! You said ‘they’ worked for Claudius!”
“Who?” Jorick’s hand hung in midair and his tone was confused. “Oren?”
“No! The vampires! You said they were evil!”
“Evil? I never said that.”
“Yes you did! You said they were evil and they worked for Claudius and that they wanted to kill me and – ”
He cut her off impatiently. “No, I did not. I said only that Claudius and his underlings were vampires and that they might try to kill you.”
“No, you didn’t,” she seethed. “You said – ”
“I know very well what I said. I would never have used such a generality. Not all vampires are evil any more than all humans are good or stupid. Each creature has its own merits, both good and bad. There is no catch all to describe any group or species, and to try to do so would be ridiculous at best. Even among Claudius’ followers there are undoubtedly some you would call ‘good’. Good and bad aren’t easily discernible conditions set in stone like black and white. It’s a matter of perception.”
“If that’s true, why didn't you tell me you were one of them?”
He shrugged his shoulders, his brow furrowed. “Does it matter?”
Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Of course it matters! Do you think I would've come with you if I’d known? That I'd have been thinking...” She cut herself off before she could finish the sentence and say... what? Say that she’d been thinking he was attractive? Or that she’d been thinking that she needed him and had even come to trust him? Or that when she looked at him her heart pounded and her thoughts betrayed her? And for what? To be lied to! Everything was a lie. All of the things she’d allowed herself to believe, they’d all been pretty wrapping paper hiding the truth. He was a monster like the others. A beautiful monster who’d lied from the very beginning.
He crossed his arms over his chest and his eyes glittered dangerously, as if he were privy to the seething thoughts scrolling through her mind. “Well, it no longer matters, does it? You're here, and if you want to get out alive then you're going to have to trust me, Katelina. You have no choice.”
She looked away and stared at her hands, the fingers clenched so tightly that the knuckles were white. She wanted to scream at him that she did have a choice. She wanted to leap to attack him, scratch his face, destroy those beautiful features that had crept into her dreams, but she didn't have the strength for it. Instead she half lay on the floor, legs tucked beneath her, and cried bitterly. There was nothing else for her to do; at least not as long as the sun was down. Until dawn, she was trapped and he was all she had.
He relented. “I'm sorry Katelina,” he said quietly. “I should have told you – though you admit yourself, that you wouldn't have come with me if you'd known.” He closed his eyes, as if choosing his words carefully. “You may not wish to believe, but not all of us are in league with Claudius. However, there are enough who are. They'd have hunted you down and taken you to him, and he would have broken you and then drained your blood, leaving you an empty shell. If you were lucky, he would let you die. If not, you'd have become one of his countless possessions, a trophy to look at on cold winter nights.” He caught her chin and forced her to look at him. “Would that have been better?”
“No.” Her eyes skipped away and then back again, narrowed in defiance. “But how do I know you're telling the truth? Maybe you're lying to me again.”
“I have never lied to you,” he released her chin and gently wiped away her tears with his soft, pale hand. His touch made her shiver in spite of herself.
“Yes, you did,” she insisted though her shoulders sagged as she lost what fight was left in her. “You didn't tell me you were a vampire or that we were going to stay in a vampire mansion.” She stared up at him, lost and frightened, her voice barely a whisper.
Jorick offered her a patient smile and continued to stroke her cheek with his thumb. “I didn't say that I wasn't one, or that they weren't. You didn't ask, and I didn't volunteer the information. Omission, fine, I’m guilty of that; but a lie?” He shook his head. “No, I did not lie.”
Her thoughts became distracted at his touch, like they always did. This time she refused to allow it. She shook him off and pulled away. “No, you're not going to confuse me with this.”
He smiled so that his glistening teeth showed and his eyes sparkled with secret amusement. “I wasn't trying to confuse you, but it's nice to know I have that effect.” In one fluid motion he moved to sit next to her on the floor.
She flushed qu
ickly and looked at her lap, unsure what she was feeling anymore. “So,” she began uncertainly. “Oren, he’s your… What?”
“Fledgling?” Jorick asked with some amusement. “Yes, he is. And don’t ask me why. I often wonder that myself. At the time it seemed like the thing to do.” He gave a half shrug. “He wished for it and I saw no reason to deny it.”
She wasn’t sure how much of this she wanted to discuss or acknowledge. “You were friends?”
“Neighbors. But back then neighbors were different than they are now, so I suppose you would consider us friends after a fashion. Truthfully, he was far too wrapped up in his wife and his children to see much beyond himself. I believe it was Jesslynn who actually figured out what I was and after that it was only a matter of time. Mortals have only two reactions, either horror or a longing to join us. Once I turned him, he of course changed her. Though he’s the man of the family, she’s the one in control.”
“And she turned the children into...” she paused, searching for the right word. Somehow “vampire” seemed distasteful, as though it were something dirty, and her lips refused to pronounce it. “...into what they are?” she finished lamely.
“Yes, she did. The same night that Oren turned her, she turned the children, not thinking to the future and the hundreds – perhaps thousands – of years that would pass while neither child ever aged or fully matured. She wanted them to need her, to always depend upon her.” He shook his head sorrowfully and sighed. “It was foolish at best and cruel at worst.”
“Why would anyone want that?”
Jorick cocked his head to one side. “Children who cannot die and are forever frozen in time, completely controllable? Because she is overbearing, perhaps. Overbearing and broken. She and Oren buried two children in the time I knew them. The family cemetery holds others.”
“Oh.” Katelina’s gaze shied from his face. She took a deep breath and then asked hesitantly, “What about the blonde girl?”
He frowned. “She was evidently weak. Her mind broke during the process. It can happen if they’re flawed, or if the turning is botched. I don't know who she is, though. I haven’t spent time with them as a group in... fifty years?” He paused, calculating. “No... Seventy, maybe?” He waved it away as unimportant. “I don't know; it's been a long time, anyway.”
Katelina tried not to think about the astronomical numbers involved, or about the fangs that glittered when he smiled. How was she going to do this? How was she going to talk to him and think of him as she had now that she knew?
But Jorick was oblivious to her thoughts and continued speaking. “And before you ask, the redhead is Torina, Oren's sister. I told him to leave her mortal – she was dangerous enough as it was – but he didn't listen. He rarely does.”
She pulled herself from her thoughts. “And the man on the couch last night? Who looked like Jesslynn?”
“Her brother Fabian,” he answered with a touch of a scowl. “Another who could have stayed as he was.”
“There was also a man dressed in weird clothes, with a beard.”
“Baltheir, I believe his name is, though I’m not sure where he came from. This is what is known as a den. Oren's the master here, the oldest. He controls who can stay and who can't, who can join their coven. There may be up to a dozen or more of them here, depending on how many each one has turned.” He shrugged casually, as though it were common knowledge. “And then, of course, a den may not hold all of a coven, or it may hold more than one. It all depends on the individual arrangements.”
“Oh.” She felt like a lost child rescued by an angel and taken to the valley of monsters.
“From now on, as long as we're here, stay in this room unless I come for you. If anyone else sends for you or comes for you, say no and stay here.”
“If you'd mentioned they were vampires I would have stayed here!”
“I thought that my instructions would be sufficient.” He replied sharply. He climbed to his feet and crossed to the window. He stared at the moon in silence while she pulled her knees to her chest and laid her head on them. After a moment he turned and spoke, his voice almost mournful. “You must listen to me, even if you don't like me, do you understand? It could mean the difference between life and death. Though I'd like to think you, at least, did not hate me.”
“I don't think I hate you,” she replied, a hint of bitterness in her voice. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to concede the point to him; by all rights she should despise him.
“Well, then, that's something.” He cleared his throat and took a step towards her. “Have you eaten?”
She nodded and snuffled her nose. Her thoughts drifted to how terrible she must look. Movies and books portrayed the softly sobbing female lead as something fragile and romantic, but in reality crying was all runny noses and puffy eyes. It was anything but romantic and beautiful.
“Good.” He nodded firmly and added, “It might not hurt to eat again; I don't know how much blood she took from you.” Anger flashed in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared and his voice was again controlled and even. “You must not look into her eyes, Katelina. She uses her will to weave a spell around you, to make you bend to her whims. In fact, to be safe avoid eye contact with all of them.”
“Should I avoid eye contact with you, too?”
“No, I won’t try to trick you. Have I yet?”
She leveled her gaze with his, demanding the truth. “Would I know if you had?”
He smiled, and again she tried to ignore what she was seeing; it was easier that way. “I don’t know. Perhaps. Do you know she tricked you?”
“Sort of,” she answered slowly. “I mean, I do because you both said it, but... I don't know.” The thought that they could do that, and she might not even know, scared her.
“Well, I haven't, anyway,” he assured her. “I'll go find you some food. Stay here.”
He left before she could reply, shutting the door behind him.
She sat on the floor and stared at the door he’d just disappeared through. Slowly, she gathered the strength to stand and moved to the bed where she curled into a ball. She wanted to go home, to go anywhere but this nightmare house with its hellish nursery and horrifying occupants – somewhere where little boys didn’t drink the blood of their nursemaids and nightmares didn’t roam the hallways.
**********
Chapter Ten
Katelina lay on the bed and tried to calm herself until Jorick returned with another microwaveable dinner. She greeted it enthusiastically, despite the fact that it tasted like cardboard. She’d had less to eat in the last few days than her last diet had allowed. A sick smile flickered across her face as she thought of a way to make a fortune: “the all new Vampire diet! Guaranteed to lose pounds in weeks by spending your time with the undead. You’ll be lucky to get any food at all. And, as a limited time offer, it’s free, so long as you’re willing to give up your entire life.”
As she ate, she snuck quick glances at Jorick from under her eyelids. He was a vampire. The statement seemed detached and unreal, no matter how many times she repeated it to herself. He, Jorick, was a vampire. He was not human. He did not need to eat as she was eating. He was immortal. He was not human… He glanced up sharply and her thoughts stopped abruptly. His dark eyes glittered as he studied her and then he sank back into his own world again.
When she'd finished eating, he stood and told her stiffly that he had business to discuss with Oren and he’d see her later. He took great pains to emphasize that she was not to leave the room, though he needn’t have bothered. She had no intention of putting so much as a toe over the threshold as long as the sun was down.
Alone, she picked up one of the musty old romance books from the wardrobe and flopped on the bed. She hoped that immersing herself in the problems of 1800’s debutantes would help to clear the scene she’d just witnessed from her mind, though she found it hard to concentrate. Her mind kept replaying visions of leering clowns and children with fangs. Her
heart pounded in her ears each time she thought about the truth, and yet she found somewhere within her a strange acceptance. She half suspected that she'd known all along. Jorick was too beautiful, wasn't he? Too perfect to be real.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about being in the company of a vampire, or vampires as the case may be. It didn’t take a lot of soul searching to decide she was very uncomfortable with the plural sense of that word. Jesslynn had proven herself untrustworthy, and the others seemed equally threatening. No, she was not happy about her situation in the least and she wanted to leave as soon as possible. She intended to tell Jorick that they needed to go –
Her flow of thoughts came to an abrupt stop. “Tell Jorick that we need to go,” she mused aloud. That had been a revealing sentence, hadn’t it? If nothing else it showed that, despite everything, she still trusted him. That, or she knew instinctively that he was her best option. The second explanation was far more comfortable and the one she decided to tell herself was the truth.
Though she read in fits of boredom, broken by bouts of thought, she was halfway done with the book when Jorick returned. She peered at him through heavy eyelids as he shut the door and held out another microwavable box.
She set the book aside and stifled a yawn. He gave her an amused smile and she defended herself, “I'm not used to being up all night.”
“I'm sorry,” he replied in mock sincerity. “But I think that conducting any operations in the daylight is a bit out of the question for me. I would suggest a compromise but....” he spread out his hands helplessly so that the meal–in–a–box tilted dangerously. “I'm sure you understand.”
“Yeah.” She took that cardboard carton from him before he made a mess. “So?”
“So, what?” he asked innocently. “I see you found yourself some amusement?” He nodded towards the book that lay next to her.
“Yes.” He'd skirted enough issues with her already. She wasn’t letting him out of this one. “What did Oren say?”.
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