Chapter nine
A knock at Sly’s door filled him with momentary trepidation. Even though the witches had resealed the building against Malvant, some chucklehead might have let him in. Although, wait a minute—the front door hadn’t opened so it must be someone from the building.
As he strolled to the door, he hoped it was Morgaine. He hadn’t seen her for a couple days and he missed her. Gwyneth came by once to pick up his mash and show him how to use the still, but thankfully, she had stopped flirting with him.
Upon opening the door, he grinned. “Morgaine, it’s good to see you. Come in.” She looked especially pretty. She had on a short black skirt and a pink blouse. Her embroidered black denim satchel was draped over her shoulder.
“Thanks.” As she made her way to his couch, she commented, “I’m glad you’re using candles now. I love the ambiance of candlelight.”
“I have to. Knowing my maker’s out there, I’ve kept the room darkening shades closed. Thanks again for thinking of those.”
She smiled. “I’m glad I did. This way Vorigan Malvant can’t see in, either. At least, I hope not! Has anyone checked from outside yet?”
“Nathan did, and no, he couldn’t see in even with several candles lit.”
“I brought you more candles, by the way.” Morgaine dug into the big bag she held in her lap. “I figured you’d be stuck inside most nights now that Vorigan knows where you are.”
“That’s very thoughtful.” He leaned over and kissed her, then took the candles to the kitchen and returned. “I meant to ask Gwyneth how you discovered his name?”
“It was on the mailbox outside, and a piece of mail was laying on his end table next to the door. I didn’t notice it at first, but when we enlarged the photos, we could read it. It was blurry, but I’m pretty sure that’s what it said.”
Sly sat next to her and put an arm around her. “So, he’s been here a while if he’s receiving mail.”
“Presumably.” She leaned against him and rested her hand on his thigh. “There are a couple of things I need to talk to you about. They’re important.”
He shifted so he could see her eyes. She looked anxious, expectant. “What is it?”
“Well, I figured Vorigan has curtailed your crime fighting and blood drinking activities. How are you feeling?”
“Like shit.” Sly hung his head. He didn’t want to admit he’d wanted to snack on her since she entered his apartment, but he didn’t want to lie either. He’d been purposely avoiding the temptation to stare at her carotid artery.
“I figured. Are you…um…” She squirmed a little bit and averted her gaze. Whatever was on her mind obviously made her uncomfortable.
“Spit it out, Morgaine. Whatever you want to ask is perfectly all right.”
“Are you able to stop before hurting someone? In other words, can you just take a little sip?”
What’s she getting at? She couldn’t be offering herself—could she?After a brief hesitation, he said,“Yes, I can do that. I might be tempted to continue if I’m famished and the bastard deserves it, but if there’s a good reason to stop, I can.”
“H—how long can you go without feeding? That’s what you call it, right?”
He shrugged. “I guess so. Feeding, drinking, whatever. And I’m not sure how long I can last without it. To tell you the truth, I tried suicide by not drinking at all for a while. It didn’t work. I just went mildly crazy.”
She looked horrified.
He held up one hand. “It was a long time ago. You have to understand, after my wife died and my daughter was taken from me, I sank into a deep depression. I’m not talking about days or weeks. I mean it lasted months. I don’t know how long I went without blood. A few weeks, at least.”
“Are vampires even able to commit suicide? I thought you were immortal.”
“I am—apparently. Having been a Catholic, I believed committing suicide was a mortal sin, but I had voluntarily become undead so figured I was on my way to Hell anyway. Just in case I wasn’t, I didn’t want to do anything completely selfish like walking around in sunlight until I fried or falling on a broken chair leg. I could have made it look like an accident, but God would know better.”
“So, you went without eating? And you didn’t think God would be able to figure that one out?”
“It wasn’t exactly like that. I hadn’t been able to eat because I was so depressed. After a couple weeks or so, I became disoriented, weak, and even more apathetic. Letting it continue didn’t seem like an active suicide attempt.”
“I—I’m sorry you went through that.”
He shrugged. “Morgaine, you’ve awakened my humanity. I’ve never thanked you for that.”
