Amaranthine Special Edition Vol I

by Naylor, Joleene

  “About what?” He stared blankly at her, hands shoved in his pockets as he leaned against the canopy post, feigning ignorance.

  “You know very well about what! Your meeting with him – what did he say? I have a right to know, since I'm sure I'm involved in it.”

  “Well... yes,” he said hesitantly. “You are, I suppose.” He sat on the foot of the bed and stared at his lap before he looked up at her.

  She flushed as his eyes traced the length of her body. Unconsciously she crossed her arms over her chest and tried to sound firm. “Well?” He stared back and her eyes dropped away to study the intricacies of the bedspread.

  “Tomorrow, Oren is going to find out what he can about Michael. He has a meeting with one of Claudius’ men. Once he's gotten some information, we’ll act on it. He's also going to get us a car, one with a clean title; nothing suspicious. It won't do to have the police pulling us over every three feet.” He sneered with unhidden disgust. “It might take a couple of days to get the car arranged, but then we'll leave.”

  The words popped out before she even thought about them; “You know where Claudius’ lover is, don't you? It wasn't just Patrick and Michael. You were involved too.”

  He answered her question with his own, his voice light as he ran his hands over the bedspread, “What makes you think I know where Arowenia is?”

  “You do, don't you?” She needed to know what she was dealing with. She'd had enough surprises tonight to last a lifetime.

  “You should eat.” He nodded to the discarded box of food.

  Her eyes narrowed stubbornly. “I’ll eat when you tell me the truth.”

  “Fine.” He waited grimly until she’d picked up the box and forked a bite into her mouth. “Yes, I know where she's being kept. And Patrick and Michael weren't the only ones involved; they weren't even the ones who did the actual kidnapping. Do you really think they could have taken her by themselves? We had to help them, of course.”

  “And who is we?’

  He sighed. “Oren, for one.”

  “But why were you and Oren involved at all?”

  Jorick shifted uncomfortably. “It was Oren’s war, or more correctly his sister's. Torina has the tendency to choose lovers who have mates. This particular man’s wife didn’t appreciate it and they got into a fight. Torina killed her fairly, but she was one of Claudius’ favorites. Claudius retaliated and for a while the two covens were quite violent. Things had tapered down to a cold war over the last few years. It might have died out completely if Jesslynn wasn’t determined to keep it going.”

  “Why would she want it to keep going?”

  “Power probably. Claudius has a large coven and she’d surely like to get her hands on it. Or perhaps it’s just pride that motivates her.”

  She thought of Jesslynn’s dark eyes and leaned towards the latter option. “Why are you involved?”

  Jorick frowned. “Because Oren asked me until I couldn’t say no any longer. Neither of them are strategists and they needed someone who could plan things properly.”

  He sighed and ran a restless hand through his hair. “Oren was walking a delicate line, he didn’t want to do anything obviously hostile and we were only supposed to be gathering intelligence on Claudius and his coven, but then I found Michael – quite by accident. I don’t remember whose plan it was, but they decided to try to force Claudius’ coven to collapse from the inside out. There were some unhappy members, and Michael tried to incite a revolt. He almost succeeded, but then he started talking too much and Claudius threatened to kill you if he didn’t stop.

  “Of course, Michael didn’t bother to tell anyone, and pretended he was still doing what he’d agreed to. There was already a plan to kidnap Arowenia in the works, Oren and the others hoped that the suspicions about who had done it would tear the coven apart, but then Michael and Patrick came forward, desperate for something to use against Claudius. It was agreed that if they openly took her it might be enough to cause dissention in the ranks and those that had been contemplating revolt might take the opportunity. Of course, it didn’t work the way Oren planned. The only thing that went right is that Claudius doesn’t know that Oren is involved, though thanks to an unfortunate incident he knows I am.”

  She tried to digest it all. “What unfortunate incident?”

  Jorick’s eyes danced away and he tried to look casual. “Just a run in with Troy, one of Claudius’ henchmen. Of course Troy reported it to him and then he knew I was tied into it.”

  Her mind raced down dark paths and she recalled Oren’s words from the car ride yesterday: “Your true reason”. Suspicions clouded her mind and she voiced them. “If you were openly involved, then I doubt you were happy when Patrick wanted to call it all off?”

  He hesitated. “To be honest, no, I wasn't happy. But I thought that talking to Patrick might be enough. If I had known what Michael was planning...”

  “So this is all out of guilt? You feel guilty because you encouraged them, helped them even; not because you cared about Patrick or me.” Her mouth set into a hard, unbending line. She gave Jorick a nasty glare and viciously tossed the empty meal box onto the nightstand.

  He shifted uncomfortably. His hands clenched and then dropped uselessly to his lap. “Perhaps I do feel some... guilt,” he said slowly. “But that's not the reason I contacted you.”

  “Then why did you?” Though she asked, part of her didn’t want an answer. How much could a person deal with in one night? Could people take this many revelations in three successive days without cracking up? Yes, insanity was a risk, but she needed to know. She was sick of secrets and omissions. He wanted her to trust him but gave her very little to base it on.

  “I told you why already. I felt you had a right to know.” His shifting gaze gave her the distinct feeling that he was lying, but it also said that he wasn't going to tell her the truth no matter what she did.

  “Hmmmmmm....” Her temporary defeat was signaled as her eyes dropped away. She told herself firmly that she wasn’t really giving up. She’d force the information from him later when he was more pliant.

  As if to prove her dominance of the situation, she demanded, “So, where is she?”

  He stiffened and shook his head. “That, I won't tell you.”

  “Why? Afraid that I'll snitch?” She mocked sarcastically.

  “No, I'm afraid if Claudius gets his hands on you and wrecks your mind that he'd extract the information from you.” He dismissed it as though it were a normal, everyday occurrence.

  “Oh.” The single syllable was the only thing she could think of to say. She tried but failed to come up with a plausible argument against his logic and lapsed into silence with her efforts.

  Her quiet punctuated the end of the discussion, so he began a new one. “So, what are you reading?”

  He managed to get her to talk about the book until five a.m. At that point he announced that he must depart for his bed – which, when pressed, he said was in the cellar with the others' and that, yes, it was a coffin.

  “So, you do have to sleep in a coffin?” she asked in surprise. In some sick, twisted way she found it interesting; like a documentary on Chinese torture camps.

  “No.” He stood up and absently smoothed the bedspread he’d wrinkled. “I slept in a bathtub the other day, remember? We can sleep anywhere. It's just that a coffin with a tight fitting lid is one of the best lightproof environments possible.” He sounded almost like a salesman. “Besides, it's sort of a tradition, you know.” He gave her an impish grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

  His attempt at humor made her shake her head sadly. “Yeah, I’ll bet.” He moved to the door and before he could give her his warning she added, “I won't leave until you come for me tomorrow.”

  “Very good. Goodnight.” He left, closing the heavy wooden door firmly behind him. The lock clicked loudly and she couldn’t help but wonder what the point of his admonishments were if he was sealing her in.

  She’d initially been
tempted to stay awake until dawn and explore the house in search of a telephone – she needed to phone work, and her mother. But with the lock on the outside of the door she had no chance of going anywhere, daylight or not. She wasn’t really comfortable with the idea of being locked in and would have preferred the lock be on her side. A discussion with Jorick was certainly in order, though she wondered if she was being locked in for her protection or theirs. Were the vampires concerned that they might open their eyes to see her standing over them with a stake in her hand?

  She grinned at the picture of herself slaying a basement full of vampires. When the passing fancy had evaporated, she took a long bath, then slid into the beautiful, whispery nightgown and headed back to bed.

  She stopped at one of the windows and watched the sun beginning to rise. It turned the sky into an iridescent flaming scarlet that reminded her of blood – the blood that had filled her dreams last night, and which would undoubtedly do so again. Looking away, she shuddered and climbed into bed. She pulled the blankets over her head to shut out the world and the harsh realities she’d discovered.

  **********

  Chapter Eleven

  When Katelina opened her eyes she saw only darkness. Her initial response was panic, but a soothing numbness flowed over it and left her in a strange vacuum of calm.

  She climbed out of bed and turned the lights on. Once safe in the electric glow, she headed to the bathroom and examined the puncture marks on her shoulder. They were tightly closed, but still hurt when she rubbed her hand across them. The marks on her neck, from Jesslynn’s bite, were tiny dots and could have passed for disappearing blemishes.

  She changed from her nightgown into the pink dress she'd worn yesterday. Her clothes and the ugly orange quilt were still missing. Not that she missed the blanket, it was a reminder of terrible things.

  The bedroom door was locked from the outside, regardless she couldn’t leave. Not only had she promised Jorick she’d stay, but she didn’t want to run into any of the house’s occupants. She wasn’t even sure she even wanted to see Jorick, except that he was her only lifeline.

  She made the bed and tidied the room, but it only took a few minutes. With nothing else to do, she flopped on the bed and picked up the musty book she’d read on yesterday. She hoped to lose herself in the Victorian romance where the hero left the young, virginal heroine flowers in the moonlight. It beat the reality she was living in. She found that she had a lot more sympathy for the insane than she used to. When real life was unbearable, why stay there?

  She was just starting to enjoy the book when she heard the door click. She looked up to see Jorick carrying a wad of white cloth and something small wrapped in plastic.

  “Hello,” he said with no enthusiasm. His face gave the impression that he was thinking of something unpleasant.

  “Hello,” she replied as she swung into a sitting position. Her first impulse was to ask what was wrong, but she knew he’d just dismiss her question, or take it to mean something beyond casual concern.

  “Here, they left this for you outside the door.” He held up the white cloth with one hand. “And I took the liberty of fetching you something to eat.” He held out a gas station sandwich wrapped in plastic, two halves of potential food poisoning between bread.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled unenthusiastically. She took the clothing first. The dress’ cut was similar to the one she wore, though the skirt was longer and it bore no broach.

  “Let me go change,” she said, a nod from him the only indication he’d heard her. As she crossed the room she was conscious of his gaze following her. She shut the bathroom door firmly, though part of her felt as if he could see through it, anyway.

  Changed, she emerged to find Jorick leaning on one of the bedposts, a grin of approval on his face. “Yes?” She unconsciously smoothed the skirt and waited for his sarcastic comment.

  “I have to say that I prefer white.” His grin turned into a full smirk.

  “Interesting, since you only wear black.” She stopped next to him, her eyes narrowed inquiringly. “Do you even change clothes? Or is there a closet somewhere with no color in it?”

  He shrugged and his eyes danced with mischief. “I like to wear black, but I always appreciate a woman in a white dress.” His grin grew, revealing the pointed teeth that made her so uncomfortable. “Or at least who was wearing a white dress.”

  She brushed aside his innuendo, and took the sandwich from him. His fingers lingered against her hand for a moment longer than necessary, but she made herself ignore it.

  She willed the sandwich to turn into something edible, but it refused, so she gave it a try. Jorick stared at her while she ate, and finally she exploded testily, “What?”

  “Nothing,” he answered quickly and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Her eyebrows arched inquiringly. “You're staring.”

  “So? You forget I haven't eaten in a long, long time.” He continued to watch her, a sort of morbid fascination on his face.

  His comment made her wonder how old he really was. He appeared to be in his early to mid-thirties at the most, but if he was immortal he might be any age.

  “How long?”

  “Too long.” The words sounded like a sad sigh. He straightened up and quietly changed the subject, “Oren is getting ready to go to the meeting. We should know something by the end of the night.”

  “Are you going with him?”

  Jorick shifted. “Yes and no. I’ll leave with him, but…” She waited expectantly and he finished, “Oren’s contact is not my contact. I won’t be at the actual meeting.”

  “Ah. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  He gave her a puzzled expression. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  Her stare said, “duh!” but he didn’t seem to get it. “Um, haven’t you ever watched a spy movie? The one with the enemy contacts has them for a reason.”

  “Are you suggesting that Oren…”

  “Is planning to betray you? Yeah, I am.” She finished her sandwich and tossed the wrapper in the trash.

  “Why on earth would he do that? It’s his war.”

  “I thought you said it was his wife’s. If I had a wife like that I’d play the enemy camp, too.”

  Jorick chuckled. “Jesslynn is… not what I would choose in a mate, but to suggest that…” He laughed again. “I think you’ve watched too many movies.”

  She shrugged it off, but she wasn’t convinced. There was something about Oren that put her on guard, and her instincts were usually right.

  Sure they are. That’s how I ended up here with a vampire.

  Jorick stayed and talked to her about nothing in particular; the weather, the book she was reading, whether Jesslynn would really look good in the white dress. He was just getting ready to leave for Oren’s meeting, when the door opened and Jesslynn’s son poked his head in.

  “Alexander,” Jorick greeted the child.

  He took the acknowledgement as an invitation and came in, the crazy woman-child right behind him, though Katelina wasn’t sure if she was a protector or a pet. The pink corduroy overalls and pastel striped shirt made her look more a child than ever, as did the vacant smile on her face. Alexander climbed onto the bed and, as if taking a silent order, she dropped to the floor at his feet.

  “What do you want?” Jorick met the boy’s eyes, but Alexander refused to look away, his face stubbornly set. Katelina didn't know if there was some psychic battle of wills going on between the two, or if it was just a common stare down, but in the end the child surrendered.

  “I have come to see the human,” he said simply, his eyes on his lap.

  “Why?” Jorick continued to stare at him as if trying to silently communicate his authority. His spine was straight and his stance was one of a wary warrior expecting an attack.

  “I wish to speak to her,” Alexander replied quietly. His lack of information made Katelina nervous, especially with the blonde woman-child seated so close.

  “The
human belongs to me,” Jorick said sternly, which drew an incensed look from Katelina. “You must ask my permission first.”

  “Fine,” Alexander snapped. “May I have your permission?” His voice was tight, annoyed, like a whiny child who’s been told he can't have an ice cream cone unless he asks nicely. Katelina shuddered, realizing she’d just compared herself to food. Somehow, given the nature of the house’s occupants, it was an unsettling thought.

  “It depends,” Jorick replied. “Do either of you – ” he glanced at Bethina for the first time since she’d entered the room “ – intend to spill any blood?” His glare seemed sufficient to see through to their souls, let alone what they were thinking.

  Alexander looked perturbed by the insinuation. “If you mean do we intend to bite her the way mother did, then the answer is no.”

  “I suggest that you don't.” Jorick glanced toward the door uncomfortably.

  Katelina tried to communicate her silent thoughts to Jorick. She didn't want to be left alone with them, not under any circumstances. She fought the urge to cling to Jorick and beg him to take her with him, despite the fact she knew he was one of them.

  The thought unsettled her further, so she dismissed it by telling herself that he’d never tried to drink her blood. That made him safe - a lot safer than these two. Alexander might be a child, but she was sure that in his nonhuman state he’d be stronger than she was.

  However, she refused to actually throw herself at Jorick, and his obsession with the door made it clear he didn’t have time for a discussion. He made Alexander swear oaths against causing her any harm and, after threatening both the vampires’ lives, he left hurriedly.

  Alexander waited, then stole quietly across the room and peeked out into the hallway. Satisfied, he closed the door and nodded to Bethina. She stood obediently and took up a guard post in front of it, which made Katelina all the more uneasy.

  Alexander climbed back on the bed and studied Katelina. His scrutiny made her feel even more uncomfortable, but he broke it by asking gravely, “Do you want to play with us?”