Isle of the Dead

wrestling with something you can't see,
and Kyra, too.

I get that feeling from Kyra.
- And Thea?
- She's young.

You're going out to meet her.
I wouldn't go.

What are you going to do, General?
Give me a paternal lecture
on bringing Thea home early?

That's hardly the way
to talk to a man and woman...

who may be dead tomorrow.
- Where are you going?
- I'm not sleepy. I'm going out.

You're going back to your room.
You know what my troops call me?

- They call you "The Watchdog."
- Yes.

We have the plague here.
I said I'd stand watch against the plague.

But St. Aubyn died, the doctor died.
I tried everything, every human remedy.

And now that you've failed,
you think it's some of Kyra's nonsense...

- the evil spirit, the Vorvolaka.
- I don't know, perhaps.

That is stupidity. That is superstition.
Let me by, please.

No. I'm just as unsure as you are.
I don't know...
that this is a contagion of the soul
that you carry...

a contagion bred of evil,
nameless, unearthly.

But until I do know,
I must keep you away from the others...

and if necessary...
I'll make an end in the only way that
we know that a Vorvolaka can be killed.

It's impossible.
I'm flesh and blood.
I remember my mother and father.

Yes, but when you awaken
in the morning...

what do you remember
of the night before?

Of your visits to the Englishwoman?