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It was enough。 I left the bed。 I wrote in my thick diary； the quill scratching as I quickly inscribed the words：
〃He is irresistible； but what am I to do？ I claimed him once； declaring him my very own； and now I treat his misery with the blood I wish that I could give him。 Yet in treating his misery； I hope to cure him not for me but for the wide world。〃
I closed the book； in disgust with myself for the blood I'd given him。 But it had healed him。 I knew it。 And were he ill； I would give him blood again。
Time was moving too swiftly。
Things were happening too fast。 My earlier judgments were shaken； and the beauty of Amadeo increased with every passing night。
The teachers took the boys to Florence that they might see the paintings there。 And all came home more truly inspired to study than before。
Yes； they had seen the work of Botticelli； and how splendid it was。 Was the Master painting？ Indeed； so； but his work had bee almost entirely religious。 It was due to the preaching of Savonarola； a stringent monk who condemned the Florentines for their worldliness。 Savonarola had great power over the people of Florence。 Botticelli believed in him； and was thought to be one of his followers。
This saddened me greatly。 Indeed it damn near maddened me。 But then I knew that whatever Botticelli painted it would be magnificent。 And in Amadeo's progress I was forted； or rather pleasantly confused as before。
Amadeo was now the most brilliant of all my little academy。 New teachers were required for him in philosophy and law。 He was outgrowing his clothes at a marvelous rate； he had bee quick and charming in conversation； and he was the beloved of all the younger boys。
Night after night we visited Bianca。 I became accustomed to the pany of refined strangers； the eternal stream of northern Europeans who came to Italy to discover its ancient and mysterious charms。
Only occasionally did I see Bianca hand the poisoned cup to one of her ill…fated guests。 Only occasionally did I feel the beat of her dark heart； and see the shadow of desperate guilt in the very depth of her eyes。 How she watched the unfortunate victim； how she saw him out of her pany at last with a subtle smile。
As for Amadeo； our private sessions within my bedchamber became ever more intimate。 And more than once； as we embraced； I gave the Blood Kiss to him； watching his body shiver； and seeing the power of it in his half…lidded eyes。
What was this madness？ Was he for the world or for me？
How I lied to myself about it。 I told myself the boy might still prove himself and thereby earn his freedom to leave me； safe and rich； for acplishments beyond my house。
But I had given him so much of the Secret Blood that he pushed me with questions。 What manner of creature was I？ Why did I never e by day？ Why did I take no food or drink？
He wrapped his warm arms around the mystery； He buried his face in the monster's neck。
I sent him off to the best brothels to learn the pleasures of women； and the pleasures of boys。 He hated me for it； and yet he enjoyed it； and he came home to me eager for the Blood Kiss and nothing else。
He taunted me when I painted alone； except for him； in my studio； working furiously； creating some landscape or gathering of ancient heroes。 He slept beside me when I collapsed in my bed to sleep the last few hours before dawn。
Meantime； we opened the palazzo again and yet again。 Bianca； ever the clever and poised one； had outgrown her early beauty； and preserving her delicate face and manner； had now the polish of a woman rather than the promise of a girl。
Often I found myself staring at her； wondering what would have happened if I had not turned my attention to him。 Why after all had I done it？ Could I not have wooed her and persuaded her； and then； thinking these thoughts； I realized； foolishly； that I might still choose to do so； and cast him off； with wealth and position； to mortality with all the rest of my boys。
No； she was saved。
Amadeo was the one I wanted。 Amadeo wag the one I was educating； training Amadeo was the precious student of the Blood。
The nights passed swiftly； as if in a dream。 Several boys went off to university。 One of the teachers died。 Vincenzo took to walking with a limp； but I hired an assistant to fetch for him。 Bianca rearranged several of the large paintings。 The air was warm and the windows were open。 On the roof garden we gathered for a great banquet。 The boys sang。
Never once in all this time did I fail to apply the salve to my skin to darken it and make me appear human。 Never once did I fail to work it into the flesh of both my hands。 Never once did I fail to dress with fine jewels； and wear rings that would distract everyone。 Never once did I move too close to a grouping of candles； or a torch at a doorway or on the quais。
I went to the shrine of Those Who Must Be Kept and remained there in meditation。 I laid the case before Akasha。
I wanted this child…this boy who was now two years older than when I'd found him…and yet I wanted everything else for him； and my soul was torn； just as his heart was torn。
Never before had I wanted such a thing； to make a blood drinker for my own panionship； indeed to educate a mortal youth for this very purpose； and to groom him expertly that he might be the finest choice。
But I wanted it now and it filled my thoughts during every waking hour； and I found no consolation looking at my cold Mother and Father。 I heard no answer to my prayer。
I lay down to sleep in the shrine and knew only dark and troubled dreams。
I saw the garden； the very one I had painted on the walls eternally； and I was walking in it as always； and there was fruit on the low…hanging trees。 There came Amadeo walking near me； and suddenly there came from his mouth a chilling cruel laughter。
〃A sacrifice？〃 he asked； 〃for Bianca？ How can such a thing be？〃
I woke with a start； and sat up； rubbing the backs of my arms； and shaking my head； trying to free myself from the dream。
〃I don't know the answer；〃 I whispered； as though he were there near me； as though his spirit had traveled to the place where I sat。
〃Except she was already a young woman when I came upon her；〃 I responded； 〃educated and forced into life； indeed a murderess； yes； indeed； a murderess； a child woman guilty of dreadful crimes。 And you； you were a helpless child。 I could mold you and change you； all of which I've done。
〃It's true； I thought you were a painter；〃 I continued； 〃that you had the gift for painting； and I know that it's still in you； and that did sway me； too。 But when all is said and done； I don't know why you distracted me； only that it was done。〃
I lay back down to sleep once more； lying on my side rather carelessly； staring up at the glimmering eye of Akasha。 At the harsh lines of the face of Enkil。
I thought back over the centuries to Eudoxia。 I remembered her terrible death。 I remembered her burning body as it lay upon the floor of the shrine in the very place where I lay now。
I thought of Pandora。 Where is my Pandora？ And then finally I drifted into sleep。
When I returned to the