She stared at his small, pointed face in surprise. She found it hard to believe that the pale, strange vampire child who only spoke to certain people had gone to all that trouble just to ask her to play?
“What?”
“I asked if you would like to play with Bethina and me,” he repeated patiently. The woman child smiled at the mention of her name. “It's been awhile since we've had anyone new to play with. I like playing with humans. You always have such interesting ideas.” He smiled so that his miniature fangs gleamed.
“Oh?” Katelina swallowed. She found herself wondering if Bethina's position was to guard anyone coming in or to keep her from getting out, which was what the logical portion of her brain told her to do.
“Oh yes!” he enthused, completely oblivious to her discomfort. “In fact, our newest game came from a human – it's called dungeon. It's a lot of fun, I promise! We haven’t gotten to play it in a long time,” he added sadly but then perked up instantly. “Do you want to play?”
“How do you play this game... dungeon?” she tried to keep her voice calm, though she wanted to scream. My God, how had she ended up practically babysitting child vampires?
“Oh, it's simple. We go down to the dungeon and torture the prisoner.”
The premise sounded horrible and she could guess which of them would be the prisoner. “I'm not supposed to leave the room,” she said quickly. She hoped that would be sufficient, but she doubted it. The excuse that an adult “wasn’t allowed” to do something rarely held any water with children.
“Oh. All right,” he sounded disappointed, but the expected wheedling didn’t come, as if Jorick forbidding her from something was perfectly normal. “It’s just as well,” he added morosely. “I saw the dark woman leave the day before yesterday, and I think she took it with her. They were all talking about moving it.”
“Moving what?”
“The prisoner,” Alexander mumbled, more to himself than her. “We need Patrick – ”
He got no further before Katelina gasped, “Patrick?”
“Yes, he’s the one who made the game up. He had some other good ones, didn’t he Bethina?” The vampiress nodded and Alexander asked almost sadly, “I wonder when he’s coming back?”
Words escaped Katelina. He couldn’t possibly mean her Patrick, could he? What would he have been doing there? No, she told herself firmly. It couldn’t be the same Patrick. It had to be a coincidence.
“Blocks” Bethina said suddenly, and the single word brought Katelina back to the present.
Alexander looked thoughtful and then nodded his agreement. As if by silent order, Bethina hurried out of the room, presumably to fetch the toys.
Left alone with the boy, Katelina fought the urge to ask him about Patrick. It would do her no good to delve into it, and she knew it. As a distraction she chose another topic of conversation. “Who is she?”
Alexander looked confused and then seemed to realize what she meant. “That's Bethina” he answered and shrugged his small shoulders.
“No, I mean is she related to you? Before she became...” she still couldn't say it. She wondered if she had a mental block?
“Oh. She was my friend.” He sighed sadly. “She used to make up the cleverest little songs and she was so funny.” He smiled wanly. “She used to come babysit us sometimes, and then she got a permanent job here. Mother liked her because she didn’t ‘cause trouble’. Of course, I just thought she was fun.” His voice dropped to a serious whisper, “I'll tell you a secret if you promise not to tell anyone. Especially not Jorick.”
“All right,” Katelina replied slowly. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the secrets of a vampire child.
“It's my fault. What happened to Bethina.” He sighed and his small shoulders sagged under the weight of some burden, his eyes turned sorrowful; eyes far too old for the cherub face they were set in. “I tried to turn her myself. She agreed, of course. I thought it would be wonderful to have Bethina and her funny songs forever and ever, and she was so sick! But I couldn't do it - I'm not strong enough.” His voice took a bitter tone. “Mother heard her screams and came to find me bent over her, crying. She finished it for me, but she said it was too late and that it ruined her. Mother said it locked her mind away because she stood on the threshold of death for too long, and that she will always be the way she is now. That's why I try to take care of her, because I know it's my fault.”
He looked so sad and, for a moment, in her pity, Katelina almost forgot he wasn’t a mortal child. She could see the scene in her mind: the blonde girl laying on the floor, screaming in her death agony, red blood running down from the puncture wounds to stain her light hair. The terrified face of Alexander looming above her like a ghost, tears streaking his face. The dark Jesslynn coming in, her face filled with terror and then fury when she saw what was happening...
“I see,” Katelina finally managed to say as she banished the disturbing pictures from her mind.
“I know it's my fault. And I'm being punished for it. I have eternity to be with Bethina but never hear one of her songs or stories again.” He looked at his lap, his adult eyes bright with unshed tears.
“I'm sorry.” She didn't know what else to say to this confession, or why he'd chosen to share it with her. An uncomfortable silence fell and she hurried to fill it. “Jorick’s very grim?”
Alexander nodded his agreement. “He seems that way. I don’t know him very well. He used to come around all of the time, but then he moved away. He still came now and then until one day he stopped altogether. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him.”
“Was he always so serious and closed lipped?”
The boy looked thoughtful. “I think so,” he answered slowly and then he smirked. “Last night Father told Mother that Jorick comes from a different time, one where men handled everything and that he forgets that other people don’t do that. He also said that Jorick is trying too hard to protect you by keeping you ignorant and that he thinks if he really wanted to do that then he should have left you alone altogether instead of telling you some of it. Mother said she can’t figure out what he’s thinking anyway, and that she thinks he’s only interested because he likes to take care of the weak –” he stopped midsentence and looked suddenly uncomfortable.
Katelina sighed heavily. “It’s all right.”
Alexander relaxed. “She said you remind her of ‘her’.”
A strange look crossed Katelina’s face. “Who?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. But whoever ‘her’ is, she’s someone mother disapproved of.”
Katelina started to ask why he thought that, but, as if on cue, Bethina reappeared. She lugged a large box of multi-colored blocks - the same ones Katelina had seen them playing with in front of the fire the first night.
Though she wasn’t sure she wanted to let the conversation end, Alexander considered it over. They dumped the blocks out on the floor. As time moved past, Katelina’s discomfort slowly diminished. The pair reminded her of her cousin’s kids, and she almost enjoyed herself. It had been years since she’d sat on the floor to play silly games. She nearly forgot that Alexander wasn’t a normal child, that he and his companion were really immortal monsters.
Jorick returned hours later. He was clearly surprised by what he found but, like Father coming home after a day at work, he made them dismantle their latest creation. Then he shooed Alexander and Bethina out of the room, blocks in tow. As soon as the door was shut, he dropped onto the bed and lay back with his hands beneath his head and his ankles crossed. His expression was decidedly grim.
Katelina stood next to the bed and waited for him to explain his mood. Apparently the meeting hadn’t gone as he’d hoped, or maybe Oren really had betrayed them. When he didn’t speak, she prompted, “Well?”
He stared at the underside of the canopy. His voice was flat, emotionless, “Michael is dead. As I suspected, he made it out of the basement. He was kept alive until he could tell Claudius what he wante
d to know, and then he was slaughtered – burned to death.” Jorick shuddered involuntarily.
“Oh.” Given what Jorick had said of Claudius she wasn’t really surprised, and she didn’t feel any sympathy for the thing she’d seen hanging in the basement. It wasn’t just the memory of his threats, but what he’d done to Patrick. Her chest tightened as a vision of Patrick came to her; his smile broad, his blue eyes twinkling as he asked her if she was planning to stay the night.
She shook the memories away as Jorick went on. “Michael told them about my involvement, but they already knew that. Then he told them you were there.” He hesitated as though he had a hard time finding words. “They went to your house, seeking you, but you weren't there. While they tore things apart for clues, someone else came; a dark haired woman with pale eyes.”
“Who?” She tried to figure out who would have been at her house and mused over the description; a woman with dark hair and pale eyes… A name popped up, but she tried to ignore it. Not Sarah. No. She refused to even think it. They couldn't have done anything to Sarah. She was like a rock, old reliable Sarah who nagged her about quitting smoking. Sarah, who had been willing to cancel her date with Brad to make sure she was all right, possibly the last date she ever had.
Her voice was barely a whisper and, though she didn’t want to, she had to ask. “Sarah?”
“They took her with them,” he explained without really answering. “They thought they’d found you. Once they brought her before Claudius, of course, they found out that it wasn’t you.”
Katelina’s breath stuck in her throat and her hands trembled. “Was it Sarah? Is she all right?”
“They aren't torturing her anymore.”
Her mind whirled as it tried to deny what she knew to be true. He couldn’t really mean that Sarah was... she couldn’t be…. “Dead? She is, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she's dead.” He sighed heavily and made the sign of the cross.
“Oh, God,” she muttered numbly. She dropped to the floor and stared up at Jorick’s face – at the light reflecting from his perfect hair and his pale skin, so smooth and flawless – and all she could feel was pain. First Patrick and now Sarah. How much more did she have to lose because of something she’d never been involved in? How many people had to die so Claudius could recover someone he considered nothing more than a possession?
Jorick rolled his head to the side and his dark eyes fell to her folded up form. “I'm sorry, but at least it wasn't you.” Though he meant his words to be comforting, they fell short.
Tears slipped from her eyes as the full impact crushed her. “I should have been there!” She violently slammed her fists into her legs. “I could have stopped it!”
“How? Can you defeat vampires now?”
“I could have at least warned her! If only you'd let me use the phone at the gas station!” Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.
He swung into a sitting position, his hands in his lap. “I didn’t stop you. In fact, I told you to use it. But even if you had, what would you have said?” His voice rose an octave as he imitated her, “ 'Oh, hey, there are some vampires after me, so watch out'? Did it occur to you to warn her?” He ran a frustrated hand through his long, dark tresses.
“Well... no, but...” She stopped mid – sentence, still angry. He was right, what could she have done? She couldn’t have fought them and she wouldn’t have warned Sarah if she’d gotten to call. She dug her fingernails into her palms. “I'm glad he's dead.”
“Who?” Jorick’s head came up in surprise.
“Michael,” her voice was venomous. “If he weren't already dead, I'd kill him myself! This is all his fault! He killed Patrick. He got me dragged into this. Now Sarah's dead, I can't go home...” Sobs choked out the rest of her sentence. Tears of rage and pain spilled out of her eyes and fell down her pale cheeks.
Jorick’s hesitation was palpable, as if he was afraid to touch her, but he finally laid an uneasy hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right.”
“Is it?” she demanded between tears. She was waiting, begging, for that sanitizing numbness to come and swallow the pain. It had been doing so ever since she'd walked into Patrick's apartment and found his mangled body, torn and bleeding on the living room carpet, and it didn’t fail her now.
“How did they know it wasn't me?” Her voice sounded hollow and foreign to her own ears. “How did they know what they were looking for?”
“Troy said it wasn't you,” he answered carefully. He let his hand drop back into his lap.
“Who’s Troy? And how did he know what I look like?” Goose bumps crawled up her spine as she thought about the implications.
“He's one of the few Claudius still trusts.” Jorick’s inability to meet her gaze caused alarms to sound in her mind.
“How does he know what I look like? How did they know where I lived?”
“I already told you once, if Patrick knew then they knew.” He let out an unhappy breath. “Besides, Troy has been there.” He closed his eyes and absently massaged his forehead. “He's seen you.”
“What? How could he... He was at my house?” She didn't like where this was going. The thought made her feel sick and violated. She took a steadying breath, and then she remembered Jorick mentioning Troy last night. Something to do with an “unfortunate incident” where they discovered Jorick’s involvement. No.
“And how do you know?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pressed his fingers silently between his closed eyes. When he did speak, his voice was slow and resigned, “Because, I was there, too.”
“What? You were at my house? When? What were you doing there?”
“I was keeping an eye on you.” He finally met her gaze.
“You mean you were spying on me? Why?”
“Patrick asked me to. He suspected something was up even before Michael admitted that Claudius knew about you, so I spent a couple months keeping an eye on things.” He shrugged, but his fidgeting fingers belied the nonchalant attitude. “Troy showed up one night and we had a bit of a tussle... he never came back again.”
“That was the unfortunate incident you mentioned last night? That Troy caught you spying on me? God! You spied on me! For ‘a couple of months’?” She couldn’t believe the conversation. How could he think she’d trust him when he’d spied on her? “When were you planning on telling me?”
“I wasn't, particularly.” His eyes flicked to her and then away again. “I didn't think it pertained to our current situation.”
“Well, it does!” She pointed to the door. “Out!” Horrific thoughts of what he might have witnessed during those months flashed through her mind. Had he watched her dress? Watched her sleep, shower? Watched her and Patrick together?
“Look, what I'm trying to say – ”
“I said get out!” she roared. “I don’t want to talk to you right now!”
He stood up, surprised and angry. “I only did it because Patrick asked me to!” he shouted back. “Don’t you think I would have rather been somewhere more exciting than the damned apartment across the street?”
“You were across the street?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “I had to sleep somewhere nearby, after all. There was little risk in the daytime of them harming you, but-”
She cut him off. “But what? Were you sitting over there with binoculars like a regular stalker?” She shivered as she thought of all the times her eyes had been drawn to that apartment opposite hers, all the times she’d wondered who lived there and what they were doing; the lonely nights when she’d taken comfort in the light burning in the windows just across the street.
“Of course not,” he replied impatiently. “I had to be closer than that in case something happened.”
“How close? Were you sitting perched outside my window like a vulture?”
“Sometimes,” he conceded reluctantly and she gaped.
“My God! And what about when I wasn’t home?”
He didn’t sou
nd especially apologetic, “Some of the time I followed you.”
“Some of the time? Holy – and what did you do when you didn’t? Hang out in my living room? Try on my clothes?”
He rolled his eyes and snapped, “No! Why would I do that?” He took a deep breath and calmed himself quickly. “I didn’t like invading your privacy any more than you like having it invaded. I only needed phone numbers and – ”
Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Phone numbers? So you were in my house to get – Is that how you got my work number?”
“Yes,” he said dismissively. “I – ”
“You were in my fucking house, watching me through my fucking windows, following me around! My God! It’s like something from the Lifetime Channel! You’re like a professional stalker!”
He muttered something unintelligible before adding loudly, “I am not a professional stalker.”
“No, of course not,” she sneered. “You’d have to be up in the daytime for that – ” she broke off. “You were! You called me in the daytime!”
“Yes,” he said tightly, fighting for patience. “We can be awake in the daytime, but it drains a lot of energy, not to mention it can be dangerous. We have to compensate – ”
“And what does that mean?” she demanded.
“It means that it takes a good deal of blood to make up for it, especially if we don’t sleep at all.”
Her voice was high and hysterical. “And how much is that? A whole colony maybe?”
“No.” He scowled darkly. “One or two people’s worth for the entire day, less for a few hours…”
Her lip curled in disgust. “And what did you do? Turn into a bat and fly out there to meet me?”
“You’re being obstreperous,” he said impatiently. “I can’t turn into a bat. I had to get a ride like everyone else.”
“With who? Huh?”
“Anthony,” Jorick answered coldly. “I doubt you know him.”
“Patrick’s friend?” she gaped. “He knew?”
Jorick hesitated. “No. He thought I was luggage.”
Amaranthine Special Edition Vol I Page 11