Towns and cities flew by; I had to get someplace and
quickly. Then the dream ended._

_"Tod," she said, "Get up, my dear." I heard Her and I hated Her. Hated
Her while I was drawn to Her. There was a white mist before my eyes. I
reached up to brush it away. It was not a mist; it was a cloth. I
shivered._

_"I must wake up," I whispered hoarsely, "I must! I'm going mad! "_

_There was a creaking sound and daylight descended upon me. When I saw
where I was, I covered my face with my hands and sobbed. I tried to
pray, but the words froze on my lips._ I was sitting in a coffin in a
mausoleum! I had been buried alive! _"What am I?" I shrieked. "Where am I and what have You done? I'm out of
my mind; stark, staring mad! "_

_Eve's lips parted, showing the even white teeth--those slightly pointed
teeth._

_"You're quite sane, my dear," She said calmly. "You are now one of us;
a revenant, even as I, and to live you must feed on the living. "_

_"It's not true!" I shouted. "This is all a crazy nightmare, part of my
illness! You're not real! Nothing is real! "_

_"I'm quite real, Tod. To be trite, I am what I am, and have accepted it
calmly, as you shall in time. I have told you of my life. You have been
a student of legends. Legends are often--more often than you
think--reality. When one has been murdered, if one has lived a so-called
wicked life, he is doomed to walk the earth battening on the living. My
fate was sealed as I lay in my coffin. But that wasn't enough. As I lay
there, my pet cat, Suma, slunk into the room and leapt over me. That was
a double insurance of my life after death. Those whom I mark for my own
must, too, live on. Accept it, my dear. You have no other choice. "_

_"No!" I cried. "I'm an American! Things like this don't happen to us! It's only in stories, and then to foreigners! "_

_She chuckled drily. "I'm afraid these things do happen, and in this
case, you're it, my dear. Make the best of it. "_

_But I wouldn't; I refused to--for a while. I would not feast on the
blood of the living. Something within me fought. For a time._

_Then, the awful hunger began. The tearing pangs of hunger that ordinary
food wouldn't arrest. I fought it as long as I could. I lost._

_First it was small animals; animals that I loved. It was my life or
theirs. Then there was a little girl; a dear little creature who might
have been my child under different circumstances._

_After the episode of the little girl, Eve left me. She had no further
use for me; she had wanted the child, too, and I had got it. I was now
competition to be shunned. I was alone once again alone and thoroughly
miserable. I couldn't understand myself, my motives, so how could I
expect someone else to understand?_

_I only knew what I was; nor could I rationalize on why I had become
this way. I could only presume it had happened to others equally as
innocent as myself of wrong-doing. In the daytime, when I was like
others, I reproached myself; goodness knows I loathed myself and what I
had to do in order to "live." I wished I might really die, for I was
tired--so frightfully tired and sick of it all. But I knew of no way to
accomplish this, so I had to bear it all, fasting until my voracious,
disgusting appetites got the better of me._

_I decided there must be some information on my kind, particularly in
this area where vampire legends are rife, so I took to haunting reading
rooms. It was there I met Maria. She told me, after we knew each other
better, that she was doing graduate work in regional superstitions and
had decided that her thesis would treat of the history of vampirism. She
found it terribly amusing, but at the same time frightening: Didn't I? I
fear I saw nothing laughable about it, but I held my peace. Why, I could
have done a thesis for her that would have driven some mild-mannered
prof completely out of his mind! I kept my knowledge to myself, though;
I didn't want to scare Maria._

_She was like a flash of sunshine in a darkened room. She made each day
worth living. For the first time the hunger pangs ceased. Ceased for one
week, then two. I was certain I was cured. Perhaps, I thought, the whole
thing was just a dream and I am finally awake._

_I felt then I had the right to tell her of my love. She looked
infinitely sad. She wasn't certain, she said. She knew she was awfully
fond of me, but she was confused. She had just come away from the
States, trying to make up her mind about someone dear, whom she didn't
want to hurt, and she wanted a breather. I said I would wait up to and
through eternity, if she wished._

_Things, went along peacefully then. We would walk for hours together,
walk in complete silence and understanding. My strength seemed to be
returning more day by day. We went far afield in search of material for
her thesis. She would track down the most minute speck of hearsay, to
get authenticity._

_One day, in our wanderings, I thoughtlessly let myself be led too near
my resting place. One of the locals mentioned a "place of horror" nearby
and Maria wanted to investigate. I had no choice. We poked amid the
still fustiness of the deserted mausoleum I knew so well. She thought it
odd that the door was unlocked. I said, yes, wasn't it. Then she saw the
box, that gleaming copper box which Eve had so thoughtfully provided. She stroked it gently, commenting on its beauty, and before I could
prevent it or divert her attention, she had lifted the heavy lid
exposing the disarranged shroud, the remains of one or two hapless small
creatures, the horrible blood-stained satin lining. She screamed and
dropped the lid, somehow pinching her finger. She hopped on one foot, as
one usually does to fight down sudden pain. Then she was clinging to me,
thoroughly frightened._

_"What does it mean, Tod? "_

_I quieted her with the usual platitudes. Then I was kissing that poor,
red little finger. Without warning to myself or her, I nipped it
affectionately. A warm glow spread through me; there was a taste more
delightful than fine old brandy, or vintage wine, and I knew irrevocably
that I was not cured; no, nor ever should be! And I knew, too, that I
wanted Maria--not just as a man longs for the woman he loves--but to
drink of the fountain of her life, that warm, intoxicating fountain,
greedily, joyously. She never knew what went through my mind at that
moment. If I could have killed myself then, I would have, and with no
compunction. But there is more to killing a revenant than that. The
Church knows the procedure. I hurried Maria home as fast as I could and
told her I had to go away for a week on business. She believed me and
said she would miss me. But I didn't go away. That night I fought a
losing battle with myself, and then and every night thereafter, I
returned to her, partook of her and slunk away, loathing myself. I knew
that I must soon kill the one being I loved above all others, kill, too,
her immortal soul, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it._

_She began to fade visibly.