Meanwhile, in the Mid-Atlantic…
Reluctantly, Gordnauld has joined Rentwich for a search of the islet. The former would be happy to find some fresh water, or food, whereas the latter seeks only the unholy lair of the living dead.
Rentwich: “Gordnauld, there’s something I’d like you to do for me… In case, I don’t make it off this island alive.”
Gordnauld: “Don’t talk like that Rentwich. You’ve found your way out of tougher scrapes than this one.”
Rentwich: “Maybe, but even so… I’d like you to pass on a message to someone for me. In the event that I…”
Gordnauld eyes his old friend and mentor. He owes him this much.
Gordnauld: “Tell me.”
Rentwich: “There’s something I’d like you to tell Levillia.”
Gordnauld: “My mother?”
Rentwich: “Yes. I want you to tell her, that for as long as I’ve known her, I’ve… lusted for her.”
Gordnauld: “AAAH! What? No! You tell her! No, wait – don’t tell her. Just… God! Let’s just find your God-damned vampire!”
Rentwich: “Please Gordnauld. This is my last wish… Tell her, tell her that night in Singapore was more than just a hot torrid adult situation to me. I often think of how she moved her-”
Gordnauld: “Nyeeeeeargh!!! Stop! Why would you say that? Why? Why aren’t you talking about vampires? This island is practically infested with them, right? We need to dig ’em up and stake ’em before sunset! Right? Right?”
Rentwich turns from the agitated young man to watch the sun, now low in the sky, casting it’s shimmering pools over the calm Atlantic waters. Whether human or otherwise, something on this island – Rentwich thinks – will not see another day pass.
Rentwich: “Tell her, my only regret in life is not paying those contortionists to stay for another hour…. she’ll know what it means.”