He paused, apparently waiting for a response from me. I said nothing, so he continued again, "I propose we both answer each other's questions. No doubt you have many."
"I have a few," I agreed grudgingly. I wanted answers but at the same time I wanted to tell him he could take his proposition and stick it.
"As do I. Answer mine and I shall answer yours."
I finally nodded, my curiosity overcoming even my fear and resentment. I did want to know.
"So did Paul find you?" he repeated his earlier question.
"Yes. Who is Paul to you?" I shot back.
"I'll explain in a second. First, have you been feeling ill lately?" he asked.
"Yes, I've been exhausted. Ever since you did that, that, whatever, to me. What the hell did you really do?" I wanted my answers.
"How about I start at the beginning, after you tell me what Paul said to you?" he asked.
I wanted him to explain everything, so I nodded. What choice did I have but to trust he would tell me after? "Paul told me his name and he asked me who dragged me out into the forest and what he did to me. He wanted to know if you'd put your blood in me."
"What did you tell him?"
"I didn't know anything. You attacked me," I accused.
"Again, I apologize profusely," he said, meeting my gaze with sardonic eyes.
I broke eye contact and continued, "But he seemed sure you had and he told me I would die."
"He was ever one for the melodrama. He takes life too seriously," Michael said dismissively.
"So I'm not going to die?" I demanded.
Michael grinned, "Apparently not. If you were going to die from what I did, you would be dead already."
I could not help but feel relief cut through my resentment and anger. I hated that it was he who put it there.
Since I did not say anything, Michael continued speaking. "Paul and I were friends when we were children. One day a traveler took us and did the same thing to us that I did to you. We became so much more than what we were. However, Paul eventually began to hate our nature and he began trying to kill me. He's being tracking me around ever since."
"Your nature? So what are you?" I asked.
"I am the same as you," he said simply. "Or rather, you are the same as me." I felt like a mouse being toyed with by a cat.
"Then what do you say that I am?"
He smiled and for all the world it appeared devoid of malice. "I know you are angry about what I did to you, but I have made you more than what you were. When I gave you my blood, I gave you time. You will never die, now. You are much more than human. I am much more than human. We are gods."
I was not buying that. "Gods? Then why did Paul say I would die?"
He shrugged. "You might have. Sometimes my blood just kills the recipient. Other times it makes the person go mad. But, as in your case, sometimes it grants immortality."
"So now you're saying I'm never going to die?" I asked, although my mind was racing. I was beginning to suspect he was mad and his strange follower Paul along with him. The two were caught in some sort of unhealthy delusion and I had been dragged into it simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps his blood contained a virus that made one infected insane. I had not been healthy since our first encounter. I had never been so exhausted, nor had I fainted before. Or was he suggesting he had granted me immortal life without immortal health? Why was I even considering his nonsense so seriously?
He shrugged, "Well, you would die if someone cut off your head, or crushed your most important organs, or if you suffocated," he said, but then shrugged. "But you won't age. Oh, you'll also die if you go without blood for an extended period of time, I believe, although I've hardly tested that. That would be why you've been feeling ill of late."
"Blood?" I repeated dumbly. "I need blood? That's crazy."
"Isn't it?" he said mockingly. "Imagine a mammal needing blood to live."
"Yes, their own blood," I emphasized.
He grinned again. I was annoyed he seemed to find such amusement in my plight. My plight which he had inflicted on me. I was beginning to suspect he had dragged me into those bushes for nothing more than his wicked amusement. I scowled.
He said, "Well, your own blood might need a little bit of help now. I'll be back." He slipped out of the window and I was left in utter silence.
My first instinct was to run and lock the window, but when I tried to get up a feeling of fatigue hit me. It slowed me down long enough to consider that if I did lock it, he might not come back and I might not get my answers, although I had strong doubts that his answers had any relation to reality.
I also had a strong suspicion that a simple lock might not keep a madman like him out. It might only enrage him or amuse him. I really wanted to know what he was thinking and what he had done, even if I was merely being drawn into his mad fantasies. I also wanted to understand where Paul fit into the whole convoluted picture. His simple story was just that: simple. There had to be more to the story than what he was telling me. Surely I would be safe enough if I did not challenge his delusions too far.
So I lay back and waited there because it was the simplest thing to do. It may also have been the most wise or the least wise option. Maybe there was no choice because I could not find the energy to do anything else.
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