Chapter 64
An icy blast of wind shook the trees and rattled the dry grass eerily. Katelina shivered, and it seemed to draw Jorick back to the present, to the tatty yard and the small house he called home
With another wordless grunt he took her hand and led her slowly to the front of the house. "Look at this," he muttered. "Look at the state of this place."
Katelina didn't reply, only followed him onto the small porch and waited as he fished a ring of keys out of his pocket. She marveled at his "magic" pockets. He always seemed to be pulling something out of them, and yet she never saw the telltale pile of belongings that men left on the dresser tops when they went to bed. What did he do? Just leave the stuff in there and transfer it from one pair of jeans to the next?
The door opened and she hurried inside to find that it was nearly as cold as it had been outdoors.
Jorick sniffed the air and muttered darkly, "Stale." He flipped the light switch and exclaimed with grudging surprise, "At least the electricity is still on."
Katelina's eyes swept the room. It was stuffed with antique furniture: a sideboard, a curio cabinet, a collection of stands, a secretary, a set of slender wing backed chairs, and a low couch that sat under the front window. The floor was wooden, but two large rugs in mismatched patterns covered most of it. A stone fireplace stood black and waiting in the corner and gave Katelina some hope that heat was coming, however, it was not the most prominent feature of the room. The thing that stood out the most was the books. They were piled everywhere; on the stands, in towering heaps on the floor, even in one of the chairs. Their jackets ranged from shiny and new to old and worn, with no discernible rhyme or reason to their locations.
Jorick continued to mutter unintelligibly as he walked through a wide doorway and into the rest of the house, switching on the lights as he went. Katelina followed close on his heels as each room was revealed: a dining room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. All were overrun with dusty books stacked at odd angles. It was almost as if they'd been discarded randomly as they were finished.
The house looped around on itself so that, as they walked down a narrow hallway, they were facing the front again. The small hall ended at two doors; one literally at the end and a white painted one to the left. They came to a stop and Jorick fell silent. He stared at the white door as if it might eat them both. When nothing happened, he cleared his throat noisily and glanced back at her. "You should go make yourself comfortable."
"Make myself comfortable?" she echoed uncertainly.
He nodded absently and fished the ring of keys from his pocket. He slid the appropriate one into the door's lock and addressed her without meeting her eyes. "Yes. Start a fire or something. I suppose it's probably cold in here."
"Well, now that you mention it-" she got no further before he swung the door inward and disappeared through it. "Hey! I don't really know how to-" but the door closed after him, effectively shutting her out.
"Jorick?"
The only answer was a loud click as the door was locked from the inside.
"What in the hell?" She stared at the white door, her brow creased in anger. Not only was his behavior odd, but it was insulting! She couldn't imagine what he'd be doing in the room that required such secrecy, and the idea that he'd go to the bother of locking her out made it worse. Did he think she'd bust in on him?
She marched to the front room and stood uselessly in the middle of the floor. How long was he going to be in there? She was cold and didn't know how to start a fire. Then again, how hard could it really be? All she needed was wood and matches, right?
Three logs lay in a basket next to the hearth and a book of matches was discarded on the mantle. With angry determination, she knelt next to the fireplace and carefully lifted the logs inside. She ripped a match from the book, struck it, and held it to the crumbling bark of one of the logs.
It took four matches, but soon infant flames licked the dry wood. She leaned back on her haunches with a feeling of pride as the fire slowly grew. "Ha, Jorick! Take that!"
She took turns warming different parts of her body, then curled up on the rug before the hearth and watched the flames. Her mind wandered, unbidden, to another fire she'd seen recently. The memories of painful screams echoed in her ears and she unconsciously put her hands to her head, as if to silence them.
Desperate for distraction, she grabbed a book from the stack that leaned precariously against the coffee table. The title was faded from the worn cover and the peeling spine. She wondered if it had been read too many times or simply neglected.
Restlessly, she flipped the yellowed pages, back to front. When she reached the inside of the front cover she found smeared, spidery writing. Further examination revealed the name "Jorick" and the date "December,1875".
With a soft shudder she snapped the book closed and put it back where she'd gotten it. The last thing she wanted right now was a reminder of what he really was, so she turned to the puzzle of their location. The matchbook on the fireplace said "Stop N Shop - open 24 hours, Venice Maryland", but they were most certainly in Maine. Her brow furrowed as she tried to organize the jumble of states in her mind. She remembered that they'd been in New Hampshire at some point, though she didn't know where Maine, or even Maryland, was in relationship to it. She should have paid more attention back when she'd been in school, but why should she when there was always a map; in the glove box, or on the computer, or in a book, or even on her cell phone. Only- surprise! - there wasn't a map now. Why had no one ever mentioned the possibility of being cut off?
She waited impatiently for Jorick, and when he didn't come she went back to the books. When that got boring she stretched out on the rug and closed her eyes. She banished everything from her mind except a repeating cycle of song lyrics, and let herself drift on warm tides towards a drowsy sleep.
When Jorick woke her, the fire had all but burned itself to smoldering coals and the chill was back. "Come, little one," he said softly, his hand on her arm. "The sun will be upon us soon."
Katelina sat up and glared at him. Irritatingly, his attitude said that he saw nothing wrong with shutting her out of his little "secret room" earlier. "Let me guess," she bit off sarcastically. "You have a coffin in the basement?"
He laughed for the first time since they'd arrived, and she wasn't sure if it annoyed her or made her feel better. "As a matter of fact I do, but it's for company. I have a bedroom down there as well, and that's where I'm going to sleep." He offered her a grin. "If you'd rather try the coffin though, be my guest."
"No, thank you." She let him help her to her feet and automatically straightened the red dress.
He ignored her frosty tone and gave her a wink. "Don't worry. You can take that off soon enough."
A plethora of sarcastic replies rose up in her, but before she could choose one they were already walking through the house, leaving a trail of darkness behind them as Jorick turned the lights out.
She followed him to the door at the very end of the narrow hallway. It opened to reveal a landing and a set of stairs that led down to a semi-finished basement. The walls were painted white, but the floor was still cold concrete. A large, cobwebbed furnace squatted in one corner near a sagging shelving unit. Boxes and bits of broken furniture were gathered in random pockets, and, just as Jorick had said, a large black coffin sat off to the right, near two doors.
It was to one of the doors that Jorick led her. Inside was a bedroom stuffed with a heavy wardrobe and a large carved four-poster bed hung with blood red curtains. Katelina stared at it and her lip curled in disbelief. "Someone has flamboyant taste. Could you get any more textbook clich¨¦?" Even as she spoke, she wondered how he could have gotten the thing down stairs and into the room.
"A souvenir from years long gone." He ran his hand over the footboard as if it were a lover he hadn't seen in months. "The only piece of furniture I've had since before."
He stripped off his clothes, distracting her from a sarcastic remark about the nature of his relationship with his bed. Each piece of clothing fell to the floor to reveal an expanse of perfect, pale skin that made her heart catch in her chest, despite her anger.
He didn't bother with pajamas, only turned back the covers on the bed. He frowned down at the sheets and muttered something that sounded like, "He didn't even change the bedding!"
"What?"
Jorick dismissed it as unimportant and lay down. He settled himself and then looked to Katelina, who still stood just inside the door. "Are you coming?" His tone was amused. "Or would you rather watch me sleep?"
"Maybe," she muttered, but her false bravado did nothing for the blush that crept into her cheeks. The idea of him watching her strip off, like she'd just watched him, made her stomach churn nervously. Maybe it made her a prude, or just shy, but she didn't like anyone to see her naked. "No, I'm coming."
"Good." His voice switched to an almost false innocence, "Then get the light, would you?"
She gratefully found the light switch and flicked it off before she removed her dress. She crossed the pitch black room slowly, until her seeking fingers found the bed, then she slipped under the covers.
When she was settled, Jorick pulled her against him, and kissed her neck softly. "Sleep well."
Another snappy reply came to mind, but she dismissed it. They could fight tomorrow, if that's how it was going to be. For now, she could let it go.
"You too," she said quietly and snuggled closer to him. Yes, tomorrow they could deal with everything. Tonight, in a real bed at last, she could just pretend it didn't matter.
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