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felt  suddenly torn, oddly connected to both men,
    Luke held his hands out to his sides. He wouldn’t try to
    pressure me.
    Connor closed  the distance between us and stroked my cheek. “You should know who you are before you seek a way to eliminate that part of you.”
    “But Luke’s research is important.”
    Luke smiled, just a little too boldly for Connor’s taste.
    “Luke’s research,” Connor scoffed. “Did he tell you what
    his research did to his daughter, Kelly?”
    “Don’t speak of her. You don’t deserve to speak her name.”  Luke was on Connor in seconds, holding him up by the throat.  “Kelly was the daughter of my heart, my wife’s child from a  previous marriage. He convinced her to run off with him. He  turned her.” Luke let Connor drop to the sand. There was no  longer any question who could prevail in a fight.

    35

    My eyes went wide as the moon. “ You   turned her?”
    “She wanted to know what it was like.” Connor sat up,  propped on his elbow. He didn’t stand. “I did her a favour. WE  would have lived forever, together. But he found us. He  poisoned her against me. And then he killed her,”
    Luke’s eyes darkened to black. He ran his hand through his hair, turned  away as if gaining control of his emotions, then turned back to me. “I did. It was a mistake. I was trying to save her.”
    “To turn her back.” Connor stood up. “But he ended up
    killing her with a virus of his own.”
    “A mutation,” Luke clarified. “It should  have cured her
    but…” His voice broke off.
    I felt for him, went to him, took his hand and filled in what
    was left unsaid. “It didn’t work. Luke, I’m sorry.”
    “Miranda.” His eyes held that mysterious golden light as he  met my gaze. “Please stay. We can find  out so much more, save  more of us.”
    I stepped back, “I’m not ready, Luke. I don’t want to be
    cured. Not now.”
    I wasn’t sure how or why I’d come to such a conclusion, but  I knew that Connor was right about me. I needed to explore what it was I had before  I cut that part of me away. “I’m going with Connor. Just for a while. But I’ll be back. If you let me go.  Don’t try to stop us or force me to come back before I’m ready.  Promise me.”

    36

    Luke sighed, then took me in his arms and held me tight.
    “Please come back. Come back soon.”

    “I will,” I said, and reached up to stroke his stubble-dotted
    cheek. “Goldbeard.”

    “My fair Miranda.” He bowed his head and kissed my hand,
    very gallant and old-fashioned but so sweet.
    A shiver ran up my spine but I tore my gaze from him and
    turned to Connor. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
    Connor smiled wide, triumphant and dazzling in the moonlight. “Let’s go.”
    Luke left us while Connor readied the boat, a small motor-powered skiff that he assured me would get us away safely. I believed him. I trusted him.
    I belonged with him.
    But somehow, as I got into the boat beside him and took one last look at the sun coming up behind the magnificent house, I wondered if I wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of my life.

    37

    Ode t o Edvard
    Munch
    Caitlin R. Kiernan

    I   find her, always, sitting on the same park bench. She’s there, no matter whether I’m coming through the park late on a Thursday evening or early on a  Monday evening or in the first grey moments of a Friday morning. I play piano in a Martini bar at Columbus and 89 th , or I play   at   the piano, mostly for tips or free drinks.  And when I feel like the long walk or can’t bear the thought of the subway or can’t afford cab fare, whenever I should happen to pass that way alone in  the darkness and the interruptions in the darkness made by the lamp posts, she’s there. Always on the same bench, not far from the Ramble and the Bow Bridge, just across the lake.  They call that part of the park Cherry hill. The truth is that I haven’t lived in Manhattan long enough to know these