Chapter 24
Alexander took a deep breath as he readied to impart his secret to her - something so deep that he'd made her promise not to tell Jorick.
"It's my fault. What happened to Bethina." He sighed and his small shoulders sagged under the weight of some burden, his eyes turned sorrowful; eyes far too old for the cherub face they were set in. "I tried to turn her myself. She agreed, of course. I thought it would be wonderful to have Bethina and her funny songs forever and ever, and she was so sick! But I couldn't do it - I'm not strong enough." His voice took a bitter tone. "Mother heard her screams and came to find me bent over her, crying. She finished it for me, but she said it was too late and that it ruined her. Mother said it locked her mind away because she stood on the threshold of death for too long, and that she will always be the way she is now. That's why I try to take care of her, because I know it's my fault."
He looked so sad and, for a moment, in her pity, Katelina almost forgot he wasn't a mortal child. She could see the scene in her mind: the blonde girl laying on the floor, screaming in her death agony, red blood running down from the puncture wounds to stain her light hair. The terrified face of Alexander looming above her like a ghost, tears streaking his face. The dark Jesslynn coming in, her face filled with terror and then fury when she saw what was happening...
"I see," Katelina finally managed to say as she banished the disturbing pictures from her mind.
"I know it's my fault. And I'm being punished for it. I have eternity to be with Bethina but never hear one of her songs or stories again." He looked at his lap, his adult eyes bright with unshed tears.
"I'm sorry." She didn't know what else to say to this confession, or why he'd chosen to share it with her.
"This used to be her room," he added. "When she was still human. That's why it has a bathroom." He gazed around it sadly. "Purple is Bethina's favorite color."
"It is pretty," she said for lack of anything else. An uncomfortable silence fell and she tried to think of something to say. He was just a kid, but children usually knew things, and it wasn't like she had anyone else to ask. "Jorick's very grim?"
Alexander nodded his agreement. "He seems that way. I don't know him very well. He used to come around all of the time, but then he moved away. He still came now and then until one day he stopped altogether. It's been a long time since I've seen him."
"Was he always so serious and closed lipped?"
The boy looked thoughtful. "I think so," he answered thoughtfully and then he smirked. "Last night Father told Mother that Jorick comes from a different time, one where men handled everything and that he forgets that other people don't do that. He also said that Jorick is trying too hard to protect you by keeping you ignorant and that he thinks if he really wanted to do that then he should have left you alone altogether instead of telling you some of it. Mother said she can't figure out what he's thinking anyway, and that he's only interested because he likes to take care of the weak-" He stopped midsentence and looked suddenly uncomfortable.
Katelina sighed heavily. "It's all right."
Alexander relaxed. "She said you remind her of 'her'."
A strange look crossed Katelina's face. "Who?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. But whoever 'her' is, she's someone mother disapproved of."
Katelina started to ask why he thought that, but, as if on cue, Bethina reappeared. She lugged a large box of multi-colored blocks - the same ones Katelina had seen them playing with in front of the fire the first night.
Though she wasn't sure she wanted to let the conversation end, Alexander considered it over. They dumped the blocks out on the floor. As time moved past, Katelina's discomfort slowly diminished. The pair reminded her of her cousin's kids, and she almost enjoyed herself. It had been years since she'd sat on the floor to play silly games. She nearly forgot that Alexander wasn't a normal child, that he and his companion were really immortal monsters.
Jorick returned hours later. He was clearly surprised by what he found but, like Father coming home after a day at work, he made them dismantle their latest creation. Then he shooed Alexander and Bethina out of the room, blocks in tow. As soon as the door was shut, he dropped onto the bed and lay back with his hands beneath his head and his ankles crossed. His expression was decidedly grim.
Katelina stood next to the bed and waited for him to explain his mood. Apparently the meeting hadn't gone as he'd hoped, or maybe Oren really had betrayed them. When he didn't speak, she prompted, "Well?"
He stared at the underside of the canopy. His voice was flat, emotionless, "Michael is dead. As I suspected, he made it out of the basement. He was kept alive until he could tell Claudius what he wanted to know, and then he was slaughtered - burned to death." Jorick shuddered involuntarily.
"Oh." Given what Jorick had said of Claudius she wasn't really surprised, and she didn't feel any sympathy for the thing she'd seen hanging in the basement. It wasn't just the memory of his threats, but what he'd done to Patrick. Her chest tightened as a vision of Patrick came to her; his smile broad, his blue eyes twinkling as he asked her if she was planning to stay the night.
She shook the memories away as Jorick went on. "Michael told them about my involvement, but they already knew that. Then he told them you were there." He hesitated as though he had a hard time finding words. "They went to your house, seeking you, but you weren't there. While they tore things apart for clues, someone else came; a dark haired woman with pale eyes."
"Who?" She tried to figure out who would have been at her house and mused over the description; a woman with dark hair and pale eyes- A name popped up, but she tried to ignore it. Not Sarah. No. She refused to even think it. They couldn't have done anything to Sarah. She was like a rock, old reliable Sarah who nagged her about quitting smoking. Sarah, who had been willing to cancel her date with Brad to make sure she was all right, possibly the last date she ever had.
Her voice was barely a whisper and, though she didn't want to, she had to ask. "Sarah?"
