“The Lessening Society slaughtered dozens of families,” she said, “and what was left of the population fled Caldwell. They’re coming back slowly, but it’s been a bad time lately.”
Manny frowned. “What the hell is the Lessening Society?”
“Humans are not the real threat.” She opened a closet door and swept her hand over every kind of crutch, cane, and cast support. “What are you looking for?”
“Is that what your man is fighting every night?”
“Yes. It is. Now, what do you think you want?”
Manny stared at her profile and added up the math. “She asked you to help her kill herself. Didn’t she.”
Jane’s eyes shut. “Manny . . . no offense, but I don’t have the strength for this conversation.”
“That’s what it was.”
“Part of it. A lot of it.”
“She’s better now,” he said roughly. “She’s going to be fine.”
“So it is working.” Jane smiled a little. “Magic touch and all that.”
He cleared his throat and resisted footing the floor like a fourteen-year-old who’d been caught necking. “Yeah. Guess so. Ah, I think I’ll take a pair of leg braces, as well as a set of arm crutches—I think that should work for her.”
As he took out the equipment, Jane’s eyes stayed on him. To the point where he had to mutter, “Before you as
k, no.”
She laughed softly. “I wasn’t aware I had a question.”
“I’m not staying. I’ll get her up and walking, and then I’m going back.”
“That wasn’t on my mind, actually.” She frowned. “But you could hang around, you know. It’s happened before. Me. Butch. Beth. And I thought you liked her.”
“‘Like’ doesn’t begin to cover it,” he said under his breath.
“So don’t make any plans until this is over.”
He shook his head. “I have a career that’s going into the shitter—the cause of which, incidentally, is all the in-and-outing you guys have done to my brain. I have a mother who isn’t all that fond of me, but who will nonetheless wonder why she’s not hearing from me on major holidays. And I have a horse that is in bad shape. You mean to tell me that your boy and his ilk are going to be down with my having one foot in each world? I don’t think so. Besides, what the fuck would I do with myself? Servicing her is a pleasure, I assure you—but I wouldn’t want to make a profession out of it or have her end up with the likes of me.”
“What’s so wrong with you?” Jane crossed her arms over her chest. “Not for nothing, but you’re a great guy.”
“Nice dodge on the particulars.”
“Things could be worked out.”
“Okay, say they were. Then answer me this—how long do they live for.”
“Excuse me?”
“Life expectancy of vampires. How long.”
“It varies.”
“By decade or century?” When she didn’t reply, he nodded. “Just what I thought—I’m probably good for another, what, forty years? And the shriveling is going to start in about ten. I’ve already got aches and pains every morning and the beginnings of arthritis in both hips. She needs one of her own to fall in love with, not a human who’s going to be a geriatric patient in the blink of an eye.” He shook his head again. “Love can conquer everything but reality. Which will win every stinking time.”
Now her laugh was hard-edged. “Somehow I can’t argue with that one.”
He glanced down at the braces. “Thanks for these.”