But she wanted to shout, she wanted to scream and she wanted to rage! Rage was better than the other feeling that was gnawing at her. Better than the darkness of despair and terror that was threatening to swallow her. Only in her anger was she safe from it, safe from being eaten alive and drowning forever in blackness.
Yet, what good would shouting at him do? What would it accomplish? His sorrow was etched across his perfect face in easy to read lines. His guilt and darkness was there, just behind his eyes.
She sagged against him. He waited, as if to make sure she wasn't going to hit him, then slid his arms around her again.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I'm sorry.”
Her voice shook. “I know. It's all right. It wasn't really your fault. I just–” she broke off, unsure what she wanted to say. “I just need to… I don’t know.” She took a ragged breath. “I don’t know what I need . . . to forget.”
“Nothing is ever forgotten,” Jorick whispered. “You only quit thinking about it.”
“Then I need to quit thinking about it,” she murmured. She pulled back and looked at Jorick hopefully. “You said you had influence. Can you–”
“No,” he cut her off. “I can’t make it go away. I can hold it at bay, but I can’t erase it.”
She sagged against him and buried her face against his chest. “Then what good is it? What good is any of it? What was the point?”
He didn’t reply immediately, but when he did his voice was low. “You’re alive, that’s the point. I was too late to stop him completely, but I wasn’t too late for that.”
She supposed he was right. She was alive. Though he’d said nothing was forgotten, still the memories would fade. Right now this was the most devastating thing ever, but she supposed she’d eventually move on and have new things to worry about. After all, terrible things happened to people all over the world every day, and yet they kept on living. If they could do it so could she, couldn’t she? Wasn’t she as strong as anyone else? Bad things had happened to Sarah when she was a child, and she’d gone on to live a perfectly wonderful life – until it was taken away by Claudius.
The thought caused a fresh bought of sobs. Jorick held her while she cried for herself and her friend. He stroked her hair and murmured soft reassurances until her tears had dried. She felt drained, empty and hopeless, like the dying beams of sunlight that were merging with the evening’s coming darkness.
“Why did you call me?” she whispered suddenly. “Why am I in the middle of all of this?”
Jorick drew a slow breath and then answered in a quiet voice, “Because it was over.”
She stirred enough to lift her head. “Over? What was over?”
“All of it. We were… finished. Patrick was dead, Claudius had abandoned his mansion for the time being, Arowenia was safely at Oren’s and they wanted me to bring Michael there too, or else just kill him. That house on the dead end road was our base of operations, but there were no operations anymore, not there anyway. I didn’t have any reason to stay.”
“So?”
He was slow in answering. “So, I had to go. I didn’t – I didn’t…” he cleared his throat in frustration. “I didn’t mean for it to happen this way. I never meant for you to get trapped into anything. How was I supposed to know that Claudius had tracked Michael down? I never expected him to find us, or to send anyone. If I’d known I’d have never asked you there.” His voice took on a pleading tone. “You have to believe that. I never wanted to put you in danger. I never wanted anything to happen…”
She nodded drowsily and laid her head against him. “I know,” she murmured. “I know.”
He stroked her hair and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Oren’s probably right. I should have just left it alone. You’d have been better off.”
She shook her head. “No I wouldn’t. He took Sarah. You said–”
“Yes, he took Sarah. Because Michael told him he saw you there, in the basement. If you’d never been there…” he trailed off into a heavy sigh.
“But–”
“There’s no but. It’s my fault, all right? I was being… selfish,” he spat the word as if it were something infectious. “There was nothing else for me to do and no reason for me to stay there anymore. I only thought that if you met with me…” he broke off and ran a frustrated hand through his dark hair. “I don’t know what I thought!”
Katelina closed her eyes and listened to the quiet rhythm of his heart beating. Part of her still wanted to be angry and scream at him, and he was giving her new material. But she was too tired. Not just tired physically, but tired in her mind and her soul. She just needed a break, just a few hours of quiet and peace. She’d had too many weeks of nauseating tension; ever since she’d found Patrick dead. Right now she just needed a moment.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes until she finally said softly, “It doesn’t matter.”
Jorick sighed and tightened his arm around her. “What’s done is done,” he agreed quietly. “The past cannot be changed.”
“If you could, though, would you really not call me?”
She expected him to take some time to think, but he answered right away. “Truthfully? No, I’d still call you. I’m no saint, Katelina. I may have good intentions but I’m not really a martyr.”
She nodded to herself, satisfied. “I didn’t think so.” They were both quiet a moment and then she asked, “But why me?”
“What?” he asked with surprise.
“Why me? I mean I’m nothing great. Everyone tells me how mediocre I am and how disappointed they are – and they’re right. I’m not that pretty or brave or–”
He cut her off. “Yes you are. And I’ve already told you, it was because I wanted to. Period.”
“But-”
“Shhhhhhh,” he soothed. “Go back to sleep.”
She shook her head. For some reason she needed him to say – what? She didn’t know but something. She just needed some compliment from him, some affirmation. “Jorick?”
He sighed heavily. “Yes?”
“Do you think I’m…” she winced at the cliché woman questions that came to mind and tried to choose the least embarrassing. “Pretty?”
He gently laid her back in the bed and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Yes, Katelina. I think you’re very pretty. And I also think you’re very brave. Now go back to sleep. You need the rest.”
She closed her heavy eyes, but opened them again, another question on her lips. “But no one else thinks so. Why do you?”
He rested his palm on her forehead. “Because I have better taste than they do. Now, go back to sleep, and don't dream this time. When you wake everything will be better.”
**********
Chapter Twenty-Two
When Katelina woke again, the room was filled with inky darkness. She shivered and reached instinctively for Jorick, but her hand clutched only empty sheet. She blinked at it in confusion, then glanced towards the bathroom where she saw the door ajar, light leaking out of it into the darkened room. Her limbs were stiff, but she climbed out of bed and quickly retrieved the black coat from the floor. She wrapped it around herself and then crept softly across the room. The bathroom door opened easily to reveal Jorick and Oren with their heads together, their expressions akin to children caught with a cookie jar.
Oren, still dressed in the clothes he’d worn late last night, stepped away from his co-conspirator quickly. Jorick, however, continued to lean against the sink. His usual black clothes were gone, replaced by a pair of faded blue jeans and a white button up shirt that he hadn’t bothered to tuck in. His bare feet were a sharp contrast against the dark colored linoleum, and that was what Katelina found herself staring at, unable to meet his gaze. She remembered last night; weeping and screaming, saying things she never wanted to. Her face flushed scarlet and she felt humiliation wash over her. She berated herself for being so weak and pathetic. The modern mantra might be “embrace your emotions and tel
l the world”, but to her there was a wall between private and public – and she had blown a hole in it with her break down. Jorick and the others were always so calm and cool, so self-reliant and able to handle anything. She was afraid of what he must think of her after her fit.
“You're awake,” Jorick’s voice was warm, and she looked up to see him smiling at her.
She nodded, and relief flooded her. There was no condemnation in the depths of his eyes; no pity or disappointment with her and, though perhaps she imagined it, she got the sense from him that he didn’t intend to discuss it at a later date, either – that there was no need to talk about what had happened ever again, unless she wanted to. The ghost of a smile flickered on her lips in response to this silent revelation, but she couldn’t find any words to say, especially not in front of Oren.
The blonde vampire shifted uncomfortably. He looked from Jorick to Katelina, then cleared his throat loudly and muttered, “Well, I'll find Torina, I'm sure she's tired of keeping Kateesha entertained.”
Jorick nodded and Oren exited. When they were alone, Jorick pushed himself off of the sink and came to a stop before her. He took her hands in his and gently ran his thumbs over her fingers.
Her eyes wandered over the unbuttoned collar of his shirt and the glimpse of pale chest it afforded, to his face where dark eyes were shimmering with concern.
“You're... all right?” he asked hesitantly.
“Yes.” It was only one word, but she tried to pack a world’s worth of inflection into it; her desire not to discuss her weakness, her appreciation of his not thinking less of her, and her thanks for how well he’d handled things when she’d been at her worst.
He exhaled deeply and his shoulders relaxed. “Good.” He offered her another smile, and she wondered if he was relieved that they weren’t going to have a touchy–feely discussion or if he was just glad that she wasn't hitting him or recoiling from him. “I’ll go see if I can borrow some clothes for you.”
She nodded to his attire. “Those are from Oren?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “I didn’t have any more with me. Thanks to the Executioners, I didn’t leave the manor very well supplied.”
“It looks nice,” she offered shyly and looked away from him as she blushed.
He wrinkled his brow unenthusiastically and frowned down at the shirt. “I suppose so. The color’s all wrong, though and it’s a little small. But then you’re easily pleased,” he teased.
When she made no reply, he took the opportunity to draw her against him and catch her in a deep kiss. Though it hurt her swollen lips, she didn’t pull away. She was willing to take the pain to get what she wanted; what she needed. And she needed to know that he could still want to do this even after what had happened.
The kiss ended, but he didn't pull away. His breath was warm against her face as he stared into her eyes. “You’re beautiful, do you know that?”
She looked down to hide the flush of pleasure. She’d been terrified that after everything that had happened he’d now find her ruined, unworthy and repulsive.
“You're far from repulsive,” he stated, and her head snapped up, eyes wide. She wondered if he was reading her mind or had it been so obviously written on her face? Troy, the bald vampire, had heard her thoughts, as could Kateesha, but could he? She blushed at the idea that he’d listened to her secret admirations of him, among other private things.
“I'm sure that Torina has something she'd gladly donate,” he said suddenly, as if to change the subject. “She has a few dresses in the trunk – she'd have brought more, but the rest of her ridiculously extensive wardrobe burned in the fire. Personally, I think she's more upset by the loss of her clothes than anything else.” He offered her a weak smiled, so she knew he was trying to make a joke, however sad it might be.
But sad or not, the mood lightened considerably, and a weight was lifted from her shoulders. “Maybe you should go ask her?” she suggested and pulled back from him. “I'm going to take a shower - if I have time.” She wanted desperately to wash the evidence of the last two days off of her skin and watch it swirl down the drain to disappear forever.
He nodded his head and said almost sadly, “All right, I’ll go ask her.” He leaned down and kissed her deeply again, ending it reluctantly. “I'd much rather wrap you up and hide somewhere far from all of this,” he murmured as he pulled her to him.
“Me too,” she agreed softly and buried her face in his chest. She tried not to think about anything: not about what had happened, not about all the blood and death she’d seen and not about the fact two weeks ago she’d have run screaming from him because he was a vampire.
“Take your shower, I’ll be right back.” He looked at her, a mixture of longing and guilt in his eyes, but it was quickly veiled and he moved past her and out of the room.
She closed the bathroom door and dropped the black coat and the hospital gown to the floor. Her glance in the mirror was only cursory. Her revulsion at her bruised and swollen face was so complete that she had no desire to actually examine it. She turned the shower on and wondered how Jorick could say she was beautiful when she had a black eye and abrasions all over.
She used the miniature shampoo and soap provided and when finished, wrapped herself in a fluffy towel. The curiosity was getting the better of her and she had almost relented and wiped the steam from the mirror when the door opened. She clutched at her towel, but it was only Jorick bearing a slinky green dress and a pair of panties that dripped white lace. She held the undergarment up and stared at it, incredulous. “Tell me, what’s the point?” she asked rhetorically.
He shrugged his shoulders in reply, but his eyes twinkled. “Don't ask me, I'm not a connoisseur of lady's undergarments.”
He leaned casually against the wall and looked at her until she cleared her throat loudly, then he asked innocently, “Yes?”
“I’d like to get dressed.”
He grinned and gestured with his hand. “Be my guest.”
“Alone?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
Jorick laughed; a warm rich sound that made her feel better. “All right, if you insist.” He was still laughing as he disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door.
She dressed quickly but took extra time to find the front of the lacey stretch underwear. They were uncomfortable and it felt like she wasn’t wearing anything at all. The thin dress did nothing to combat the feeling of nakedness; it had no sleeves and a plunging neckline that was held up by two thin, copper colored spaghetti straps. Even the clingy, knee length skirt didn’t feel like any kind of protection, not like her usual jeans and t-shirts did.
She glanced in the un-fogged mirror and let her eyes travel from her ruined face, down to her exposed cleavage. She crossed her arms over it and wondered why Jorick seemed to have a mental block against bras.
When she exited the bathroom she found him seated on the corner of the bed. He studied her appraisingly and nodded his head in apparent satisfaction. “That looks better on you than her.”
“I doubt it.” She couldn’t help feeling flattered even though she felt embarrassed and silly. She tugged at the skirt and changed the topic. “So, what are we doing?”
“Oren’s gone to fetch food for you, and when he returns we'll be leaving for Sorem.”
“Sorem?” The word rolled on her tongue like a piece of poisoned candy. “But that’s where Claudius is.”
Jorick nodded. “We have unfinished business–”
“Like what? Like the fact that I actually lived! Let’s go back and see if he can finish it off this time? Is that the idea?”
Jorick stood and quickly caught her waving arms. “No,” he soothed. “I promise I won’t let him hurt you.”
“Really?” she snapped sarcastically, but the look on his face made her anger evaporate. Her shoulders sagged. “I don’t want to be near him,” she whispered.
“I know,” he murmured softly. “But so long as he lives this won’t be over.”
&nbs
p; “I thought Oren didn’t want to appear to be too ‘obviously hostile’? Won’t The Guild punish him again?”
“No. Not as long as the war is conducted properly.” Jorick sighed. “As long as it doesn’t create any complications and no one complains, they don’t care. And in case you’ve forgotten, Oren already ‘appeared hostile’ when we rescued you.” She wondered if Oren expected some sort of apology and scowled at the idea, but Jorick continued. “Kateesha has pushed our hands, undoubtedly just as she wanted to. She’s had her eye on Claudius’ coven since she first agreed to help Oren, and I imagine she’s been waiting for this opportunity for some time. Oren hasn’t seemed interested in really finishing Claudius off, and Claudius wasn’t really interested in finishing Oren. Now they’ll have to settle it, and she assumes we’ll win and then she can have it.”
Katelina blinked at him in confusion. “But if you and Oren defeat him isn’t it yours? Victor and spoils and all that?”
He shook his head “The coven has been promised to Kateesha. It was her price to assist in your rescue.”
“But-”
“It’s of no importance,” Jorick said quickly. “Neither I nor Oren want it, not anymore. That was Jesslynn, not him. What use will a straggling handful of unhappy vampires be? But, if Kateesha wishes to think she’s manipulated us, it matters not to me. Let her have what is left of Claudius’ coven when we’ve finished and may it keep her busy for many years to come. So long as she leaves me in peace I don’t care what she does.”
“So Kateesha is going, too?” Katelina asked weakly. “Even though she...”
Jorick sighed heavily. “Yes, she is. I didn’t know she’d set it up, not until Torina got the information from one of Claudius’ men. Kateesha volunteered to go, and if I’d been thinking straight I’d have realized how unusual that was. Kateesha only does what benefits Kateesha. I should have seen that she had some vested interest in it, but I had other things on my mind.” He touched her cheek softly and then gave her a reassuring smile. “She won’t be able to do anything to you as long as I’m with you. And besides, I doubt that she would.”
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