Arturo passed her cure off to the grace of God. Yet, during these days of the Inquisition, it was more dangerous to be a saint than a sinner. A sinner, as long as he or she was not a heretic, could repent and escape with a flogging. A saint might be a witch. Better to burn a possible saint, the Church thought, than let a genuine witch escape. They had a weird sense of justice.
Arturo was not a complete fool, however. He did not heal more lepers, even though dozens came to his door seeking relief. Yet he continued to experiment on a few deaf and dumb people, a few who were actually retarded. Oh, but it was hard to turn away the lepers. The lone woman had given them such hope. Modern-day pundits often talk of the virtue of hope. To me, hope brings grief. The most content people are those who expect nothing, who have ceased to dream.
I had dreamed what it would be like to be Arturo's lover, and now that he was mine, he was unhappy. Oh, he loved to sleep with me, feel me close beside him. But he believed he had sinned and he couldn't stop. The timing of our affair was unfortunate. He was breaking his vow of celibacy just when he was on the verge of fulfilling his destiny. God would not know whether to curse or bless him. I told him not to worry about God. I had met the guy. He did what he wanted when he wanted, no matter how hard you tried. I told Arturo many stories of Krishna, and he listened, fascinated. Still, he would weep after we had sex. I told him to go to confession. But he refused--he would only confess to me. Only I could understand him, he said.
But I didn't understand. Not what he had planned.
He began to have visions during this period. He'd had them before--they didn't alarm me, at least not at first. It was a vision that had given him the mechanics of his transformative technique, long be?fore we met. But now his visions were peculiar. He began to build models. Only seven hundred years later did I realize he was building models of DNA--human DNA, vampiric, and one other form. Yes, it is true, while we watched the people twitch on the floor under the influence of my bloody aura, Arturo saw more deeply than I did. He actually understood the specific molecule whose code defined the body. He saw the molecule in a vision, and he watched it change under the magnets, crystals, copper, and blood. He saw the double helix of normal DNA. He saw the twelve straight strands of my DNA. And he saw how the two could be conjoined.
"We need twelve helix strands," he confided in me. "Then we will have our perfect being."
"But the more people you experiment on, the more attention you will draw to yourself," I protested. "Your Church will not understand. They will kill you."
He nodded grimly. "I understand. And I cannot keep working on abnormal people. To make a leap toward the perfect being, I must work with a normal person."
I sensed what was in his mind. "You cannot experi?ment on yourself."
He turned away. "What if we try Ralphe?"
"No," I pleaded. "We love him the way he is. Let's not change him."
He continued to stare at the wall, his back to me. "You changed him, Sita."
"That was different. I knew what I was doing. I had experience. I healed his wounds. I altered his body, not his soul."
He turned to me. "Don't you see it's because I love Ralphe as much as you do that I want to give him this chance? If we can change him from the inside out, transform his blood, he will be like a child of Christ."
"Christ never knew of vampires," I warned. "You should not mix the two in your mind. It's blasphemy --even to me."
Arturo was passionate. "How do you know he didn't? You never met him."
I got angry. "Now you speak like a fool. If you want to experiment on anyone, use me. You promised me you would when we started this."
He stiffened. "I can't change you. Not now."
I understood what he was saying. Suddenly I felt the weight of shattered dreams. In my mind I had been playing with a daughter who had never been born, and who probably never would be.
"You need my blood first," I replied. "The pure vampire