I counted to ten, willing my racing heart to slow. Then I called him.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Cassie.” His voice was bright with surprise. “Good evening.”
“I have one more thing I want to go over with you,” I said, leaping right in. This was not the time for small talk. “If we can agree on a few parameters now, I can agree to move back in.”
The sound of street traffic—a honking car horn, someone laughing—filtered in from Frederick’s side of the phone. He must be out, doing . . . whatever it was he did at night.
I didn’t want to think about what that might be.
“What is it?” he asked, unable to hide the eagerness in his voice.
I closed my eyes again, trying to steel my nerves.
“We need to discuss food,” I began. “Specifically, your food.”
“Yes. I had assumed you would want to discuss this eventually.”
“You assumed correctly.” I bit my lip, trying to think how to phrase what I wanted to ask him. “I believe you when you say you don’t feed from living humans—”
“Good,” he said, emphatically. “Because I do not.”
“You get food from blood banks, then?”
A pause. “Usually, yes.”
I made the intentional decision not to think about what usually meant. Or about the ethical dilemma stealing from blood banks raised. Drinking blood meant for human patients who needed it would also lead to human deaths, even if indirectly. But I supposed Frederick was just doing what he needed to do to survive in as humane a way as possible.
“I think I can handle the fact that you drink blood, given how you limit yourself.”
“I am very glad to hear that.”
“But,” I continued. “I cannot handle another experience like the one I had the other night. Where I open the fridge and, bam—blood.” I paused, trying hard not to think about the sickening smell of all that blood in the place where I kept my food. The way Reginald had sucked it down like a kid digging into a juice box at recess. “If anything like that happens again, I’m gone for good.”
“I understand,” Frederick said, very quickly. “You neither want to see blood in the apartment nor see me eating it.”
“That’s right.”
“I will make it so,” he promised. “All kitchen food storage space will be for your use only. I will store my food in a special refrigerator I will keep in my bedroom for this express purpose. Or else keep it out of our home altogether.”
Our home.
I ignored the warmth that flooded me at those words.
“That should work,” I agreed, glad he was not there to see how flushed my face was.
“Good.” He paused, then added, “Please believe me when I tell you I never meant for you to see the blood. Or to see one of us eat. I swear I believed you would not be home that night until much later.”
I believed him. “What Reginald did wasn’t your fault.”
“Either way, I will only eat in the apartment when you are not around to see me do it.”
“Thank you.”
“It is no hardship. There are only a few hours each day when we are both at home, and even fewer when we are both awake.”
“You really aren’t awake much during the day, are you?”
He paused, and then sighed. “An aftereffect of having been asleep for a century, I’m afraid. I was once able to be awake during daylight hours like any mortal human, even though being in direct sunlight has always been mildly unpleasant. But . . .” He trailed off and sighed again. “I am still regaining my strength, Cassie. For now, the best way for me to do that is to minimize the time I am awake during the daylight hours.”
“Of course,” I said, as if I understood. But I didn’t. I still had so many questions about how his life—or, nonlife—worked. Everything I had ever learned about vampires was from fictional sources. Even among the fictional vampire worlds I’d seen or read about there were a lot of inconsistencies. The vampires in Anne Rice novels, for example, didn’t act like the vampires in Buffy or True Blood.
I assumed Frederick didn’t sparkle in the sun like the vampires in Twilight, though even that was just a guess. Beyond that, I had no idea how any of it worked.
I figured there’d be time to puzzle it all out later, though. For the time being, I put a mental check mark beside Food, reasonably satisfied by what he’d just promised me.
“I still have a lot of questions,” I admitted. “And concerns, too. But I’m willing to take a lot on faith, assuming you’re up front with me about the big stuff going forward.”
“If you agree to live with me and help me adjust to life in the twenty-first century, I will never again omit anything about myself that might impact your life in a significant way.”
“Good,” I said. And then, before I could stop myself, I added, “I will move back in tomorrow.”
I couldn’t know for sure, but when Frederick said good night to me a few minutes later I thought I could hear him smiling.
NINE
Hey Frederick
Cassie. Hello.
Is everything all right?
You are still planning to move in, I hope?
Oh yeah for sure
I just wanted to let you know I’m arranging to have WiFi set up at your place
My treat
WiFi?
Yeah. If I’m moving back in I’ll need internet.
Everything I have heard about the internet makes it sound like a cancer upon the modern world.
I am not certain I want it.
Well I want it
I need it to watch my shows and do email and stuff
You’re gonna love it I promise
I can assure you I will not
But if it is something you require to be happy I’ll allow it
It was surprisingly good to be in Frederick’s apartment again. It was three in the afternoon, so just like the last time I moved in he wasn’t there to greet me. He had, however, left the curtains covering the lake-facing windows open—presumably for my benefit. The bright autumn sun glinted off the water so enticingly it almost felt like the view was welcoming me back home.
Or maybe I’d just gotten tired of camping out on Sam’s sofa.