Chapter 17

Katelina woke with a start, covered in a fine layer of sweat. The last of the sun's golden light fell through the window and illuminated the old fashioned bedroom. It brought with it a measure of comfort after the nightmares of her sleep.

She wiped absently at her face and tried to forget her dreams. Blood, so very much blood! The red liquid filled the sink and spilled onto the floor and, no matter how far she'd climbed, the tide had crept higher and higher, until she knew there was no escape from the dark, sucking liquid.

She repeated aloud the mantra her mother had so often used when she was a child, "They're only dreams; they're not real. They can't hurt you." Her voice sounded small in the large room and, rather than comforting her, it made her feel more alone.

She wondered about her mother. How was she doing? Had she discovered her daughter was missing? It had only been two days, so maybe she didn't know yet, but "Grave Day" was quickly approaching. If she didn't meet her mother at the cemetery she'd certainly notice, and then she would be hysterical.

And what if she was? What difference would it make? It wasn't as if there was anything Katelina could do about it without putting her mother in danger. If she'd had any doubts about the peril facing them, last night's attack at the motel had fixed that.

Whether a throwback to childish desires, or simply because she knew she shouldn't, she wanted to see her mother. She just wanted to hug her and tell her that, despite their differences, she loved her.

Katelina shook her head in disgust at the sentimentality she was indulging in, then slid out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. It was time she faced the truth: she was mixed up in something far beyond her normal sphere of understanding. No amount of her mother's advice would help. Even Sarah couldn't do anything at this point. For better or for worse, her only hope was a dark haired stranger who called himself Jorick.

She checked the bedroom door to find it was locked from the outside. She rattled the handle uselessly and cursed. He'd told her to stay in the room, and she'd agreed, so why had he locked her in? Or had someone else done it? Were they holding her prisoner?

She forced herself to calm down but, when she reached the bathroom, she discovered that the clothes she'd left abandoned on the floor were gone, as was the ugly orange bedspread. She was locked in a room with nothing to wear but a filmy nightgown and no food. She wanted to scream, though she knew it wouldn't accomplish anything. Instead she turned to going through the rooms in search of clothes, a phone, or anything that might be of use.

In the bathroom she found a hairbrush, as well as a bottle of sweet smelling perfume which she used as a morale booster. In the bedroom she turned up several worn books in the top drawer of the wardrobe and some dust bunnies.

In defeat, she flopped onto the bed and flipped through the old books. They appeared to be romance novels from the mid-eighteen-hundreds. She inhaled the faint musty odor from their yellowed pages and wondered how long they'd lain in the drawer, forgotten. Despite the renovations of modern conveniences, the house was likely a couple of hundred years old and she couldn't help but entertain the romantic notion that the books belonged to some previous owner who left them when she went away to get married, or died some tragic death. The latter option made Katelina shiver, and she decided to abandon it. Her situation was scary enough without adding imagined ghosts.

She dropped the books on the bed and stared through the window at the deep purple sky. It would be full night soon, time for all the monsters to come creeping out of the shadows.

The door rattled, then opened to reveal a tired looking woman in an almost sarcastic rendering of a maid's uniform. The dress was reminiscent of a too large Halloween costume. The skirt hung down to her bony knees, the neckline sagged too low and the sleeves draped down to nearly her elbows. The effect was like one imagined a sack dress. Her lank blonde hair was pulled up into a sad attempt at a bun. Long thin wisps had escaped it to fall all around her pale, almost sickly colored face. To complete the picture of surreal oddity, the woman's arms and legs were covered in white gauze bandages at strange intervals.

She clutched an armload of pink cloth to her chest and approached Katelina without looking up. When she spoke, her voice sounded as weary and strung out as she looked. "The mistress sends you this, with her compliments."

Katelina stood quickly and blinked in surprise as she realized this must be a real servant and not a joke. Reluctantly, she took the clothes and noted with an almost abhorrent disgust that bandages were also on the woman's neck and chest, peeping out from beneath the dress, and held on by large quantities of white medical tape. She looked like she'd been mugged by thieves wielding a letter opener as a weapon.

Katelina turned her attention to the dress she'd been given. It was a light, creamy pink with no sleeves and a knee length skirt. A swath of pink lace decorated the bodice, along with a broach set with pink stones that caught the light. The dress probably cost more than she made in a week! The thought both delighted and horrified her.

Unsure what else to do, she gave the maid a wan smile and murmured, "Thank you."

The maid continued to stare at the ground, her eyes unwilling to meet Katelina's. "When you've dressed, the mistress wishes to see you, to welcome you properly."

"All right." Katelina stopped herself from saying "thank you" again, but it left her standing mute in the middle of the rug, the dress dangling from her fingers.

The servant woman shuffled out of the room quickly and shut the heavy door behind her.

A few minutes later, Katelina stood before the mirror, examining the new outfit. As she turned this way and that, she whistled softy to herself. If Oren could afford to buy his wife dresses like this, he wasn't doing bad at all; especially when she just handed them out to strangers. So what was up with the old car? Was he a collector of some sort? And where did his money came from? Before she could form a theory, door opened again to reveal the maid.

"If you'd like to come to the kitchen for something to eat?" It was really more a request than a question.

Katelina hesitated. Jorick had said to stay in the room until he came for her, "no matter what," but she was hungry. Besides, she didn't think following someone as brow beaten as the maid could lead to any serious trouble.

"Okay," she answered at last and abandoned the mirror to make her way through the door.

The maid shuffled down the dimly lit hallway and Katelina followed her. Her eyes roamed to the paneled walls set with heavy doors. She couldn't help but wonder what lay behind them. Were there more bedrooms? Perhaps one of the doors led to the bedroom Jorick was staying in?

Her questions remained unanswered as they turned and descended the beautifully carved staircase to the green hallway, then past intricately painted portraits whose eyes stared uncomfortably from their gilt frames.

The kitchen was towards the back of the house. It was large and tiled, the furnishings mostly wood and ceramic; old fashioned appearance with all the modern conveniences. The gleaming overhead lights made the white counters glitter and the polished wood shine.

Katelina sat at the table where the maid indicated and a plate was set in front of her by a worn out looking brunette wearing a knee-length dress and a cardigan. Her sleeve rode up a little as she stretched to set down the plate, revealing a white gauze bandage on her wrist, just like the maid's. She noticed Katelina staring and pulled her arm away hastily, then hurried back to vigorously scrubbing the cutting block.

The plate contained spaghetti and meatballs, and the smell told Katelina that it came from a microwaveable container. She'd eaten the same meal for lunch before. Peel back the corner of the carton, pop it in the microwave and five minutes later - PRESTO! - spaghetti and meatballs that tasted like cardboard.

As she chewed the instant food, she realized how hungry she was, and mentally calculated how little food she'd had in the last twenty-four hours. It took all of her will power, but she forced herself to eat casually instead of wolfing it down. She needn't have bothered because the three servants were too busy scrubbing the already gleaming surfaces to pay attention to her.

At the clinking of the fork on the empty plate, the maid who'd led her there looked up from her polishing. Her eyes met Katelina's and dropped away quickly, almost fearfully. She folded the wash cloth and discarded it before she hurried to the table. "Please follow me."