changed.”
“All the proof I have is your assertion. Vampires are supposed to wither at the sight of crucifixes. Maybe I could find a Catholic and—”
“I don’t wither before crucifixes or any religious object. I’m not evil. I told you, I don’t kill humans, virgins, or otherwise. And I wasn’t created by the devil.”
“Then why do you call yourself a vampire?”
“Because my body can regenerate after injuries that would kill a man. Because I can’t live on food, but have to have blood. And...I have other powers.”
“Powers? What powers?”
He considered carefully. If there ever could be anything real between them again, he had to be honest now. “I can make you think I can turn into a bat, or smoke, or anything. I can control animals, even wolves.” He searched her eyes, watching for rejection. “I can control you.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere!” She leaped to her feet and opened the bathroom door to reveal a full length mirror. “Remember how I could never let myself be hypnotized? W.S. had a tough time with my security clearance because of it. You go ahead and make me think you’ve turned into a bat that doesn’t reflect in this mirror, and I’ll believe you.”
It’s not the same as using Influence to make her believe me. Still, he felt wrong about it.
“I’m waiting.”
She had to believe or her promise of silence would be only a joke to her, not a solemn vow. Or worse yet, she’d consider it her duty to him to have him committed. “Okay.”
He exerted Influence, testing her resistance. She was strong, but not remarkably so. In a puff of smoke, he became for her a medium sized bat that fluttered at her head, squeaking, but not reflecting in the mirror.
She flung up her arms and ducked, then peeked up at the mirror. Stunned, she gaped at the empty desk chair.
Getting into the drama of it, Titus went to the middle of the room, summoned a memory of an old Dracula film, then had the bat fly over to his new location, whirl into smoke, and coalesce into a black-caped figure in evening dress. Swirling the cape magnificently to show off its ruby lining, he gave her a courtly bow.
When he rose, she slumped into a faint, floating downwards in the meager gravity.
He dropped the illusion, and knelt beside her, taking her head in his lap. He straightened her body, wanting to chafe her hands and pat her cheeks to wake her up, but knowing that he only wanted to alleviate his own anxiety. She’d come out of it when her blood pressure normalized. The longer it took, the more time her mind would have had to adjust, the better it would be for her. So he cradled her in his arms with a terrible tenderness, surrendering to curious shudders of pleasure.
He didn’t notice when her eyes fluttered open, but then she sighed deeply and murmured, “Darrell....” Her memory surged back, and she shrank from him, starting to twist free of his grasp.
“Inea, it was just an illusion! Think! How could I have turned into a bat! That’s silly! It can’t be done.”
“I saw what I saw.” Influence always carried a sharp conviction that the senses gave absolute truth. Many humans, when finally convinced otherwise, went completely insane.
“Yes, you saw it. I’m not sure how this power works, but I do know that for you, it really happened.” Titus flinched away from the inherent contradictions between his physicist’s knowledge of how things worked, and the pragmatic facts of what he could do to people’s nervous systems.
“Do it again,” she challenged, face hardened.
Astonished, he replied, “No. You’re not a toy, or even a laboratory animal, that I can play with your perceptions at my own whim or for my convenience. I’m never going to use that power on you again. I want you to know beyond any doubt that whatever you see, know, or feel is real.”
He was lying by omission. No human on Project Station could trust any physical sense while Abbot was around. And Abbot would declare Titus unlawful if he ever discovered what Titus had done here, or what he had yet to do. Titus would have to keep Abbot ignorant of Inea. He couldn’t let Inea be stolen from him and Marked like Mirelle and then used as a hostage. That’s what Abbot would do if he ever realized what Inea meant to Titus.
At length, she announced, “You must be using some power to make me believe that promise.”
“The power of love. The power of honesty. Nothing any human couldn’t use.”
She studied him again. “Human. You’re not, are you?”
“Never was. Though my mother was human, my father—not my mother’s husband, but the man who begot me—wasn’t. And I’m not. I didn’t know that until I awakened. It was a terrible shock.”
“I can imagine.” She sat up, folding her legs into a full lotus and holding her head. “Why do I believe you?”
“I’m glad you do.”
“Because you need someone to believe you?”
“No, because I need to convince you so you won’t ever mention this to anyone. Not here, and not on Earth. Not anywhere, not ever. As I offer my promise, I need yours.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Or you’ll throw a whammy on me so I can’t tell?”
Her reason almost obliterated by shock, she was still capable of that insight. His heart threatened to spill over with love. “That’s what I’m supposed to do,” he choked out. “You can imagine why. If—humans—discovered us....”
“How many of you are there?”
He shrugged. “A couple thousand, no more.”
“How many humans do they kill each year?”
“I don’t know. Not many. Since about 1850, killing humans has been a crime. It leads to pogroms against us. So the law is vigorously enforced.”
This too was a half-truth. Deaths of human stringers were investigated by the Death Committee, composed of both Tourists and Residents, but the Tourists usually claimed their stringers died naturally simply from being fed upon. Even if the stringers had been mildly abused, the Tourists usually got away with it if they didn’t leave a mess to attract human attention. Marked stringers were possessions. “Inea, now we live mostly on manufactured blood. Our numbers are not increasing. We’re not a burden on humanity, and we’re not a threat. Your silence would not harm humanity.”
“Why do I always believe you? I’m not a credulous person.”
“No, but you’ve always known truth when you hear it. Look, pledge me your silence just until you discover that what I’ve told you is flatly untrue.” What will I do when she discovers what I haven’t told her?
“You’ll take my naked word?”
“If you’ll take mine. Have I ever betrayed you?”
“You were alive. But you didn’t come back to marry me. You let me think you were dead. You let
