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Ferdinando Caesbelai had a right problem on his hands, although in retrospect he hardly should have needed to think to see it coming. He sat at the table, with Marta on the other side; between them, naught stood but a plank of wood proffering a package of Texas Toast.
The silence was deafening. Marta spoke first.
“Ferdin, we need to talk.”
He gulped. It had been a long time coming, but perhaps he could still delay it a little longer.
“It wouldn’t happen to be about the wafers, would it? I swear, I didn’t know that vanilla wafers even counted for-”
“It’s not about the wafers, Fern. You know what it’s about.”
Looking over the packet as if to deny its existence, he tried again.
“Is it about the-”
“Nando, it’s about the garlic bread. I can’t believe this. You knew I had dietary restrictions.”
Ferd sat sadly, straining to keep a smile to his face. Of course it was about the garlic bread. Ferd had known ever since he found her in the gutter that it would have come up eventually. The way it was then, seeing her looking up at him broken and pitiful, he had hardly cared.
This was not then. He no longer thought that he could choose.
“Please, Marta, you must-”
“NO! There will be no ‘ please, Marta ’s here. There are no buts. I’ve had it. I know that you got rid of the stuff strong enough to kill me, but there’s still enough in this bag to put me in the hospital for days. Just sitting here with it nearby is painful enough.”
The unfeeling creature of the night gestured at the Garlic Bread, and Ferdinando sighed. She really couldn’t be dissuaded, huh… Well, he supposed that he might as well comply...
“I can’t take it anymore. Get rid of it; if you can’t, we’re through .”
“I… understand. I shall take it away.”
“Good. And clear out the fridge in the garage too. There’s far too much of the stuff there for anyone, much less me.”
Caesbelai stopped. She knew. He didn’t think she knew.
“...You… you mean….”
“Ferdinando, I’m serious! You think I can’t taste it? Every time I drink your blood it tastes like the most heavily spiced Pappa al Pomodoro I have ever eaten! It stings ! Every time I wipe my mouth and walk away for the night because I physically can’t take it, and you know what? It’s made me practically Anemic. Every day I get up with the shakes, and for the first time in months I’ve considered going to a blood bank but you know what? You know why I’ve suffered this for so long? Because I love you, Ferdinando. I love you, but if you continue to treat me this way, I… I….”
Marta sobbed. Ferdinando would have to be a jackass to say no to her now. Perhaps later, he could go get more by the station, but for now….
He patted her cold shoulder.
“I’ll get rid of it then.”
“Even the stuff in the garage?”
“Even the stuff in the garage.”
She leaned into his hand, nuzzling her teary face against it, and looking up into his eyes with hers uttered a single:
“ Thank you. ”
And that was that. At least for now.
***
The fast was easy, at least easier than expected, for the first week. Garlic bread is not so big a thing to give up, when so much is on the line.
At first.
As time went on however, he began to feel himself craving. Salivating, as he walked by the local restaurant. Hungry to the smells. The madness was all encompassing. Surely a bite wouldn’t hurt.
Would it?
Marta didn’t say a word the following evening as she bit into his neck. Perhaps she didn’t notice.
The next day, coming back from work, he felt the hunger again. His vision went red. The hunger had returned. He needed to resist! But the hunger. The hunger needed filling.
She hadn’t known it the day before. Perhaps he could do it again? Perhaps he could make an early turn on the avenue, sit in for a bit of a late lunch. Some light spaghetti, and perhaps some garlic bread.
Marta said nothing over the dinner she had created. The dinner, that he had no room to eat. He should have told her he had eaten out, but it was too late for that. Besides, if he had she would have insisted on going out with him. It would have defeated the point.
The third day, Ferdinando didn’t even think about it. He went straight to the restaurant, and ordered a glass of wine and some garlic bread. Remembering the day before, he didn’t get anything else. He wouldn’t eat much, perhaps just a little to tide himself over. After all this time, hee wouldn’t want her to get suspicious.
The fourth day he came home late, the lusting satiated after repeating the ritual of the previous day. Marta had no food for him today; instead, she sat silently at the table. Her bags sat by the door.
“We had an agreement.”
Caesbelai sat down in the typical spot. The ruby red eyes of the night-beast before him stared back from their place across.
She had known.
“....An agreement?”
“Don’t lie. I know what you’ve been doing.”
She met his feigned innocence with cold indignance. He should have told her then, apologized, made up and given up the vice for the rest of his life. Instead, he had only silence.
“Do you think that this is a joke? That it’s funny? If I were human, would you still think this is comical?”
He replied, clutching at the veil of ignorance she had torn away.
“I didn’t think that you could tell-”
“Didn’t think? DIDN’T THINK? You broke a promise with me because you DIDN’T THINK I WOULD NOTICE?”
Tears formed in her eyes, and a bitter smile crossed her lips. Ferdinando could do nothing as she rose to her full posture and darkened the wall behind her.
“You truly are a fool, a reckless and blithering idiot if you think that will help anything. We’re through. You may have helped me once, but what you have done goes beyond reparation. I’m through.”
The darkness faded from the room, and Marta turned towards the door. The thought of her absence crushed him, but he pushed himself to talk regardless.
“So you’re really leaving?”
Marta turned back, looking at him with angry tilted eyes.
“Yes Ferdinand. I’m leaving.”
“I-- I understand. I won’t stop you. But before you go...”
Caesbelai stopped and swallowed.
“...can I have one last kiss?”
Marta laughed ruefully, and walked steadily towards him. He stepped back instinctively. Something in his body was screaming out to leave, to flee, but he stood transfixed at those pained ruby eyes. The mystic creature held him, whispering into his ear:
“It will come at a price...”
And bit into his neck, pumping a burning transformative fluid into his carotid veins.
***
He awoke the next morning, the dawning sun burning him. His body felt changed, lighter and colder and, he thought unfortunately, rather hungry. Unfortunately for him, however, it was not truly the hunger of yesterday or the day before. Ferdenando Caesbelai would never eat a piece of garlic ever again.