Chapter 17: Verchiel - Never-Ending Question, Part 2

Kateesha poured water into the basin and ordered him to wash. He splashed his face and checked in the cracked mirror. The smeary reflection looked back with violet eyes and hair the color of crimson. The same color as the priest's blood. The man had been a priest, a holy man. Someone who was good. Sacred. Verchiel knew that or thought he did, though he wasn't sure how. Was he the kind of man who would kill a priest, or was he the kind to venerate them? Perhaps he'd been one of them himself. If only he could remember.

"You don't need to remember. You have been reborn."

He looked up from the basin and met her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You were once mortal like the priest. Human." She stopped next to the basin and lifted his hands from the red water. "But no longer. We have been washed in blood, kissed by the darkness, blessed with the curse. Mortality no longer holds meaning for us. Time is irrelevant. The cold claws of age will never touch us, never take us to the grave so long as we feed." She dropped his hand with a splash. "Humans, mortals, they are nothing. They are born, they grow old, they die. Their life is a flash, a moment, a single breath, while we go on. Better. Stronger. More beautiful. Do you understand? We are apart from such creatures. Above them. They are our cattle."

"Do you mean that we rule them?"

"My father did once. Now there arelaws." Her nose wrinkled. "The old ones sit on thrones in the Holy Roman Empire and lay down edicts that give themselves power and subjugate us to their whims. But do not worry, my pale angel. The day will come when the old ones will lay dead and we will rule the mortals. My father has promised."

Verchiel dried off and dropped onto the bed. "Where is your father?"

Her lip curled. "I know not. I left him and mybrother with the Ottomans, and may they rot!"

He drew back from her sudden anger, unsure what to say.

"I will see them again," she snapped. "I will always see them again, or so my father says. Drawn by blood is his claim, so that we may never escape him. But I say this is untrue. Look! Here I am." She held out her arms. "And where is he? Where is Jorick?"

He wasn't sure if he should recognize the name, so he asked carefully, "Who is Jorick?"

She scoffed. "My brother, for the lack of a better term." Despite the harsh tone, something melted in her eyes, until they were warm pools. "Though mark, he is not like our father. He does not play games for his own amusement. If anything he is too brusque at times to enjoy a little fun. Single minded, perhaps. Oh, but he is fierce. You should see him when he has got the scent, when the blood lust takes him. Then he is a sight to behold, his hair streaming like a banner, the fury dancing in his eyes while he tears and rends" She broke off in a shudder that seemed more delight than fear.

Verchiel was still unsure what his response should be. "You seem to be fond of him."

"As would you be, in my place."

"But, correct me if I'm wrong, you just said you left him and your father with the Ottomans may they rot."

She motioned the comment away. "May he rot, would be more apt. It is my father I'm weary of angry with. JorickJorick took his side, of course, but how can one expect anything else from men? They will stick together for the sake of masculine pride, if for no other reason. Yetstill" She caught her lip with one fanged tooth, tugging the corner. "I find it easier to forgive him, even in his folly. My father, on the other handHe deserves every breath of fury that I can muster."

"May I ask what he's done?"

The last shreds of Kateesha's fury melted into laughter. "You may ask, sweetling, but it is not the time to talk of such things. The sun will rise soon. We must be somewhere safe before its light touches the land. Come."

He cast a regretful look at the bed, but followed her to the hall and down to a crude wine cellar. She settled him between the casks and curled up against him, her head on his chest. With a soft sound that made him think of a cat, she stroked him and closed her eyes. She was soon asleep, perfectly still in his arms, like a lifeless doll. He brushed a stray hair back from her face and pressed his memory. He recalled waking in the room, Kateesha's laughter, the walk to the church. But there was nothing before except a vague impression of pain. Darkness and light warring, then pain and then and then Kateesha.

If only he could remember.

***

Verchiel woke to blue tinted darkness. Like the night before, Kateesha hovered over him. This time there was no blood, only her smile. "Good morning."

He returned the greeting then stood and stretched. He ran through his memories, and found only the previous night. The space before it was blank, as if he'd simply dropped into being, fully grown and immortal.

"And what if you did?" Kateesha asked. "Is it not better to start fresh than to wear the past like a weighted mantle?"

"Is that what you do?"

She averted her eyes and motioned him up the stairs and to their room. With a teasing smile she stripped off his clothes, then pushed him down to the bed. He reached for her but she stepped back.

"Tut, tut. I didn't say you could touch yet, sweetling. Be a good boy. Stay here and I will bring you a treat."

She disappeared through the door. He wondered where she'd gone and when she'd be back. "I'll bring you a treat" was very vague. Was he the kind of man to take such things, or was he the kind who took charge?

He lay in the bed and stared at the ceiling, but it offered no answers. From Kateesha's attitude with him it was obvious they were lovers, but were they more? Husband and wife, perhaps? It didn't feel right, but then what was a feeling? How could he tell which ones were right and which ones were wrong?

It was a maddening circle that he tried to shake free of.

If only he could.

The door opened and Kateesha reappeared. She lit a candle, then beckoned. Verchiel started to sit up, when a girl walked in. Her almond eyes stared shyly at the floor and her long black hair fell around her shoulders to hide her face. He reached for the blanket to cover himself, but Kateesha shook her head and winked.

"Come, child," she purred and motioned the girl toward the bed. She obeyed with hesitant steps, and came to a stop next to it, her eyes downcast. Kateesha lifted the girl's chin and forced her to look at him. Her cheeks flushed and she shied away quickly, murmuring something in a foreign language.