Chapter 94
Katelina wanted to say no, didn't want to hear what Oren had to say to them, but there was no point in saying that. His secret conversation was for Jorick, not her. She was just tagging along, a third wheel.
Jorick ignored her aggravation to tug her after Oren. They passed through lofty doorways and two shadowed rooms. The cold winter wind howled around the house and Katelina shivered. It was barely warmer inside than out! Heat wasn't the only thing lacking, though. There were no electric lamps, just candles, which led Katelina to the conclusion that there was no electricity.
They came at last to a carved door. Oren opened it and allowed them to pass through into a small room that was papered in white with delicate blue roses, though water stains marred the walls; yellow and blotchy. A small table sat in the middle of the bare floor, surrounded by four chairs. On the farthest wall, next to a grimy window, hung a large, heavily framed portrait. Katelina recognized the subjects as Jesslynn, Oren's dead wife, and their vampire children, Alexander and Tristan, who the Executioners had killed. The corner of the frame was scorched and Katelina pictured Oren battling flames to save the painting, tongues of fire licking it as it hung against a wall in the burning manor, as if he could somehow save those he loved, even though it was too late.
She was brought back to the present when Oren lit a hurricane lamp, and then took a seat. He studied Jorick and Katelina a moment before he commented, "She can have one of the bedrooms upstairs. Despite the lack of electricity, I believe there are enough remnants here to make her comfortable. Perhaps-"
Jorick cut him off, "No, she sleeps with me."
"As you wish." Oren shrugged, his strange golden eyes blank. "There are coffins, of course. Herrick's was the largest, though with two you'll still find it cramped."
"I'm sure it's fine." Jorick pulled a chair up to the table and motioned for Katelina to take it.
She took the offered seat and let the suitcase drop noisily to the floor. "So, what happened to Herrick?"
Oren glanced at her, as though annoyed to have to acknowledge her existence. "He was killed."
"Oh." She had nothing else to say, so she huddled down in her coat and tried to Wizard of Oz herself away. "There's' no place like home. There's no place like home." It didn't work.
Oren watched Jorick with questioning eyes. When he stayed silent, Oren started the conversation, "You've declined to lead."
Jorick casually laid his hands on the back of Katelina's chair. "I'm not here to lead your war. I agreed to take my revenge against Kateesha, nothing more."
Oren cleared his throat loudly. "The right is yours, by age alone. Should you change your mind..." he trailed off, though the implications were clear.
"I won't," Jorick replied firmly. "It was your war with Claudius; this is your war with Kateesha. I will no more lead this war than I led that one."
Oren nodded, but his shoulders seemed to sag just a little. "Then we have nothing else to discuss." He straightened himself. "We'll make our plans on the next eve. I suggest you get settled in. There's a basement. Just follow the rooms and you'll find it."
"Thank you." Jorick tugged Katelina's arm gently. She stood and they slipped out of the room. Jorick pulled the door closed behind them, but made no move to continue on. Katelina gazed at him questioningly.
"The group has dispersed, now that the entertainment is over," his voice whispered silently inside her mind. She started to speak but stopped at his warning look. "Be careful even of what you think. There are those who can read minds. Though, they may not be able to read mine, they can read yours and will be privy to anything you are. We must be careful."
She nodded in understanding and Jorick squeezed her hand encouragingly. "It will be all right. Trust me."
She wanted to say that she trusted him, or she wouldn't be there at all, but it was pointless. He'd have heard the thought already.
He gave her a smile to let her know she was right. Then, he led her through the house to a narrow door, and down a set of old stairs, into a basement that smelled of damp and mildew. The walls were made of stacked stones and the packed floor was littered with coffins and caskets in varying sizes and colors. Three heavy candelabras were situated around the room, candles flickering in them. The group of vampires that stood among them stared silently at Jorick and Katelina. It was as though their conversations had stopped, mid-sentence, the moment they'd appeared.
Katelina shivered at their animosity, but one of them was worse than the others; Anya, the blonde action movie double. She sneered at them haughtily until Katelina decided that she preferred Torina's mocking remarks to the woman's behavior. Jorick ignored her, however, and led Katelina to the largest of the caskets; an emerald green number with silver accents that had obviously been made for a large person.
Not to be dismissed so easily, Anya drawled sarcastically, "Surely, you don't keep her in your coffin with you, Jorick?"
"I keep her wherever I wish," he answered firmly. His eyes swept the room, challenging anyone else to remark on his habits. Katelina could feel his bristling displeasure and she thought what a very bad idea coming there had been. They should have stayed in the little house by the sea, where they were safe.
A few of the vampires snickered, though Anya was the loudest. "As you wish, oh, mighty Jorick." She gave a sweeping, mock bow. "Who am I to tell you where to keep your midday snack?"
Jorick refused to dignify her remark with an answer. He busied himself with the casket; he surveyed the velvet lined interior and studied the lid, which someone had welded into a single large piece instead of the two halves used to display the corpse.
Corpse. That was a disturbing idea. Even more disturbing was that, though larger than the others, the space inside was too small to be comfortable.
Jorick climbed inside first. His body slid elegantly into place, and he scooted against one side to leave her the smallest of spaces. Katelina dropped the suitcase next to the casket, for want of anything else to do with it. She tried to climb in next to Jorick gracefully, but she fumbled and her audience snickered. Her cheeks tinted bright red as she forced herself into the tiny space. She was barely situated, laying more on top of Jorick than next to him, when he reached over her and pulled the lid closed. It shut with a noise of finality that echoed sickeningly in her stomach. The darkness was too thick and too breathless, the space too cramped; she was going to suffocate trapped inside a casket all day.
Jorick moved his lips against her ear, his voice soft and reassuring, "No you won't. You're perfectly fine. I've left the lid cracked. Relax."
She tried to shake her head and express that she was not all right, but soft, soothing waves wrapped around her mind instead.
"Relax," he whispered again, his voice rich and lyrical; commanding her.
She fought against it. "No. Jorick, it's a coffin."
He sighed with only minimal impatience. "You were in one after the battle with Claudius and you survived."
"But that was just a wooden box," she pointed out. "It was bigger than this and it was just wood. This is like steel or titanium or something."
"I doubt that. It's probably aluminum. But," he continued, before she could argue the point. "It's no different than it was then. It's a box with a lid that opens and closes. If anything, this one is newer and cushier."
"It's a coffin!"
"Actually, it's a casket," he murmured absently. "There's a difference." She made a low noise in her throat, and he went on, "Either way, we've established that. Now, go to sleep, little one, and don't make me enchant you, because I will if I have to."
"Enchant? What? You're a sorcerer now?"
He sighed, almost imperceptibly. "You know what I mean. If you have a better word for it, then let me know."
She tried to think of one, and he went on as though there'd been no interruption. "Now go to sleep. Just close your eyes and rest. Tomorrow will be no better than today. Pray to your God that it ends swiftly."
She wanted to argue with him, but she remembered his warning. The idea that some of the other vampires could hear her thoughts made her shiver. She pressed her face against his chest and let his comforting scent fill her nostrils while she repeated to herself, "I'm all right. I'm all right. It's all right."
As if in response, Jorick slowly slipped an arm around her and squeezed her tightly. "Yes, you're all right. Now good night, little one."
"Good night," she murmured in return and closed her eyes against the oppressive darkness. "Pray to your God," he'd said. Oh yes, she thought. She intended to pray to God and to everyone else she could think of.
