Author note:  I have not failed to notice that a few people have been reading my chapters shortly after they come out and I just wanted to thank you for that!  I can't even describe how incredibly encouraging it is when I see every new chapter view.  (If you're reading this further in the future please don't feel left out, my future self surely thanks you for reading, too!) 

I love writing because it's so satisfying in its own right, but having people read my work feels almost indescribably amazing.  Thank you!!!

I hope you enjoy.  Dylan's still got plenty of troubles and revelations coming for her.  ;) 

When I finally finished reading, I looked up noticed it was starting to get dark. I stopped by the kitchen and found it empty so I dug around the fridge and made myself a sandwich out of some leftover chicken. I took my sandwich in one hand and carried both books with the other.

Back in my room, I set them on the desk and finished wolfing down my sandwich. I then took a shower and got ready for bed. I threw my dirty clothing into a hamper that had appeared in my room sometime while I was out. I then crawled into bed and lay on my back. Reaching over without looking, I turned out the light beside the bed.

I looked up towards the ceiling and realized I could still see the fixtures on the ceiling. I glanced around and the whole room was available to my eyes. I could see the clock on the wall and the desk across the room. Everything was dull and grey, but I could see.

I thought back over the previous days and realized I probably should have noticed sooner. I could see better in the dark, though my vision in the light was no different. How long had this been happening? Had my night vision been getting better this whole time or had it begun the first time Michael had bullied me into drinking blood?

It explained how Michael and Paul had both found me so easily in the darkness. Could I do anything else new? The thought was somewhat exciting, although I still resented Michael for it. Especially since he seemed to be sitting back and enjoying watching me flounder around in ignorance rather than simply telling me what he knew.

I lay in bed awake for an unusually long time. I kept opening my eyes and looking around the room at the dim grayscale sight around me. Finally I fell asleep.

I woke up late and dressed in a light white sundress, which I thought would be the best thing I had for swimming in case Tara did not have anything on hand. I resigned myself to dealing with her during the time I was here. She was nice, if overcurious. I would just have to be firm if she ever suggested there might be anything between myself and Michael again. Which might be difficult since I was buying things on his tab.

I sighed. I would not let it stop me from going to the beach. At least one part of this horrible experience could be like a holiday.

I got ready to go. Before I left I selected a book to read.

I walked down the road in the direction Alex had taken me the day before. After walking for about twenty minutes, I found myself in the village again. I went straight into the shop.

"Welcome back, Dylan! It's fantastic to see you again so soon! Have you come for coffee and to talk?" Tara asked the moment I opened the door wide enough for her to see who was entering.

"Sorry, not today," I said and privately thought I would never willingly come for that reason. "Actually I was wondering if you happen to have a bathing suit my size."

Her face lit up.  "Hmmm, that's a good question.  There's nothing on the rack, but I'll go take a look!" Tara disappeared through a door behind the counter.

"You're in luck!" she said as she came out again only moments later. "Are you heading to the beach now, Dylan? Come back here and try it on to make sure that it fits! If it does, you can just put your clothes over it!" She held out a blue one piece with a light floral pattern. I took it and did as I was told. I was surprised that it fit well.  How did she know my size? I put my sundress over it and came back out.

"So it fits then? Excellent! Is there anything else that you'll be needing? This will go on Michael's tab, right? He came by earlier. Are you sure that you don't want anything else? No, wait.  I have just the thing."

She headed back into the storage room for a minute and then returned momentarily.  She had a white and blue tote bag in her hand. "Look at this bag! You'll want something to carry your things in! And I'll throw in this bottle of water as well, we don't want you dehydrated! And here's a beach towel, and—"

"Thanks," I cut her off before she made me pack her whole store to the beach. "That'll be great."  She handed the tote to me.   I dropped my book inside. She complied.

"Sure that's everything? Michael won't mind if you want anything else! You should see how much Alicia orders every time that she comes in here and he never complains."

"No, that's quite all right. I'll have to carry anything I buy." Plus, the last thing I wanted was to emulate Alicia.

"You're walking? I could have it delivered," Tara offered. She sang the last syllable.

"Yes, I'm walking and no thanks. I'll come back next time I need something," I said quickly and shot her an apologetic expression as I pushed outside to sweet freedom.

"Come again!" Tara's cheery voice followed me out. I wasted no time getting back on my journey to the beach. I just wanted to be alone. I craved it like something long withheld from me which was odd because this island was hardly as overpopulated as the city. Perhaps it was the unsettling way that all these strangers already knew who I was. I walked quickly, armed with my new bag.

I jogged part of the way, not because Michael had told me I was in bad shape, but rather because I was becoming impatient with the length of the trip. Never athletic, it surprised me how easy jogging was now. I supposed that was another new power.

I followed the sand in the opposite direction I had taken with Alex. I did not want reminders of the awkward embarrassment of failing to feed marring the beautiful day. I tossed my shoes in my bag and walked with my feet in the surf. The water was warmer than I had expected.

When I felt like I had gone far enough that I should be safe in my solitude, I walked up the beach to the line of trees. I inspected the spot to make sure there was nothing unpleasant lurking, then sat down and dug out my book. I started to read about Dr. Jekyll's misadventures and soon found myself in a world far beyond my own.

I was working in my lab, which seemed strange because I could not remember having a lab to begin with. Perhaps Michael had given it to me. Maybe that was why he brought me to his island, to research whatever was wrong with him. I was not even sure that a lab would help with his problem, in some ways Michael's twisted personality seemed more like magic than actual science, but I supposed that was the world I was in now.

While I was working, Michael came in the door and began berating me about not working hard enough. He called me little girl. It made me more angry each time he said it.

I told him I was done with his condescending nickname and I would not be dealing with him any longer. I had better things to do in my life than to waste my time on his island. I had a life to return to. He repeated what I said incredulously and I could not help but feel shaken. Why did he doubt what I had said? Why did I doubt what I had said?

I could not even imagine what my purpose was in the lab was any longer. Why had he changed me to be like him? What was I supposed to do with my life now?

I could feel nothing but a deep sense of howling terror, a fear of nothingness, of pointlessness, of helplessness, of emptiness. I was terrified.

I jerked awake and realized belatedly I had been dreaming. My book was lying on the ground next to me. I had fallen asleep. The sun had moved in the sky. I had lost my page. There was nothing creepy or crawly on me, for which I was thankful.

As I took stock of my surroundings, I still felt as if a void of misery was opening up beneath me, threatening to suck me into it if I but allowed it to. I knew it was just the after effects of what I had been feeling in my dream, but it was hard not to let myself drown in feelings of hopelessness.

What did I have to worry about? I now had food; a place to live; books to read; and other people around me, such as they were. I had this isolated beach. What more could I ask for?

I ignored the answers that so readily presented themselves.

I stripped my clothes down to my new bathing suit and I ran into the water. I stayed close to shore because I certainly did not want to encounter any weird ocean life and I definitely did not want to drown. I could only imagine the mocking eulogy Michael would give for me if I drowned.

I swam hard in an effort to leave my unpleasant emotions behind me. I tried not to think, because when I did my mind kept running in pointless circles. By the time I was finished swimming I had resolved to make Michael tell me his real purpose in bringing me here the next time I saw him. I knew that he was not telling me everything.  My improved dark vision was proof enough of that.

I felt quite a bit better when I got out of the water. I collected my things and started my long walk home. I skirted around the village and was back at the house. I went to my room and barricaded myself inside. I left a couple of times, once to switch books, a couple of times to get food. Everyone left me alone and I had a relaxing, if empty night.

I woke up feeling recharged. The sun was shining through my window, just like it had every other day since I had arrived on the island, but the difference was that this morning it felt like a good omen rather than a cruel mockery. I felt I was owed a good omen by now. I jumped in the shower quickly, threw on some clothing and marched out to meet the world, or at least the part of the world that fed me.

"Good morning Pierre!" I said loudly, when I reached the door. I saw him standing at the stove. He turned and the expression on his face looked positively alarmed. Had I startled him? I corrected my tone to see if it calmed him down and asked, "May I please have some breakfast?"

He shrugged and nodded. "Just a few minutes," he added. I was rather surprised at his uncharacteristically long response. I pondered him while I went to my newly habitual spot at the small table in the corner. I felt that he seemed less uncomfortable around me. Either way, I could forgive a good deal of poor behavior if it came along with his superb cooking skills. I watched him as he brought me waffles, with whipped cream and strawberries.

They were fantastic. I ate a lot. I wondered vaguely if I was hungrier than I used to be, or if it was just because the food on Michael's island was so much better than the fare to which I was accustomed. I would have to watch so I would not gain weight.

Could immortal vampire gods even get fat? I did not particularly want to find out. I could only imagine Alicia saying, "Oh, look at that fat drab girl. What could she possibly want? I don't have any donuts to give her."

Good thing that strict trainer was coming, horrible though the thought was.

After I ate, I went back to my room and picked a book out of my borrowed stash at random. It did not matter which, because I fully intended to read each and every one down to the last period. Having all the time in the world seemed to be a great thing at that moment, when I contemplated how many books I would be able to read. It was an uncharacteristically cheery thought.

As I walked randomly I could not figure out what it was that was giving me such a feeling of good will. Even as I enjoyed my unusual optimism, I could not help but feel it was wrong. It was quite odd for me.  Some people were sunshine and rainbows; I was silent snarky gloom, or at least I had been.

Had the change also changed my personality? Was I gradually descending into madness? Was I slowly turning into a happy go lucky fool? Would I become like Alicia? There was a horrible thought.

As I walked down one of the paths, I discovered a cute little bench. It was wrought iron with an intricate design that looked foreign against the overgrowth of tropical vegetation behind it. I imagined it would not be out of place in a well tended English garden.  Here, it looked like an intrusion.  I liked it.

It was also as good of a place as any to read, so I sat down on it and looked at the cover of my book. It was a fiction I had never heard about by an author who was at one with obscurity. I opened it up and escaped into a different reality. I did not miss the irony that the depicted fictional reality felt far more believable than the one I now occupied with Michael.

I spent an enjoyable hour whiling away my time, until an interruption presented itself in a most obnoxious form. Alicia flounced up the path, with solemn Terence following behind her.

"Oh look," she said in an aside, as if I could not hear her. "It's that drab girl again. I wonder what she could possibly want here on this island. I can't imagine why Michael would have brought her here in the first place. What could she possibly contribute that would be of any value?" My good mood brought with it a sense of patience, so I pretended not to hear her. I hoped she would grow bored with my lack of reaction and carry on her obnoxious way.

Apparently my strategy backfired, as she instead walked over and sat down primly on the bench beside me. "Good day, Dylan," she said in an oddly polite voice, very unlike her usual tone, as if she had not just openly insulted me in an aside.

"Hi," I responded grudgingly. I could hardly repeat good day without lying when her arrival had ruined any prospect of the very possibility. No, I would not let the little narcissistic twit ruin a perfectly good mood. I grimaced a smile.

"So why is it that you are here?" she wondered out loud, in a simpering voice she seemed to imagine was friendly and cajoling. It was grating and annoying, but I reminded myself the childish woman was not in her right mind. It was not her fault, probably. I tried not to lose my patience in spite of my increasingly poor mood.

"Michael brought me here to recuperate," I replied simply. I refused to admit I did not know myself.

"I can see why you needed to." Her tone was snide.

I gritted my teeth hard, perhaps so the rest of my disappearing patience could not escape when I exhaled. I tried to think of a suitable reply which would not be overtly unpleasant but would still encourage the obnoxious girl to leave. "How nice," I said feebly, my response failing me at all levels.

She continued regardless. "Yes, it is nice to know that you are not a threat. I was a bit worried the other day that Michael might be infatuated with you, in spite of your obvious tedious inadequacies. Men, even Michael, can be so slow when it comes to sneaking, grasping women. He deserves someone worthy of him, as you clearly are not, but now I can rest at ease. He must have some plan for you, some use for you in the bigger picture. I'm sure it will all become clear soon enough."

I just stared at her blankly, for a few seconds, while I tried to think of an appropriate response to her utter hostility towards me. She was a near infinitely less subtle version of Claire from the coffee shop. My good mood deserted me and almost against my will I laughed. Perhaps my laughter was cruel, but it still felt good. When had I last laughed at anything? Had I ever, really?

Alicia looked at me with loathing as if I were one of the disgusting bugs I imagined were in the trees behind me.

"I'm sorry," I lied. "This is all just so absurd." I snorted again.

"Clearly, you are crazy, you rude, drab girl," she said to me without any trace of self awareness. She stood up primly and flounced away. The stone faced Terrence, who had been observing the entire exchange, silently followed her. He seemed neither interested nor perturbed. Once again I wondered what he could possibly be paid to make the torture of following Alicia around worthwhile.

To my irritation, I could not recapture my previous lightness of mood, even though I had not even been sure I liked or trusted it. I was mainly perturbed because of the cause more than the actual effect. I already knew better than to let Alicia get under my skin, but no matter how much I reminded myself I should feel sorry for her I could not stop the deep loathing her words engineered in me. I was clearly not a saint, but then again how many saints had to deal with Alicia?

When Michael had spoken of Alicia's past on my first day on the island, he had spoken as if she had been a normal person when she had been a human. I could not help but wonder if she had only acted that way towards him. In spite of her obnoxiousness, she obviously felt something for him, even if it was now nothing more than childish possessiveness and jealousy.

I shrugged to myself. Whatever her motivation, she was gifted at pushing my patience until the breaking point. I could not even focus on my book.

I had never had such difficulty concentrating before Michael dragged me out of my normal life. Was it because of all my recent stress or a deeper symptom of my change? I made a note to ask Michael when next I cornered him. For the thousandth time I remembered that he owed me answers. I wanted to know more about my new nature; I needed to understand who it was I had become. Was I the same person I had been before Michael forced me into this new unnerving existence?

I tried to think back to the way I had been, back in the university library and my hard won apartment. Then it hit me like a sickening punch in the gut. My apartment!

I had barely thought of it since I got here, but all my hard earned worldly possessions were sitting in an apartment an unknown number of miles away from me and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it on my own. I had until the end of next month, but I was earning nothing while I sat here. There would probably be period before my landlord gave up on attempting to contact me that my things would be safe, but after that, he would probably just throw everything in the trash.

I was not going to have that. I worked really hard for everything there.

I needed to talk to Michael and I did not want to wait. But that meant dealing with Missus Eggleston again.

Was my trepidation at losing all my hard work greater than the unpleasant prospect of dealing with Eggleston? It unfortunately was. Drat.

I did not care Michael could easily replace everything. The things in my apartment were mine. I did not want his stupid stuff. I would not give them up so easily simply because Michael had swept in and disrupted my universe.

It was a matter of principal. I walked down to Eggleston's office, still carrying my bag and wondering to myself if I could just wait. Would I see Michael again in the next couple of days? I had no way of knowing when I would see him next. If I bothered him it would be entirely his own fault.

When I reached the building, I pushed open the door and then walked down the hall. "Missus Eggleston?" I called out, half hoping the woman would not be there, giving me a great excuse to put it off. There was no answer. I decided to just check her office and then wait a couple of days for Michael.

Fortunately and unfortunately, she was there in all her unchanging glory. Her clothing was nearly the same as I had seen her wearing thus far, all businesslike and plain and far too warm for the climate. She was sitting behind her desk, writing something. I knew she noticed me because her lips pinched into a thin line on her face, but there was no other outward sign.

After waiting for about ten seconds while she ignored the presence of the lower life form in her midst, I finally broke the silence, "Missus Eggleston? Michael told me you could find him if I needed him."

She looked up, her eyes narrow. "Whatever do you need Mister Thompson for, pray tell?" she asked, looking her long nose down on me as if I were an invading cockroach.

I had no desire to tell her that. She would think I was being stupid. I probably was, but I still did not want more of her contempt. "That's between me and Michael."

"Mister Thompson is busy right now."

Was he really? Ah, heck. I threw caution to the wind. It followed the patience Alicia had already shredded. "I think you just don't want me to talk to him."

She stood up and looked me straight in the eye. I was irritated that I felt intimidated. "That is true. I cannot imagine why Mister Thompson brought you here. He is a great man and you are an unworthy distraction. You've had a great gift bestowed upon you, but you do not appreciate it. You behave as a spoiled child rather than in a matter befitting your station as one of Mister Thompson's beneficiaries."

I was getting tired of hearing about Michael's superiority. Was that today's theme? My anger pushed me on. I said with a smile I hoped was a fair duplicate of Eggleston's arrogant composure, "If he is such a great man, why don't you trust his judgment about me, Elizabeth?

Apparently I hit the mark, because her already tight lips became even more pinched until I thought they might disappear off her face altogether.

"He told you to contact me if I needed him," I reminded her, hoping that Michael did indeed fulfill what he had promised to me.

With an expression of deepest contempt and in a gesture of defeat that surely hurt her greatly, she picked up the phone and dialed. I did not let myself smile.

"Hello, Mister Thompson?"

I could hear buzzing on the other end and she said, "Yes, she was looking for you."  She listened to more buzzing and then she turned to me and said, "Mister Thompson will return tonight, or would you like to talk to him now?"

"Tonight is fine," I agreed, not wanting the pinch faced woman to know what the whole issue was about. "Thank you," I added, remembering to be gracious in victory.

I left the building quickly. My bag swung from my arm in time to my quick steps as I walked. I was in a whole new type of good mood and I reveled in it. Turns out the hardy cockroach is difficult to kill.