I saw endless depths of brown, the depths I'd fallen into so many times. No red rings. Dimitri...was not a Strigoi. And he was weeping.

The incident with Dawn hadn't been one of my finer moments. I honestly hadn't expected to break any bones when I shoved her into a tree. Still, the incident had given me a dangerous reputation. The story had gained legendary status, and I liked to imagine that it was still being told around campfires late at night. Judging by the look on the girl's face, it was.

They're true," I replied defiantly. "I came here to kill you. And if I can't do that, then I'd rather die." "You failed, you know. On the street." "Yeah. I kind of figured that out when I woke up here.

I stopped. She was bleeding after all. Perfect lines crossed her wrists, not near any crucial veins, but enough to leave wet red tracks across her skin. She hadn;t hit her veins when she did this; death hadn't been her goal.

Bless you, daugher of man.

The door opened, and we were met by a fifty-something man with a grizzled blond beard. He was wearing Bermuda shorts and a Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt. Also, he had an eye patch. "This is incredible," I heard Adrian murmur. "Beyond my wildest dreams.

Back to prison. Maybe if you fake a heart attack, I can make a break for it. (Rose Hathaway says to Lissa Dragomir)