“I never said you were.” She forced the animosity out of her voice and asked, “What happened to her?”
“She died,” his tone softened as well. “She was killed by a group of soldiers.”
Katelina waited, but when no more details came she managed an, “Oh.”
“I'm not going to give you a history lesson, so don't bother asking for one.” Despite that, he added, “Her name was Tryne, but it doesn't matter. It was a long, long time ago.”
“Maybe it doesn't matter to you, but did you ever stop to think it might matter to me?”
His surprise washed through her. “Why?”
“Because it's what's happened that makes a person who they are. I don't even know your last name.”
“I don't have one, at least not in the same way the modern masses do. I was once called Jorick de Lange, if that makes you feel better.”
Her initial thought was that de Lange sounded like a surname to her, but, she didn’t have time to voice it before he answered the thought.
“The modern surnames are family names,” he explained. “You have the same surname as your father and he as his, etcetera. De Lange isn't a family name, it's more like a nickname; an identifier to distinguish myself from another Jorick. It roughly means ‘the tall Jorick’.” He dropped off into thought and Katelina finally coughed loudly to get his attention. “Yes?”
“You were saying?”
“I was finished, actually.”
She could almost hear him smirk, so ignored the statement. “So, de Lange is the name you use, then?”
“No, not really. I'd have to say my favorite is Smit. Nice and simple.”
Smit. She recognized that name from the faded envelopes. Velnya Smit. His wife. Of course she’d have had whatever passed for his last name.
Jorick interrupted her thoughts. “Either way, this conversation grows wearisome.”
They passed close to another small town. Jorick contemplated the building at an abandoned car lot, but most of the roof was missing, so they passed it up and hoped to find something better before dawn. Katelina was ready to cheer when they topped a steep hill to see a broad glow in the distance, but Jorick told her there was no way they’d make it before sun up.
He was right. Half an hour later the sky started to turn a pale gray to the east. Luckily, they spotted a barn from the road and cut across a lumpy, snow covered field to get to it.
“This is trespassing,” Katelina pointed out, ankle deep in snow. “It’s illegal.”
“A lot of things are illegal,” Jorick commented casually. “Though, if we could hurry? I don’t mean to be overly anxious, but there really isn’t much time. I kept putting this off, hoping we’d get to the town, after all.”
“And we would have if I wasn’t so slow, is that it?”
He held up a hand to silence her. “I never said that. Now, please. We do need to hurry.”
Her shoes were full of snow when they reached the peeling barn. Jorick surveyed it quickly and found it solid enough for their purpose. “Come,” he gestured with his hand. “This will be fine.”
They ducked inside and the smell of moldy straw smacked them in the face. “You’re not really planning on sleeping here?” she asked, horror stricken.
“It could be worse.” Jorick left her just inside the doorway and scouted around the dirty, damp building. When he found a suitable place, he called to her. Her feet and legs hurt so bad that she could only shuffle towards the sound of his voice. Maybe he was right. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, so long as she got to sit down!
The darkness made it hard to find him, but at last she stumbled on him, crouched in the corner of an old stall, his face a patch of pale night. “I doubt it’s up to your standards,” he joked.
She knelt next to him and let her eyes adjust to the dark until she could see his hands and the blanket like object he held. “And how is this going to be light proof?”
He shook the “blanket” and it rustled noisily; plastic against plastic. That’s when she realized it was a large plastic coated tarp, the kind her uncle had used to cover the bed of his pickup when he hauled firewood in bad weather.
“You’re kidding?” she asked hopefully.
He shook his head; the pale patch moving side to side in the darkness. “No, I’m not.”
“But I’ll be suffocated. I need air, unlike some of us.”
He responded in exasperation. “I can’t help it if I’m more evolved than you and don’t need it anymore. You breathed fine in the casket and it was a tighter fit than this. You’re just obsessed with suffocating.”
“I’m not obsessed. I just want air.”
“You’ll have air!” he cried and then threw up his hands. “Never mind. Do what you want, I’m going to sleep. Believe it or not I’m tired after fighting and then carrying you for miles.”
“Imagine that,” she muttered darkly. “Me too.”
“Then be quiet.” He spread the tarp out and noisily climbed beneath it while she huddled in the corner of the stall, her knees pulled against her chest for warmth.
Jorick’s muffled voice came from under the tarp, “You should take off your shoes and your socks. They’re probably wet. Unless you want frost bite.” She started to tell him he was crazy, but with a sigh did as he suggested and draped the wet socks nearby. Her feet bare, she managed to curl herself into a shivering ball inside the black coat.
“You know, you’d be warmer under here,” his muffled voice came again.
“Yeah, and I’d suffocate.”
“Suit yourself, Katelina. Goodnight.”
“Yeah, good night.” She huddled deeper into the coat and tried to close her eyes. Really, she didn’t think she’d ever been so cold in her whole life.
**********
Chapter Sixteen
Darkness stole through the dilapidated barn and found Katelina huddled underneath the dirty, smelly tarp with only a sliver of her face exposed. Her body was curled against Jorick's in search of warmth, but he was like lying against a block of ice – and then the ice stirred.
Jorick took the deep, shuddering breath that signaled he was awake, then he rolled over and jerked the make shift covering off of them. In the gloom she could just see his dark eyes meeting hers. “Good morning.”
She stared at him, incredulous that he could say that. “N-nothing good about it,” she chattered.
He was startled at her condition. “I didn't realize it was that cold.”
“Well, i-it is,” she tried to snap, but the effect was ruined. “I'm f-freezing.”
“Obviously.” He slid his hands under her black coat, and she recoiled instantly at his icy touch. “Sorry,” he murmured, as he tried to chafe some warmth into her arms.
“Y-you're so c-cold,” she commented between her teeth. “Y-you’re not usually th-that cold.”
He arched a perfect eyebrow at her. “No, but I’m not usually sleeping in a barn in the winter time.” She tried to frown, and he explained patiently, “Think of it like a reptile. They don’t produce their own body heat, so they’re no colder, or warmer, than their surroundings. It’s the same with me. I realize that modern culture would label a vampire as being ‘cold as the grave’ at all times, but that’s absurd. You only associate a freezing body with death because you refrigerate your corpses now. I assure you that an unrefrigerated corpse is not ice cold.” He stopped at her look of horror and withdrew his hands. “Never mind.”
She didn’t bother to reply, and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He worked on her back through her coat, and she burrowed her head against his frigid chest, more from habit than anything else. Jorick took a long, slow breath, and then said reluctantly, “I'm sorry for being impatient with you last night. Just like you, I,” he paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “I forget sometimes that you're… different. I should have taken it into consideration.”
“It's all r-right,” she stammered, still shivering. He released her, only to recapture h
er and claim her lips in a deep, cold kiss. Then they broke apart, and he stood and started picking hay from his hair.
Katelina pulled on her shoes and socks, then she allowed Jorick to tug her gently to her feet.
“It isn't far,” he assured her. “We'll get a room and you can warm up while I find you something to eat, then we'll figure out what to do.”
She looked at him in mild surprise. “And how do you know there’s a motel?”
He smiled. “Not to sound like Loren, but, I’m just that good.”
“Of course you are.” She rolled her eyes at his egotism. “You’re perfect after all. How could I have forgotten?”
Snow had fallen while they’d slept. Only a single pair of ruts marked the once clean road, and the dark trees were sprinkled with a dusting like powdered sugar. Though Jorick offered to carry Katelina, she declined because walking would stave off hypothermia. Jorick muttered that she wouldn’t freeze, but he didn’t sound as confident as he had last night.
They followed the winding gravel road towards civilization. The nearer they got, the closer the trees seemed to get, as if they thought to stop them with a well aimed grab of their naked branches. The imagined enemy made Katelina nervous, and she walked as close to Jorick as she could.
By the time they reached the town, Katelina’s stomach grumbled loudly and every inch of her ached. There was a gas station but Jorick only pointed to a motel farther down the street and explained that the sooner they got there, the sooner she could warm up.
Their progress to the motel was slow, but once inside the office, the first thing she was aware of was the warmth. The heat burned her face and, in a matter of seconds, she felt too hot. Jorick, however, leaned casually on the counter. His half smile showed that the temperature hadn’t affected him in the slightest.
A balding man with a ticklish mustache appeared, and started the short, but annoying sign in procedures. Katelina tried to hide her surprise when Jorick flashed some sort of ID. How had he gotten a driver’s license? And then, even more surprising, was the tidy fold of cash he took from his pocket to pay for the room. Where had that come from? A suspicion loomed in her mind, but it was one she didn’t like to contemplate. Besides, when had he been alone to get a human victim he could rob?
Their room wasn’t too far, and though it was nothing unusual, it was a welcome sight. Katelina sat gingerly on the bed, stripped her shoes and socks and tried to rub life back into her purple toes while Jorick took an amble around the room, poking at this and that. “Yes, it’s a small window. I think the two dressers will suffice,” he murmured absently. Then, he stopped in front of her and announced, “I’ll be back with some food.”
She gazed up at him miserably, so he leaned down and kissed her. “Lock the door after me, and don’t let anyone in.”
A moment later he was gone. She forced herself across the room and locked every metal apparatus on the door. Then she cranked the heater up and headed for the bathroom and a shower. Thankfully there was a packet of shampoo and a miniature bar of soap so she could wash away the smell of moldy hay. If only she could wash all the unpleasantness away that easily.
Her mind turned to Oren and his accusations. The idea that Jorick was spying for Kateesha was ridiculous.
Wasn’t it?
“Of course it is,” she told herself quickly. Jorick hated Kateesha, though, he’d never used the word, and he wouldn’t help her. Still, the fact remained that someone had been betraying people for some time. Or else a lot of someones. It had been Patrick who’d told Michael where Arowenia was, and Michael who’d told Claudius. And Kateesha had betrayed them all and made a deal with Troy. So, who was it this time? The butler, maybe? The whole set up was like a plot from a 1930s espionage movie where, right before the credits rolled, it was revealed that all along there’d been one master mind pulling the strings.
She finished her shower and wrapped herself in a fluffy, dry towel, then headed for the bed. She got as far as turning down the blankets when Jorick's voice whispered through her mind like silk, “I'm back and I have company.”
She leapt at the sudden intrusion, and stared around wildly as if the company would be standing in the room with her. “What? Who? I have to get dressed first.”
“All right,” he replied silently. “We're standing outside, waiting.”
She looked longingly at the bed, where she’d planned to burrow under the blankets, then collected her smelly clothes from the floor and headed back to the bathroom. When she was dressed, she headed for the door, and opened it, a scowl on her face, and the stench of hay heavy in her nose. Without a word, Jorick entered, carrying a fast food bag and the tatty suitcase they’d abandoned at Oren’s. She started to ask how he’d gotten it, but then she saw their visitor; it was Micah, the vampire with the tattooed face.
Jorick set the suitcase on the floor and met her eyes, his face all caution. “Hello, Katelina. I've brought company.” He handed her the bag, then inclined his head to the visitor. “This is Micah, I believe you've met.”
Katelina scowled, and Micah gave her a hard look. “We haven't been introduced and that's fine with me. I don't like to know dinner on a first name basis.”
Jorick bristled. “She's no one's dinner, and you'll do well to remember it.”
“Yeah, whatever. We've discussed this already. I'm not here because I agree with your policies or any of that shit. I'm here because if someone doesn't do something, we’ll all end up dead.”
“So you've said,” Jorick murmured and closed the door that Micah had left standing open. “You still haven't bothered to elaborate.”
Micah pulled up a shabby chair from the table near the window, and dropped into it. Comfortable, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, then went on as though Jorick hadn’t spoken. “I tried to tell Oren, but you know how he is, he won't listen to shit, especially if you don't have ‘old blood’.” He rolled his eyes sarcastically.
Katelina heard his words, but her attention was riveted to the cigarettes. As if he recognized the longing in her eyes, Micah tossed the pack and the lighter at her. “Knock yourself out.” She scrambled to dump a cigarette out as he went on, “It was Thomas who fucking told Kateesha, but no one will listen.”
She lit her cigarette and took a deep, satisfying drag that left her hoarse when she asked, “Who’s Thomas?”
“Anya’s younger brother,” Jorick explained. “He was there, but you weren’t introduced to him.”
Micah snorted. “The scrawny little shit with brown hair. All you gotta do is look at him and you know he’s a pussy.” Katelina couldn’t quite place him, but she tossed the pack back to its owner and the conversation went on without her. “He'’ only in the coven to report back movements, but no one wants to hear it. You'd think because he’s Anya’s brother it makes him exempt from everything. Idiots.”
“I imagine your news wasn’t greeted enthusiastically,” Jorick agreed
“No shit.” Micah rolled his eyes. “Anya had a fucking bitch fit and it went downhill from there.”
“I don't suppose you mind if I ask how you know it was Thomas?”
“What? You think I’m up to something? The fact that I’d defend you should say something. I don't like you, I don't like your human, and I bet neither of you like me, either.” He took an extra long drag before he smashed his cigarette out in the tiny glass ashtray. “I know it was him, because the dimwit fucking told me. He was gloating about how they blamed it on you and how fuckin' funny he thought it was. Guess he figured since we hated each other, I'd clap him on the back and say way to go, or some shit. But it's my fucking life he put on the line too, and I don't think that's very fucking funny.” His eyes hardened. “I ain't dyin' for no one, least of all Thomas!”
Jorick was silent, brooding on what he'd heard, and Katelina laid her cigarette aside to eat. The fast food bag rustled loudly in the tight silence and drew the attention of both vampires.
Micah’s voice dripped with disgust, “
If she's eating I'm out of here, I can't deal with their fucking chewing – makes me sick.” His nose wrinkled and he looked away from her.
“It makes you jealous,” Jorick said bluntly. “You're too new to find it so revolting.” He switched back to the topic at hand. “I don't suppose Thomas told you any of their plans?”
“No,” Micah snapped. “I grabbed him by his throat and threatened to rip his windpipe out.”
Jorick shook his head in exasperation. “Well, you destroyed whatever advantage might have been gained, then. So, what do you want me to do about it?”
The bald vampire gaped. “What the fuck? What's that supposed to mean? Why don't you try sucking up your fucking temper tantrum and go kick the shit out of that jack ass, knock some sense into Oren and tell them all to get off their asses and quit whining like babies?” He banged an emphatic fist into the tabletop.
“And what if I don't care?” Jorick asked mildly. “I intend to deal with Kateesha, myself.”
Micah made a sound of disgust in his throat and stood. “I thought you gave a fuck about Oren. Maybe I was wrong?”
Jorick relented, but his voice stayed emotionless. “Tell Oren to meet me tomorrow night. If he comes we'll see what I can do. If he chooses not to…” he left the sentence unfinished and shrugged elegantly.
“That's it then?” Micah asked in disbelief. “After all the shit I’ve heard about you, that’s all you’ve got?”
Without blinking, Jorick replied, “What did you expect? I'd rush out and rearrange everything to right?”
“Something like that,” Micah admitted, obviously at a loss, then his face clouded. “Thanks for fucking wasting my time!”
“It's Oren's choice whether your time was wasted or not. Give him my message. It's in his hands now.”
Micah growled low and stormed to the door, but paused with his hand on the doorknob. “I don’t know why the fuck Oren went to get you. I can't even figure out how you got mixed up in the whole thing.”
Jorick gazed at him coldly. “If you must know, I got involved by accident.”
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