CHAPTER ELEVEN
Doctor John Polidori
Villa Diodoti, Cologny
Geneva July 1816
Darling John,
The details of my waking dreams become more vivid with each falling of night. This evening just past I was seated at my desk, watching the horrid rain splash so hard against the panes they were more mirror than window to the outside world. The reflection was transmuted, but I could clearly make out my own image and the larger furnishings in the parlor behind me. All shimmered, and I had to touch my face to assure myself I was not undergoing metamorphosis. My eye caught the play of shadow reflected from behind me. Was it a specter or some person of criminal intent secreted into my rooms? The shadow crouched beside the bureau, but even as I spied upon it, it rose to its full height. I surmi
