Amaranthine Special Edition Vol I

by Naylor, Joleene

  “Then it is as it is,” Jorick said simply. He opened the door and a blast of icy air rushed in. “I wish you well, and when we meet again I hope there is an end to this.”

  “As do I.”

  Without a reply, Jorick climbed out of the car and Katelina made to follow him when Torina cried vehemently, “It wouldn’t hurt you to help!”

  “Torina,” Oren said softly. “Let him go.”

  “But look at all you’ve done for him!” she insisted. “The least he could do is-”

  Oren interrupted her, but spoke calmly. “What I have done, I have done for myself.” He looked over his shoulder at Katelina and commented without any real conviction, “May we meet again.”

  Katelina climbed out, feeling both cold and uncomfortable. She took her place next to Jorick and they watched the small car reverse to the road. As it turned around, Torina wound down her window and called back, “When you’ve gotten your fill of your new pet, Jorick, you can join us.”

  He grunted in reply as the car found the road and disappeared. Soon, even the sound of the motor faded, as if it had never been there at all.

  An icy blast of wind shook the trees and rattled the dry grass eerily. Katelina shivered, and it seemed to draw Jorick back to the present. With another wordless grunt he took her hand and led her slowly to the front of the house. “Look at this,” he muttered. “Look at the state of this place.”

  Katelina didn’t reply, only followed him onto the small porch and waited as he fished a ring of keys out of his pocket. She marveled at his “magic” pockets. He always seemed to be pulling something out of them, and yet she never saw the telltale pile of belongings that men left on the dresser tops when they went to bed. What did he do? Just leave the stuff in there and transfer it from one pair of jeans to the next?

  The door opened and she hurried inside to find that it was nearly as cold as it had been outdoors.

  Jorick sniffed the air and muttered darkly, “Stale.” He flipped the light switch and exclaimed with grudging surprise, “At least the electricity is still on.”

  Katelina’s eyes swept the room. It was stuffed with antique furniture: a sideboard, a curio cabinet, a collection of stands, a secretary, a set of slender wing backed chairs and a low couch that sat under the front window. The floor was wooden, but two large rugs in mismatched patterns covered most of it. A stone fireplace stood black and waiting in the corner and gave Katelina some hope that heat was coming, however, it was not the most prominent feature of the room. The thing that stood out the most was the books. They were piled everywhere; on the stands, in towering heaps on the floor, even in one of the chairs. Their jackets ranged from shiny and new to old and worn with no discernible rhyme or reason to their locations.

  Jorick continued to mutter unintelligibly as he walked through a wide doorway and into the rest of the house, switching on the lights as he went. Katelina followed close on his heels as each room was revealed: a dining room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. All were overrun with dusty books stacked at odd angles. It was almost as if they’d been discarded randomly as they were finished.

  The house looped around on itself so that as they walked down a narrow hallway they were facing the front again. The small hall ended at two doors; one literally at the end and a white painted one to the left. They came to a stop and Jorick fell silent. He stared at the white door as if it might eat them both. When nothing happened, he cleared his throat noisily and glanced back at her. “You should go make yourself comfortable.”

  “Make myself comfortable?” she echoed uncertainly.

  He nodded absently and fished the ring of keys from his pocket. He slid the appropriate one into the door’s lock and addressed her without meeting her eyes. “Yes. Start a fire or something. I suppose it’s probably cold in here.”

  “Well, now that you mention it-” she got no further before he swung the door inward and disappeared through it. “Hey! I don’t really know how to-” but the door closed after him, effectively shutting her out.

  “Jorick?”

  The only answer was a loud click as the door was locked from the inside.

  “What in the hell?” She stared at the white door, her brow creased in anger. Not only was his behavior odd, but it was insulting! She couldn’t imagine what he’d be doing in the room that required such secrecy, and the idea that he’d go to the bother of locking her out made it worse. Did he think she’d bust in on him?

  She marched to the front room and stood uselessly in the middle of the floor. How long was he going to be in there? She was cold and didn’t know how to start a fire. Then again, how hard could it really be? All she needed was wood and matches, right?

  Three logs lay in a basket next to the hearth and a book of matches was discarded on the mantle. With angry determination, she knelt next to the fireplace and carefully lifted the logs inside. She ripped a match from the book, struck it, and held it to the crumbling bark of one of the logs.

  It took four matches, but soon infant flames licked the dry wood. She leaned back on her haunches with a feeling of pride as the fire slowly grew. “Ha, Jorick! Take that!”

  She took turns warming different parts of her body, then curled up on the rug before the hearth and watched the flames. Her mind wandered, unbidden, to another fire she’d seen recently. The memories of painful screams echoed in her ears and she unconsciously put her hands to her head, as if to silence them.

  Desperate for distraction, she grabbed a book from the stack that leaned precariously against the coffee table. The title was faded from the worn cover and the peeling spine. She wondered if it had been read too many times or simply neglected.

  Restlessly, she flipped the yellowed pages, back to front. When she reached the inside of the front cover she found smeared, spidery writing. Further examination revealed the name “Jorick” and the date “December,1875”.

  With a soft shudder she snapped the book closed and put it back where she’d gotten it. The last thing she wanted right now was a reminder of what he really was, so she turned to the puzzle of their location. The matchbook on the fireplace said “Stop N Shop – open 24 hours, Venice Maryland”, but they were most certainly in Maine. Her brow furrowed as she tried to organize the jumble of states in her mind. She remembered that they’d been in New Hampshire at some point, though she didn’t know where Maine, or even Maryland, was in relationship to it. She should have paid more attention back when she’d been in school, but why should she when there was always a map; in the glove box or on the computer or in a book or even on her cell phone. Only- surprise! - there wasn’t a map now. Why had no one ever mentioned the possibility of being cut off?

  She waited impatiently for Jorick, and when he didn’t come she went back to the books. When that got boring she stretched out on the rug and closed her eyes. She banished everything from her mind except a repeating cycle of song lyrics, and let herself drift on warm tides towards a drowsy sleep.

  When Jorick woke her, the fire had all but burned itself to smoldering coals and the chill was back. “Come, little one,” he said softly, his hand on her arm. “The sun will be upon us soon.”

  Katelina sat up and glared at him. Irritatingly, his attitude said that he saw nothing wrong with shutting her out of his little “secret room” earlier. “Let me guess,” she bit off sarcastically. “You have a coffin in the basement?”

  He laughed for the first time since they’d arrived, and she wasn’t sure if it annoyed her or made her feel better. “As a matter of fact I do, but it’s for company. I have a bedroom down there as well, and that’s where I’m going to sleep.” He offered her a grin. “If you'd rather try the coffin though, be my guest.”

  “No, thank you.” She let him help her to her feet and automatically straightened the red dress.

  He ignored her frosty tone and gave her a wink. “Don’t worry. You can take that off soon enough.”

  A plethora of sarcastic replies rose up in her, but before she could choose one they were al
ready walking through the house, leaving a trail of darkness behind them as Jorick turned the lights out.

  She followed him to the door at the very end of the narrow hallway. It opened to reveal a landing and a set of stairs that led down to a semi-finished basement. The walls were painted white, but the floor was still cold concrete. A large, cobwebbed furnace squatted in one corner near a sagging shelving unit. Boxes and bits of broken furniture were gathered in random pockets, and, just as Jorick had said, a large black coffin sat off to the right, near two doors.

  It was to one of the doors that Jorick led her. Inside was a bedroom stuffed with a heavy wardrobe and a large, carved, four-poster bed hung with blood red curtains. Katelina stared at it and her lip curled in disbelief. “Someone has flamboyant taste. Could you get any more textbook cliché?” Even as she spoke, she wondered how he could have gotten the thing down stairs and into the room.

  “A souvenir from years long gone.” He ran his hand over the footboard as if it were a lover he hadn’t seen in months. “The only piece of furniture I’ve had since before.”

  He stripped off his clothes, distracting her from a sarcastic remark about the nature of his relationship with his bed. Each piece of clothing fell to the floor to reveal an expanse of perfect, pale skin that made her heart catch in her chest, despite her anger.

  He didn’t bother with pajamas, only turned back the covers on the bed. He frowned down at the sheets and muttered something that sounded like, “He didn’t even change the bedding!”

  “What?”

  Jorick dismissed it as unimportant and lay down. He settled himself and then looked to Katelina, who still stood just inside the door. “Are you coming?” His tone was amused. “Or would you rather watch me sleep?”

  “Maybe,” she muttered, but her false bravado did nothing for the blush that crept into her cheeks. The idea of him watching her strip off, like she’d just watched him, made her stomach churn nervously. Maybe it made her a prude, or just shy, but she didn’t like anyone to see her naked. “No, I’m coming.”

  “Good.” His voice switched to an almost false innocence, “Then get the light, would you?”

  She gratefully found the light switch and flicked it off before she removed her dress. She crossed the pitch black room slowly, until her seeking fingers found the bed, then she slipped under the covers.

  When she was settled, Jorick pulled her against him, and kissed her neck softly. “Sleep well.”

  Another snappy reply came to mind, but she dismissed it. They could fight tomorrow, if that’s how it was going to be. For now, she could let it go.

  “You too,” she said quietly and snuggled closer to him. Yes, tomorrow they could deal with everything. Tonight, in a real bed at last, she could just pretend it didn’t matter.

  **********

  Chapter Two

  Jorick woke Katelina the next evening. He checked her wounds and then got dressed in one of his usual ensembles: black jeans and a long sleeved black pullover. He kicked the blue jeans and shirt from the day before under the bed, as though he could pretend he’d never borrowed them from Oren, or even worn them. Then he quickly brushed a kiss across her cheek and promised to return.

  After he left, she lay in bed until she summoned the courage to leave the warm covers. The room was as cold as she’d expected, so she quickly pulled on the hated red dress and dashed upstairs.

  She stopped at the bathroom, then headed to the kitchen. Kitchens were supposed to be cheerful places, but this one wasn’t. Except for a modern washer and dryer, surrounded by books, the room looked dusty and disused. The floor and countertops were covered with faded linoleum that said “1950,” and the stove and refrigerator were hardly newer than that. Still, the refrigerator was cold inside, not that there was any food. The only contents were two old-fashioned milk bottles that were partially full of something distinctly crimson. She poked one, but couldn’t bring herself to actually pick it up. Disgusted, she turned to the cupboards, but they held only a dusty box of plastic forks and an even dustier box of aluminum foil.

  With no breakfast, she roamed aimlessly through the house. All of the rooms were stuffed with antique furniture and books. It gave the impression that there’d once been an organized house under it all but, thanks to ravenous reading habits and an apparent love of furniture, it had turned into some kind of weird movie set - including the mysterious white door.

  Katelina stood in front of it, her hands on her hips, and waited for it to explain its existence. When it didn’t, she turned the knob uselessly and tried pushing and pulling, but to no avail. It was solidly locked.

  She wanted to kick it, then decided that was childish, so she wandered back to the front room. A bitter wind buffeted the house and leaked in through various cracks. The hearth sat in the far corner, empty and black, and she wished for more logs. Heck, she could do without heat if she just had a distraction of some kind. There were a lot of books stacked up but no TV, no DVDs and no computer – unless Jorick had them hidden behind the locked door.

  Katelina stood in the middle of the room, and scowled. “Something is going to have to change around here or”-

  The thought was interrupted as the front door banged open noisily. A male in a baggy black hoodie dashed inside and then slammed the door loudly.

  “Thank God you’re here!” he cried, his back to Katelina as he snapped the deadbolt into place and peered through the door crack. “You have to get rid of them! I’ve been ducking them for a week now!” His whole body suddenly stiffened, as if he’d just realized who was standing there, and he spun around, his eyes wide. “Who the hell are you?”

  Katelina could only stare at the intruder. He was tall, thin and young; the roundness of his jaw line and baby smooth skin said he might be seventeen. He had a mop of short, black hair that curled around his pale face and large doe eyes. A pair of bright red earbuds hung out of his hoodie pocket and made Katelina think of an iPod commercial – if they had vampire iPod commercials, that is, because a set of fangs was clearly visible in his gaping mouth.

  “Who are you?” he demanded again, advancing on her. “What are you doing here?”

  She stepped back instinctively, her hands up as if to ward him off. “Who am I? Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?”

  He knocked her hands aside and grabbed her by the front of her dress, then peered closely into her face. “You’re with them, aren’t you? What did you do? Follow me here last night? Look, you can just fuckin’ forget it! I already told her-”

  Something banged into the door and the boy jumped and released her. Katelina took a moment to gather her thoughts and then she grabbed the nearest book and flung it at him before she ran back towards the basement.

  “Hey you!” he shrieked, and pounded after her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Running for my life!” Katelina thought, but she was far too scared to say it. Here she was, trying to escape the clutches of some evil vampire, not forty-eight hours after she’d been promised peace!

  As she neared the end of the hall she glanced back over her shoulder to see the intruder nearly on top of her. With a hurried prayer she tried to leap for the basement door, but he was faster than she was and caught her around the middle.

  “Let me go!” she screamed as he hauled her backwards, her arms and legs flailing wildly. “Let me go!”

  Something slammed into the front of the house and the boy dropped to the floor, taking her with him. She swung her fists over her shoulders and connected with his head, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. “Let me go!”

  “Shut up!” he hissed and clamped his hand over her mouth. “Or I’ll make you sorry!”

  She savagely sank her teeth into his palm. He let out a cry of pain and pulled his hand away long enough for her to shout, “When Jorick gets here he’s going to make you sorry!”

  The boy stiffened. “Jorick? You know-”

  “Jorick,” she finished, furiously. “Obviously,
or I wouldn’t be here! Now let me go or-”

  He clamped his hand over her mouth again to muffle her. She struggled, but he hissed in her ear, “If you don’t shut up we’re both going to be sorry!”

  She squirmed in his arms, randomly hitting him, but stopped when she heard a female shout from outside, “I know you’re in there! You might as well open the door!”

  “Like that’s going to happen,” he muttered under his breath. “Crazy bitch.”

  Seconds passed, but the boy didn’t do anything further, only stayed crouched down in the hallway, an arm around Katelina’s waist and a hand over her mouth. She tried to reason out what was going on and came to the conclusion that the kid probably wasn’t a real threat to her, vampire or not. If he’d wanted to kill her he’d have done it by now.

  “Let me go,” Katelina demanded around his hand. “I mean it!”

  Grudgingly, he lowered his hand and loosened the arm around her waist, though he didn’t remove it. “Fine. Then be quiet!”

  She glared at him, though he couldn’t see. The female banged against the outside of the house in a rhythmic pattern, shouting, “Get out here, Loren! You can’t get rid of me that easily! You promised! Loren!”

  “Loren?” Katelina repeated, surprised when the boy answered her.

  “What?”

  “If you’re Loren, then who’s that out there?”

  He shifted uncomfortably, but flinched when someone hammered on the front door. “God damn it, won’t she just go away?”

  The noise was repeated, the female shouted something unintelligible, and then everything went eerily silent. Katelina’s heart pounded in her ears, almost louder than her ragged breathing. Her body tensed, afraid of whoever was outside and what they might do.

  “I am so dead,” Loren whispered miserably and Katelina barely suppressed a squeal of fright at the defeat in his voice. If he was dead then what would she be? If Jorick was here she might have a chance, but this kid – this Loren – looked as good as useless.

  Someone was at the door. They could hear the muffled noises as the deadbolt clicked and the door knob turned, and then they heard the hinges as the door was swung opened and slammed shut again.