Amaranthine Special Edition Vol I

by Naylor, Joleene

  “You can get out now,” came the whisper in her mind. She scowled at Jorick and his intrusion, but he only looked at her with growing impatience. She climbed clumsily out of the casket and tried to ignore the vampires who’d stopped to stare at her. Her whole body ached! And having slept fully dressed, including her coat and stocking hat, hadn’t made it any more comfortable. After a night in a casket, she understood why vampires were in perpetual bad moods.

  Jorick swung easily to his feet. He stepped out, like a dancer pirouetting, and closed the lid while Katelina opened the tattered suitcase. She could feel eyes on her and so she settled for stuffing her hairbrush and deodorant in her pockets; everything else could wait. She snapped the case closed and looked at it uncertainly, then up at Jorick.

  He opened the casket and chucked the suitcase inside, then let the lid drop. “There. No one will bother it.” He held his hand out to her. “Come.”

  She wanted to ask how he could be so sure, but not in front of their audience, so she just took his hand and let him lead her up the stairs. They entered what had once been a kitchen, and the vampire with the tattooed face leered at them from the darkness. Candle light spilled through the open doorway. The flickering light danced on the thick cobwebs and on his sharp, exposed fangs.

  Despite his presence, they passed wordlessly through the kitchen and into the large front room where Oren stood with a random spattering of vampires. A recently ended conversation dangled in the air and left them as silent as ghosts. As Jorick and Katelina approached, Oren turned to face them. Like yesterday, his blonde mane fell lose down his back, and it seemed he had abandoned his usual light, button down shirts for a heavier black sweater. “Ah Jorick, you're awake.”

  Jorick’s tone was somewhere between friendly and suspicious. “So it would seem.” He didn't look anywhere but Oren's face, and yet Katelina got the impression he’d glanced around the entire room and could have told her who, and where, everyone was.

  Oren didn’t respond to Jorick’s comment, but continued. “I know you're not familiar with the way we do things here. We’ve agreed on feeding once we wake. I assume you’re not,” he paused uncertainly. “That you still need to go find… food?”

  Jorick raised a dark eyebrow while Katelina slowly processed the implication. “Yes, I do. I’m not feeding off of her, Oren. I thought you’d know that.”

  A couple of the other vampires snickered, but Oren simply shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. That is the usual reason for keeping a mortal around. It isn’t as though one feeding a day would kill her.” His smile was forced. “But, of course, that isn’t your reason.”

  “No,” Jorick answered flatly. “It isn’t.”

  Oren cleared his throat and went on, “You won't find a lot of humanity roaming out there.” He inclined his head towards the door. “But the wildlife is abundant. They haven't learned to hide from us yet.”

  Jorick nodded his understanding. “That's been my preference of late, anyway.”

  “Yes, I've noticed. Though I recall a time when it wasn't.” His smile turned almost sarcastic, but faded quickly. “Return as soon as you can, we have much planning to do.”

  Jorick nodded, and tugged Katelina’s arm, but she hesitated. She’d accepted a lot of things so far, however this wasn’t going to be one of them. She’d barely dealt with the memory of him and Nirel, and casual feeding was something she didn’t want to see. She could just stay at the house with Oren.

  “Not tonight,” came the silent answer. She shuddered and shook her head no, but Jorick tugged again, this time with more force, and she had no choice except to follow.

  The front door opened onto the broad, snow covered porch, and Jorick pulled her clear to the bottom of the wooden steps before he stopped for her to fasten the coat tightly.

  “I don't want to go.”

  “I'm aware of that, but I'm not leaving you here alone. In case you haven't noticed, little one, I have enemies here.” He turned his face away from her and let his eyes drink in the velvet sky.

  “Really?” she asked sarcastically. She pulled the brush from her pocket and tried to whip her hair into shape. “I don't suppose you intend to tell me what you did to piss them off?”

  He turned his face to her again, his dark eyes smoldering. “You forget, I was an Executioner for many long years. It's not a popular position.”

  “Of course.” She stuffed the brush back into her pocket. The deodorant would have to wait. “This whole place is just fantastic.”

  Jorick caught her hand again and they trooped through the snow, towards the forest at the back of the house. As they walked, she contemplated Jorick’s history. The letters had taught her that he’d quit being an Executioner in the late 1860s, in fact if that had been his last job, then he’d quit in 1868. Many of the vampires in Oren’s war coven didn’t seem that old. In fact, Oren would have to be the oldest in order to lead, right? So, why would the rest hate him? It wasn’t as if he’d done anything to some of them, like the vampire with the tattooed face.

  “Ah, Micah,” Jorick replied out loud. “He just dislikes me on principle.”

  “Really? That’s great.” She couldn’t help but think that out of all the vampires in the world, she’d picked the least popular one. True, she’d never dated what anyone could term a “real winner” yet, so she supposed it made sense that it wouldn’t be any different in the vampire world.

  “I wouldn't say I'm not a winner,” Jorick exclaimed with feigned insult.

  “Would you stop doing that? It’s bad enough that I know you can hear everything I think, but when you comment on it-”

  He interrupted her, grinning, “As you wish. Now, be quiet. I'll have enough trouble with you along. Animals can smell humans and they fear you.”

  “Wonderful.”

  The woods were dark and shadowy. Things scuttled in the branches and underbrush, but always just out of sight. Dead weeds snapped under Katelina’s feet and, though she tried to be quiet, Jorick kept sending waves of irritation at her. She was sure that he imagined abandoning her more than once, but to his credit he didn’t do it. When the frozen minutes had ticked by and her toes had gone to tingles, Jorick managed to scavenge a wounded raccoon from a thicket of undergrowth.

  “Please, tell me you're not…” She released his hand and hung back, thoroughly ill.

  “Turn away if you wish,” he commented lightly, and gently scooped the terrified animal up.

  She wanted to close her eyes, but watched with morbid fascination as the struggling creature suddenly lay still in Jorick’s hands. She was sure he was using a mind trick, or “enchantment”, possibly the one he’d threatened to use on her last night, but she didn't like to contemplate it. Slowly, he lifted the raccoon to his mouth, and she turned away as his teeth punctured the animal’s flesh. She swore she could hear him swallowing; hear the blood sliding down his throat. Her stomach grew light and queasy at the prospect.

  When she finally turned around Jorick had cast the carcass aside into a nearby bush, and was wiping his mouth. “That's revolting,” she stated flatly, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

  “Not nearly as revolting as the way you feed.” His tone was serious, but his eyes twinkled.

  “Yes it is!” Her gaze strayed to the dead lump in the bushes. “Don’t you get fur in your mouth?”

  It seemed to be the last question he expected, but he shrugged. “To a point, yes. It’s unavoidable.”

  “It’s gross! Dirty animal fur in your mouth? And I kiss you? Ugh!” She spit in the snow, as if casting away imaginary hairs.

  His amusement grew. “You find that more repulsive than the rest of it?”

  “What? Oh you mean the, uh…” blood was another word she couldn’t say, so she didn’t. “Well, yeah, kind of. I mean you swallow all of that. But gross, dirty animal hair? Wild animals have fleas! And diseases! And germs! Sure, you can’t get sick, but what’s to stop some glob of gross fur getting lodged in your teeth and incubating some horrible dise
ase that I’ll end up with? Have you thought about that? Has anyone thought about that?”

  Jorick rolled his eyes. “I doubt very much that something like that could happen.”

  “But you don’t know!” she pointed out. “How often are you brushing? And will toothpaste even do anything against Ebola or the Black Plague or any of those other animal diseases?”

  “Ebola?”

  “The monkey disease. You know, those little monkeys? They look all cuddly and then, wham! You’ve got pustules full of blood and you’re dying.”

  He couldn’t hide his mirth. “I’m not exactly feeding on any monkeys, am I?”

  “Not right now, but you never know.” She crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly. “I’m just saying, it’s something you should be concerned with.”

  “Fine.” He held up an appeasing hand. “I’ll avoid monkeys in future, and I’ll check the back of the toothpaste to see if it kills the Black Plague.” She glared and he walked towards her, a look of wry amusement on his face. “You worry about the strangest things, do you know that?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No I don’t. But, speaking of things I worry about, what am I going to eat?” Not that she was hungry anymore.

  He came to a stop before her and looked thoughtful. “How do you feel about raccoon?” He chuckled at her horror stricken face, then turned serious. “Remember? Last night, I bought a collection of that plastic wrapped stuff you find so enjoyable.”

  She started to tell him she was sick of junk food and instant meals, but decided it wasn't worth it. He’d have already read her mind, anyway. “At least you thought of it, I guess,” she commented, her tone morose despite his good intentions.

  “Which is more than you did. I can tell you're not an organizer.” He wrapped his arms around her and folded her shivering form against him. “But it's all right. I know that you modern humans' lives are far too chaotic to take time to think about those things anymore. You're too used to convenience because you have no time for anything else.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” she replied. Her eyes lingered on his face and she could feel his body slowly warm beneath her fingers, as the raccoon’s blood circulated through him.

  “I suppose. If you enjoy it.” He leaned close, until she could feel his breath on her cheek. She stared up into his dark eyes and felt herself drifting away in their depths. She was suddenly keenly aware of him; how close he was, the musky scent of his skin, the warmth that seeped through his shirt.

  A faint smile played on his lips and he made as if to kiss her, but pulled away at the last moment. “I wouldn’t want to give you the black plague,” he murmured with too much amusement.

  Before she could comment, he captured her lips and kissed her deeply. She responded, noting the faint coppery flavor of his breath, and tried not to think about it. After all, she hadn’t caught anything yet, and he didn’t exactly taste like animal fur.

  He released her reluctantly and stepped back, his hands still on her waist. “We should head back. The raccoon will suffice for tonight, but I'm afraid tomorrow I'll need something a bit more substantial.”

  “How much more substantial?” she asked fearfully.

  He saw her look of horror and shrugged it off. “We’ll worry about it when the time comes.”

  At his words her shoulders drooped. “God, I hope by tomorrow we'll be home.”

  He only laughed.

  Half an hour later they gathered in what she’d come to think of as Oren’s study. There were four vampires in all; Oren, Jorick, Anya and the male with dark hair and eyes who Jorick informed her was Fabian from Oren’s old coven; Jesslynn’s brother.

  They were all barely seated when Fabian demanded angrily, “Do we have to have the human present?”

  “Yes,” Jorick replied smoothly, as he caught Katelina’s hand and pulled it onto his leg. Their chairs were close enough to one another to constitute a single piece of furniture.

  “I don't see why,” Fabian continued with outrage. “You should have left her at your den.”

  “Enough,” Oren said quietly and raised his hands to signal for silence. “Jorick is here because Kateesha has already attacked his den once and attempted to kill his hum- Katelina,” he corrected himself quickly.

  Anya smirked. “Well, well, I wondered what woke the slumbering dragon.” Her eyes landed on Jorick. “I should have known. Kateesha’s always had an eye for our raven haired friend.” She reached over and touched Jorick's shoulder. “He’s just so popular, isn’t he?”

  Katelina glared at her, but Anya ignored her completely and continued her only half sarcastic musing, “He may be stubborn and egotistical and have a God complex but, I have to admit, he doesn’t offend the eyes.”

  Katelina had to suppress a smile as Jorick carefully removed Anya’s hand and let it drop, without dignifying her comments with a response.

  “That doesn't matter now,” Oren stated impatiently. “We’re here to discuss a plan, not the finer points of Jorick's personality.”

  “Fine,” Fabian leaned back from the table. “But I've made my objections clear. When she betrays us…”

  “She won’t. She's linked to him,” Oren hissed through gritted teeth. “Now can we please discuss the plan?”

  “Really?” Anya sat up straighter and looked at Jorick in fascination. “You linked a human? What were you thinking?”

  Oren squeezed his eyes shut in frustration and asked tightly, “Can we get on with this?”

  But Fabian went on. “And you think we need his help? He's linking himself to humans now. Who knows what other antiquated rituals he holds with?”

  “We’re not here to squabble like a bunch of children!” Oren cried.

  “How can you be so cold?” Fabian demanded. “It's his fault that the Executioners came. That Jesslynn-”

  “Shut up!” Oren roared and slammed his fist into the table, hard enough to make the hurricane lamp jump. “Her death is my fault alone. Had I not allowed her to break the Laws they'd have left her as they did me.” He regained his composure and spoke slowly, “Now can we please get on with this?”

  “Yes, please,” Jorick agreed, casting a filthy look at Fabian.

  “Fine,” he sneered. “But I did warn you.”

  “Yes, fine, we've been warned.” Oren didn’t bother to hide his annoyance.

  Jorick picked the discussion up, his voice all business. “Now, what are we dealing with? Is she still at the underground den?”

  Oren seemed almost relieved to finally be on track. “Yes. It’s roughly forty-five minutes from us. I assume you remember it?”

  “Vaguely,” Jorick waved his hand dismissively. “It was Claudius’s master war den, if I recall.”

  “Yes,” Oren nodded. “Like the emergency den we infiltrated last month to rescue your – her,” he corrected and nodded towards Katelina. “It’s a small steel building above. But, instead of only a few rooms beneath, like that one, this one is a veritable catacomb of rooms and tunnels.”

  Katelina couldn’t help but flinch at the memories of that place, and she scowled at Oren for bringing it up.

  Jorick just nodded his understanding. “How many are with her?”

  Oren’s eyes slipped away. “She now commands over half of Claudius's old force, plus she had followers of her own, apparently. I knew she’d have a couple, but I had no idea the collection she’d amassed. Of course, as I mentioned, they took casualties in the last battle.”

  “The number?” Jorick asked patiently.

  “Nearly thirty-five after the last battle, I should think,” Oren answered. “And we have eleven.”

  “Eleven?” Jorick echoed incredulously.

  “Twelve with you,” Anya corrected. “Thirteen if you want to count the human.”

  Oren stopped her from commenting further, “Thank you, Anya. At any rate you can see we're outnumbered.”

  “Yes.” Jorick nodded slowly. “And how old is their blood?”

  Fabian grimaced
. “That's where things get complicated.” When no one explained he continued, “She's recruited some who are nearly as old as she is.”

  “But our lovely Jorick still has decades on even Kateesha,” Anya said sarcastically. “Our mighty avenging angel!”

  “Anya, stop!” Oren snapped. “We all understand. You don’t like one another.”

  “Oh, I like Anya,” Fabian declared.

  “Well, I'm not that fond of you.” There was a note of humor in Anya’s voice, so Katelina wasn't sure if she was joking or serious.

  Oren ignored them both. “Never the less, we’re working together. Now,” he turned his face to Jorick. “We brought one of them back after the last altercation.”

  Anya interrupted again, “Yes, he was fun.”

  Oren ignored her again. “Before he was drained, he claimed that Kateesha had more coming to join her.”

  “I see.” Jorick rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We’re outnumbered already, but we still might take the victory, depending on the numbers. How many more?”

  “Ah,” Oren replied hesitantly. “He claimed nearly fifty.”

  “Fifty!” Jorick cried. “And where would she find fifty?"

  It was Anya who supplied the answer. “Mexico, of course.”

  “Eighty-five,” Jorick mused softly, his eyes on Katelina’s hand as though he was using it to calculate. His head snapped up, and he didn’t look enthusiastic. “Eighty-five against twelve? Those aren't promising odds.”

  “No, they're not,” Oren agreed. “But if we can defeat them before the reinforcements arrive…” he trailed off hopefully

  “And one of us takes over her coven,” Jorick finished, matter of fact.

  Oren nodded. “Right.”

  “Who gets this honor?”

  Katelina could feel Jorick’s impatience and rubbed absently at the mark on her neck, as though it were the source of the invisible needles that pricked her.

  “Your claim is unquestioned-” Oren started but Fabian leapt to his feet, his face twisted in anger.