Chapter 242
Katelina asked Jorick about his new job. The answers were strained and edited, so she gave up. She supposed he was trying to protect her from whatever hideous deeds Malick had dreamed up for him. The idea made her hate the ancient master more.
The following evening, Jorick gave her a kiss and left to Malick's summons. Alone again, she slumped to the bathroom for a shower, then tried on her new clothes. The jeans were stretch denim and too tight for her comfort. She'd had a hard time finding anything normal, though she had to admit the gothic wedding dress had been tempting. When would she have a chance to buy clothes like that again? On the other hand, she wasn't brave enough to wear them, so what was the point?
She doctored Verchiel's bite and cringed. It was going to leave a noticeable scar. Damn, just what she needed; another one. This one looked like it might turn into the lumpy kind the junkies wore like badges of honor. Wonderful.
She popped open her new makeup box and selected one of the shiny bottles of nail polish. Once she was seated in the little lounge area, she cracked the lid and inhaled the sharp, chemical odor of the polish. The smell was comforting; that little bit of sanity in all the weirdness. With neat, tidy strokes she swiped the dark polish over her nails, as if painting the world into some semblance of order.
When her nails dried, she ordered breakfast and had just started eating when a knock sounded on the door. Her visitor didn't wait for an answer, but strolled in, keycard in one hand, grinning broadly.
She eyed the card. "How did you get a key to our room?"
"I didn't. It's a master key. We all get one." Verchiel shoved it in his pocket and dropped into one of the chairs. "How are you this fine morning?" As promised, his black Executioner garb was gone, replaced by a bright red T-shirt that said "Bloodsucker" and a pair of low slung blue jeans.
She stared at the outfit. "First off, it's not morning and second, what are you wearing?"
He tugged at the shirt in mock offence "What? You don't like it? I thought it was amusing. I found it at a truck stop in Michigan. They had a bunch of fun slogans." She stared at him incredulously. "Come on, surely you have a tiny sense of humor?"
"The color's bad." She went back to her scrambled eggs. They made more sense.
"It was a truck stop, not a made to order boutique. And what do you mean it isn't morning? It's our morning."
"Morning is when the sun comes up."
"It's all a matter of opinion. Morning is when you wake, evening is when you go home - if you're unlucky - and night is when you go to sleep. It's all relative to your schedule. Once you've lived the night life for a few months, you'll see."
She let the conversation drop and finished her breakfast. When her plate was clean, Verchiel told her to pack up. "You're being moved into a more permanent residence in the Executioners' block."
At the word permanent, her shoulders slumped. He patted her consolingly. "Ah, it's not so bad. You'll be closer to me. That should make Jorick happy! I know how much he wants to be my neighbor! We can have block parties. Maybe a luau. Won't that be fun?" He broke into a bad imitation of a hula dancer. "Senya would be just perfect with an apple between her lips, slowly roasting over a pit."
Katelina couldn't argue with that, though Executioner block parties didn't appeal to her. For that matter, neither did living in the Executioners' block.
Despite her reservations, she packed her clothes in the shopping bags. As she finished, she realized there was nothing of Jorick's. He was still in the same outfit he'd been in when they were kidnapped. Vampires might not sweat, but that was too much!
"We can buy him stuff later!" Verchiel grabbed half the bags and practically shoved her out the door.
***
The Executioners' Block was on the second floor, too deep in the citadel for comfort. Instead of the hotel style corridors of the upper floors, the hallways were done in parquet wood and ugly paintings that denoted a public area. Verchiel had once told her that the "fun" spilled into the second floor, and she assumed that was where they were.
They walked past several off-shooting corridors and open areas where vampires milled around. The movie theatre he kept suggesting they visit had a second floor entrance, right next to what looked like an arcade. There was a cyber caf¨¦, though she shuddered at the idea of what the occupants were drinking, and something called "Restful Haven", which Verchiel told her was a spa/beauty parlor. "I've never been inside, but some of the chicks dig it."
They left the common areas behind and came to a silver door that was decorated like the elevators. Instead of buttons it had a card slot next to it. Verchiel swiped his master key and a lock clicked. The door swung open under his touch to reveal a broad hallway carpeted in black. Lined with occasional doors, it went forward for several feet and then made a sharp left turn.
"This is the Executioners' block," Verchiel explained. "The corridor forms a square; well three sides of one. Get it? Block?" She rolled her eyes. "You're in Dismas's old quarters. He was only here two months. I think he wins the award for the shortest career. Executioners don't usually get killed so quickly. Until Oren's little blood bath, I was the new guy. Now there's three newbies under me!" He seemed a little too excited. "You'll be living between Beldren and Jamie, and across the hall from Zuri. I hear he's a prisoner of your friend Oren, so it should be quiet over there."
"Oren isn't my friend!" Her last memories of Zuri made her stomach twist and she looked away.
"Youch. Okay then. Moving on, I'm not sure who you've met and who you haven't. Jamie's got dark hair. He usually wears it pulled up in a bun and he's got what's left of a Scottish accent. He's a Whisperer like Jorick, so he can make you feel things."
"I've met him."
"Beldren's a blonde, very vain, too. He thinks he's a ladies' man, though I beg to differ. He's an Illusionist, which means he can alter your perceptions of things for a short time. It might last longer on you since you're human and have kind of a weak mind, no offense. Some people are just mentally more resilient than others. Anyway, he's more uptight than Jamie. If either one was likely to pound on your door at three in the afternoon to complain about noise, it would be him, though he's not always so quiet himself."
She ignored the comment about her mind. "I've met him, too, several times."
"You've just met everyone, huh?" Verchiel stopped before a door that was numbered 3. Like the main door, it had a card slot next to it. After he swiped the card he handed it to her. "Don't lose this or you'll get locked out. It will open the main door back there and the door to your house."
House. She didn't like that word.
It was a good description, though. The first room was basically a living room and furnished with a plain tan couch, two matching chairs and a coffee table. A telephone sat on the floor in the far corner. Two shadowy doorways led into other rooms, one on the far wall and one to the right.
"They left the furniture." Verchiel deposited the bags on the coffee table. "No one wanted it. Of course you guys can replace it." He moved to the doorway on the right and clicked on the light, like a real estate agent trying to make a sale. "There are two bedrooms and two bathrooms. This is the smaller of the two, but its bathroom is the only one with any 'human' facilities. The other bedroom is bigger, and so is the bathroom." He moved across the room and flipped the light on in it too. "Dismas was a bed man, but if Jorick prefers a coffin, he can get one and swap it out."
She peered first in the empty smaller room, then the master bedroom. There was a double bed complemented by twin nightstands, a desk, a bookcase, and a closet. The bathroom door stood open and she could see the edge of a large bath tub.
"You'll have to get sheets and all that. Oh, and there's no kitchen. You can order down, I suppose. You'll have to meet them at the block door, because they can't get in." He tapped the keycard in her hand as a reminder.
She nodded absently. "What's the deal with the two bedrooms?"
"It got popular back in the forties to have a human. There was a lot of back biting, and some of the Executioners didn't get along, not that they do now, so they felt they needed a 'guard dog'. It was at the same time the plumbing renovations went in, so they just did them all. It's been taken out of a few rooms since; Ark's and Zuri's I know."
"Guard dogs? Seriously?" She rolled her eyes. "So it's a 1940s bathroom?"
"The human guard dogs stayed around until the 70s, so it was probably updated. Hell, it's probably been renovated since. They're obsessed with remodeling around here. You just get used to one thing and they're slapping something else up. Half the fourth floor's closed for renovation at the moment."
"Why'd you give up your guard dogs?" she asked sarcastically.
"Humans get old. You have to turn them, swap them out, or watch them whither."
"What did you do?"
He faltered. "What makes you think I had one?" She cocked her head disbelievingly and he shrugged. "I swapped for awhile. The last one is happily married and has grandkids, I believe."
She couldn't fathom moving back to a normal life after living in the Citadel. "I didn't know The Guild would let them go."
"Do as I say," Verchiel replied cheerfully. "The rules only apply to the masses, never the elite." He gave her a wink. "Are you going to put that stuff away or what?"
