Chapter 22
If guilt wasn't the reason Jorick had contacted her, then what was? She gabe him a moment to elaborate himself, then demanded, "Then why did you?" Though she asked, part of her didn't want an answer. How much could a person deal with in one night? Could people take this many revelations in three successive days without cracking up? Yes, insanity was a risk, but she needed to know. She was sick of secrets and omissions. He wanted her to trust him but gave her very little to base it on.
"I told you why already. I felt you had a right to know." His shifting gaze gave her the distinct feeling that he was lying, but it also said that he wasn't going to tell her the truth no matter what she did.
"Hmmmmmm...." Her temporary defeat was signaled as her eyes dropped away. She told herself that she wasn't really giving up. She'd force the information from him later when he was more pliant.
As if to prove her dominance of the situation, she demanded, "So, where is she?"
He stiffened and shook his head. "That, I won't tell you."
"Why? Afraid that I'll snitch?" she mocked sarcastically.
"No, I'm afraid if Claudius gets his hands on you and wrecks your mind that he'd extract the information from you." He dismissed it as though it were a normal, everyday occurrence.
"Oh." The single syllable was the only thing she could think of to say. She tried but failed to come up with a plausible argument against his logic and lapsed into silence with her efforts.
Her quiet punctuated the end of the discussion, so Jorick began a new one. "What are you reading?"
He managed to get her to talk about the book until five a.m. At that point he announced that he must depart for his bed - which, when pressed, he said was in the cellar with the others' and that, yes, it was a coffin.
"So, you do have to sleep in a coffin?" she asked in surprise. In some sick, twisted way she found it interesting; like a documentary on Chinese torture camps.
"No." He stood up and absently smoothed the bedspread he'd wrinkled. "I slept in a bathtub the other day, remember? We can sleep anywhere. It's just that a coffin with a tight fitting lid is one of the best lightproof environments possible." He sounded like a salesman. "Besides, it's sort of a tradition, you know." He gave her an impish grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
His attempt at humor made her shake her head sadly. "Yeah, I'll bet." Before he could give her his warning she added, "I won't leave until you come for me tomorrow."
"Very good. Goodnight." He left, closing the heavy wooden door behind him. The lock clicked loudly and she wondered what the point of his admonishments were if he was sealing her in.
She'd initially been tempted to stay awake until dawn and explore the house in search of a telephone - she needed to phone work, and her mother. But with the lock on the outside of the door she had no chance of going anywhere, daylight or not. She wasn't really comfortable with the idea of being locked in and would have preferred the lock be on her side. A discussion with Jorick was certainly in order, though she suddenly wondered if she was being locked in for her protection or theirs. Were the vampires concerned that they might open their eyes to see her standing over them with a stake in her hand?
She grinned at the picture of herself slaying a basement full of vampires. When the passing fancy had evaporated, she took a long bath, then slid into the beautiful, whispery nightgown and headed back to bed.
She stopped at one of the windows and watched the sun beginning to rise. It turned the sky into an iridescent flaming scarlet that reminded her of blood - the blood that had filled her dreams last night, and which would undoubtedly do so again. Looking away, she shuddered and climbed into bed. She pulled the blankets over her head to shut out the world and the harsh realities she'd discovered.
***
When Katelina opened her eyes she saw only darkness. Her initial response was panic, but a soothing numbness flowed over it and left her in a strange vacuum of calm.
She climbed out of bed and turned the lights on. Once safe in the electric glow, she headed to the bathroom and examined the puncture marks on her shoulder. They were tightly closed, but still hurt when she rubbed her hand across them. The marks on her neck, from Jesslynn's bite, were tiny dots and could have passed for disappearing blemishes.
She changed from her nightgown into the pink dress she'd worn yesterday. Her clothes and the ugly orange quilt were still missing. Not that she missed the blanket, it was a reminder of terrible things.
The bedroom door was locked from the outside, but with the sun gone she wouldn't have left anyway. Not only had she promised Jorick she'd stay, but she didn't want to run into any of the house's occupants. She wasn't even sure she even wanted to see Jorick, except that he was her only lifeline.
She made the bed and tidied the room, but it only took a few minutes. With nothing else to do, she flopped on the bed and picked up the musty book she'd started yesterday. She hoped to lose herself in the Victorian romance where the hero left the young virginal heroine flowers in the moonlight. It beat the reality she was living in. She found that she had a lot more sympathy for the insane than she used to. When real life was unbearable, why stay there?
She was just starting to enjoy the book when she heard the door click. She looked up to see Jorick carrying a wad of white cloth and something small wrapped in plastic.
"Hello," he said with no enthusiasm. His face gave the impression that he was thinking of something unpleasant.
"Hello," she replied as she swung into a sitting position. Her first impulse was to ask what was wrong, but she knew he'd just dismiss her question, or take it to mean something beyond casual concern.
"Here, they left this for you outside the door." He held up the white cloth with one hand. "And I took the liberty of fetching you something to eat." He held out a gas station sandwich wrapped in plastic, two halves of potential food poisoning between bread.
"Thank you," she mumbled unenthusiastically. She took the clothing first. The dress' cut was similar to the one she wore, though the skirt was longer and it bore no broach.
"Let me go change," she said, a nod from him the only indication he'd heard her. As she crossed the room she was conscious of his gaze following her. She shut the bathroom door firmly, though part of her felt as if he could see through it, anyway.
Changed, she emerged to find Jorick leaning on one of the bedposts, a grin of approval on his face. "Yes?" She unconsciously smoothed the skirt and waited for his sarcastic comment.
"I have to say that I prefer white." His grin turned into a full smirk.
"Interesting, since you only wear black." She stopped next to him, her eyes narrowed inquiringly. "Do you even change clothes? Or is there a closet somewhere with no color in it?"
He shrugged and his eyes danced with mischief. "I like to wear black, but I always appreciate a woman in a white dress." His grin grew, revealing the pointed teeth that made her so uncomfortable. "Or at least who was wearing a white dress."
She brushed aside his innuendo, and took the sandwich from him. His fingers lingered against her hand for a moment longer than necessary, but she made herself ignore it.
She willed the sandwich to turn into something edible, but it refused, so she gave it a try. Jorick stared at her while she ate, and finally she exploded testily, "What?"
