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I walk into the bedroom he uses as an office。
I almost faint。
On his desk is a black and white and red plastic model of the double helix DNA molecule。 That is not what staggers me。 Beside it is a much more plex model of a different kind of DNA…one that has twelve strands of encoded information instead of two。 It is not the first time I have seen it。 Seven hundred years ago； the great Italian alchemist； Arturo Evola； created a similar model after spending six months in my pany。
〃It's not possible；〃 I whisper。
Andrew Kane has already begun to crack the DNA of the vampire。
4
Italy； during the thirteenth century； embodied all that was wonderful and horrible about the Middle Ages。 The Catholic Church was the supreme power。 Monarchs came and went。 Kings and queens fought and died。 But the Roman Pope wielded the true power over life and death。
Art was the gift of the Church to the people in those days。 This was above and beyond the gift of their strict theology； which did nothing for the poor masses except keep them confused until the day they died。 I say that with well…deserved bitterness。 It would have been impossible to live in those days and not bee angry at the Church。 Today； however； I think the Church does much that is good； and much that is questionable。 No religion is perfect； not after man gets through with it。
I lived in Florence from 1212 till 1245 and spent many months touring the churches where the finest paintings and sculptures were displayed。 The Renaissance was； of course； a long way off； and Michelangelo and Da Vinci had yet to be born。 Still； these earlier days were remarkable for their creativity。 I remember well Bonaventura Berlinghieri's radiant St。 Franca and Niccola Pisano's hypnotic sculpture Annunciation to the Shepherds。
The Inquisition was another gift of the Church。 The boon of the devil in the minds of most people in those days。 Two informants； whose identities could remain unknown to the victim； were all that was necessary to charge someone with being a heretic。 The informants could be heretics themselves； or witches…not pleasant titles to earn in old Italy。 A confession was necessary to convict anyone of being a heretic。 A little stretching of the limbs； or burning with live coals； or torturing the victim on the strappado…the dreaded vertical rack…was usually enough to get an innocent person to confess。 I remember going to the central city courtyard to watch the victims being burned alive at the stake。 I used to think back over the barbarism of the Emperors of the Roman Empire； the Mongolian hordes； the Japanese shoguns…and yet their forms of torture all paled pared to the pain caused by the Church because the people who lit the pyres wore crosses。 They chanted prayers while their victims screamed and died。
I observed only a few executions before I lost the stomach for them。 Yet I thwarted the Inquisition in my own way； by secretly killing many of the inquisitors。 I usually left their bodies in promised places houses of prostitution and the like…to discourage thorough investigations。 As I drained the inquisitors' blood； sucking their large neck veins and arteries； I whispered in their ears that I was an angel of mercy。 None of them died easily。
Yet the Church was bigger than a single vampire； the Inquisition an infection that spread and multiplied through its own mysterious madness。 It could not be easily stopped。 It cast a gloom over my stay in Florence； over my joy in the resurgence of mankind's creativity。 I have hunted humans throughout time； and yet I am proud of them as well； when they do something bold； something unexpected。 The best art always es unbidden。
Arturo Evola was not known as an alchemist or else he would not have lasted a day in medieval Florence。 He was a twenty…one…year…old Franciscan priest； and a devout one at that。 He had entered the priesthood at the age of sixteen； which was not unusual at that time； because the easiest way to obtain the finest education was to bee a priest。 He was a brilliant man； undoubtedly the most inspired intellect of the thirteenth century。 Yet history does not know him。 Only I do； and my memories of him are filled with sorrow。
I met him after Mass one day。 I despised the Church； but enjoyed the actual service。 All the chanting； the choirs； and I loved to hear the early organs played。 Often I would go to munion； after attending confession。 It was difficult for me to keep a straight face while I told of my sins。 Once； for fun； I told a priest the whole truth of what I had done in my life。 But he was drunk and just said to do five Hail Marys and to behave myself。 I didn't have to kill him。
I received the Holy Eucharist from Arturo and met him after the service。 I could tell he was attracted to me。 In those days many priests had mistresses。 I had gone out of my way to see Arturo because a gypsy healer had told me about him。 He was an alchemist； she said； who could turn stone into gold； sunlight into ideas； moonlight into lust。 The gypsy had a high opinion of Arturo。 She warned me to approach him cautiously because his real work had to be kept from the Church。 I understood。
monly； an alchemist is known as an esoteric chemist who attempts to convert base metals into gold。 This is a crude understanding。 Alchemy is a prehensive physical and metaphysical system embracing cosmology as much as anthropology。 Everything natural and supernatural can be found in it The goal of alchemy is to experience the totality of the organism。 It is a path of enlightenment。 The gypsy said Arturo was a born alchemist。 Knowledge came to him from inside。 No one had to teach him his art。 〃The only trouble with him is he's a Catholic；〃 she said。 〃A fanatic。〃
〃How does he merge the two disciplines？〃 I asked。
The gypsy blessed herself。 She was superstitious of the Church as well。 〃God only knows；〃 she said。
Arturo did not strike me as a fanatic when we first met。 His demeanor was soft； like his lovely eyes。 He had a special ability to listen totally to a person； a rare gift。 His large hands were exceptionally fine； when he brushed my arm with his fingers I felt he was capable of touching my heart。 And he was so young！ That first afternoon we talked about astronomy…a midway subject； in my mind； to alchemy。 He was delighted with my knowledge of the heavens。 He invited me to share a meal and afterward we went for a walk around the city。 When we said goodbye that night； I knew he was in love with me。
Why did I pursue him？ For the same reason I have done many things in my life…I was curious。 But that was only my initial reason。 Soon I； too； was in love with him。 I must say； the feeling was present before I began to probe his knowledge of alchemy。 Before going that deep into his secret world； I knew he was unlike other priests of his day。 He was a virgin； and his vow of celibacy was important to him。
I did not just spring the questions on him one day。 Can you turn copper into gold？ Can you heal lepers？ Can you live forever？ I showed him a glimpse of my knowledge first； to inspire him to share his。 My understanding of the medical properties of herbs is extensive。 An old friar in Arturo's ch