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magnificent! You should think about making many of them for the others."
    "Well, that will come in time, daughter. My schedule is a bit full." He smiles at me, then realizes I am still holding the Cursed One. "Oh! Here, let me..."
    "No, I have it. Just tell me where you want me to put it."
    It must be extraordinarily bizarre to see your eighteen year old daughter, thin and not overtly muscular, holding a grown man twice her size as though he were a sack of flour. With a slight shake of his head, he leads me to the back of his lab and pushes the wall. It opens with the abrasive sound of stone on stone.
    "I have lived in this house my entire life. How do I not know about this?" I ask.
    "I am allowed to have secrets, am I not?" Papa teases. "Put it here in this chair. We will chain him to the wall."
    "Papa, do you really think this will hold him?"
    "Would you like to try it out? The chair and chains are made of pure silver. The chains go beyond the wall into the ground more than six feet deep and wrapped around a silver pole. From what we have learned, silver weakens the strength of Cursed Ones."
    "Silver?" I set the Cursed One down in the chair, propping his slumped body up carefully. Picking up the chain, I instantly feel a change in my strength. "Such a normal feeling chain for such an extraordinary feat."
    I pull the chain with all the strength I can muster. The links stretch slightly, but do not break. I am convinced that if I cannot break it, my prisoner cannot, either. I help papa chain the Cursed One to the silver chair, making sure it is completely secure. I do not want to take chances with the lives of my parents.
    "I want to be here, papa, when you take the stake out."
    "I am a Hunter, child, I am sure I can take care of myself." He sounds almost annoyed by my request.
    "I do not think you are not capable, papa. I just want to make sure the chains are strong enough."
    He looks as though he is going to argue, but he just nods instead. "Very well. Get cleaned up and we will then see what this one has to offer us."
     

     
    Our prisoner offers us nothing for a long while. Even with Bernard's help, papa came up empty when it came to a 'cure'. The closest he came was formulating a potion that curbed the hunger and need for blood, and one that helped mask the eerie color this curse made the eyes. The latter is still too unpredictable for me to come out of hiding as it can wear off without warning.
    I have been in hiding for so long that word is beginning to spread that I have died. Mum and papa can no longer dispute it because they cannot show anyone that I am, indeed, alive. I even have to hide myself from Bernard, which is, I admit, increasingly difficult since he is constantly in my house. I begin to notice that his interest in the Cursed One I had captured becomes greater every day. I would hear him trying to engage it in conversation - to no avail. His pressing question is always 'who captured you?'. I have yet to figure out why that would matter to him.
    When Bernard found out that my blood - though he does not know it is mine - could heal, he and papa began arguing frequently. Bernard wants to sell the cure to the highest bidder. Papa forbade it. He does not know what the blood will do to humans in larger doses. Would it create more of me? More monsters? It is not something papa wishes to find out.
     

     
    I start hunting longer and longer, pushing the limits of sunlight as far as they would go. Being in the house while Bernard is there makes me uncomfortable, and hunting keeps me occupied with more than the thought that this is how I am going to be for the rest of my life - however long that will be.
    I have not run into Thomas again since my first night out hunting. Secretly, I wish I would, even if just to make sure he is doing well. I can hear Hunters telling stories during their patrol of how the Lagan boy went into a depression when he heard of my death. I prefer not to believe it. Thomas is strong in mind