Jorick took a step closer. The rogue jerked to his feet, pushing her back and tugging out a long bladed knife. "Go, Catalina! Run!"
"No, Filippo!" She broke into a foreign language, clinging to his arm. He shook her free and answered back in the same strange words.
Though Reymen didn't know the language they used, he could gain a sense of their meaning by reading their thoughts. He could feel the pulse of their fear, hers stronger than his. He was telling her that it was better to go than to return across the sea. Reymen had a flash of a face from her mind, a male with cold eyes and colder hands, a vision that brought her terror to a fever pitch.
Jorick gave a grunt of impatience and lunged. Filippo swung. The blade bit into Jorick's arm, but he ignored it to grab the vampire by the hair and slam him to the ground. The shock of the attack left the rogue motionless for a moment, enough time for Jorick to roll him on his face and grab his arms.