“Don’t kill the cow that supplies the milk?” she suggested dryly.
“Just so,” Dante agreed calmly. “However, just taking blood from too many people in the same area can cause problems. It raises the possibility of discovery of our kind. We lived very carefully throughout history, everything we did meant to keep knowledge of our kind hidden.”
“So you basically wanted a big herd to feed from, like a whole city to one family?” Mary said, and then sighed to herself as she realized how bitchy that had come out when she hadn’t really meant it to. She did understand their need to feed, and knew it wasn’t even their fault that they had to. It was a matter of survival. Still, that didn’t make it any easier to accept that she and every other human on the planet were basically cattle to them.
Dante didn’t react to her attitude. He merely said, “We did what we could to minimize our need for blood. In an effort to reduce the amount of blood we needed, immortals took to keeping mostly night hours and sleeping during the day to avoid sunlight and the extra damage. Most were careful about their diets and eschewed drinking as well. And despite the fact that we could easily win any battle, engaging in one was always a last resort, to avoid injuries that would need extra blood for repair.”
“So your people were a bunch of vegetarian pacifist night owls?” Mary asked dubiously.
“Not exactly,” Dante said on a laugh. “I said they were careful with their diets, not that they gave up every pleasure. And war was a last resort, not forsworn entirely.”
“Hmm,” Mary murmured, frowning as she glanced to the side mirror and noted that the van that had been keeping back a bit was now moving up closer behind them. She glanced at the road around them, noting with some concern that other than a dark SUV almost on their front bumper, the traffic appeared to have cleared out almost entirely. It was a lonely stretch of highway with little in the way of witnesses.
“Of course, war should always be a last resort,” Dante added, regaining her attention. “But it was more so for our people.”
“Dante,” Mary began worriedly as the van moved to the left, out of sight of her side mirror.
“I know,” he said quietly. “They are about to pass us. No doubt they plan to get in front of us and force us to stop or—” He broke off abruptly and cursed as something, no doubt the van, rammed into the left back end of the RV.
Mary instinctively braced herself, pressing her right hand against the window next to her and grabbing at her armrest with her left as the RV jolted and swerved. Her gaze slid to the window. Spying the embankment along the side of the road, she knew without a doubt that they would be in serious trouble if Dante couldn’t regain control of the RV, and nearly released a relieved sob when he did. However, he’d barely straightened them out when they were hit again. Harder.
As the back end of the RV began to swing toward the side of the road, she glanced down to Bailey who was trying to straighten under the dashboard. Mary instinctively lifted her legs, blocking the dog in and then closed her eyes as the RV’s back tires slid off the road and over the embankment. She felt them tipping, and then everything seemed to explode around her as the vehicle rolled. Mary thought she heard Dante shout her name, but never got the chance to respond before something slammed into her head and the lights suddenly went out.
What sounded like a gunshot made Dante open his eyes and while he heard the squeal of tires and the scream of one engine, and then another, his attention was taken up with trying to make sense of the confused world around him. Everything was such a jumble that for one moment, he couldn’t place where he was, and then his gaze landed on Mary, below, rather than beside him.
He was hanging from his seatbelt in the driver’s seat of the RV, he realized and recalled what had happened. The back tires had gone off the road and over the embankment, dragging the front end along for the ride before it had toppled. The vehicle had done at least one complete roll, before coming to a stop on its side, the passenger’s side.
Mary’s side, Dante thought as he peered at her. She lay crumpled on her side with the lower half of her body still strapped into the passenger’s seat, but her upper body having slid off to rest against the wall of the RV, which for all intents and purposes was now the floor of the RV if he stood up.