"I dunno," he felt weak even though as a human Russell would still be incredibly strong. But he felt weak and slow. In body and mind. He could understand his lover's harsh words, so he tried not to take offence.
Russell didn't think that Carrick had ever told him about any prematurely-dead slave boys. The welts on his back from the whip Carrick had used on him the previous night, stung anew whenever he moved.
"Neither am I," he stood and went to the mirror himself, looking at the stripes on his back and buttocks. They looked fresh. "If this is some sort of spell it could wear off or it can be undone," though he didn't know what else it would be. Russell also had enemies of his own. Although they would be more inclined just to shoot him with silver bullets than use magic on him.