"Elrod, P N - Quincy Morris, Vampire e-txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

"That's right."

"Might I draw your attention to the mantel clock?" He nodded in its direction.

Finding difficulty focusing my eyes, I stared long at its face and finally worked out that it was nearly three in the morning. "It hasn't been wound," I said.

"The clock is quite correct, the problem is with yourself." He turned and got busy with building up the fire, which was now very low.

"I must have fallen asleep." It seemed the most natural way to account for the lost hours.

"Sleeping as others do is not something you may indulge in when the sun is down. You know that." He straightened and looked at me again.

"I'm sure I dozed off."

"You were in the thrall of a trance. When food is scarce in the winter certain animals do much the same thing. So it is with us."

That made a kind of sense, though it wasn't anything I wanted to hear.

"Mr. Morris, a good host allows his guest freedom, but also looks after his welfare. When I see someone under my protection trying to walk off a cliff, then it is my solemn duty to prevent him from harming himself."

"I'm all right," I muttered.

"I will risk giving offense and say to you that that is a complete lie."

I hadn't the strength to argue.

"Of course, you yourself are giving me much offense by your refusal to deal with a very simple matter. This denial of your need puts me in a position where I must either let you continue to injure yourself or force you to take action. Both would be unmannerly."

"This is not something I want," I whispered.

"Which is very obvious. You've shown a great will in fighting against it. A great will. Few would be capable of such and still be sane. But no matter how much you desire to have things back the way they were, it shall never be so. You are what you are. You must face that."

"But to drink . . ." I trailed off, shaking my head.

"Blood. Say it."

Damned if I will.

"You attach much importance to it, which can be a good thing, for blood is life to us. Attaching a negative importance is . . . destructive. To you. To anyone who crosses your path."

"What?"

"When your appetite finally exceeds your self-command you could kill. I'm sure you would not wish to murder."

I rallied enough to glare at him. "That will never happen."

"Never? You have not lived long enough to know the word has a most . . . flexible meaning." He clasped his hands behind his back and paced slowly up and down the room. "Does your head hurt? Is your vision clouded? Perhaps a decided weakness plagues your limbs?"

"Why? You got patent medicines to sell?"