Chapter 162
Jorick pushed the two beds in their room together. He snuggled next to Katelina and fell asleep while she speculated what the meeting with Malick would be like. Jorick's words kept running through her head, growing more terrible with every repeat:
"He makes what I do look like a child's game. If he chose, he could destroy your mind in a moment, without flinching at the effort."
How was she supposed to face that? The thought of someone so powerful made her insides quiver like jello. Despite the sickening horror, sleep eventually found her, whether on its own or with help from Jorick she didn't know. For once, she didn't care.
It was Jorick's warm voice that woke her the next evening. "Little one, your food is here."
She opened her eyes to find him perched on the edge of the bed, a soft smile on his lips. The faint smell of soap clung to him. He'd changed his clothes, though the new ensemble was just as black as the other had been. She met his dark eyes and tried to pull some measure of comfort from their depths. His smile grew and he wrapped his cool hand around hers. "It will be all right. We can worry about it later. For now, your breakfast is here."
Though she'd rather hide under the pillows, she climbed out of the bed and followed Jorick to the lounge area where a plate of eggs and hash browns sat on the table, happily steaming. Oren was crouched before the open closet, rifling through the black gym bag. He gave her a disapproving look as she dropped into one of the chairs. She wondered if her cutesy pajamas offended him, or if he was just in a bad mood in general.
The food was good, but her stomach was too nervous to want it. When she went to the bathroom to dress, there was still more than half of it left on her plate.
A vampire brought Oren and Jorick each another decanter of blood. Though they asked, he knew nothing about their coming appointment. After he left, time seemed to stand still. Each annoying second crystallized into an eternity. Jorick tried to keep Katelina calm and Oren paced the room in continual circles; a caged lion waiting to be released. She was ready to scream by the time the knock finally came.
Jorick was on his feet before the sound faded, and Oren had the door open. Katelina's reactions were slower, but she hurried around the bed when she heard Jorick growl. Over his shoulder, she could just see a shock of bright, crayon colored hair.
Verchiel's voice floated pleasantly past them. "And a good evening to you! If you'll come with me, I believe Malick would like to see you."
Katelina's insides turned to ice. She wasn't strong enough to face this. She was too weak and too scared. A strangled noise escaped her lips as she drew back a step and shook her head.
Jorick moved to her. The anger in his eyes quickly melted into reassurance. He took her trembling hands in his, his fingers strong and safe. "It will be all right. I promise you."
"No, no it won't." Her voice was dry and too high; strange in her own ears. "Jorick, I can't."
Verchiel stepped past Oren, grinning broadly. "Of course you can."
Jorick cut him off with a snarl. "This doesn't concern you!"
"Yes it does," Verchiel insisted cheerfully. "I was sent to fetch you. Now come along, Kately, we don't want to keep Malick waiting." He turned serious. "It only irritates him when people are late."
Jorick's eyes snapped fury, but he focused his attention on Katelina. Gently, he laid a hand on her arm and captured her gaze. A soothing feeling spread through her and erased the cold tension. Her heart rate slowed, her fists unclenched and her shoulders relaxed. She stared into the dark orbs of his eyes, slowly drowning in the silky depths, and leaving her fear behind. Everything ceased to exist except the warmth spreading from the deep seas of comfort and she let the tides carry her away, even though she knew the feelings didn't belong to her. For once, it didn't matter.
Jorick took her hand and led her out of the room. Verchiel and Oren spoke. She couldn't understand what they said and she didn't care. Like a zombie, she let Jorick guide her down the corridor to the shiny glass elevators.
Verchiel inserted a key into a slot below the numbered buttons and pressed the blank button next to it. In answer to Jorick's unasked question, he said casually, "He wants to speak to you in his chambers."
Katelina's warm feeling faded as shock rippled over Jorick. He gained control of himself and it quickly returned. She sank into it gratefully.
The elevator dropped under the atrium and stopped. The view through the glass walls was only the silver of the elevator shaft. The doors opened and Verchiel led them out into a long, dark corridor. The walls, ceiling and floor were all black, shiny marble. The stone was so dark that it seemed to suck up the glow from the overhead lights. The only break from it was the bright, blood red trim that bordered the top and bottom of the wall, like bizarre stripes on a field of night.
Two vampires in long, black cloaks stood guard just inside the hallway. Their faces were unreadable. Verchiel gave them a vague nod and moved past them, as though they were just pieces of the d¨¦cor.
He led the group down the dark hallway, past the occasional door. Their footsteps echoed around them. With each moment, they got louder to Katelina, as the calm mist thinned and panic ate away at the edges of her consciousness.
They stopped before one of the doors and Verchiel rapped loudly. He nodded towards Katelina, his eyes on Jorick. "It's quite fascinating, how you do that. I wonder if she'll appreciate it when she realizes it."
"It's none of your business."
"For once, where the human is concerned, I agree," Oren muttered. "You'd do well to keep your eyes and opinions to yourself."
"Hey, hey." Verchiel held up a hand. "I'm just admiring a real craftsman at work, that's all."
Jorick made a noise of disbelieving contempt. The conversation not only filtered through to Katelina, but made a strange sort of sense. Black butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Though she clutched desperately at the numbness Jorick had offered, it slipped away from her mental grasp. She turned questioning eyes to him, pleading silently for it to return.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "Malick won't allow you to be under my influence."
The door opened slowly, like a horror movie but without the creak. Still calm, Verchiel led the way. Jorick clutched Katelina tightly and followed, Oren behind them. They had barely cleared the door when it slammed shut, plunging them into darkness. Katelina struggled not to scream as the last of Jorick's soothing hold slipped away from her.
"Come in," a rich, deep voice boomed.
The room was suddenly flooded with light, and Katelina shielded her eyes. They were in a small antechamber, faced with a set of partially open doors. Verchiel motioned to them and, wordlessly, they filed into the room beyond.
The large sitting room was walled in stone and full of big, exotic plants that reminded Katelina of a jungle. Spotted furs were thrown on the floor, and a zebra skin hung on one wall. A second dark doorway led away to another room. She tried to see where it went but, against her will, her attention was pulled to a long, low couch.
The man who sat on it was Arabic. His skin was smooth and flawless, and seemed to almost glow, tempting her to touch it. His long hair and beard were both brilliant white, and his dark eyes suddenly dominated the world. They were like two sparkling jewels set in a statue, and she couldn't look away. Hot power rolled from them and crashed over her. It left her drowning in sickening honey sweetness, unwilling to save herself.
He laughed softly and stood. His figure was diminutive in comparison to Jorick and Oren, still he seemed taller than both. He wore a long purple robe over a dark shirt and slacks, but his clothes were so trivial compared to his presence that she barely noticed them.
He broke eye contact with Katelina and moved to stand before his guests, his arms open in a welcoming gesture. His voice was rolling thunder and pouring rain, haunting and rhythmic like words spoken to music. "Jorick, my son, it has been too long."
Jorick's face stayed hard as he bowed his head. Though not warm, his tone was respectful, "Greetings, Master."
Malick looked at Verchiel, a picture perfect smile on his face. "And you have brought them. Very good, very good. You shall be rewarded. For now, I ask you to wait outside."
Verchiel hesitated, though only for a second. "Of course." He quickly bowed his head. "As you wish." He withdrew silently and shut the heavy double doors behind him.
