Amaranthine Special Edition Vol I

by Naylor, Joleene

  “We’re here,” Jorick announced uselessly as he opened the car door.

  Katelina climbed reluctantly into the cold and tugged the suitcase out of the car. Jorick moved beside her and offered her a tight attempt at a smile. He took her arm and led her to the house, the snow crunching beneath their feet. In their matching black coats, they looked like a pair of mismatched twins; one tall and elegant, the other short and aggravated.

  “So where are we?”

  Jorick’s voice was soft, “We’re at Oren's new den, of course.”

  Given the very un-electric light that flickered in the windows, the answer made her heart sink. As they approached the sweeping front porch, Jorick pulled her to a stop and gazed at her urgently. His dark eyes swallowed her and his silky voice echoed in her head, “Be careful and trust no one. Oren will not betray me, but I can’t say the same for anyone else. I will protect you, but you must do as I say.” He waited until she nodded and then he led her up the steps to wait for their companion.

  Oren crunched his way across the yard, hands in his pockets. He climbed the stairs and stopped beside them. “Come, they should be expecting us.”

  Jorick stared at the unopened door, distrust in his eyes. “They have an odd way of showing it.”

  “There is a system.” Oren gazed at Jorick with affront. “Would you suspect me now?”

  “I suspect everyone.”

  Oren chose not to comment. Instead, he knocked four times on the door, then waited patiently. Three knocks sounded back and he answered again with another set of four.

  Katelina wondered why they needed secret knocks if they could smell one another. Jorick’s voice cut through her consciousness, answering her unasked question. “Not everyone can. And even if they do, what if it’s a scent they don’t recognize? Do you know who, or what, every smell in the world belongs to?”

  “But wouldn’t they recognize Oren?”

  “Maybe,” Jorick allowed silently. “But Oren is fond of these things. Security measures and such. He’s better at those than real strategy.”

  Before she could answer, the door opened and a familiar red haired vampiress appeared. Her eyes filled with delight when she saw Jorick. “So he came!” Then she noticed Katelina and added, “And he brought his pet.”

  “Yes, Torina,” Jorick responded with little enthusiasm. He caught Katelina’s hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m here. Now move out of the way.”

  “Of course,” Torina purred. “Wouldn't want the little human to get cold out there.” She snickered and drew away from the door to disappear into the darkened house.

  Jorick followed first, then Katelina, and finally Oren, as though they were trying to keep her between them. She wondered why, but, as her eyes adjusted to the light, she understood. In the middle of the room were ten vampires, clustered together like a superhero movie poster. Torina had moved to drape herself over the arm of a muscular, dark skinned vampire, while a pair of dark haired males were busy looking at her cleavage. A pale woman with ebony hair and a regal gaze met Jorick’s eyes impassively, but a blonde woman and a thin, brunette male weren’t so emotionless. Their hostility was only challenged by a dark haired male with eyes that made Katelina think of someone she’d met before. A bald vampire with a tribal tattoo down one side of his face looked only slightly less threatening than they did, and next to him stood what Katelina had hoped would be a friendly face, but Loren refused to look at them.

  The woman with the blonde ponytail stepped forward, her hands on her hips. The “tough” look on her pointed features made Katelina think of an action movie again. “So, you came, Jorick?” she asked sarcastically, appraising him with her eyes. “I’d heard you were busy nesting in your lair.”

  Jorick gazed at her with a bored expression. “Though it’s none of your concern, Anya, this wasn’t my fight.”

  “What makes it your fight now?” she demanded.

  He was unruffled by her hostilities. “That’s not your concern, either. I’m here.”

  She snorted and laid a hand on the thin brunette male. “Oh yes! Come, brother, let us fall on our faces and thank the Gods Jorick came to lead us to victory!”

  Katelina could feel Jorick’s annoyance, but he kept his tone disinterested. “Thank you, Anya, but I ask for no prayers of gratitude. And I have no desire to lead this coven.” He glanced at Oren, who stood just inside the door. “Oren leads you,” Jorick continued, as his eyes moved from face to face. “But you will follow my one command.” He paused and squeezed Katelina's hand tightly. “This is Katelina. She is mine. None of you will touch her. If you do, you’ll die.”

  Silence greeted this pronouncement and then the bald vampire, with the tribal tattoo, smiled wickedly. “So Loren was right? You’re whipped by a little human girl.”

  Jorick narrowed his eyes slightly, but otherwise hid his annoyance well. “If you believe that, then you'll find yourself gravely mistaken.”

  A couple of the other vampires muttered things that Katelina couldn’t catch, though Jorick’s irritation prickled her mind, so she assumed he could. The tension in the room slowly grew until she felt it would suffocate them. She waited for Loren, or even Torina, to comment and diffuse the situation, but neither did. Finally, Oren came to stand behind Jorick and Katelina. He cleared his throat noisily. “Jorick has claimed her.” He grasped the collar of Katelina’s coat roughly and, before she could jerk away, he pulled it back to display her new mark. “If you harm her, you must also deal with me.”

  Murmurs rose again like an ocean tide, and then slowly ebbed into silence.

  “It's late,” Oren said, once quiet had returned. “The sun will rise soon.” He turned from them and started towards a large doorway that led into a dark room. “Come, Jorick.” He motioned with his hand. “I would speak with you.”

  The raven haired vampire nodded and followed, tugging Katelina with him. She glanced back at the group, in search of Loren, but he’d already disappeared.

  They passed through lofty doorways and two shadowed rooms. The cold winter wind howled around the house and Katelina shivered. It was barely warmer inside than out! Heat wasn’t the only thing lacking, though. There were no electric lamps, just candles, which led Katelina to the conclusion that there was no electricity.

  They came at last to a carved door. Oren opened it and allowed them to pass through into a small room that was papered in white with delicate blue roses, though water stains marred the walls; yellow and blotchy. A small table sat in the middle of the bare floor, surrounded by four chairs. On the farthest wall, next to a grimy window, hung a large, heavily framed portrait. Katelina recognized the subjects as Jesslynn, Oren’s dead wife, and their vampire children, Alexander and Tristan, who the Executioners had killed. The corner of the frame was scorched and Katelina pictured Oren battling flames to save the painting, tongues of fire licking it as it hung against a wall in the burning manor, as if he could somehow save those he loved, even though it was too late.

  She was brought back to the present when Oren lit a hurricane lamp, and then took a seat. He studied Jorick and Katelina a moment before he commented, “She can have one of the bedrooms upstairs. Despite the lack of electricity, I believe there are enough remnants here to make her comfortable. Perhaps-”

  Jorick cut him off, “No, she sleeps with me.”

  “As you wish.” Oren shrugged, his strange golden eyes blank. “There are coffins, of course. Herrick's was the largest, though with two you’ll still find it cramped.”

  “I'm sure it's fine.” Jorick pulled a chair up to the table and motioned for Katelina to take it.

  She took the offered seat and let the suitcase drop noisily to the floor. “So, what happened to Herrick?”

  Oren glanced at her, as though annoyed to have to acknowledge her existence. “He was killed.”

  “Oh.” She had nothing else to say, so she huddled down in her coat and tried to Wizard of Oz herself away. “There’s’ no place like home. There�
�s no place like home.” It didn’t work.

  Oren watched Jorick with questioning eyes. When he stayed silent, Oren started the conversation, “You’ve declined to lead.”

  Jorick casually laid his hands on the back of Katelina’s chair. “I’m not here to lead your war. I agreed to take my revenge against Kateesha, nothing more.”

  Oren cleared his throat loudly. “The right is yours, by age alone. Should you change your mind...” he trailed off, though the implications were clear.

  “I won't,” Jorick replied firmly. “It was your war with Claudius; this is your war with Kateesha. I will no more lead this war than I led that one.”

  Oren nodded, but his shoulders seemed to sag just a little. “Then we have nothing else to discuss.” He straightened himself. “We’ll make our plans on the next eve. I suggest you get settled in. There’s a basement. Just follow the rooms and you’ll find it.”

  “Thank you.” Jorick tugged Katelina's arm gently. She stood and they slipped out of the room. Jorick pulled the door closed behind them, but made no move to continue on. Katelina gazed at him questioningly.

  “The group has dispersed, now that the entertainment is over,” his voice whispered silently inside her mind. She started to speak but stopped at his warning look. “Be careful even of what you think. There are those who can read minds. Though, they may not be able to read mine, they can read yours and will be privy to anything you are. We must be careful.”

  She nodded in understanding and Jorick squeezed her hand encouragingly. “It will be all right. Trust me.”

  She wanted to say that she trusted him, or she wouldn’t be there at all, but it was pointless. He’d have heard the thought already.

  He gave her a smile to let her know she was right. Then, he led her through the house to a narrow door, and down a set of old stairs, into a basement that smelled of damp and mildew. The walls were made of stacked stones and the packed floor was littered with coffins and caskets in varying sizes and colors. Three heavy candelabras were situated around the room, candles flickering from them. The group of vampires that stood among them stared silently at Jorick and Katelina. It was as though their conversations had stopped, mid sentence, the moment they’d appeared.

  Katelina shivered at their animosity, but one of them was worse than the others; Anya, the blonde action movie double. She sneered at them haughtily until Katelina decided that she preferred Torina’s mocking remarks to the woman’s behavior. Jorick ignored her, however, and led Katelina to the largest of the caskets; an emerald green number with silver accents that had obviously been made for a large person.

  Not to be dismissed so easily, Anya drawled sarcastically, “Surely, you don't keep her in your coffin with you, Jorick?”

  “I keep her wherever I wish,” he answered firmly. His eyes swept the room, challenging anyone else to remark on his habits. Katelina could feel his bristling displeasure and she thought what a very bad idea coming there had been. They should have stayed in the little house by the sea, where they were safe.

  A few of the vampires snickered, though Anya was the loudest. “As you wish, oh, mighty Jorick.” She gave a sweeping, mock bow. “Who am I to tell you where to keep your midday snack?”

  Jorick refused to dignify her remark with an answer. He busied himself with the casket; he surveyed the velvet lined interior and studied the lid, which someone had welded into a single large piece instead of the two halves used to display the corpse.

  Corpse. That was a disturbing idea. Even more disturbing was that, though larger than the others, the space inside was too small to be comfortable.

  Jorick climbed inside first. His body slid elegantly into place, and he scooted against one side to leave her the smallest of spaces. Katelina dropped the suitcase next to the casket, for want of anything else to do with it. She tried to climb in next to Jorick gracefully, but she fumbled and her audience snickered. Her cheeks tinted bright red as she forced herself into the tiny space. She was barely situated, laying more on top of Jorick than next to him, when he reached over her and pulled the lid closed. It shut with a noise of finality that echoed sickeningly in her stomach. The darkness was too thick and too breathless, the space too cramped; she was going to suffocate trapped inside a casket all day.

  Jorick moved his lips against her ear, his voice soft and reassuring, “No you won't. You're perfectly fine. I’ve left the lid cracked. Relax.”

  She tried to shake her head and express that she was not all right, but soft, soothing waves wrapped around her mind instead.

  “Relax,” he whispered again, his voice rich and lyrical; commanding her.

  She fought against it. “No. Jorick, it’s a coffin.”

  He sighed with only minimal impatience. “You were in one after the battle with Claudius and you survived.”

  “But that was just a wooden box,” she pointed out. “It was bigger than this and it was just wood. This is like steel or titanium or something.”

  “I doubt that. It’s probably aluminum. But,” he continued, before she could argue the point. “It’s no different than it was then. It’s a box with a lid that opens and closes. If anything, this one is newer and cushier.”

  “It’s a coffin!”

  “Actually, it’s a casket,” he murmured absently. “There’s a difference.” She made a low noise in her throat, and he went on, “Either way, we’ve established that. Now, go to sleep, little one, and don’t make me enchant you, because I will if I have to.”

  “Enchant? What? You’re a sorcerer now?”

  He sighed, almost imperceptibly. “You know what I mean. If you have a better word for it, then let me know.”

  She tried to think of one, and he went on as though there’d been no interruption. “Now go to sleep. Just close your eyes and rest. Tomorrow will be no better than today. Pray to your God that it ends swiftly.”

  She wanted to argue with him, but she remembered his warning. The idea that some of the other vampires could hear her thoughts made her shiver. She pressed her face against his chest and let his comforting scent fill her nostrils while she repeated to herself, “I’m all right. I’m all right. It’s all right.”

  As if in response, Jorick slowly slipped an arm around her and squeezed her tightly. “Yes, you’re all right. Now good night, little one.”

  “Good night,” she murmured in return and closed her eyes against the oppressive darkness. “Pray to your God,” he'd said. Oh yes, she thought. She intended to pray to God and to everyone else she could think of.

  **********

  Chapter Twelve

  Katelina woke the next evening to a face full of black. A wave of panic crashed through her. She tried to move, but she was pressed tightly against Jorick’s cold body and jammed in a small box with no air. The tattered remnants of nightmares clung to her, and the oppressive darkness held them close and refused to let them melt away.

  She tried to open the lid, but her arms were trapped beneath her. She needed air, and light. She needed to be reminded that she was alive and not dead.

  Jorick stirred beneath her, woken by either the tiny butterflies of her fear brushing against his consciousness, or her attempts to escape. He took a deep, shuddering breath and shifted so that his hand lay on her shoulder. “Katelina?” he murmured uncertainly, his concern a palpable entity that filled what space was left around them. “What’s wrong?”

  “I need out of here!” she whispered, her voice tight and high. “I can’t breathe! These things are air tight!”

  “What?“ It took him a moment to differentiate between a physical ailment and panic. Once he did, he soothed her softly, “You’re all right. You’re obviously breathing or you wouldn’t be talking. Rarely is anything as air or water tight as advertised, besides, I left the lid cracked, remember?” His tone suddenly turned serious. “I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to it. It’s very likely that you’ll be sleeping in here with me for many nights to come. Unless, you'd rather take a chance and hope that
someone with a grudge to settle doesn't wake before I do?”

  She suddenly forgot that she was suffocating. “What do you mean wake before you do? Don't you all wake up at the same time?”

  “No, each wakes on their own, at their own time,” he explained calmly. “Some at full night, and others while the sun is still sinking. It just depends.”

  “Of course they do. And exactly when do you wake up?”

  “Usually as the last edge of the sun has disappeared. There are exceptions, of course. Like you, I can be woken early by any manner of things.” He fell silent. “I believe we’ve discussed this before.”

  “When?” she asked, but then she remembered the fight at Oren’s first house, when he’d told her that vampires could be awake in the daytime. “Oh. Yeah. I don’t understand why we have to sleep in one of these, anyway. You don’t at home.”

  “When a vampire isn’t at home, it’s easier. Not only is it added protection in the event of windows, which this basement has, by the way, but it’s a protection against others. If someone sneaks up on us while we’re in bed there’d be much less warning than if they have to open a noisy lid.”

  “That and Oren likes them,” she grumbled, the memory of his old coffin filled basement rose in her mind.

  “Yes, he does. A lot of vampires do, simply because it’s cliché.” He shifted effortlessly and raised his palm to the lid. “Come, we'll rise now.”

  Jorick swung the heavy lid up and open, as though it was made of cardboard, and then waited for her to move. She sat up stiffly and looked around the basement. Some of the other coffins were already open and empty, while a couple of vampires were in the process of getting out of theirs’. Her eyes dropped away quickly, as if she’d seen something she shouldn’t have.