He didn't respond.  Instead, he upended his glass that contained twice the amount of hers.  Placing his glass aside, he said, "I am returning to Washington this evening – alone."  She started to protest, but he continued, "Hear me out."  Taking a deep breath, he plunged ahead, "I am not who you think I am, Victory."

      "Do you mean you're not really Andrew Gabriel, Marquis of Penbrook?"

      He shook his head.  His eyes locked on hers.  A premonition of dread settled in the pit of her stomach.  He restated, "I am the marquis, but I am not what you think I am."

      She reached for the drink, while she waited for him to explain.  "I am a porphyrian.” She was totally puzzled.  He rushed on, "We are a subspecies or race, if you prefer, whose main genetic makeup differs from humans in that we manifest a rare condition called porphyria.  This condition is caused by a lack of certain enzymes in the blood's hemoglobin." 

      "That's why you drink that awful-tasting liquid. Right?" she asked tentatively.  She recalled how he had told her about drinking it to replenish electrolytes that were lacking in his system.  "But you couldn't think I would be so shallow as to reject you because of a rare blood disorder?"

      The corners of his lips lifted slightly.  "No, but there's more.  Some of the other characteristics unique to my people are intense sensitivity to sunlight, receding gums, and, in some cases, neurological damage.  Our women are more prone to suffer and are especially vulnerable during pregnancy when they can not partake of the drink."

      Victory shifted nervously.  "I'm not sure I am following you.  You claim that you have a rare genetic disorder called porphyria.  I've heard of it, although, right now, I can't remember in what context. What I don't understand," she said puzzled, "is why you believe having this disease classifies you as a subspecies or why you think it would alter my feelings.  Unless," she said with her eyes widening, "you're concerned about the affect on potential children."

      Andrew lifted agonized eyes to meet hers.  "The answer to both your questions is the main characteristic of porphyria.  One of my ancestors was responsible for inventing the PS4.  However, prior to the utilization of the drink, our people were plagued by an insatiable need to derive the enzymes we needed by drinking blood."

from her and hit him like blows.  Feeling her fear while sensing her pain and confusion, he reached out to explain, but she backed away.  When he tried to offer reassurance, she became hysterical. 

         "Marry?" she wailed, as the sound trailed into laughter and then caught on a sob.  "We can never marry, never have children, never lead a normal life.  Why," she gasped, while glancing down at the corpse with revulsion, as a fountain of tears gushed down her cheeks, "you're not even human!" 

         Abruptly, the light returned.  She blinked rapidly at the sudden brightness.  Her relief was cut short as her eyes focused on the creature before her.  Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as a scream tore from her throat.  She watched in awestruck horror as the thing approached.  Caught somewhere between a reptile, a rodent, and a human, the thing stood upright and appeared to have two arms and two legs.  The creature had glowing red eyes and a head shaped like a toad, except for the nose and mouth.  The snout was that of a dragon.  When it spoke, a long forked tongue snaked out from between protruding fangs.  The entire body was scaly with a set of greenish-black leathery wings on its back.  The creature had claws in the place of hands and feet and it dragged a long hairless tail.  

         Revulsion and terror held her in an iron grip.  Her sanity broke.  As the creature advanced, she covered her face with her hands and screamed.  Straining against her bonds, she moved as far out of reach as her chain would allow.  She became numb with fear.  She watched the creature advance, while it flicked its tongue and targeted her with a baleful amphibian eye.  Petrified, she shrank against the wall as the thing backed her into a corner.  “It’s only a hallucination created by the porphyrian!  It’s only a hallucination.  It’s not real.  It’s not real!” her mind screamed.

         Victory shook violently as the creature grasped her arms and scratched deep furrows into her skin.  Its tongue flicked her face and she tried to turn towards the wall.  One claw grasped her chin and held her in place.  Its tongue felt like wet sandpaper as it coursed down her cheek.  She gagged as the tongue slithered across her lips. 

         "What's the matter, bitch?" the thing rasped in her ear, “Don't you want to play anymore?"