Amaranthine Special Edition Vol I

by Naylor, Joleene

  “So you say, but I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t care what you believe! You’re so inept that a routine inquiry required no less than five Executioners and twelve guards?”

  “We were expecting trouble!” Bren snapped. “And the suspicion was well warranted.”

  Jorick smirked. “Pathetic.”

  Bren’s face twisted in fury. “Fuck you!” He pulled away and glared back. “I have orders to let you live, Jorick. You and those you protect.” He started to walk away, then stopped and turned back around to deliver a warning. “But only this time. If you interfere in The Guild's business again, there will be no such orders. Do you understand?”

  Jorick’s tone was cold. “I understand perfectly.”

  “Let them go.” Bren signaled with his hand. He was obeyed instantly as the guards released both Oren and Jorick.

  The blonde vampire lunged forward, fangs bared, but Jorick caught him. He wrapped his arms around his friend to stop him. “No! I have bought your life, but if you attack them there's nothing I can do!”

  “And what good is this life?” Oren roared with anguish as he struggled in Jorick’s grasp.

  “Revenge,” Jorick said quietly. He slowly released Oren, until only his hand remained on his friend’s shoulder. “Revenge.”

  Oren relaxed and their eyes met briefly. Jorick let go of him completely and, with a nod, hurried to where Katelina lay. Her blonde hair tumbled around her pale dirty face. Blood spotted her dress and covered her hands. Her large eyes were luminous and out of focus as she stared up at him.

  He scooped her into his arms and carried her towards a car parked in the driveway. Katelina looked around wildly, gripping him fearfully. Her eyes skipped from one vampire to the next. Only a handful were left. A couple of them argued with the death squad, but most were moving away to fade into the darkness and disassociate themselves from everything that had happened.

  The great brick house stood ruined and burning. Flames filled the remaining windows and licked at the black, ruined walls. The gaping hole in the front stood out like a gouged wound, and fire leapt from it, crackling against the black sky as it fought to destroy all it could.

  When they reached the car Jorick slid her into the passenger seat, then quickly climbed in behind the wheel. The keys hung from the ignition and in a moment the car sputtered to life.

  “You’re all right?”

  Katelina nodded numbly to Jorick’s question, though she wasn’t sure the definition really fit her.

  As they sped down the driveway Katelina peered through the passenger window. Oren stood alone, in the circle of light from the bonfire. His blonde hair blew in a stray wind and his clothes were tattered. He stared at the dancing flames with hardened features; devoid of emotion as he watched the fire consume the bodies of those he loved.

  **********

  Chapter Fourteen

  Katelina woke from darkness. She found herself in a cheap motel room filled with electric light. Her eyes roamed the room and then herself. Blood flecked the tattered white dress she wore and ran across it in smears. In the center of the skirt was one small, perfect handprint: the reminder of a bloody child.

  She raised her hands and saw residual gore. It clung to the cracks in her palm and the subtle lines that made her fingerprints. Screams echoed through her mind and the smell of burning flesh lingered in her nose. Her body shuddered.

  “It's all right,” a soothing voice whispered. She looked up quickly to see Jorick. He stood next to the bed in only a pair of pants, with his long hair wet and a towel thrown over his naked shoulder. He gently tucked loose strands of her hair behind her ear and repeated, “It's all right.”

  “No,” she murmured. “No, it's not all right.”

  “Your bath is ready.” He gently tugged her to her feet. Her legs shook beneath her and she swayed and fell against him.

  “No,” she murmured into his bare chest. “No...”

  “Shhhhhhhhh.” His fingers tangled in her long hair as he stroked her head. “Come on.”

  She allowed him to step back from her and peel the ruined white dress away. He dropped it to the floor where it lay like a symbol of ruined innocence – white and red, purity stained by darkening blood, reality stained by nightmares.

  He stripped her naked, but she didn't fight him. She was too distraught to focus, and only threw one thin arm over her breasts by instinct. Jorick gently led her to the bathroom and maneuvered her into a blue chipped bathtub where he lowered her slowly into the warm water.

  She closed her eyes and leaned back against the porcelain. Her mind was still swirling and raging with what she’d seen, but it was swirling and raging without her. She was there, floating above it all, uncomprehending and numb. She tried to drown the memories out with thoughts of the dark car trip that had followed, but she’d fallen asleep, soothed into dreamless slumber by Jorick in an effort to end her hysterics.

  Warm water splashed across her stomach and she looked up to see Jorick hovering over her like a concerned mother. He quickly washed the blood from her hands and her face. His touch was soft and smooth; comforting.

  “Dip your head forward, keep your eyes closed.” His words interrupted her thoughts, but she did as he said. She felt the water run over her hair and then his long fingers worked in the shampoo and rinsed it out again. The water trickled over her face and she squeezed her eyes shut until she could see little stars exploding behind them. She let him wash her arms, her shoulders, her neck. The wet washrag was warm against her bare skin as it swiped away all the gore and memories.

  When she was clean, she opened her eyes and stared at the water around her. It was red with the mess that had been washed from her and looked like a pool of pale blood.

  “Stand up,” Jorick said quietly, and she stood. He held her steady and pulled the drain plug to let the hateful red water swirl away, then he rinsed her clean under the showerhead.

  He wrapped a fluffy white towel around her, then gently scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom. She stared dully at the bedspread as he laid her on it. It was red like blood – red like her nightmares.

  “Close your eyes,” he murmured softly as he leaned over her and stroked her wet hair. “Rest now.”

  He started to go but she grabbed his bare arm. Fear had taken over and destroyed any hope she had at pride. “No, don't leave me alone.”

  “You'll be fine,” he assured her. “The sun will come soon.” He looked pale and in desperate need of rest.

  “Please,” she half whimpered, pleading.

  He sighed in defeat and looked around the room. Gently, he tugged his arm free. With very little effort he moved the pressboard desk in front of the window, and then heaved the dresser on top of it. He reached around them and pulled the flowered drapes over the mound, effectively blocking most of the window.

  He slipped off his shoes and, as he climbed onto the bed, he reached for her. She rolled towards him and buried her face in his naked chest. With a sigh, he curled around her and tightened his arms until he nearly crushed her against him. “It's all right, Katelina,” he whispered. His hands tangled in her wet hair. “It's going to be all right.”

  She closed her eyes and whimpered softly as tears fell from her eyes. She listened to his heart beat and thought that nothing would ever be all right again.

  When Katelina woke the room was shrouded in darkness. The clock on the nightstand read 7:45 pm in electric red numbers. She closed her eyes and opened them again, half hoping she’d be somewhere different, but she wasn’t.

  She rolled over, and found herself staring into the dark, unblinking eyes of Jorick. A memory flashed through her mind: Jorick's black hair laying against the smooth, white porcelain of the bathtub, his eyes closed, his features so still that she'd thought he was dead. The memory pressed an odd expression onto her face.

  “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

  His question played through her mind, but no answer presented itself. H
er head ached as the events of the previous night came back in a screaming rush. Though most of it was a hazy red blur set to a soundtrack of screams, she still wished she hadn't remembered. “I guess,” she answered at last.

  “I thought you might be feeling better tonight.” He held her eyes. His body lay mere inches from hers, the back of his hand against her hip.

  She looked away first to discover and remember at the same moment that she was wearing nothing but a towel. “Oh! My clothes...” she began, but stopped. Memories of the bath began to surface. They stained her cheeks scarlet and left her speechless.

  “I'll have to get you some,” he said quietly, though he made no effort to move. “The ones you were wearing...” he trailed off but she knew what he was going to say: they were ruined.

  She felt his fingers flex through the towel and swallowed hard. A strange buzzing of blood pounded in her ears. She tried to collect her thoughts but failed and so she just said, “Okay.” His nearness was too distracting for any other words, and it made her body tingle. Her cheeks grew an even deeper shade of red as she thought about how thin the towel was, and that it was the only thing that kept his knuckles from grazing her naked hip. Once more the certainty whispered through her brain that he’d seen her naked last night. In fact, he'd touched her. Just thinking about it, even filtered through dim, sleepy memories, made her heart pound.

  “I'll find you something to eat, too,” he added. “You're probably hungry.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and drew a reluctant breath.

  She waited, uncertain if she should say something or not. Before she could decide, he pulled away to stand, seeking his cast off shirt.

  She lay still and clutched at her towel. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at his naked back. Thoughts and images rose unbidden, most notably a vision of his hand on her stomach while his warm voiced soothed her. The memory left her insides fluttering.

  Jorick disappeared into the bathroom and returned, tugging his black shirt over his head. He glanced at her as he deftly slid his shoes on. “I'll be back.” He started toward the door, but stopped suddenly and turned back to her. “When I leave, fasten all the locks, and don't answer the door unless I say it’s me.”

  Worry overrode her raging, hormonal thoughts. The fear of death seemed more important than lustful, half formed ideas. “Do you think someone will come here?” she asked, though she didn’t know where “here” was.

  “I don't know, but it's always better to be safe than dead.” With those words he left and closed the door behind him.

  Katelina hurried to do as Jorick had instructed. The brass locks were all neatly in place before she flipped on the light. Her eyes roamed the room and she suddenly wondered how did Jorick afford all of the motel rooms? Did he have a wad of cash stuffed in his pockets? Or maybe he had a book of traveler’s checks? She snickered at her own ridiculous thoughts; a vampire with traveler’s checks!

  She shook her head in amusement and then made her way across the 70’s style carpeting. Her feet stopped next to the heap of white material. For a moment she imagined picking the dress up, to see if what she remembered was true, but she resisted. She didn’t really want to know.

  The bathroom was a normal motel bathroom, small and functional. The mirror above the chipped blue sink showed a reflection she hardly recognized: large blue eyes with black rings stared back at her from a pale, haggard face that was framed in tousled blonde hair.

  She examined the new mark on her neck, just above her collar bone. It was still pink, but already tightly closed. Closer inspection revealed that it was a perfect set of bite marks with a very small cross cut directly beneath them – evidently Jorick's symbol.

  The only thing she could think as she stared at it was fantastic. This was just what she needed. It was going to be hard to explain to people later. Then again, she reminded herself, who would she have to explain it to? Sarah was dead, after all, and her mother would assume it was something to do with Patrick.

  That was really kind of ironic, when she thought about it. Technically, it was something to do with Patrick, depending on how she looked at it. But thinking about Patrick - particularly after what she’d been through last night - made her feel weird. She banished the thoughts and forced herself to check her shoulder over, even though the wound was almost healed.

  When she was done, she cinched the towel tight and headed back into the room. She sat carefully on the edge of the bed with her knees pressed tightly together. She flipped the TV on to drown out the silence and was half way through a bad cartoon when Jorick knocked on the door and called to her.

  She checked that the towel covered all her important bits, then she hurried to the door and unbolted the locks.

  Jorick strode in carrying a soda cup and two sacks; one from a fast food place and the other bearing the familiar yellow smiley face of a national chain store – guaranteed happiness in a bag.

  “I didn't know what you wanted,” he commented as he set the drink on the nightstand and deposited the bags on the bed. The crinkle of plastic and paper was a delicious sound to Katelina’s ears.

  She meant to dress first, but the smell of food was overwhelming. She decided her towel was good enough and sat primly on the edge of the bed, her knees together and the paper bag in her lap. As she ate, Jorick perched on the other corner of the bed and stared at the TV. He chanced a glance towards her but his nose wrinkled involuntarily, and he looked away again.

  She licked the salt from her fingers with delight. The empty bag was soon wadded up and thrown in the garbage can, forsaken for the plastic sack. Jorick had gotten her a pair of jeans and a t–shirt with Tweety bird across the chest. Even odder was a package of flowered panties. She imagined him in the underwear section trying to decide on a style, and had to physically bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

  Aside from those items there was a pink flannel nightgown that was going to be more comfortable than form flattering, a hairbrush, a stick of deodorant and a bottle of blue nail polish.

  She held the tiny glass bottle in her hand and looked at his back questioningly. Without turning around he murmured, “I noticed you liked it.” He made an attempt at a casual shrug that came off slightly stiff.

  She bit the inside of her lip and narrowed her eyes. How did he know – but the thought ended mid – sentence when she recalled his admission of “keeping an eye on her”. She’d tried to pretend that it meant a very causal observation, though she knew better. This completely ruined her illusions.

  The familiar anger returned, and she sarcastically wondered if he’d seen her naked back then. Maybe that was why he was acting like it was no big deal today. Automatically, she gripped the bottle with a white knuckled hand and opened her mouth to reprimand him - then stopped. Undoubtedly, he’d tried to be nice in his own twisted way. If she thought about it, he’d been nothing but kind since last night’s horrors. She couldn’t imagine him sporadically doing something to ruin that. Still, the idea that he’d spied on her made her shiver uncomfortably. She dreaded it, but one day they were going to have to discuss it.

  Avoiding the subject now, she walked silently to the bathroom. Once she was in the new clothes her anger was replaced by a warm rush of gratitude.

  When she’d composed herself, she emerged from the bathroom to find Jorick lying on the bed, his hands beneath his head and his eyes glued to re-runs of Yogi Bear. She settled on the bed next to him with her legs crossed and cracked open the bottle of nail polish.

  By the time one hand was finished she felt nearly restored. Nothing bad could happen so long as the sharp, chemical smell of nail polish was biting her nose. She couldn’t help but think, for a moment, how strange the things were that people clung to; the odd little bits that meant safety and comfort to them.

  Pushing off the strange thoughts she turned to Jorick and kept her voice casual. “So, what are we doing now?”

  “Going to New Hampshire.” A smile flickered across his face at the animated Yogi
and his attempts to trick the Ranger. “This is actually quite amusing.”

  “New Hampshire? Isn't that a little far? How long will it take to get there?” Her world might be shattered and her life irrevocably changed, but she wanted to stay near her home – or what had been her home.

  “A night, maybe.” His words were interrupted by laughter, his dark eyes still riveted to the television screen. “We're closer than you think,” he added.

  She tried to keep her growing unhappiness out of her voice, but couldn’t stop the sarcastic comment from slipping out. “Evidently.” She went back to her nail polish, the brush painting each nail blue; painting over everything bad that had happened; painting over all of her anger. “Why New Hampshire?”

  “Because that's where we need to go,” he broke off as Boo Boo the bear protested against stealing picnic baskets. “Have you seen this before? It’s really funny for television.”

  “Yes,” she snapped impatiently. “It was made before I was born.” She glared at him, but he seemed undeterred. “Is New Hampshire where Arowenia is?”

  “It's where we're going.”

  She growled in frustration. Why couldn’t he ever give her a straight answer? His excuses about Claudius getting a hold of her sounded feeble at best, and she wanted the truth for once. “Why won't you tell me what's going on?”

  “What do you want to know?” he asked vaguely though he didn’t give her his full attention.

  “What do I want to know? How about ‘Is New Hampshire where Arowenia is’?”

  He tore his gaze away from the TV. “I won't tell you, and I've already explained why. It's safer for everyone that way.”

  “Fine,” she snapped and savagely screwed the lid back on the bottle of nail polish. “Maybe you can tell me what happened last night? Or is that privileged information?”

  He rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not.”

  “That’s a change,” she bit back sarcastically. “Then who is The Guild and why were they there? Were they looking for Arowenia?”