“Hence his need to feed to repair the damage.” Harold indicated the closed doors. “Theoretically he could go on indefinitely if he feeds after every attack. It's almost the perfect vehicle for an immortal form.”
“You're not taking into account his entropy.” Jasfoup pulled out a slide rule and performed some quick calculations. “His rate of decay increases by eleven to fifteen percent every time he feeds. So every six times marks a decrease in fifty percent between feedings. The more he eats, the faster he decays. How long is it since he last fed?”
Harold frowned. “It was at the supermarket yesterday. The day before yesterday? About thirty hours or so.”
“So he'll need to feed again in twenty seven.” Jasfoup shook his head. “In ten days time he'll need to eat constantly just to survive, and that just isn't tenable. This is really not an ideal situation. If we don't re-house his spirit we'll have to destroy him.”
The lift doors opened again to reveal Dill in bloodstained and tattered clothing, but looking as normal as any college student on rag week. Harold tried to ignore the stench of intestines and bile and just concentrate on the more pleasant metallic tang of blood.
Dill looked at each of them in turn. “The lift hadn't gone anywhere, you know. I could hear every word.”