Chapter 135
Finished with her task, Hectia stood and wiped her hands on the drapes. "I'm not carrying him." She snatched up her coat from the desk and slid into it. "Verchiel can do that."
"I appreciate your faith in me." Effortlessly, the redhead heaved up the body and balanced it over one shoulder. "All right, and where shall we have our happy bonfire?"
"The back garden should be sufficient." Jorick's tone was casual, but his eyes were guarded now that he'd discovered Verchiel's ability.
The redhead nodded and walked towards the door. Without stopping, he threw back over his shoulder, "You have little to fear, it's already fading. It only works under stress."
The other three followed him at a distance. They walked quietly through the house and into the elaborately decorated ballroom where Katelina's attention was again drawn to the painted murals. A shiver danced down her spine when she caught Lilith's too realistically painted eyes. It was as if the vampiress was somehow staring into her soul. Jorick gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, though he kept his attention on the other two.
The French doors at the end of the room opened onto a stone veranda. Though Verchiel had been there only a moment ago, the drapery wrapped bundle lay alone on the ground in front of the veranda, and a set of footprints disappeared across the yard. Jorick made a noise of irritation but Verchiel reappeared, almost magically, looking chipper and toting a plastic container of something that smelled of petroleum. "Did you miss me?"
When no one answered he laughed softly to himself and circled the dead body. He whistled as he splashed the flammable liquid liberally around the corpse. The drapes turned mottled with big, wet patches and the snow turned amber. Finished, he tossed the empty container into the yard and looked up at them. Something on his face made Katelina glance at her companions, and she realized they were clustered together just outside the door, like little kids in a haunted house.
Verchiel produced a silver lighter. "Shall I do the honors? Or should his mother do it?"
"Just get on with it!" Hectia backed the tiniest bit towards the door.
Verchiel knelt and flicked the lighter to life. He touched it to the fluid. The drapes caught with a loud whoosh, and suddenly Verchiel was on the stone platform with them. When the initial ball of fire subsided, he moved to the edge of the veranda and stood, hands behind his back, peering down at the snapping orange flames.
Katelina buried her face in Jorick's arm as memories of other bonfires assailed her. Though she closed her eyes, she could still hear the crackle of the flame and smell the thick, heavy stench of cloth and hair burning. She imagined that it left behind a coating of black soot as it crept into her nostrils and filled her throat.
Jorick broke the silence, "It should be fine untended. Get your possessions so we can go."
Verchiel patted his coat. "I have all of mine. I travel light."
"I will fetch mine, but I do so under duress." Hectia glared at her supposed ally, then swept back into the house.
Verchiel watched her go. "A change will do her good."
***
When the fire burned out, Jorick and Verchiel buried the remains in the garden, though Katelina suspected that Jorick had been more of an overseer. Thinking on the house's previous owner, Katelina wondered if there were other vampires, or people, buried out there. The thought was not comforting.
Hectia reappeared with two suitcases, and the four of them piled into the silver car. Katelina tried to communicate to Jorick the thousand reasons this was a bad idea, but since it seemed the other two didn't have a vehicle, there wasn't much choice. "Or that's what he wants me to think. He could have just killed them."
"A bit bloodthirsty, are we?" Jorick interrupted with a curious smirk.
Katelina scowled. "It would have been more convenient."
"Speaking of convenient, it would have been more convenient had you left us alone," Hectia snapped bitterly from the backseat.
Verchiel snickered. "And miss all this fun? Surely you're joking."
Silence fell. The only sounds for the rest of the trip were the tires on the pavement, the swish of the wipers, and the puttering engine. Jorick took them into the nearest town, and Katelina instantly recognized it; she was home. Though, whether they'd survive to do anything about it was another matter.
Jorick stopped the car across the street from her old apartment and twisted around to eye their guests. He studied Verchiel. "What coven do you belong to?"
"My own. And before you ask, I was released from my blood debt some time ago."
Jorick didn't look pleased. "In that case, we're all going."
"Why?" Hectia asked coldly. "Verchiel and I -"
Jorick cut her off. "Because you're going to talk to Oren, assuming we can get him, and I'm not leaving him-" he jerked his thumb towards the redhead ,"-where I can't watch him."
Verchiel mock pouted. "I'm hurt. You know my intentions as well as I do."
"No," Jorick interrupted coldly. "I don't."
Verchiel's eyes lit up. "Oh! I see! So you can't hear my thoughts? That must be pretty irritating." He beamed delightedly.
"Let's go." Before they could argue, Jorick swung the door open and climbed out. Katelina followed suit. The cold night stole her breath away and snowflakes landed in her lashes and dropped silently onto her face. The streetlights shone pinkish, and the flakes danced and whirled in their light, like the ballerina cutouts in the nearby studio windows.
She looked across the street to her old apartment. Her attention skipped quickly to the shop below, then to the surrounding buildings. Nothing had changed. Everything was the same as when she'd left. She didn't know why she'd expected it to be different, as if she thought her absence would have created a noticeable hole in the world she'd once inhabited.
Jorick caught her hand and she looked up quickly, her melancholic reverie broken. "I have a few things to take care of and then we can go look." His tone became a warning. "Unless you want your mother to know we were here, we'd best leave things as we find them."
She couldn't argue with the logic, so she followed him to the ballet studio. Next to the locked entrance was a weathered wooden door. Jorick tugged it open and waited for Hectia and Verchiel to catch up. "After you."
Hectia sniffed disdainfully, then swept ahead of them, Verchiel at her heels. Jorick and Katelina followed them at a safe distance, and again she wondered why he hadn't just killed them.
In answer to her unspoken thought, Jorick asked irritably, "You really think I just kill everyone who's an inconvenience?"
She didn't bother to answer.
At the top of the stairs was a small hallway bordered by three numbered doors. Jorick stopped before number three and fished his keys from his pocket. It took him only a moment to find the right one and unlock the door.
"Home sweet home?" Verchiel asked as Jorick motioned him inside.
