Chapter 101
Darkness pressed around Katelina and, as horrible as it was, it was better than what she'd just seen. Jorick's memory was better than hers, if memory it was, and the images were too clear and too vivid. Patrick, his body not even cold, and his brother snarling threats. How much of that was real, and how much just a trick of sleep?
Jorick stirred beneath her. She couldn't see him open his eyes, though she knew that he had. She waited for him to comment on the dream, or explain it, but he only asked quietly, "Sleep well?"
If he didn't want to talk about it, then neither did she. She'd learned there were things she didn't need to know. "Yeah. Best sleep I've ever had."
He didn't answer, but tried to wrap his arm around her, accidentally pulling her hair.
"Ouch!" She jerked involuntarily and smashed her nose against his chest. "Can we get out of here?"
"Oh, all right," he replied impatiently. "But you might make an effort at this, you know."
He reached over her and effortlessly pushed the lid open.
Katelina cringed at the bright candle light, but slowly her eyes adjusted. When they had, she managed to clumsily pull herself out of the casket and onto her feet, though her stiff joints complained. She glanced over to see Fabian, Jesslynn's dark haired brother. He stood too close, and snickered loudly at her.
Jorick climbed out of the casket in one smooth motion, looking as cheerful as ever. He stretched fluidly, then gave Fabian a nasty look and slammed the lid noisily. If it was a threat, then Fabian ignored it, and only laughed soundlessly before he walked past them to the stairs. His steps were slow so that Katelina had ample time to see his amusement.
"Jack ass," she muttered under her breath, as he disappeared. "I really hate him."
"I doubt that," Jorick commented lightly. "Hate is a very strong word."
She raised her brows coolly. "You'd be surprised." She hefted the tattered suitcase hopefully. "I don't suppose I could go somewhere private to change?"
He nodded. "Bring it. You can change after I feed."
She remembered his comment that he'd need more blood tonight and cringed. "I don't suppose I could eat first?"
"It makes no difference to me." He surveyed her, amused, and then straightened the stocking hat on her head. "We don't want your ears to freeze." He stood back to study the effect. "Better. Come."
"I'm not a dog, you know. And why am I carrying this thing? Why aren't you? You're the man, you know."
"I'm glad you've noticed," he replied. "And as the man, I say 'come'."
She trudged up the stairs behind him, lugging the tatty suitcase, and muttering nasty things about Jorick and vampires in general. She was tired of the casket, she was tired of not having a bathroom, and she was tired of angry glares and suspicious glances; prying eyes that were always watching her and appraising her every action.
They made their way through the house to the front door. Jorick greeted a few of the vampires they passed, and exchanged hostile glares with others. By the time the heavy front door shut behind them, Katelina was seriously contemplating spending her time in the forest making stakes. It couldn't be that hard, after all, and she did have the advantage of being awake in daylight.
Jorick took the suitcase from her and led her to Oren's car. It was parked where they'd left it in the snowy driveway. He opened the door and tossed the suitcase into the backseat.
"You said I could change!" she cried as he pulled out the brown paper bag of food and rifled through it.
"You can, when we get back."
"What? Out here? It's freezing."
"You wanted privacy, and the car is as private as you're likely to get. If you prefer the house it makes no difference to me."
"I prefer to go home."
"And where would 'home' be?" Jorick asked lightly.
Her cheeks flushed. He knew very well she'd meant his house, so she didn't bother to reply. Jorick only smirked and handed her several plastic wrapped twinkies, then stuffed the bag back in the car. "Come, perhaps we can find something worth eating tonight." He broke off at her angry look. "Fine, would you kindly come along? Is that better?"
"Yes, actually."
He rolled his eyes and trudged in the direction of the woods. She followed, savagely chewing the too-sweet golden cake.
"I thought you liked those things?" Jorick asked without looking at her.
"Yeah, I do, but not really as a meal." She took another bite, and talked around the food, "Beats raccoon, I guess."
Jorick's laughter echoed through the wintery night. "Yes, I suppose it would."
They reached the trees and again she tried very hard to be quiet, but failed miserably. It seemed like every branch and twig leapt under her feet. Jorick tried not to look or sound impatient, but she could feel his mood.
"I can stay here," she offered finally as she stopped and wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.
"No." His tone was casual, but his eyes betrayed his wishful thinking. "It's fine. I-" he stopped mid-sentence, his body suddenly tense as he grabbed her arm.
"What-" she started to ask but he cut her off with a look, his face intensely alert. She strained her ears but heard nothing.
He brought his finger to his lips, and closed his eyes. Suddenly, her head filled with sounds she knew she couldn't hear on her own. Something was scratching, something was breathing, and there, in the center of all the chaos, was the subtle sound of crunching snow as multiple footsteps made their way through the frozen yard.
Jorick opened his eyes and the sounds disappeared. She tried to penetrate the dark woods and catch the noises he'd just transmitted to her, but she couldn't. She looked at him again, questions in her eyes. He gave no discernible answer, only sniffed the air. Concern creased his face and he released her slowly, then turned the other direction and inhaled deeply. Real worry blossomed in his eyes. He grabbed a handful of her coat and whispered in her mind, "Stay here and don't move."
She opened her mouth but his expression was a warning, so she stopped. His urgency washed over her and she tried to look past him to see what was happening. Before she could, he laid his hand on her head and a silken whisper caressed her and spoke of sleep. She fought against it, or tried to, but it was too strong and she was soon drowning against her will in confused darkness.
