“If they’re strong enough to pose a challenge, then their minds are probably too strong. As for Kateesha,” he broke off and pulled in a tight breath. “I’ve told you before that I can’t read her mind. If I could, I’d have known what she was up to before she ever betrayed us.”
She didn’t remember the conversation, but he had a valid point. “Why can’t you read her mind? I thought you could read everyone’s?”
“No, not everyone’s. There are those who are far older and more powerful than me, and those who are stronger, and those who have a natural immunity. I imagine Kateesha falls into the latter category, or perhaps it’s because we had the same Master.”
Katelina shivered as she thought about the dark demoness and her vengefully gleaming eyes behind she imagined a shadowy master figure. “I don’t suppose you can read Malick’s mind, either?”
“No. And I doubt I’d want to.” Jorick changed the topic with an attempted smile. “All of this talking isn’t leading to sleep. We can talk tonight. In the meantime-”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m just… wound up.”
He gazed at her sympathetically, then drew her to him and held her close. His familiar scent filled her nose and his strong arms chased away the imaginary phantoms. “It’s going to be all right, little one. Trust me.”
Despite the comfort of his presence, she wasn’t convinced.
When Jorick shook Katelina that evening, it was with reluctance that she woke at all. He stood next to the bed, and her tired eyes found their focus in his face. She asked sleepily, “A little early isn’t it?”
“Not at all.” He pulled on his long black coat, more for appearances than anything else. “We have a long night ahead of us. Come. Get up, get dressed.” He started towards the door and then stopped and looked back to catch her eyes. “Dress warmly, but don’t encumber yourself.” He waited, as if gauging her reaction, then slipped quietly out the door, no doubt to feed.
Katelina yawned loudly and climbed out of bed. Her stomach was a nest of butterflies and her every nerve tingled with expectant terror. Now that the time had come to actually go, all she wanted to do was hide somewhere far, far away. Maybe California. She’d heard it was nice this time of year.
Instead of running for warm beaches, she brushed her hair and tied it back in a bun. Then, she dressed as warmly as she could without being “encumbered”, as he’d so poetically put it. She stared into the mirror above the chipped sink, and let her eyes linger over the face presented to her. Fearful blue eyes stared back, ringed in red from lack of sleep. Dark smudges underneath them revealed a lack of rest in general. Her skin was pale; skin that hadn’t seen real sunlight in over a month. Maybe she really should go to California, after all. She could use the tan.
By the time she was dressed and ready to go, Jorick had returned. His expression was grim and his voice emotionless. “You’re ready?”
“Yeah, I guess.” But even as she nodded, her stomach twisted and her heart raced. She wanted to suggest they just forget it. So what if Oren was counting on them to go in and handle the dirty work while he was elsewhere? What had Oren ever done for them?
“Enough,” Jorick said softly. His eyes flicked from the digital alarm clock to her face. “He’s done enough.”
“I doubt it,” she grumbled.
“It doesn’t matter. We’re not going for Oren, anyway.”
She sighed heavily. “Fine. Then, how are we getting there?”
“We’re not walking, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The shadow of a smile danced across his lips. “We have a ride.”
“A ride?” She cocked her head skeptically. “What sort of ride? It’s not that horrible Micah is it?” She wasn’t sure she could deal with him right now. Though, he did have cigarettes.
“No. It’s Loren. He agreed to drop us off near Kateesha’s den. The war coven is meeting farther down the road, so they won’t notice.” Jorick’s smile was almost smug, and his fangs glittered with an odd self satisfaction.
The motel room was slowly becoming too warm, and Katelina shifted from one foot to the other. Her eyes strayed to the clock and then back to Jorick. She felt like jumping up and down just to relieve the tension. “We’re going sometime this year, right?”
“Yes. He should be here any moment.” Though Jorick appeared outwardly calm, his impatience needled at her mind and he glanced around the room, like a vacationer who was checking out and trying to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. She wished that she could hear his thoughts, like he could hear hers.
“Do you really?” he asked lightly. “Once you hear something you can’t unhear it.”
She was suddenly concerned. “You’re saying I wouldn’t like them?”
“Who am I to say what you’d like or wouldn’t like?” The conversation was cut off when a car pulled up outside and the engine fell to an idle. “He’s here.” Jorick met her eyes and she could feel his conflicting emotions. “If you really must know, I’m trying to decide whether to leave you here where you’d be safe, or take you with me.” She opened her mouth, but he went on, over her would-be objections. “I can’t help it, Katelina. I want to protect you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He met her eyes, asking for understanding. “You wanted to know what I’m thinking, and that’s it. But, I already agreed you could go, if you wished it, and I won’t break my word. The choice is still yours.”
“I’m going.”
He nodded his head, but there was no satisfaction in it. “In that case, come.” He waited for her by the door, then took her hand and led her outside. She paused on the threshold and glanced back with an all too familiar sense of déjà vu; it was like leaving her apartment all over again.
Loren’s small gray car was parked at an angle across two snowy parking spaces. Jorick opened the back door and waited for Katelina to slide inside first. Once she was seated, he climbed in next to her. Katelina glanced up to see Loren in the driver’s seat, and in the passenger seat was-
“You’re bringing her?” Micah demanded, a sneer on his tattooed face. He hadn’t bothered with a coat, or even trying to look normal. His bald head gleamed under the dome light, and his arms were crossed over the black vest he wore like a shirt.
“Yes,” Jorick answered calmly.
Micah snorted. “Thank God you’re not officially with us. I ain’t watching out for her.” He muttered something under his breath, but turned his face and attention forward.
Jorick growled low and Katelina could feel his annoyance. Still, he stayed silent.
The air quivered with tension. Loren was focused on the road as he drove out of town and into the country. Not once did he utter a single syllable. Micah, on the other hand, made several rude remarks. He suggested that Jorick could use his coffin to bury Katelina in once Kateesha had finished with her, and followed that up by insinuating they’d never get inside, anyway. Jorick commented occasionally, but for the most part he stared out the window, his hand wrapped tightly around Katelina’s.
Loren pulled the car to a stop along the side of a snow covered road. The ditch loomed deep and black on one side of them. “All right,” he said suddenly, as if to prove he hadn’t gone mute, after all. “Just walk down to that corner and then head south along the road for about a mile. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you.” Jorick opened the door, and climbed out smoothly. Katelina followed uncertainly, her eyes on the back of Loren’s head. She felt like she should say something to him, but she didn’t know what.
Before she could find the words, Jorick closed the door and Loren revved the engine loudly. Jorick pulled Katelina out of the way just as the car jumped forward, spraying chunks of snow behind it.
“That was fast!” she snapped, as she watched the car disappear. “I thought you made up?”
“I told you that we put aside our differences,” Jorick answered quietly. “I never said that we were the best of friends.”
They stood in the middle of the road and
silence soon replaced the roar of the engine. Katelina’s heart pounded as the reality of the situation became clear. There was nothing to distract her terrified mind anymore. They were going into a vampire den, they were going to go face Kateesha again and they were going to die.
Jorick caught Katelina’s hand in his and said softly, almost hypnotically, “It will be all right.”
A cool calmness began to descend and she started to sink into it and let her panic dissolve. But then, she recognized it for what it was, and jerked away from the artificial emotion. “Don’t.”
“Just trying to help,” Jorick said innocently and shrugged. “Let’s get moving.”
She sighed heavily and nodded her head. “All right. Let’s go.”
The pair trooped towards their destination, two black figures against the whiteness of the snow, the swamp of star strewn night stretched endlessly before them. Their breath exhaled in puffy clouds that billowed into the darkness, but disappeared into nothing, so that only the footprints they left behind proved they’d ever passed that way.
To avoid detection, they abandoned the road in favor of the deep, dark ditches. Jorick then declared that they must take the long way around and walk into the wind, to keep their scent from carrying to Kateesha’s guards. Despite his caution, Katelina was still gloomily positive that they were both going to end up dead. Really, what other choice was there? She’d been involved in a few skirmishes before, but not anything like this.
She was still contemplating that when a tin structure came into view; a long building of tan and white corrugated metal that stood all alone in a windswept field of snow. Nothing moved, except the rustling weeds. They were the only sound in a world that had suddenly gone as silent as a black tomb.
Katelina shivered at her overactive imagination, and followed Jorick closer to the building. Suddenly, he dropped into a crouch, and tugged her down with him.
“We wait for the others,” he whispered in her mind.
She nodded. They had no hope of getting through the doors without the distraction of the main assault. Hopefully Oren’s group actually made an appearance.
Jorick looked, and felt, calm at the delay, but it just made Katelina feel worse. If only they didn’t have to sit, waiting and staring at the metal building. Every frozen minute that slid past might be her last, and she wanted to grab them up in her clenched fist but, at the same time, she wished it was done and over with, so that this horror would be lost to a new one.
“It’s not too late.” The words whispered through her mind. She wasn’t sure if they were hers, or Jorick’s, but either way they were there. “No,” she told herself softly. “It’s not too late.” She could still say she didn’t want to do this, still climb back out of that ditch and turn back towards safety.
Her eyes snuck sideways on their own to take in Jorick’s face: his perfect profile, the way his black hair fell down past his shoulders in a river of darkness. He stared straight ahead, his lips set in an expression devoid of emotion. He was truly beautiful, probably more so than anyone she’d ever seen before. Was beautiful worth dying for?
A strange ache spread through her chest, and she knew that he was more than just something to look at. If he wasn’t, she’d be safe in the motel instead of caring about what he thought. That was why she was there, wasn’t it? So that he wouldn’t think she was a coward. Ever since he’d seemingly appeared from nowhere, she’d been trying to impress him. She wanted him to think she was beautiful, smart and, most of all, that she wasn’t afraid. She didn’t want him to think of her as a weak creature that was beneath him; something pathetic and useless. She’d demanded to be included, survived untold horror, and done her best not to go berserk at the sight of blood, vampires and killing. Here, finally, was the ultimate test, and if she balked now, she’d have failed utterly.
Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if that was worth dying for, or worse, being turned into some monstrous creature? That’s what they were, she reminded herself. Vampires were monsters; nightmares that walked the earth like flitting shadows.
Looking at Jorick made it hard to think those words and really cling to them anymore. Perhaps she’d finally accepted what he was. She just couldn’t look at him and think ‘monster’, and she wasn’t positive she ever had. “How could he be a monster?” she asked herself. Would a monster have come for her when Claudius had taken her? Would a monster have cared enough to hold her that night, while she’d sobbed and raged? Would he have come back to the house by the sea when he heard her screams? The answer was a resounding “No”. If he were a monster, he’d have abandoned her to whatever fate took her and worried only about himself. A monster didn’t feel, didn’t think, and didn’t care. Monsters were darkness; creatures that caused pain, terror and suffering in their wake just because they could - weren’t they?
Somehow, all of the lines were blurred. Once, she’d known what was real and what wasn’t. What was safe and what was dangerous. But now, everything had changed. There was no longer a sharp distinction between good and evil, black and white. Everything was mantled in shades of gray, dependent on where she stood at the time, and it left her confused and scared. She needed that clarification she used to have, and she knew how to get it back. All she had to do was stand up and walk away. Right here, right now, she could end this. But did she want to? She’d had a chance before. Jorick had sent her away and told her to go home, and how had she reacted? She’d cried as though her heart was broken, and it had been, hadn’t it?
No, Jorick’s opinion wasn’t the only reasons she was there. She wasn’t just going because she wanted Jorick to be proud of her. She was going because she couldn’t bear the thought of him going into that place alone, with no one to help him if he needed it. Despite the fact she’d be very little use, that oh-so-human part of her was determined that she could somehow make a difference and save him from the destruction that waited for him.
She thought suddenly of Patrick and pictured him in her mind’s eye. Yes, he was the ghost haunting her footsteps and leaving her with the bitter taste of guilt because, though she tried to never acknowledge it, she couldn’t help but wonder “what if?” What if he’d told her about Claudius from the start? What if he’d trusted her to help him? What if she’d gone with him, like she did with Jorick now? Would things have been different? Would he have lived?
If she wanted to be honest, the answer was “probably not”. What was it Jorick had said about destiny? Did he think that it was Patrick’s destiny to die, and hers to be kneeling in an empty field, waiting to fight an impossible enemy? She didn’t know. She did know that he was right about letting go of the ghosts. The memory of Patrick clung to her dreams, the same as Velnya had haunted Jorick’s footsteps and, if she was going to do this, then she needed to put them both aside. They belonged to a past that, however bittersweet, was over. The question was, could she do that?
She brushed aside her thoughts, and looked to Jorick. His attention was focused on the building and he was seemingly oblivious to her confusion. She knew he could hear her every thought, yet he made no comment. But then, what would he say?
She was still pondering this when Jorick twitched and his silent voice cut into her reverie, “They’re here.”
Katelina’s eyes searched the darkness, and found nothing. The building stood in the field, alone and cold, the land around it silent. “You’re sure?” she whispered aloud.
He nodded in affirmation and pressed a silent finger to his lips. “Someone may hear us from here,” he whispered in her mind. The sound was warm and soothing as it enveloped her in a peaceful calm. Too soon, that feeing was gone, replaced with the bitter taste of terror.
Jorick got to his feet and motioned her to wait. He climbed out of the ditch and stood in the field, a solid, dark figure against a backdrop of glistening white. His long hair and coat whipped behind him in the wind, like the banners of an attacking army. Katelina stared up at him, comforted by the strength and confidence that seemed to ema
nate from him.
His mouth curved into a thin smile. “Come,” he said softly, and turned to face her. “They approach the door already.” He held his hand out to her.
“It’s your last chance,” her brain whispered. “You can still say no.” She glanced back over her shoulder to the cold road that stretched towards safety, and then she looked again at the pale hand extended to her.
She was a coward, and she knew it. To walk away would take more bravery than she possessed. She couldn’t try to pretend this had been a dream, return to normalcy, swallowing sour tasting regrets and forever wondering if she could have made a difference. No. She wasn’t strong enough for that, not on her own. Here she could lean against Jorick, feed off of his strength, and know always that she’d done everything she could; nothing to regret, no new ghosts to haunt her dreams.
She glanced back to the road and some part of her whispered a silent, and final, goodbye to Patrick and to the life she’d led both with and before him. Those moments were gone and, whether she lived or died tonight, things would never be the same, again. She would never be the same, again.
She swallowed a hard lump of determination and gave Jorick her hand. Wordlessly he pulled her out of the ditch to stand next to him. He gazed at her, his eyes saying something she didn’t understand, and then the moment slipped away. From inside his coat he produced something wrapped in dingy cloth. In a few, easy motions he removed the worn material and revealed a large silver knife. The blade was plain, but the edge gleamed sharp and cold. “Here, you’ll need this.”
“What about you?”
“I have another,” he explained, and then drew it out of his coat to prove it. “We’ll each have one.”
She nodded mutely and took the offered weapon. She felt the weight of it in her hand, and wrapped her fingers around the hilt as she tried to come to grips with it. If she needed to, could she use it?
Amaranthine Special Edition Vol I Page 52