“Hence the pizza.”
He smiled. “Except when injured, those of us who are older need only feed once or twice a week and, otherwise, have a diet similar to your own. Lots of vegetables and fruits. Very little meat. Organic chicken, turkey, or other fowl. None of the heavier meats, processed, or artificial foods that contain known carcinogens or other harmful chemicals. The same things that cause cancer, heart disease, and genetic mutations in humans increase our need for blood because of the damage they spawn in our bodies that the virus must heal, so we simply avoid them.”
“Makes sense. So your diet is different from theirs. What else?”
“Vampires don’t live as long as we do. The virus causes a slow descent into madness in them. It’s why we hunt them. Their madness and addiction lead them to kill their victims by draining them completely.”
“Human victims?”
“Yes. When the vampires are young, the deaths are swift because the vampire’s only desire is to satisfy his or her hunger. But after a few years, as portions of the brain deteriorate, madness infects them and they begin to toy with their prey as a cat would with a mouse, terrifying and torturing them. Either way, we cannot allow such slaying of innocents.”
“Do you drink from humans?” The idea of him sucking on some other woman’s neck was disturbing.
Which was not to say she wanted him to suck on her neck. Although …
Wait. What was she saying?
“Until the last century and the advent of blood banks, we had little choice. But we never killed those we fed upon and were always careful not to weaken them too much.” He paused and seemed to think a moment. “Actually that’s not true. As much as I wish to avoid frightening you, I want to be honest. We were always careful not to kill or weaken the innocents we fed upon. Pedophiles, rapists, and murders, however, were often not treated as kindly.”
In other words, they were killed.
Well, she didn’t have a problem with that. Sarah had always had a rather biblical sense of justice. “But … how does that work? I mean, don’t they … didn’t they tell people about you?”
“No. When our fangs descend, the glands that formed above them during our transformation release a chemical much like GHB under the pressure of a bite, so those we feed upon are left with no memory of it.”
That was pretty slick. “And you don’t drink from humans anymore?”
“Only when we’re desperate. We own a chain of blood banks, to which our Seconds and their families routinely donate, and receive our sustenance in the form of bagged blood now.”
“Is there no cure for the virus?”
“No cure.”
Something in his voice suggested he would’ve taken it if there were.
“What about antivirals? They’ve been making strides with antivirals lately.”
He shook his head. “We’ve tried them. They have no effect on us at all, in part because this virus behaves like no other on the planet. And testing antivirals is dangerous. Some of our scientists believe that if one did prove successful and kill the virus, we would die along with it because the virus essentially replaces our immune system.”
“That’s a hell of a catch-22,” Sarah said. “Remove the virus and you’ll be left with no immune system.”
“Yes.”
“How long do vampires live, then?”
“They rarely live a century. Either we kill them, they grow careless in their madness and accidentally destroy themselves, or they kill each other in blind rages and territorial battles.”
A century of madness and killing. That was messed up.
“And immortals? How long do immortals live?”
“We don’t age, so … indefinitely as long as no one decapitates us, burns us until we’re reduced to ash, or stakes us out for the sun.”
The image of him staked to the ground in the meadow flashed through her mind and shook her anew. “You really could have died this morning.”
“Yes.” He met her gaze intently. “And I must thank you again for saving my life, Sarah.”
She nodded. “I’m just glad I was there to help.”
Chapter 7
Roland finished removing the glass from Sarah’s palm and moved on to her wrist and forearm.
“Why does the virus affect you differently?” she asked curiously.
“Until recently we could only speculate. Like other immortals, I was different as a human, before my transformation, but didn’t know why. Back in the day, as they say, we were called gifted ones: men and women who were born with special talents we hid more often than not in order to avoid being accused of witchcraft and drowned or burned or stoned to death.”
He was both pleased with and wary of how well she was taking all of this. His explanation seemed to fascinate rather than horrify her.
It also appeared to be distracting her from the pain he was causing her.
“It became apparent early on that I had been born with the ability to heal with my hands.”
“That isn’t a result of the virus?”
He shook his head. “One of my earliest memories is of finding a bird with a broken wing in the bailey not far from the steps of the keep. I felt sorry for it and picked it up, cupping my hands around it to hold it still. The next thing I knew, the wing was mended and the bird was flying away. Several men and women who had seen it crossed themselves. I didn’t understand why.”
His mother, having witnessed the miracle, had rushed to his side. “My mother stared at me with such fear in her eyes.”
You have been blessed, sweetling, with a wondrous gift. But others will not see it so, she had told him in the seclusion of her solar. They will think you cursed. They will fear you and seek to harm you. You must never again use it when the eyes of others are upon you. Only heal in secret.
“Your mother was afraid of you?” Sarah asked, brow furrowed.
“No, she was afraid for me. With good reason. Many a gifted one was slain because of his or her differences.”
The eleventh century in which he had been born had lacked the legions of lawyers and hate-crime legislation that kept most men’s sadistic natures in check today. Anyone viewed as different had been hated, distrusted, or feared outright and had been made to suffer for it. (One of the downsides of living so long was seeing firsthand how little progress mankind made in certain areas.)
He repositioned her arm so he could better see her elbow. The glass pieces here were deeper as a result of her tumble down the hill and other falls.
“Thank you, Roland.”
He looked up at the softly spoken words. She was staring at him with what might almost be mistaken for fondness in her hazel eyes.
“Thank you for healing my ribs and my head.”
He held his breath when she raised her free hand and drew her fingers lightly across his forehead where it had bled.
“Why did you do it? Why did you heal me without feeding first when you knew it would hurt you?”
Why did her every touch affect him so? He was so distracted, he could think of no other answer but the truth. “I could not bear to see you suffer.”
“But you could’ve fed and rebuilt your strength in just a few minutes.”
“A few minutes were too many.”
When she lowered her hand, her palm fitted itself to his kneecap, then slid to one side as her fingers tucked themselves into the crease of his pants along the bend.
Roland’s vision honed in on that small, pale hand resting on his knee. Fire licked its way up his thigh to his groin as she exerted enough pressure to urge his leg against hers.
It seemed to be a gesture of affection. One he didn’t know how to respond to or how to interpret. Damn his antisocial ass.