Page 99

By Friday afternoon, the marks in my neck had vanished, and the intense exchange we’d shared felt like a dream.

Thursday evening, after the sex and the bite, after making me grilled cheese with bacon and brewing chamomile tea, Mordecai had spent the night in my bed. Although I couldn’t be sure he slept, the company was nice. While I worked the following day, he returned to the mansion to inspect the property after promising he wouldn’t leave himself vulnerable by sleeping in the basement.

If he fed regularly, could he go without his soil entirely? I hadn’t asked, but Mordecai didn’t seem concerned. After attempting another home-cooked meal, we’d spent Friday night in bed together, making love and chatting until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. He woke me at four the following morning with a mug of chamomile tea and a plate of scrambled eggs and toast since we planned to leave before the sun rose.

Despite not being able to eat, Mordecai’s inspiration to make meals was cute, and he glowed with pride as he watched me enjoy them, asking repeatedly if he’d done okay.

“Am I allowed to ask how your father died?” His quiet words broke into my musing.

No matter how tentatively he asked, the question punctured the peace of our predawn excursion, and I tensed.

“You don’t need to share if you don’t want to.”

“It’s fine. I suppose you’ll find out soon enough.”

I wrung the steering wheel, focusing on the empty highway and the sharp cut of my high beams as they lit a path through the dark. Returning to that night always stung.

“It was my last year of high school, and I lied to my parents, telling them I was going to London to the movies with a group of friends. Not your London. Obviously. Ours is roughly thirty minutes from Strathroy. A much bigger city and far more exciting for a bunch of teenagers. More to do.

“It was Halloween night, and I said the theater was playing a bunch of retro horror movies, so we were going to watch a few, and I wouldn’t be home until late. It was all bullshit. We went to a massive keg party instead.

“Everyone was underage and drinking. Smoking pot. Doing other drugs. My buddy drove, but by the time two in the morning rolled around, he’d fucked off somewhere. I couldn’t find him. Another guy offered to take me home, but we were all hammered, so I knew it was a bad idea.

“My parents had drilled it into my head a million times that I shouldn’t get in a car with someone who’s been drinking. Dad always said to call him, and he would come and get me. No questions asked. I wouldn’t be in trouble. Just call.”

I shivered from the memory of standing outside in a cold October rain, waiting for him to show up. Mordecai turned up the heat and rested a hand on my thigh. The silent support made my heart ache.

Not two days ago, I’d entered a relationship with a man whose life had ended centuries before I was born. A man who couldn’t make promises and reminded me that we would never grow old together, and yet, I didn’t care.

I’d been drawn to Mordecai since the day we met. The idea of letting him walk away, be it for the good of my mental health or his, made me sick. Was it selfish? Considering he would be the one to suffer in the end, maybe. But I couldn’t help it. I didn’t care about the obstacles in our way or wonder how we would manage the passing years. I only wanted to be with him, share stories about our vastly different lives, listen to him recount history and all he’d seen and experienced. I wanted to give him a taste of humanity, since he seemed to yearn for it desperately. Would there be challenges? Absolutely. Could we overcome them? We wouldn’t know unless we tried.

“Ensley?”

I blinked back to the present and blew out my cheeks. “Sorry. It’s hard to talk about.”

“You can stop.”

“No. It’s okay.” I took his hand and weaved our fingers. “Dad took medication before bed at night. He used to get muscle spasms in his legs, bad enough it disturbed his sleep. The medication helped, but it was heavy stuff. Made him loopy and affected his concentration. He wasn’t supposed to drive after taking it, but Mom was on the night rotation at the hospital. She was a nurse but took an early retirement after Dad died. So, since she wasn’t home, and my father wasn’t about to let his underage, drunk son take a ride from an underage, drunk stranger, he came to get me.”

A familiar nausea stirred my gut, and I had to swallow a few times before I could continue. Regardless, a stone sat in my throat. “The weather was terrible. Raining but turning to sleet as the temperature dropped. Wind out of the north. Snow predicted before morning. It was a bitter, gross, and typical Halloween in Southwestern Ontario. Utterly miserable.”

I could have told stories about trick-or-treating as a kid. How my mother forced me to wear a bulky winter coat over my costume, ruining the whole effect, but it would have been a diversion. Recalling Mordecai’s vulnerable stories about his family fortified me. I wasn’t alone in my pain. If anyone could understand…

But my voice grew tight as I held back tears and continued. “He arrived around three and didn’t say a word when I got in the car, like he promised, but I saw the disappointment on his face. He didn’t yell or give me shit for lying or drinking. He drove us home. Sometimes I think it would have been better if he got it out. Gave me shit. The silence was oppressive. The drive wasn’t long, but by the time we were halfway home, even in my inebriated state, I noticed Dad was drifting into the other lane. I shouted, and he jolted, correcting us. His medication. He couldn’t stay awake, but I was in no state to pay close attention and keep him alert. I was doing all I could not to throw up.

“He drifted again when I was lost in my own world, looking out the window. A horn blared, and by the time I realized we weren’t in our lane and were instead heading directly toward oncoming traffic, it was too late. I hollered for Dad to wake up. He slammed on the brakes and yanked the steering wheel so hard he put us in a tailspin. If we’d hit the other car head-on, I would probably be dead too. But we didn’t. The other car clipped the corner of our vehicle and… I don’t really know what happened after that. The world was upside down and inside out. I was knocked unconscious for a time. When I awoke…”

The rest was self-explanatory, so I let the sentence dangle. Mordecai could fill in the blank.

“My father died disappointed in me, and it was my fault.”

“You can’t take all the blame, Ensley.”

“Sure I can.”

“You did exactly as you were instructed.”

“I was barely eighteen. I had no business drinking or partying.”