“I respect that. But it doesn’t change anything.”

I sighed. He would never bend, and I knew it. We were five days from being mortal enemies, and I’d come to rely on him as a friend. An incredibly touchy, downright rude friend, but the only one I had.

I didn’t want to think about it tonight.

Nathan finished the dishes without further conversation. When the last one rested in the drying rack, he washed his hands and wiped them on the dish towel. I handed him my mug with a sheepish smile, and he made a face in good-natured annoyance as he dropped it in the empty sink. “Feel like a drink? A real one, this time?”

“I could definitely use one.” I followed him to the living room where he ordered me to sit.

He pulled a large book from one of the shelves and opened it. It was hollow, the pages carved out to form a niche for a gleaming metal flask.

“Here I thought you were a bookworm, and you’re really just an alcoholic.” I yawned. “So the shop is just a clever front for a bootlegging operation, right?”

He handed me the flask. “Scotch. Aged thirty years. I only hide the good stuff.” He motioned for me to drink. “Ziggy helps himself to the liquor cabinet and replaces what he takes with water. He thinks I haven’t noticed.”

I took a cautious sip. It was smooth and warmed me almost as much as the blood I’d drunk.

My thoughts strayed to the mystery woman in the picture. Obviously, it was a wedding photo. But Nathan didn’t wear a ring. He didn’t even have a tan line from one. Now, that’s a stupid thought, I scolded myself. He can’t go out in the sun.

There had to be some way to bring up the subject, an innocent question I could ask that would lead him to spill the whole tale.

He sat on the couch next to me, and his thigh brushed mine. I didn’t move away. Neither did he.

“Do you ever get lonely?” It seemed the best way to get the conversation started.

It was also intensely personal, judging from the look on Nathan’s face. He took the flask and swallowed deeply. “Nah. Ziggy’s here, and when he’s not, I like being alone.”

“I meant, does immortality get lonely?” I reached for the flask, deciding the best way to kill the sour aftertaste was with another shot of the stuff.

“Well, after the first decade or so, time seems to fly by. I have to admit, it gets boring every now and then. And yeah, lonely, I guess. Especially when I read about someone having his hundred and eighth birthday, or something like that. It drives home the fact I’m really, really old. I’m just not getting any older.” He gave a little laugh and looked over at me. “I’m not making sense, am I?”

“You are,” I assured him. “Though it might be because I’m slightly tipsy.”