Chapter Twelve

Katelina had a terrible night, and a terrible day.
Her emotions ranged from fury to sorrow and back again. Her mind
refused to settle on a single topic or emotion. It was too much
information in too short a time: Sarah was dead, Jorick had
betrayed her, and she was surrounded by vampires. Vampires! What
was next? Maybe she was really a fairy. Or perhaps they’d kill her
mother and put her head on a spike in the front yard. At the moment
nothing seemed impossible.
Even the golden sunlight that fell through the
window couldn’t stop the swirl of horrible thoughts. She tried to
sleep, but every time her eyelids closed Sarah would appear behind
them; sometimes as she’d last seen her, standing in the parking
lot, and sometimes as a bloody, fanged monster with mangled skin.
Finally, near sundown, Katelina managed to slip into an exhausted
slumber, punctuated with dreams that left her blushing and even
angrier at Jorick, as if it was his fault she’d had them. She
wanted to beat him, not dream about kissing him!
Jorick woke her late in the evening, a box of
microwave food in his hand and a look of penance on his face. She
sat up too quickly, and then glanced down to notice the revealing
nightgown. With a little gasp she pulled the blankets up to her
chest.
“What time is it?” She demanded, not sure if she’d
forgiven him or not.
“Ten o’clock,” he answered quietly. “I’d have come
sooner but I was detained.” He handed her the cardboard tray of
food. She looked at the rice and chicken mixture and felt like
throwing up. It all tasted the same, only the shapes changed.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he explained,
nodding towards the carton in her hand.
She looked from the food to him, speculating. She
wondered if this was his way of apologizing for his parting remark.
If so, she’d have rather he apologized for lying, for keeping
things from her, and most of all for spying on her..
Wordlessly, she ate the disgusting dish and tried
not to let it linger on her taste buds any longer than she had to.
When she’d finished she met his gaze. His dark eyes asked if he was
absolved of his sins, and her blue ones refused to give an answer.
He shifted from one foot to the other and then leaned against the
canopy pole. His hands nervously wrapped around the smooth wood.
“How was your night?”
She replied sharply, “How do you think it was?”
He studied her, his head cocked to the side.
“Yes?” she asked and clutched the blanket tighter to
her chest.
“If you want to get dressed... unless of course you
prefer to spend the night in that.” The corners of his mouth turned
up, the hint of a joke in his eyes.
She blinked at him, incredulous that he would try to
be humorous. “No, I’ll get dressed.” She reluctantly threw the
blankets off herself, and tossed the empty cardboard box into the
trash can.
He watched her slide out of bed, her arms crossed
over her chest. “You don’t have to get dressed,” he teased as she
started across the room. “Really, I don’t mind.”
“Very funny,” she threw over her shoulder. She shut
herself in the bathroom and quickly changed into the white dress
he’d brought her yesterday – or, she thought to herself, last
night. Day or night, she was glad that it was over.
She gazed at her reflection in the small mirror
above the sink. Her thoughts skipped to the dark haired vampire on
the other side of the door. What did Jorick think he was doing? He
woke her up and acted like everything was fine, like nothing had
happened. It was as if he wanted her to believe that she’d dreamed
it all and that he hadn’t lied to her – or omitted facts– or
whatever damn term he wanted to use! Did he really think she was
just going to forget?
She used the hairbrush to take her anger out on her
unruly hair, then she strode into the bedroom and found Jorick
where she’d left him.
“You really need some chairs,” he commented.
She ignored his attempt at friendly conversation and
went straight to business. “Are we leaving today?”
“Tomorrow. I have the car, but there are some other
arrangements – ” he stopped suddenly, his hand held up to signal
her to silence. He stiffened and stood perfectly still, like a
statue.
“What?” She squinted and strained her ears, but
heard nothing. Was this supposed to be another joke? “Look, this
isn’t – ”
“Shhhhhhh,” he hissed and motioned her to be still,
listening intently. He sniffed the air and then growled low in his
throat. “No! God damn it!” He hurried out the door and shouted back
to her, “Stay here unless I come for you!”
The panic in his voice left her wide eyed and
terrified. She held her breath, but she still couldn’t hear
anything except the buzz of blood in her ears and her heart
beating. What was going on?
She paced the room, wringing her hands for something
to do. Minutes passed like hours and silent fears assailed her. She
peered through the window but saw only a wall of blackness outside,
while inside she was alone; waiting and scared. Her fingers
fluttered to her lips, but she stopped herself from actually biting
her nails.
Her head snapped up as the door opened to a
disheveled Jesslynn. She was desperately clutching the vampire baby
in one arm and hanging on to Alexander’s small hand with the other.
Her dark hair had fallen from its dramatic up do, so that long,
loose tendrils fell around her pale, scared face. Her dark eyes
were wide and terror shimmered in their once mesmerizing
depths.
“What’s – ” Katelina began, but Jesslynn cut her
off.
“Come human.” Her eyes lingered for only a moment
before she glanced down the hallway. “We must hurry.”
Katelina started to object, but again her sentence
was left unfinished. “Jorick said – ”
“If you don’t come with me now, you’ll die when they
find you.” Jesslynn looked back down the corridor impatiently, and
then to Alexander.
Katelina only stared, opened mouthed. The sound of
footsteps from somewhere else in the house reached her ears. “When
who finds me? What’s happening?”
“The Guild.” As the words left Jesslynn’s lips her
whole frame shuddered in fear. “Come quickly,” she added and
disappeared into the gloomy hallway, tugging the frightened child
after her.
Katelina decided she didn’t need to see that
performance twice to believe it. She plunged after the vampiress
and tried to keep up with her as they raced down the corridors.
They forsook the main staircase for a back set of stairs. Noises
from the ground floor floated up to them and Katelina could see an
occasional flash of light through the windows. As they ran down the
stairs she tried to remember where she’d heard The Guild mentioned
before. Who were they and why were they here? Did they have
something to do with Claudius?
Torina came barreling though a doorway as they
reached the ground floor. Terror twisted her sultry features.
“Jesslynn, they’re here!”
“I know.” Jesslynn answered breathlessly. “I am
hiding the children – if they get in, stall them until I
return.”
Torina nodded, and hurried off toward the sound of a
bone chilling scream. It was the kind of scream that made Katelina
think of blood and horrible ways to die. Though Jesslynn looked in
the direction the sound had come from, she didn’t let it distract
her for long.
They bolted through the kitchen doorway, and
Katelina choked back a shriek as Bethina stepped from the shadows,
her face a mask of calm. Jesslynn nodded at her without slowing and
wordlessly the mad woman-child turned and followed them as they
ran.
They wound through the house quickly, then down to
the cellar where two lines of empty coffins sat waiting for their
occupants to return. Despite her efforts not to acknowledge the
tiniest coffin, which she assumed housed the baby, Katelina found
herself shuddering as they hurried past.
Jesslynn lead them to the back wall of the cellar.
Her hands shook in fear and haste as she quickly pressed a series
of stones. A door sprang open from nowhere to reveal a tiny, dark
room. She shoved the blanket wrapped baby into Katelina’s arms and
pushed her through the door, then forced Alexander and Bethina to
follow. As the door swung shut she whispered urgently, “Protect
them.”
Katelina stood in the black, gripping the baby
tightly, torn between terror and confusion. What was going on?
Obviously they were under some kind of attack. But from who? Was
The Guild another coven?
The baby grew heavier in her arms. Afraid she’d drop
it, she sat on the cold floor and leaned against the wall. She
shifted the baby gently, rocking it unconsciously, unsure which of
them she was trying to calm. The darkness pressed in on them as
heavy as death itself, but she chanced speaking, “Alexander?”
“Yes?” His voice seemed small, but very close.
“Just seeing that you’re here,” she responded. “I
suppose we should be quiet.”
“Uh–huh.”
Suddenly the door swung open and light flooded the
tiny enclosure, temporarily blinding her. She cried out as hands
grabbed her and pulled her roughly to her feet. Only her
instinctual reaction kept her from dropping the baby and trying to
free herself.
“Shhhhhhh,” hissed Jorick’s voice, very close to her
ear. He moved like lightning. Before she could answer, his fingers
dug into the backs of her arms and crushed her against his firm
body. A sharp pain blossomed on the left side of her neck, just
above her collar bone, as his teeth sunk into her for only a
second.
She flinched as something else cut into her soft
skin and Jorick explained hurriedly, “I am marking you. If they
find you they’ll know you belong to me. I’m sorry, but it’s the
only thing I can do to save you.”
“Who are ‘they’?” she asked, one hand pressed
against the new injury, the warm moisture of blood on her palm.
Jorick released her and drew away. He looked down
into her face, offering silent reassurance. “‘They’ are The Guild.”
He glanced urgently to the basement. “I must go. Stay here, make no
sound,” and then he was gone. The door swung shut behind him and
the darkness was back, only it seemed even more suffocating after
the few moments of light.
She leaned against the cold stone and slid down the
wall until she was seated on the floor again, the silent baby
cradled in her lap. He hadn’t told her anything she didn’t already
know. “The Guild,” she whispered out loud. That was what Jesslynn
had said too. But who were they, and what did they want?
“The Vampire Guild,” Alexander said from the
darkness, answering her unspoken question. “They control everything
and oversee everyone. When someone breaks a law, they come for
you.” She felt his small body shudder against her leg.
She took a deep breath to steady her voice and asked
softly, “What do they do if someone breaks the law?” She suspected
she already knew the answer, given what she’d witnessed of vampire
nature.
“They kill them,” he whispered.
She nodded, signaling that she understood, though no
one could see her. Or maybe they could. She had no idea what they
could see, but she did understand who was now waging a small war in
the house. A vampire assassination squad had come here tonight
looking for someone who’d broken the law.
The Guild.
She suddenly remembered where she’d heard those
words before. It was in the nursery, and from the way Jorick and
Oren had spoken she was sure that the children were considered
illegal. Had they come because of them, or was it something
else?
She couldn’t hardly ask Alexander if he was against
the law, so she settled for, “What did Jorick mean by saying he
marked me?” She felt stupid asking a child questions, but he was
probably hundreds of years older than she was, no matter how
macabre and impossible it seemed.
“He marked your neck.” Alexander’s voice sounded
tired and defeated. “Each vampire has their own mark. It’s like a
symbol. By putting it on you, he’s claimed you so that everyone who
sees it will know that you’re his human.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. “What does that
mean?”
“It means he owns you. I thought you already had one
since father said you belonged to him.”
“Oh,” That single syllable surfaced again to fill in
a silence that she had no words for. Jorick had marked her as a
sign of ownership, like Claudius and Arowenia. Without so much as
asking he’d turned her into nothing more than a pet iguana!
“They’re supposed to do it to all their humans,”
Alexander continued. “Though Father doesn’t bother with it anymore.
He says that as long as they’ve been fed on it should be good
enough.”
Katelina shuddered at the boy’s words. Fed. Was that
what they would do to her? Her life flashed behind her eyes;
snapshots of her memories, stupid moments encapsulated forever for
no apparent reason. A field trip. When she’d fallen down the
stairs in seventh grade. Rain falling as she peered from beneath
bleachers on the football field. The funeral for Sarah’s cat.
Patrick holding that stupid glass ash tray and beaming so
proudly.
She reached up with one hand and wiped tears from
her face. She tried to assure herself that they were going to
survive, and that each minute crawling past made their situation
better and better. At any moment Jorick would open the door and
announce they were safe.
But the minutes ticked past and Jorick didn’t
appear. There was nothing but blackness and cold and the faint
smell of mold. The baby lay perfectly still and silent across
Katelina’s knee. Neither Bethina nor Alexander made the slightest
noise – the ability of the undead not to move, not to breathe. In
the silence, her rasping breath was the only sound to discern
living from death. She wanted to scream just to prove she was
alive, but she stopped herself and bit her lip until she tasted the
coppery sting of her own blood.
The fear in the room thickened until her every
breath was laced with it. She asked herself silently how she’d come
to be there, crouching in a hidden room with vampire children,
waiting in terror to be killed. She squeezed her eyes shut and
prayed that when she opened them she’d be back in the real world
with’ Twinkies and sunglasses and motor oil.
She opened her eyes to darkness. It hadn’t worked.
Maybe reality was nothing more than her imagination, maybe it had
never existed, would never exist. Maybe this darkness was the only
real thing she would ever know again. Even Jorick’s omission didn’t
seem to matter anymore; nothing mattered except for the raspy
feeling of fear rattling in her every breath and the slow minutes
sliding past, a silent countdown to her impending death.