I did not see anyone in the house at first so I went outside.  I walked through the yard on the strappy heels I had been wearing since before Michael had abandoned me.  Every step I took punched a hole in the turf and it made walking difficult. 

I made my way through the flowerbeds and walked down to the beach.  There was not a soul in sight, so I went back to the house.

I looked around the main floor again.   It was still deserted.  Then I checked the upstairs and it too was empty.  I went to sit in the kitchen and accidentally stumbled upon a door I had missed, tucked away in the corner of the kitchen.

I opened it up and found a set of stairs leading downwards.  It reminded me of the stairs I had always found slightly unnerving on the island.

I walked down the wooden stairs and found what seemed to be a living area complete with an old couch and a television.  There were two closed doors on one side.  I had the feeling I might be trespassing, so I called out, "Hello?  Paul, are you there?"

"Dylan?" I heard Paul answer through a door.  The door on the right opened and he said, "Is everything okay?"

"Yes.  I was just wondering if I could hear the rest of the story."

"Are you up to it?" he wondered.

"Of course I am, or I wouldn't ask."  I may have sounded a bit snappish.

He smiled faintly, but I did not know what the expression meant.  "Then please sit down.  I'll be just a moment."  He indicated the old couch and the chairs.  I sat down on the couch and waited.

It was not long before he sat down opposite me.  He put two glasses of water on the heavy coffee table between us.  "Where was I?" he asked.

"You had just told me Sarah was dead and you never saw Michael at the shack in the woods again."  I was pleased to hear my voice was even while I spoke.  I took a drink of water.

"Ah yes.  Michael never returned to the cottage where we had isolated Sarah during her spells, at least not while I waited there for him.  I had wanted to talk to him, to explain.  But he never returned.  Finally I gave up and left.  I felt empty and directionless.

"I do not know what Michael was doing during those days, but I remained living in our home community for several years despite the rumors.  I had said that Michael and Sarah had moved away after she broke off our engagement. 

"I stayed until my lack of aging became too apparent.  I sold everything but for one horse and the things I would carry with me on my journey.

"I felt lonely and numb but I knew it was wrong to end my life, so I carried on without much hope for something better.  I wandered for more than twenty years. 

"It caught me quite off guard to find a reason to live again.  I stumbled upon a family set upon by thieves.  It was a dangerous time.  It was too late to save them, but one little girl survived.  Azalea, my little flower girl. I picked her up and carried her to the next town and cared for her. 

"As time went on I became as a father to her.  Because of what I am, we travelled much of the time and during those years, she grew up.  I no longer looked old enough to be her father, so I called her my sister.

"We stayed in a certain town that was full of kind people and it was there she met a certain young man.  She adored him and he felt the same.  I was very happy for her.  They set a date to be married.

"I had always known the day might come when I would have to leave her behind, because of what I am.  I wanted her to have a life and it was inevitable she would one day die.  But I did not expect the end to be so soon.

"People started disappearing.  First a woman, then a young boy, then another woman.  Then more people.  Everyone was terrified.  There was no pattern and no sign of a struggle in any of the cases.  I tried to discover the culprit, but I had no success.

"Then a week before the day that should have been her wedding, my little Azalea's fiancé disappeared.  She was distraught and I redoubled my efforts, because I hated to see her suffer.

"While I was hunting for the culprit, she too disappeared.

"I was more afraid than I had ever been.  I did all I could, but I could not find her.  I was at my most desperate point."  Paul took a deep breath.  He reached for a glass of water.

I was afraid I knew what was coming but there was nothing I could do to change what had already happened.

Paul set the glass down and that quiet sound rang through the air.  Then he continued, "Michael had come to me.  He said he had something to show me.  He brought me about a day's journey on horseback.  He showed me a field.  There were piles of dug earth in neat rows, most newer, some older.  Each had a large rock at the head of each pile.

"I knew what I was seeing immediately.  In all the time since Sarah had died, I had been seeped in my remorse at the pain Michael my dearest friend and brother had experienced because of my actions.  However, the smallest spark of something much darker began to unfurl inside me.  I demanded he explain what he had done although in truth I already knew in part.

"Michael grew still and said, 'I simply tried to make them like us.  It didn't work and they died.  I suppose we two were fortunate.'  He shrugged as if the problem were beyond his comprehension.

"'Why could you just not let them be what they were?' I asked. I was full of grief stricken anger and I could not understand.

"'I did not want you to experience the pain of loss, like I did,' Michael told me, his voice full of false innocence. 

"I stared at the person I loved like a brother and tried to understand his motives; I tried to understand if there was someone still human beneath after what he had done.

"And then he smiled and I knew he had done it all to wound me.  'This graveyard is all for you, Paul.  It is full of people whose deaths are on your own head,' he told me.  He loped over to a grave, the first one on the end. 

"This one alone had a roughly chiseled headstone and it bore Sarah's name.

"Before I could even really begin to accept what was before me, Michael was gone and I was left with the dead who I loved more than the living.

"The pain and guilt I had felt for the death of Sarah soured and retreated.  In its place grew a loathing I could not contain.  I knew he had to be stopped.  I had unleashed that monster on the world and I realized then it was my responsibility to see to his end. 

"After that I spent my time hunting him.  Michael has spent his time finding the victims that would punish me the most.  Victims who would remind me of Sarah; or of my little flower girl.  I've killed them all because we are wrong, against the natural order."  Paul paused as if it were difficult to go on.

What Paul had done was every bit as horrifying as Michael's actions, but what could I say that was worse than his own remorseful self-recriminations?

"But he finally found someone I could not bring myself to kill." 

I understood he was referring to me.

Paul tilted back his head and looked up at the ceiling.  He looked more tired than I could imagine being, a weariness as deep as the marrow of his bones, as deep as his soul.  It was a weariness of carrying endless guilt and responsibility for longer than any person could endure.

"Why don't you just let it go?" I asked him.  "Why does it have to be you who destroys Michael?"

He smiled, but it was so unhappy it could break a heart.  "Because I created the monster that Michael has become."

"That's ridiculous.  You only did what you thought was best at the time.  How can you be expected to do more than that?  I'm sure Sarah would not want you to live like this," I said.  Then I wondered if I had trespassed where I should not have gone.

I was glad he did not seem angry.  "It is strange for me to hear you say that, when you are so much like her.  But, Dylan, even if I wanted to, I'm not sure I could stop.  I've hunted him for too many years.  It's like the well trodden paths in the snow, I fear my mind can not let it go."

"What will you do when you succeed?  When Michael is dead?" I wondered.

"I'll die too."

"I thought you said it was wrong to kill yourself."

"It will be passive, never fear, Dylan.  I'll stop giving myself transfusions and it will be all over in a few months.  I do not believe it is not wrong to let a disease run its course, not when I have already had more lifetimes than any one man should have and committed more transgressions than any person could bear."

"A disease?"  He had called it an infection, but it had slipped my mind amidst everything else.

"We are not gods, Dylan.  We are not superhuman or whatever you imagine yourself to be."

"What are we then?" I asked, almost tentatively.

He stood up suddenly.  "Come with me, Dylan."

I wondered at the abrupt change in the conversation, but decided not to question it.  Instead, I followed Paul, as he went through the door on the left.

I found myself in a study and I stood awkwardly while Paul moved around. 

There was a heavy oak desk in the centre of the room with a leather chair behind it.  There were bookshelves on every wall but one.  The walls were covered with unadorned wood paneling and the floor was covered in hardwood, with a rug spread across it.

While I waited, Paul went over to the plain wall and pushed on a certain section, which opened inwards to a lock.  Paul pulled out a key, inserted it in a lock, and then an entire section large enough for an adult to walk inside opened up.  "This is my laboratory, Dylan," he explained and I followed him inside a large room.  The door shut behind us.

The room was full of various lab equipment; some which was familiar to me, some which was not, but all were neatly placed.  There were also several computers sitting on different work benches.

I was intrigued by this new dimension of Paul and was pleased when he spoke again.  "I was always interested in learning.  Michael was very different than I.  He was charismatic and nearly able to charm birds from the trees if he so desired.  I, on the other hand, was always studious."

Paul smiled a smile that was for the first time not filled with weary regret, but rather with fond remembrance. 

He continued, "I was delighted when the scientific revolution began.  So many learned minds were engaging in discourse and studying the world.  Newton, Linnaeus, Pascal, Einstein and so many others.  I read all their works and was fascinated by all the new discoveries."

He paused for a moment and then continued his explanation.  "I started to wonder about what we really were and what the cause of it was.  I was no longer solely satisfied with the supernatural explanation alone."

Paul moved towards his computer screen and continued, "Do you know why we need blood, Dylan?" he asked.  He hit a button on the computer and on the screen and I could hear the buzz at it turned on.

"So that we don't faint all the time?" I suggested, slightly sardonically. I remembered when I was first changed and did not know what was wrong with me.

"True enough.  The fainting is a symptom of anemia.  Our bodies cannot produce red blood cells properly, or more specifically one particular protein which is required to make red blood cells.  The absence destroys the whole process, and finally, we suffocate."

I watched him silently.

"Here, come look at this," he said, opening a folder and a document on the desktop of his computer.  I moved closer to get a look at his screen.

"This is a photograph of my blood under a microscope."  I could see what were probably red blood cells, but they did not look like their normal doughnut shaped counterparts.  They had odd shapes and were malformed.

"They look kind of like sickle cell anemia," I suggested, remembering pictures from the medical texts my father had subjected me to.

"That's true," he agreed.  "I thought that too, when I first saw them.  But sickle cell anemia is a genetic disorder.  You usually have signs of it in your childhood."

"Then what is it?" I prompted, already wondering if I knew what he would say.

"We have a viral infection," he said.

"It's an infection?  Really?" I repeated.

It made sense, on some level.  Another lie of Michael's, of course.  I mean, I had never been naive enough to believe I was a god, but still...

"I'll explain.  I first began to suspect it when I saw my own cells, but techniques were not advanced enough then to solve the mystery.  When viruses were first discovered at the end of the nineteenth century, I began to suspect.  Methodology has increased and now I am quite sure."

"Then how does it explain my improved strength, night vision, and extended life?" I asked, thinking of all the problems in his explanation.

"Yes, I thought of that too," he said, speaking clearly.  "I did not believe it at first either, but my desire to know kept me searching.  I now call the virus Cruoremlamia.  It is spread only by direct blood to blood contact and it has a unique symbiotic relationship with its human hosts."

"Symbiotic?  Since when have there been symbiotic viruses?" I asked, trying to find an anchor for my spinning head.

"For longer than I have lived, apparently.  When it is first contracted, the virus enters the bloodstream.  A few things happen as it moves throughout the body.  When it gets to the bone marrow, it attacks the stem cells from which blood cells are born.  The virus inserts its genetic information into the stem cells and the genetic information is assimilated by the cell.

"Oddly enough it does not harm the production of white blood cells or platelets, but it interferes directly with the production of that certain protein of red blood cells. 

"Those infected slowly die as their red blood cells are destroyed by the spleen but not replaced by the marrow, usually in about a hundred days.  The victim becomes weaker and finally there are not enough red blood cells to carry oxygen to the body and they suffocate to death."

"So this is why we need blood," I said.  "But that doesn't explain how consuming blood stops it.  Shouldn't any proteins be destroyed by the stomach acid?"

"Yes, that is true, but of course the virus' effects do not stop with the marrow.  The virus also attacks the cells of the muscles, the eyes, the digestive track, and the brain.  I have not been able to determine how, but it stimulates the bile to contain an enzyme which protects some of the proteins from digestion.  In the eyes the rod cells are stimulated."

"Which is why I see better in low light conditions now," I guessed.

Paul nodded.  "In the muscles, there is an increase in efficiency.  It is quite difficult to discover the mechanisms, but it seems it truly is a beautifully designed, well adapted, symbiotic organism.  This virus has all the benefits of its viral nature but the host gains and prospers in return."

"The virus effects every cell in the body in that cells can reproduce almost indefinitely without negative effect, like a controlled cancer.  Its beauty is in its efficiency in helping its victims to survive and to pass it on. 

"Even the need for other creature's blood makes it more likely to spread.  There are years more study ahead before I truly uncover all its secrets.  It takes time, since I work alone.  I don't dare share my findings with other scientists.  There are too many who might abuse this organism for their own benefit, to the detriment of all."

I nodded.  His caution seemed prudent.  "So what about those who die, then?  Why do they die when they contract the virus?  And why doesn't the immune system kill it?"

"It seems that in those of us who survive the immune system does not recognize the virus as foreign.  Indeed, it seems to more ruthlessly attack any other microbial threat.  We also have quicker healing, which is possibly in part due to a modification in platelets."

Paul looked apologetic.  "As, I said, there are many more years of study ahead.  So much is hypothesis and speculation.  As for those who die and those who do not, it seems it is due to differences on a genetic level but perhaps an environmental factor is also at play."

"What about those who lose their minds?" I asked, thinking about Alicia.

"It is a side effect on the brain," he said.

"So if we cured someone somehow?"

Paul obviously saw where I was leading.  "It is unlikely to restore them to their former mental health.  Besides, a hypothetical cure is too far away to be considered as any sort of real possibility, I'm afraid."

"Oh."  I did not know what I felt at that moment.  It was such a grand case of dashed barely formed expectations I did not know what to think. 

I realized I had gotten used to thinking of myself as something more than human, not as a god to be sure, but as something more. 

Was I only a victim of disease, a mere mortal that was luckily equipped with some factor so as not die when confronted with a sophisticated virus? 

I should not have been surprised, but I had indeed been drawn into Michael's narratives more than I had known.

It had felt seductively good to think myself somewhere beyond regular people, I realized with some unease. 

I cast around for another question, something to take my attention away from the shifting sands beneath me.

"Where did this virus come from?" I wondered.

"I do not know.  Perhaps Vincent might have known, but I have never seen him since the day that Michael and I were changed."

"Is he dead?" I wondered.

"Most probably," he said.  "Listen, Dylan, I know this is a lot to take in.  I was rather bewildered when I first began to suspect the true nature of my condition.

"Would you like to look at my research notes?  Would you like something to eat?  Is there anything I can do?" he wondered and in his obvious concern and confusion, I thought I could see something of the young man he had been before too much time and trouble had changed him into the cold blooded creature he now was.

"I'll be fine," I assured him.  "I would like to read your notes, though.  And maybe take a bath."  I wondered idly if he would mind me reading his notes while I soaked, so long as I did not get them wet.

"Of course.  I will give you a copy to keep, although I must caution you to keep them in secret.  I fear what may happen if the world learned of this.  We'll ask Millicent to set you up once she gets back from town."  We walked out of his lab and he closed it behind us.

"Thank you," I said, as we neared the stairs.

He turned and looked towards me.  "Thank you as well."

"For what?" I wondered stupidly.

"For listening.  It feels good to speak to someone else of all these matters."

I just smiled while I followed him.

Paul gave me a copy of his research and at about the same time Millicent returned.  I was pleased to discover she had brought me some more clothing, including new underwear.  Millicent had a chicken roasting in the oven, so the three of us had a delightful supper.  I still missed Pierre's cooking and his silent presence. 

Millicent set me up in the upstairs bathroom and I stayed in the bath until my feet were wrinkled.

After I dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top I went down to the beach to read.  I sat on the sand and continued to make my way through the research notes, continuing even after the sun had gone down. 

The moon came up and I read by its light.  It was peaceful as the waves crashed in front of me on the beach.  I tried not to feel melancholy for another beach far away and out of my reach.

When I finally finished going through Paul's research, I was forced to conclude he was probably correct.  His research spelled it out far better than he had been able to in words.

I was not a god, nor was I a superhuman.  I was not even the clumsiest vampire in the world. 

I was just a human, abnormal only in the sense that I survived and carried a symbiotic virus.  The idea was so anticlimactic I could barely even put it into words.  Yet, at least this explanation was tethered in reality.

In some way I mourned the confirmation of what must be true.  Deep down I had enjoyed the thought there was something special about me, something beyond other people.  There was not.

"How the mighty have fallen," I muttered bitterly.

A mere week ago I had felt secure and even comfortable with my new place in the world.  I beyond human and I occupied a mysterious, but important place in Michael's existence. 

Today was so different.  Today I knew I was a poor replacement; only a girl with an immortal infection.

I knew there was only one way for me to go forward.  I needed to be in control again.  I needed to acknowledge my mistakes so I would not repeat them. 

Never again would I let someone have such control over my heart, I told myself.  I would be my own person and when I managed to achieve that in truth I would be untouchable.

So what if it was just a virus?  So what if I looked like the long dead Sarah?  They were mere tools, and they were power, and I could use them as I needed to.

I got up off the sand and shook the grit out of my pants.  I would go back to North America, where it all began.

I walked up to the house and opened the door.  I kicked off the new pair of flip flops and walked inside.

Paul and Millicent were sitting at the table.

"Dylan," said Millicent.  "I was just going to suggest Paul go out and look for you."

"Are you okay?" asked Paul.

"I'm fine," I assured him and I meant it.  I would be fine even if it took the full force of my will to be so. 

"I need to go back to America.  Do you think I could find a job around here to earn enough for my fare?"

"I can just pay for you," Paul offered.

"No, I'll do it myself."

"You don't have a work visa," Paul pointed out.  "If it bothers you to take my money, then why don't you work around here?  I'm sure Millicent can find a use for you."

"Thank you.  I'll also need a passport.  Hey," I said, as a thought crossed my mind, "How did I get into England, anyway?"

Paul smiled almost sheepishly.  "Money and contacts.  Some people will do almost anything if you offer them enough."

"Oh."  I tried not to think about the first person who had made that sort of  statement to me.  He meant nothing to me now, I promised myself.

"I'll get you a passport, but it will take a while.  Until then, why don't you stay here?"

"Thank you.  But I will help out."

"Very well then," Millicent said.  "It will be nice to have a young back to help me out in the garden.  I've got a lot of plans for tomorrow, my dear."

I nodded.  "Sounds good.  I'm going to go to sleep," I said.

Both Paul and Millicent said goodnight in unison and I made my way up the stairs to my new borrowed room.