As directed, Kleio and I were taken to separate rooms aboard the yacht. They were, as expected, posh and designed for maximum comfort, though this wasn't by any means a time to relax. There was a large window across from the my bed from which I could only see the vast Aegean growing ever dark blue as the day ended. And soon inside this room  a set of low indirect lights came on automatically while the dusky, pink glow of a sunset was engulfing the sky.

        I couldn't but help wonder how Kleio was doing. She had obviously no idea what this whole nightmare was about, and I felt terribly responsible for her safety. Soon I heard the large engines below deck throttling up again and could sense that we were moving forward with greater speed. As the yacht progressed and swung around, I could see we were moving along the western coast of Delos, some hundred and fifty meters from its shores. In the distance I could make out in the faint remaining light of day the stone ruins of ancient temples and walls. But as explained in the literature about this island, there was no modern buildings or signs of civilization on it. Delos was, as stated, traditionally kept only as an archaeological site, with no accommodations for overnight activity. 

        Suddenly a large boat passed us, heading back to the port of Mykonos. "Daily Delos Tours" the sign read in large letters from the stern of the ferry. It was obviously the last tour of the day, bringing back the remaining sight-seers allowed on the island at the onset of evening. The people I could see on the deck were the usual tourist fare, returning from a place they had no real idea the history of. Nor could they fathom the drama of the amazing place to begin that night under the full moon. . Most had not a clue of how this celebrated locale could carry so much power and intrigue from the ancient world. I was aware of only a fraction of the mystique played out on this little piece of rock and sand, seemingly dropped into the center of the Aegean Islands. 

            When we had sailed roughly half way along the little island's western side, I could see a large, white sand cove in the distance. Here the yacht slowed and eventually came to a stop. I heard the anchors drop and the ship was obviously going to be stationed there for a while. Soon the outside, sky and sea was a more dusky gray, and  after some time there was a knock on my door. It opened suddenly and my old friend Nicolai was there with a tray of food.

            "Good evening," he said in an accent which I had learned to despise. He then handed me the heavy tray consisting of a bottle of Perrier, some vintage-labelled wine, and a large platter of food.

            "Bon appetite," he said in bad French, and left the room, locking the door behind him. I put the food on the table and only poured a bit of the Italian wine into the class and drank it in one swallow. I could see the dishes were presented artistically and had an assortment of vegetables and what appeared to be a half game hen, cooked in wine and garlic sauce from its aroma. I poured another glass of the wine, picked up a slice of the fresh bread and began pacing the room. My sense of dread was kicking in pretty strongly as I knew full well the July moon would be on the horizon within hours.

            After what seemed another hour of waiting, I could hear voices outside my door and loud commands. Perhaps they were directed at Kleio. The next moment my door opened again and my old friends had collected her and were now enlisting me to join her in their plans. I looked into Kleio's face and could see that she had suffered greatly waiting in fear the whole early evening. She flashed her questioning eyes at me once more, and it troubled me that I could not stare back for even an instant or comfort her verbally. Instead, we were swept along through the long hallway, marched down the stairwell once again, and brought to the large gathering room with the mirrored ceilings.

            The darkness outside was now eerie, when I considered there was nothing but black water surrounding the ship. Only a glow from the moon below the horizon, growing by the minute behind the hilltops of Mykonos could be seen outside the great observation room.  Nicolai and Giorgi left us in a rush to the younger man, Dusek, who had appeared from another hallway. He was now wearing white pants, an island style cotton print shirt, and carried a large travel bag.

            Behind him appeared another person we had not yet seen on the yacht--the youngish woman I had seen in the restaurant. She joined him immediately and they stood before us together, un-moving and silent. The woman's blond hair blew like a flag in the breeze which had entered the room as soon as the two Slavic characters departed. She appeared to be in her thirties and was German or Dutch looking, though extremely tanned. She wore jeans shorts, golden sandals and a cream-colored blouse. Her body appeared fit, as if she had been, or still was, an avid sports enthusiast. She also carried with her a light blue jeans jacket with red embroidery, obviously planning to leave the ship at some point and depart into the cool wind. The couple motioned for us to sit, as before, on one of the spacious leather couches.

            "This is my wife, Anezka," Dusek said calmly, reducing some of the tremendous tension and anxiety hanging in the room. "Like me, she is from Prague." He smiled.

            The woman did not smile, but only walked up closer to Kleio. She reached out and with two fingers lightly touched her chin, elevating her face to look more carefully into it. There was an uncomfortable pause while Kleio waited and then quickly brushed her hand away and looked down at the floor.

            "This is Kleio, my dear." Dusek added for his wife's edification. "The Greek muse of history."

            "How appropriate," she responded curtly, smiling more to herself than anyone else.

            "So . . . now we are waiting for Nicolai and Giorgi," Dusek added. "To secure the beach where we'll be going soon. When Giorgi get's here . . . we'll all take a little boat ride over to Delos for the evening."

            My heart was pounding now, as I knew that what I had once wished so much to know about this nary world of the 'undead' would now happen up close and personal to me. And unfortunately, it would transpire in the presence, and somehow with the participation, of Kleio. I could not imagine what was going through her thoughts as she looked back up at this strange couple who represented everything she loathed about wealthy tourists and foreigners on her island of Mykonos.

            We could now hear the dual engines of the speedboat off the stern of the yacht winding up and pulling away from us at great speed. Out of the corner of my eye I could see movement, and as I turned and looked, everyone did as well. It was Melina Vespucci descending the stairway to join us in the main room. She wore a white diaphanous gown and her hair was up in a regal bouffant. She looked stunning in spite of her policy of light or no make up or jewelry. It was a peculiar habit of hers which I had noticed upon first seeing her. 

            Melina walked up to us quietly and slowly. It was as if on this night she would assume her position among the rest as some priestess or goddess, totally in keeping with what I had learned of her history and former life. The couple in front of us moved apart to let her have a closer view of Kleio and myself.

         "Good evening Bryce.  . . Kleio," she said in a hospitable voice. "I hope you found your accommodations on the ship comfortable. We will proceed shortly. Across the sea tonight. It is a place the ancient Greeks called an omphalos. That's a word which means navel.  . . right Kleio? The midpoint of the world." Melina then pointed mysteriously to the middle of her own stomach.

            "Delos is at the center of the Cycladic islands. It once was . . . and still is today, an omphalos of power. You might say an energy point of the world. And it creates still as a birthplace of power. Dark power . . . and light. Night . . .  and day. But it is that dark power which conceived me."

            Kleio watched Melina with an intriguing fascination mixed with total fear. It was a perception I had too, knowing full well who and what she was.

            "It has been my duty for many centuries to honor those ancient forces there."

            She said this while standing gracefully, looking out into the ever lightening sky.

            "And to preserve the balance . . of good and evil there . . of the living . . .  and of the dead, I must perform this rite every year.  For I . . . we . . ." She opened her hand out to Dusek and Anezka. "We are all now alive and at the same time . . . dead."

            Kleio's shoulders flinched with this final word.

          "You are here this evening, pedia, to assist me . . . to sustain my clan which extends out from Mykonos and Delos, world-wide. You will make it possible this night for us to go on."

            Kleio's eyes met mine again. Pleading with me to do something. To help us escape.

          Melina walked over the the large window as she spoke. "For it has been bestowed upon me many years now to keep this cycle in place, both as guardian of the little island. . . and as its agent of rebirth."

           I watched as an overwhelmed Kleio placed both hands over her face. I could see she was quietly crying. Melina was looking directly at me now.

            "I ask that you not struggle against this, Bryce," she said emphatically. "Nor to fear your part in our ceremony tonight. For you and your lover will in many ways be blessed for all eternity by it."

            She then made reference to the couple standing next to her with a delicate wave of her hand.

            "Many years ago, Dusek and Anezka took this passage themselves on this island with me, as you are soon to do. They have since enjoyed a life of pleasure and wonderful cultivation many times over. They have assisted in bringing many couples into our community, and they return each year. They are here to guide you into our world . . .but also to provide us with the nourishment we require . . . eternally."

            At these words, the sound of the boat could be heard approaching the yacht, returning from the island. Melina walked forward and took my hand lightly in hers. It was cool like the outside air. Her eyes were again calling to me as I had experienced they could magically do.

            "All your questions about the realm will be answered by the time we return tonight, Bryce. And you and you alone will be permitted tell or write of it one day. This I have promised you. Along with a telling of the story of my long life."

            With that she stepped back to the rear door where Dusek and Anezka began to lead us, arm in arm, to the windy disembarking platform. It was timed well, as the speedboat came up along the rear of the yacht. All of us carefully embarked onto the craft which was commandeered solely by Giorgi. Nicolai had apparently stayed on the island in preparation for our arrival.

            The lone Slav quickly throttled up the boat, propelling us quickly away from the now darkened ship. The spray from the sea was fresh and sobering on our faces as we watched the approaching coastline. With the moon above, Delos was now clearly visible, as if in a dreamed twilight. Behind its low cliff the silhouette of the island loomed up before a bright horizon of sky. Its twin hills seemed now to be two ominous horns overlooking the little cove as we entered it in the surf with the engines off. The boat slid onto the sand effortlessly as we beached ourselves and stepped out through the shallow water into the cool, bright night.  

                                                             *     *     *