He shook his head. “That was a simple calculation.”
I met his gaze, but he looked down.
“Much of what you say is hard for me to understand,” I admitted, “but I think you must mean that you believed the monster”—the other monster—“was more likely to kill me than you were.”
“You understand me perfectly, Miss Penrose.”
“Well, it is the fact youcaredthat I am grateful for, sir. That was no calculation.”
He smiled thinly into his tea. “As I said before, for the most part, I am still human.”
There is still love ... There is still frailness. And hope.The mixture of sweetness and sadness in him caused my chest to ache.
“But this other vampire perhaps is not?” I said.
His smile vanished like the steam from our cups. “As to that, my calculations have thus far proved useless. Because the blood was drained, the most likely explanation is that it is someone who suffers the same affliction. But I’ve never met with another family like ours, nor even read of one in a medical text. And as the constable has said, Mr. Roscoe’s wound was like something made by an animal.”
I couldn’t bring myself to ask what kind of wound he himself might leave. Instead, I asked, “Have you looked for this other?”
Setting his empty cup down, he replied, “I have, but I’ve never caught more than the shadow I saw on the day you were attacked. Tonight the moon is full, a time when our thirst has always been stronger, and I will seek again.”
“What will you do if you find him?”
He glanced at the casement; the heath below us was awash in autumn sunshine. Enough light came in that I could see what he meant about his eyes. It wasn’t just the color that made them unusual; the black center circles were very large.
“He may be a hunter like my ancestor,” he said. “Or it may be that he has only recently become a vampire. We are more dangerous—and less careful—at that time. In either case there may not be a possibility of reasoning with him, but I hope he will at least respect a request from one of his own kind to leave the area.”
“Do you think he would hurtyou?”
“Perhaps if he feels threatened.”
“Then you must take care, Mr. Tregarrick.”
He eyed me with disbelief. “Imust.” Laughing dryly, he said, “You are a wonder, Miss Penrose.”
This caused a flare of temper. “Don’t laugh at me, sir. I’m sure I must seem simple to you, and maybe thoselesssimple are quick to forget a kindness. I don’t find that admirable.”
He sobered. “I assure you the last thing I find you is simple. Please forgive me. As a monster who’s lived far too many years alone in a tower, I’m not used to anyone caring what happens to me.”
“I findthatsad, Mr. Tregarrick.”
“So do I.”
Drawing a breath to cool my heat, I lifted the teapot and refilled both our cups, his eyes following my every movement. In a more reasonable tone, I said, “Was it loneliness that made you come into The Magpie this week?”
He shook his head. “I came to terms with that long ago.”
“What, then?”
Bending to lift his cup, he said, “As you might imagine after what you’ve heard today, this is not the first time a death has occurred on or near the estate. But many years have passed since anything happened to revive the old stories, and in these times, people are more uneasy about the estate than they are fearful of it. I worried Mr. Roscoe’s death could change that.”
“Well, it seems you were right to. But I still don’t understand what that has to do with The Magpie.”
“I went there to be seen. I thought it might stave off the whispers if people could see that I was no different from them.”
I stared. “Do you have a looking glass?”
One corner of his lips lifted. “It was a failed experiment for many reasons, but mainly because I found it was too much for me. You, in particular, were too much for me.”
