I was still watching out the window when I felt the plane start to descend. I could see the approaching little spot of green in the middle of all the blue from the window and I felt an unsettling shift in my stomach as we sank towards it. We touched down and slowed along the runway. When the plane finally ground to a stop, I stretched my arms, but waited to see what Michael would do next.

He stood up. "Follow me," he said. I was quite curious in spite of myself. I wanted to see the island, so I obediently followed.

When I stepped outside of the plane I found myself surrounded by overwhelming green. Towering, thick leafy trees and masses of foliage fought for light and pressed around the runway on all sides. The exception was a small building and one thin road that quickly wound out of sight into the compact forest. It was like the strip of tarmac had been slashed straight into the vegetation. A brightly colored bird broke through the masses of foliage for a second before diving back out of sight. The air was very humid. I instantly felt sweaty as I stood there holding my jacket and hat.  My feet were boiling in my boots.

A black jeep drove up to the runway and Michael began walking towards it. I followed. He got into the front seat beside the driver and I got into the back behind him. The driver backed the vehicle up and turned it around. There were no seat belts and I severely wished for one as soon as the driver accelerate and began driving way too fast, considering the narrowness of the road and the trees pressing in on all sides.

All I could tell about the driver was that he had cropped black hair and he was probably shorter than me when standing. I wondered what he was trying to prove as he whipped us around a corner.

I survived the ride by some miracle and got out of the vehicle gratefully when it stopped in front of a cluster of nondescript buildings in neutral colors. The nearest building was also the largest and it was the one towards which Michael walked. He opened the door and went inside. I followed, just hoping that was what I was supposed to be doing. Who really knew what proper etiquette was when dealing with a so called god? It was definitely out of my range of experience.

We entered the building and I found myself in an entryway decorated with a simple minimalist design. It surprised me; I would have guessed that Michael's island would be more ostentatious like his obnoxious personality. There were doors on either side of the room and directly opposite the outside door was a hall, stretching back further into the building.

A gloriously beautiful woman with light blond hair was walking down the hall. It was hard to tell her age, because she looked very young yet at the same time older than me. Her pale face lit up when she noticed Michael's presence. "Michael!" she sang, her voice filled with delight. I could not imagine any circumstance were I could like Michael as much as she seemed to.

"Hello, Alicia." Michael's voice sounded fondly patient, a note I had never heard before. I had thought he only had two modes, short and abrupt or mocking and condescending.

"Did you bring me anything this time, Michael?" she asked excitedly, batting long eyelashes over the bluest eyes I have ever seen. She reminded me of a yapping puppy thrilled at the arrival of its master. It was almost embarrassing. I looked away uncomfortably.

He smiled. "Sorry Alicia. I wasn't able to bring anything this time. Were you good while I was gone?" I did not miss that he sounded sorrier to have not been able to bring Alicia a trinket than the fact that he upended my entire life on a whim.

"Oh, yes, if course I was. I'm so happy to see you. Everything is so boring around here when you're gone." The girl paused to pout, but then continued on without missing a beat, "But now that you're back, things will be much better!" Alicia's face fell again and she cast a dark look behind her towards a nondescript man I had not previously noticed. He was watching her in the background like a shadow. He had dark hair, pleasantly tanned skin and an even expression. "Perhaps you might remind Terrence that I am allowed to go for walks in town."

As I watched the interplay, I found I felt quite forgotten and out of place.

Michael nodded towards Terrence. "She is allowed."

"I am aware. She was disappointed that I would not allow her to go alone," Terrence explained.

Michael shot a glance towards Alicia. She blushed under his scrutiny like a naughty child. "I see," he said simply.

Alicia shot a glare at Terrence and then complained to Michael, "I'm tired of having him with me. He's too boring."

"Alicia, we have talked about this," Michael began firmly, but was cut off. I was interested to notice how he did not seem to mind when Alicia interrupted him. I wondered how he would react if I did the same.

"But Michael, I'm an adult," she whined.

"How about I take you for a walk in the town later today?" he asked, as though pacifying a child.

"Just you and me?" she responded hopefully. At his nod she clapped her hands together. "Oh, that will be just as good as being by myself. You let me have fun, Michael." She shot another glare at Terrence. He looked completely unmoved by her complaint. In fact, I noticed he seemed to have switched from watching his charge to observing me.

I watched as Alicia's eyes followed his gaze, until she too was looking at me. Her blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Michael, who is this drab little person?" she asked, gesturing towards me with a movement of her hand that both identified and dismissed me all at once.

Drab little person?  Oh, we were clearly going to become the best of friends; I thought sardonically. I held it in. Obviously something was not right with this annoying girl.  I could be the bigger person.

"Alicia, Terrence, this is Dylan," Michael introduced.

Alicia was glaring at me. "What a drab little name. It fits, but it makes you sound like a boy and that really doesn't help since you're already so plain," she commented, her eyes still narrowed.

I could not think of a suitable response. I could not help but feel like I had been brought to a madhouse. Perhaps I too was insane since I had partially bought into Michael's delusions.

Alicia continued, "I don't like her. She's so boring." Her tedious whining was already getting on my last nerve despite my resolve. I wondered what Terrence was getting paid. It was probably a lot. 

"She doesn't even look tasty. Her blood must be thin.  Michael, next time I want you to bring me some nice healthy boys to eat. Oops! I mean to meet." She giggled and her eyes widened unconvincingly. I wondered if she was expecting me to apologize for being unappetizing.

"Now Alicia, don't be rude. She is our guest."  This was a bit rich coming from Michael.

"I don't want her for a guest," Alicia said plaintively, her great big blue eyes welling up with tears. I tried not to let my disgust for her antics show.

"There's no choice, Alicia. Now, go to your room."

"Aw, Michael," she said in a gratingly whining tone, but then she stormed down the hall the way she had come, Terrence following behind her until they disappeared up a flight of stairs at the end of the hallway.

When she was completely gone, Michael cleared his throat. I thought he might explain the obnoxious Alicia, but instead he only said, "I'll show you to your room, little girl. You can get settled in."

I nodded, at loss for words and followed him down the hall feeling out of place and annoyed, all the while trying not to admire his strong profile. Whatever flights of fancy may have occurred as we flew towards this island, I had never imagined anyone quite like Alicia.

"Who is Alicia?" I decided to ask since he had not bothered to explain.

"She's my offspring."

"So we're still able to reproduce?" I asked without thinking. I felt my face get warm once I realized what I asked. It was not so much that I had any great desire to have offspring of my own, but I did want to know the parameters of my new condition. The thought that I might be sterile had not occurred to me before and suddenly it seemed very important to know about what possibilities were left to me, even if I had no intention on acting upon them.

"I could, but I can't promise. If you can, they should be normal. I haven't had a biological child for a long time. It's not..." he trailed off.

Michael shook his head almost imperceptibly. "What I meant was Alicia is my child of blood. As are you, now. I suppose that makes you sisters of blood."

I frowned. I already had a sister. I had thought Arianna could be bad, but that was before I met Alicia.  I should have appreciated Arianna more, in retrospect.

"Why did you turn Alicia?" I asked before considering how rude it might sound. I could not help but wonder why would he want an obnoxious childlike doll around for eternity.

He looked at me with his piercing eyes and asked, "Why do you think?" It annoyed me when he answered my questions with questions.

"I have absolutely no idea." I followed Michael up the stairs at the end of the hall.

He shrugged, then paused and looked back at me. "She was older than she looks and her personality was completely different."

"She was different? Before?" I clarified. I wondered if I had changed in ways I had not noticed yet. I shrugged; I still felt the same inside.

"She asked a lot of questions. They were not like the ones you heard today; not 'Did you bring me something?' Intelligent questions, like the questions you would have asked if I had given you a choice. She decided that the benefits were worth the risks involved."

I was so surprised by any comment that bordered on a complimentary towards me coming from Michael's sardonic mouth I could not think of anything to say in response. He continued, "But sometimes, even when humans survive the change, a part of their mind does not. Alicia is really quite a mild case."

"I could lose my mind?" I asked, struck by horror. The idea of not having control of myself because of what he had done was quite appalling.

"There would have been signs by now. You apparently dodged all the ill effects of the change, like myself."

"And like Paul?" I dared to ask.

"Yes. Perhaps," he agreed, but something in his tone told me he was done answering questions. I decided not to push it. Apparently I was only allowed to talk about Paul when His Highness King Michael pleased. He did not speak again as we reached the top of the stairs and entered another hall. 

We passed a few closed doors and he stopped in front of one that presumably would be mine for the duration of my stay on this isolated island. He pushed it open, revealing a room decorated in the same plain style as the entryway. He began to leave so I asked quickly, "What am I supposed to be doing here?"

He looked amused at my question. How was I to know? Apparently he thought I was supposed to be reading his mind. I strongly doubted I would understand that convoluted mess even if I could read it. "Resting and recuperating. You need to be in better shape the next time you meet Paul."

"I'll meet him again?" I repeated, not relishing that idea.

"Always, little girl. Always." He somehow managed to sound both dead weary and entirely amused about the inevitability of Paul simultaneously. Then he turned towards the door and said, "Make sure you get some proper rest. That's why you're here." Then he left before I had a chance to say anything else.

I was kind of hungry again, but I had more than my fill of Michael and I definitely did not want to risk running into Alicia again, so I decided to just ignore it and go to sleep. I washed my face in an adjoining bathroom and lay down on the bed in my clothes. I had nothing else to wear. I wished I did, there was a layer of sweat on my body due to the humidity. I could barely remember when I last showered. I decided I would worry about that in the morning and everything else along with it.

I slept throughout the night and woke up quite refreshed, shaded green light streaming in the window. For all Michael vexed me; I had to admit he could certainly choose a mattress, or more likely he could certainly pay someone to choose a mattress. Did people who flew in private planes even worry themselves about such details? Probably they did, because everyone slept, even self proclaimed gods. I shrugged. Hopefully this chooser of mattresses could procure me some other basic amenities.

There was a clock on the wall and it told me lunch was in a couple of hours, if they even ate lunch at noon on this island. Who could guess how a vampire might run the place? Maybe lunch was at midnight, I thought with considerable sarcasm. I decided to go and find some food for myself, whatever the meal might be called.

I left the room and looked at the hallway more closely. The dozen closed doors in this upstairs hall looked identical and were placed at even intervals. My door was third from the stairs on the left side; I counted so that I would hopefully be able to find my way back. This building was not that big and there was no way that even I could get lost in here, but I could already imagine Michael's mocking laughter if he caught me opening all these doors just to figure out which was mine. I walked down the hall, back to the stairs that had lead me up here in the first place.

I walked down to the ground floor. I imagined this was where I would find the kitchen. I had been too lost in what Michael had been talking about to pay much attention to my surroundings yesterday, but now I looked around curiously. To my right, there was a room with several large dark grey couches placed at severe right angles around a simple rectangular coffee table. I glanced inside, but it seemed to be a dead end. To my left was a room empty except for a long dining room table with more than a dozen chairs placed with the same even precision as the living room and a few neutral abstract paintings on the wall. I walked inside. There was a door leading out of the building, but no obvious signs of a kitchen nearby.

I walked down the hall towards the entryway where I had first seen Alicia. I glanced between the two doors. They were both closed, so I picked at random.

The first one I tried was just a very clean, very simple washroom. I pulled the door shut behind me and crossed the entryway.

I pushed open the other door and found another staircase, presumably leading down into a basement. There were dim lights set in the wall at intervals leading down to the point where the stairs turned. It was surely all in my imagination, but it looked somehow foreboding.  I doubted I would find the kitchen down there anyway, I'd more likely find Michael down there sleeping in a coffin. I hoped humor would help push away my unwanted unease.

I shut the door to the basement and wondered if I had missed anything else. Surely the kitchen was not up with the bedrooms. I wished there was someone I could ask, but this building had seemed as deserted as a crypt.  I shivered. Way to creep yourself out more, Dylan; I scolded myself.

I turned my attention back to the matter at hand.  Maybe there was a common eating area somewhere. I walked out through the entrance and warmth and humidity slapped me in the face. 

I glanced around and found I was not quite as alone as I had felt. A brittle looking woman who appeared perhaps in her mid-forties was walking with a no nonsense gait towards one of the other buildings. Her clothing was conservative and she was dressed in neutral colors as if she wanted to camouflage herself against the buildings. She did not look friendly nor did she seem to have noticed me.

I threw caution to the wind. "Excuse me?" I asked tentatively.

She halted, turned with military precision and looked at me. "Yes?" she asked in a clipped tone. I got the distinct feeling that I was wasting her time and her time was very precious indeed. Far too precious for an unimportant creature like myself. Somewhere deep under my insecurity, I felt irritation begin to blossom.  I kept it inside.

"I'm Dylan and I'm new here," I explained, although I doubted it was necessary. I suspected she would have already demanded an explanation if she did not already know who I was. "Is there somewhere I can get some food? I'm really hungry." I tried not to sound pathetic, but if I succeeded it was a  very near thing indeed.

She pointed to a building at the back, neighboring the one I had just emerged from. She then turned and continuing on her way, her stiff back and mannerisms discouraging any additional pleas for assistance as if I might ever be tempted to talk to her again.

I followed the stiff woman's direction and made my way to the indicated building.  I cracked open the door cautiously. An amazing smell wafted out towards me. I had not eaten in so long nearly anything would smell appetizing, but I was fairly certain it was more than mere hunger. I pushed open the door all the way and marched inside.

The only person I could see in this building was a young man sitting on one of several chairs surrounding a small round table. To my right was a long counter with a half dozen bar style stools against it and on the other side of the counter stretched an industrial looking kitchen.  

The lone occupant of this building had unruly curly dark hair and a dour expression as if he were at a funeral. I wonder why he looked so miserable. Perhaps Michael had kidnapped him. It seemed entirely within the realm of the possible, I thought with considerable snark.

He looked over at me, his expression barely hinting at his silent enquiry. Perhaps he was related to Terrence. 

"Can I have something to eat?" I asked, biting my lip.

He shrugged. I decided to interpret his shrug as a yes. If Michael wanted me to recuperate here I would need to eat.  Still unsure of myself, I walked tentatively around the counter went to a huge refrigerator and pulled opened the door, revealing a vast array of food. I heard him sigh heavily. I glanced over, wondering if I had done something wrong. I saw he had changed his position in the chair while watching me.

"Want an omelet?" he asked in a surprisingly pleasant tone, though his face still looked miserable.

"Okay," I agreed. At this point I hardly cared what I would put in my stomach and odds were his cooking would be better than whatever I came up with anyway. I had never been as good of a cook as Arianna.

"Sit down," he said.

He shrugged his shoulders and stood up. He pushed his hair out of his face and then walked to the sink and washed his hands. Then he began moving around the kitchen, grabbing various ingredients and utensils. I went back and sat in one of the chairs around the round table and tried to stay as unobtrusive as physically possible.

While he worked I watched him furtively. I was beginning to notice a pattern to the people Michael kept around himself. It seemed Michael like keeping odd people around him, at least here. This island might be little more the collection of curiosities he maintained for his own amusement. I did not want to consider what that said about me since Michael had brought me here, too.

A whirl of activity later and the messy haired chef produced a plate and set it unceremoniously on the table before me. Down dropped a fork and I picked it up, too. He sat down opposite me and resumed the slouching pose he was in when I had arrived.

I decided to ignore what he was doing. The omelet looked good and he had even added a couple of slices of orange on the side and some leafy green garnish. I took a bite.

It was absolute heaven, fluffy like the clouds and full of all the flavor I could possibly ask for. I was extremely hungry, so my perception of the deliciousness of the omelet may have been slightly exagerated. Regardless, I started shoveling it into my mouth. After months of existing on café fare, sandwiches and my own substandard cooking, I wished the omelet would never end. I should simply stay on this island and put up with Michael so I could eat surely face's cooking forever. Who cared about the rest of the world anyway? Like books, one should apparently never judge a cook by his ornery face.

"It's fantastic," I told him gratefully between bites.

The mussed haired chef predictably shrugged. I continued eating.

When I regrettably came to the end of my meal I cleaned up after myself. I fully intended to get on and stay on the good side of this master of culinary arts. I said goodbye to him as nicely as I could manage, considering the still unpleasant expression on his face. If he cared, there was no sign.

As I walked away I found myself wondering if he was a normal human or if he was another vampire gone mad.  If so, he had probably been a great human chef before Michael had turned him and altered his mind. At least the part of his brain that had remained could make a fine omelet. I was quite sure that Alicia was helpful to no one.

I wondered again if the strangeness of all these people was something which would catch up with me later. Michael had said I would already have begun to lose my mind if I was going to, but I was not sure I trusted his assessment.

Perhaps I had changed already in ways I could not see. Michael had not known me before he had ripped away my normalcy. How would he know if the change had affected my mind? I tried to remember what I had been like before that terrifying night. I still felt quite the same, but I could not change it if I was not. I resolved not to waste time worrying about it.

There were plenty of other things to worry about that I might be able to change.

Like my clothes. I was filthy. Maybe that was why I kept being insulted and ignored. I probably should not have been critiquing the chef's appearance when my own hair felt weighed down and gross.

I also really needed some clothes. I had already slept in my clothes once even before Michael had broken in to my apartment. What had it been now, two days? I really was not sure. My sense of time seemed skewed.  So much had changed, and had we switched time zones?  I was not sure.  I  pushed aside the terrifying fact I was not even certain what side of the planet I was on.  I could not deal with that right now.

Regardless, I had also worn these clothes as we ran away from Paul, travelled by car then plane and finally slept in them again a second time. I stunk, no doubt.  Perhaps that was why the messy haired chef had looked so displeased and my presence.

I found myself annoyed at Michael all over again. Did Michael really expect me to go without at least an extra change of clothing? Furthermore, what about my apartment and all my things at home? I had already paid next month's rent so I did not have to worry for a while, but how long did Michael actually plan to keep me here?

And, where was Michael anyway? For all I knew he had left the island. My mind could not help but produce a picture of his sardonic face as he flew away and left me stranded, the newest piece in his collection. I felt panic at the thought. 

I forced myself to relax. I could have stayed behind and dealt with Paul myself, but I chose to tag along with Michael. I could not change that now. I could only make the best of it. I groaned as I walked back into the building I had slept in and made my way successfully to my room. It seemed to be as deserted as when I had left.

After a very long hour of doing nothing but obsessing over the millions of questions running through my mind, I heard a knock at my door. I leapt up and opened it, hoping it was Michael there to answer my many questions. Paradoxically, both to my disappointment and relief another unfamiliar young man stood in the hallway outside my door. He looked like he was about my age and had brown hair and a kind expression that made me instantly feel I could relax around him.

"Hi, I'm Alex. Mister Thompson sent me," he told me. His voice also put me at ease, quite against my will. I was sure if Michael sent him there was going to be something I did not like coming up.

"Hi, I'm Dylan," I told him, although he obviously already knew. "What did Michael want?" I hoped it was to bring me information or clothing.

"He thought you might need some sustenance."

"Sustenance? Food? I already ate. Oh..." I trailed off stupidly as I realized what he was talking about. Trust that dictatorial vampire to be pestering me about drinking blood already. "Uh, no thank you. I'm not interested." I tried to shut the door, but Alex's foot was in my way. I wondered if I was strong enough to shove him out the door. Probably not, he looked sturdy.

"Mister Thompson said that would be your response. He asked me to remind you that you will die of suffocation if you do not. He also said to explain to you I am here of my own free will and am being paid a very large sum to be here doing this job."

That was also what he might say if Michael was holding his family hostage to force his cooperation, I thought with narrowed eyes. No, Alex looked way too relaxed and content for that. Michael was obviously paying him enough to be happy to donate his blood.  The whole business was nothing but a disgusting biohazard anyway.

Alex continued reciting what Michael had told him to say. "He also said to tell you I am tested free of disease and even if I was not you cannot catch anything from me regardless. Mister Thompson also said that I am not to allow you to drink from a cup because you are not an invalid or an infant."

I was a little bit annoyed that Michael had already anticipated all of my objections. I started, trying to be diplomatic, "But I don't feel like I need any blood yet, Alex."

"Mister Thompson said you might also say that. He said that you need to drink more frequently while gathering your strength, but you can choose to wait until later in the day."

A reprieve, even if it was temporary. I would take it. "That sounds better," I agreed, pasting a fake smile over my building ire that Michael had pushed me into another corner. And he did not even have the decency to do it himself! "Does Mr. Thompson have anything else to say?" I asked with sweet sarcasm.

Alex answered completely seriously. "I don't believe so. What time would you like me to return?"

"Never?"

He ignored my response with a sympathetic smile. "How does seven o'clock sound?"

"Fine," I agreed, feeling sulky.

"I'll meet you here at seven then," he said as he began to leave.

"Wait, where is Michael?" I asked him.

He shook his head, "I'm afraid I have no idea. I only saw Mister Thompson when he called me to his office earlier, but he left when I did."

I hated to ask, but I hated how filthy I was even more. "If you see him, can you ask him where I can get some clothing?" How I hated Michael in that moment for bringing me to this point.

He glanced over me and I could not help but cringe. My father would be dismayed at my current appearance. My mother would have probably fainted, so great would be her horror at how unkempt one of her offspring looked. I may not have been her personal pet project, but my parents were united in keeping up appearances if nothing else. Not that I cared what they thought, I reminded myself sternly.

Alex nodded and said, "Yes, I'll do that for you, if I see him."

"Thanks," I said through my teeth. Then with a quick friendly wave, he was gone.