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Isaiah tilted his head. "Really? Surely not…" He leaned closer to Christian. "But the age is<br />
right…and that hair…" He smiled. "Lucas and Moira's son?"<br />
Christian said nothing, but the confirmation on his face was obvious.<br />
"I knew your parents. Great people. Unparalleled. Their deaths were a shame… but, well… I<br />
daresay they brought that on themselves. I told them they shouldn't have gone back for you.<br />
Would have been wasteful to awaken you so young. They claimed they were going to just keep<br />
you around and waken you when you were older. I warned them that that would be a disaster,<br />
but, well…" He gave a delicate shrug. "Awaken" was the term Strigoi used among themselves<br />
when they changed over. It sounded like a religious experience. "They wouldn't listen, and<br />
disaster met them in a different way."<br />
Hatred, deep and dark, boiled behind Christian's eyes. Isaiah smiled again.<br />
"It's quite touching that you should find your way to me after all this time. Perhaps I can realize<br />
their dream after all."<br />
"Isaiah," said the woman—Elena—again. Every word out of her mouth seemed like a whine.<br />
"Call the others—"<br />
"Stop giving me orders!" Isaiah grabbed her shoulder and shoved her away—except that the<br />
push knocked her across the room and almost through the wall. She just barely threw her hand<br />
out in time to stop the impact. Strigoi had better reflexes than dhampirs or even Moroi; her lack<br />
of grace meant he'd completely caught her off guard. And really, he'd barely touched her. The<br />
push had been light—yet it had packed the force of a small car.<br />
This further enforced my belief that he was in another class altogether. His strength beat hers by<br />
magnitudes. She was like a fly he could swat away. Strigoi power increased with age— as well<br />
as through the consumption of Moroi blood and, to a lesser extent, dhampir blood. This guy<br />
wasn't just old, I realized. He was ancient. And he'd drunk a lot of blood over the years. Terror<br />
filled Elena's features, and I could understand her fear. Strigoi turned against each other all the<br />
time. He could have ripped her head off if he wanted.<br />
She cowered, averting her eyes. "I… I'm sorry, Isaiah."
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