Chapter 62
“Are you asking how old he is? He wasn’t young when he manned the redoubts at Balaklava when the Light Brigade charged it. You do the math.”
I swallowed. That battle had been fought in 1854, almost a hundred and sixty years ago.
I wasn’t a big history buff, but after Dad had told me how the relationship between saborsand vampyres came about—even though he had it mostly wrong—I’d done some research. I’d been intrigued to learn one theory was that the Black Plague had first been brought to Europe by Genoese trading ships returning from Balaklava.
“May I come in?”
“I have a headache,” I informed him. I wasn’t expecting him to laugh, but he did.
“No, I promise you, I won’t touch you.”
“All right, but just remember…I’ve got garlic!” I held up my hand with the bulb in my fist.
“I think you’ve been watching too many vampyre movies.” He continued to chuckle, waiting patiently, and this time I felt a tug of something.