grumpy when they’re hungry. Roman had recently fed.
‘You drank from her didn’t you?’ I accused.
‘No point in letting her go to waste.’
‘Did you do anything else?’ I just couldn’t leave it be. I sounded like a nagging wife with a big, green monster sitting on my shoulder, urging me on.
‘I prefer my women conscious.’
‘Who is she?’
‘No one.’
‘She must be someone.’
‘No one you could possibly know.’
‘Have you fed from her before?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’
He sat beside me on the dry stone wall.
‘Eryres, you know what I am, and what I need to do to survive.’ He was calm but I could tell his patience was thin. How many times had he told me this?
‘But do you have to enjoy it so much?’ My voice was plaintive and more than a little whiney.
‘Yes, I do and I’m not going to apologise for that.’ He paused, gathering his thoughts. ‘Grace, I have been returning to Brecon almost every March and staying until May. It has taken me a long time to realise you appear to me in the same month as it is in your own time. When you were here last it was March, was it not?’ I nodded. ‘And it was also March in your time?’ I nodded again. ‘I have returned each March for twenty years to wait for you. And whilst I wait, I have to feed. You know this. You also know I am a healthy male.’ He grinned at me, his teeth gleaming in the darkness, reflecting the dim light from a crescent moon. ‘I return for you, but you must learn not to expect too much of me. When you are here I will mate – make love – with no other, but when you are not here,’ he shrugged. ‘The decades are long.’
I understood and told him so, but from my point of view it had only been a couple of weeks and I found that concept hard to deal with.
‘Now, why didn’t you obey me and go inside the house? I do not ask you to do this for no reason. Come inside.’ He scanned the fields, using eyes and ears, but found nothing to alarm him. I wondered why he was so jumpy. He took hold of my hand and slipped gracefully off the wall. I stayed firmly put, remembering my reasons for not wanting to enter Roman’s house.
‘Come,’ he repeated, a slight urgency in his tone.
I shivered, but whether it was from the vampire’s unaccustomed nervousness or the cold March air, I couldn’t tell. I sighed, knowing I had to broach the subject, Wilfred’s death weighing heavily on my mind, and I had to know how Roman felt about what I had done. After all, he’d had hopes for the man.
‘I killed someone in there.’
‘I know.’
‘Do you hate me for it?’
‘Why should I? You did what needed to be done. Rather more messily than I would have, but…’
‘You know why I did it?’
‘I found the letters on the floor. I assumed it was you who dropped them?’ I nodded. ‘Why didn’t you leave Wilfred to me?’
‘I couldn’t. He found me reading them, then he threatened to kill me and chased me into the kitchen. I stabbed him as he was trying to strangle me.’
‘Ah.’
‘What about that Charles person Wilfred was writing to?’
Roman gazed at me steadily.
‘Oh, I see.’ Charles was now an ex-Charles. I had assumed so, but I needed to check. ‘Was he the only one Wil told?’
‘I cannot be totally sure, but I think so, yes.’
There was silence for a while as I remembered the bloody scene inside the house.
‘It’s done, Grace. You have nothing to reproach yourself for. He would have killed you, but instead, you killed him.’ He shrugged that Gaelic shrug he did so well. ‘Would you prefer it if you had died and he had lived?’
‘No, but –’
‘Accept what you did was necessary for your survival and put it behind you.’
‘It’s okay for you, you’re used to killing,’ I protested, perhaps a little unfairly.
‘I have killed, yes,’ he admitted, ‘but I am not used to it. I do not like doing it, but I do what I have to do.’
‘Don’t you feel
‘You drank from her didn’t you?’ I accused.
‘No point in letting her go to waste.’
‘Did you do anything else?’ I just couldn’t leave it be. I sounded like a nagging wife with a big, green monster sitting on my shoulder, urging me on.
‘I prefer my women conscious.’
‘Who is she?’
‘No one.’
‘She must be someone.’
‘No one you could possibly know.’
‘Have you fed from her before?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’
He sat beside me on the dry stone wall.
‘Eryres, you know what I am, and what I need to do to survive.’ He was calm but I could tell his patience was thin. How many times had he told me this?
‘But do you have to enjoy it so much?’ My voice was plaintive and more than a little whiney.
‘Yes, I do and I’m not going to apologise for that.’ He paused, gathering his thoughts. ‘Grace, I have been returning to Brecon almost every March and staying until May. It has taken me a long time to realise you appear to me in the same month as it is in your own time. When you were here last it was March, was it not?’ I nodded. ‘And it was also March in your time?’ I nodded again. ‘I have returned each March for twenty years to wait for you. And whilst I wait, I have to feed. You know this. You also know I am a healthy male.’ He grinned at me, his teeth gleaming in the darkness, reflecting the dim light from a crescent moon. ‘I return for you, but you must learn not to expect too much of me. When you are here I will mate – make love – with no other, but when you are not here,’ he shrugged. ‘The decades are long.’
I understood and told him so, but from my point of view it had only been a couple of weeks and I found that concept hard to deal with.
‘Now, why didn’t you obey me and go inside the house? I do not ask you to do this for no reason. Come inside.’ He scanned the fields, using eyes and ears, but found nothing to alarm him. I wondered why he was so jumpy. He took hold of my hand and slipped gracefully off the wall. I stayed firmly put, remembering my reasons for not wanting to enter Roman’s house.
‘Come,’ he repeated, a slight urgency in his tone.
I shivered, but whether it was from the vampire’s unaccustomed nervousness or the cold March air, I couldn’t tell. I sighed, knowing I had to broach the subject, Wilfred’s death weighing heavily on my mind, and I had to know how Roman felt about what I had done. After all, he’d had hopes for the man.
‘I killed someone in there.’
‘I know.’
‘Do you hate me for it?’
‘Why should I? You did what needed to be done. Rather more messily than I would have, but…’
‘You know why I did it?’
‘I found the letters on the floor. I assumed it was you who dropped them?’ I nodded. ‘Why didn’t you leave Wilfred to me?’
‘I couldn’t. He found me reading them, then he threatened to kill me and chased me into the kitchen. I stabbed him as he was trying to strangle me.’
‘Ah.’
‘What about that Charles person Wilfred was writing to?’
Roman gazed at me steadily.
‘Oh, I see.’ Charles was now an ex-Charles. I had assumed so, but I needed to check. ‘Was he the only one Wil told?’
‘I cannot be totally sure, but I think so, yes.’
There was silence for a while as I remembered the bloody scene inside the house.
‘It’s done, Grace. You have nothing to reproach yourself for. He would have killed you, but instead, you killed him.’ He shrugged that Gaelic shrug he did so well. ‘Would you prefer it if you had died and he had lived?’
‘No, but –’
‘Accept what you did was necessary for your survival and put it behind you.’
‘It’s okay for you, you’re used to killing,’ I protested, perhaps a little unfairly.
‘I have killed, yes,’ he admitted, ‘but I am not used to it. I do not like doing it, but I do what I have to do.’
‘Don’t you feel
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