She cowered, averting her eyes. "I… I'm sorry, Isaiah."

Isaiah smoothed his shirt-not that it had been wrinkled. His voice took on the cold pleasantness he'd affected earlier. "You clearly have opinions here, Elena, and I welcome you voicing them in a civilized manner. What do you think we should do with these cubs?"

"You should-that is, I think we should just take them now. Especially the Moroi." She was clearly working hard not to whine again and annoy him. "Unless…you aren't going to throw another dinner party, are you? It's a complete waste. We'll have to share, and you know the others won't be grateful. They never are."

"I'm not making a dinner party out of them," he declared loftily. Dinner party? "But I'm not killing them yet either. You're young, Elena. You only think about immediate gratification. When you're as old as me, you won't be so … impatient."

She rolled her eyes when he wasn't looking.

Turning, he swept his gaze over me, Mason, and Eddie. "You three, I'm afraid, are going to die. There's no avoiding it. I'd like to say I'm sorry, but, well, I'm not. Such is the way of the world. You do have a choice in how you die, however, and that will be dictated by your behavior." His eyes lingered on me. I didn't really get why everyone seemed to be singling me out as the troublemaker here. Well, maybe I did. "Some of you will die more painfully than others."

I didn't need to see Mason and Eddie to know their fear mirrored mine. I was pretty sure I even heard Eddie whimper.

Isaiah abruptly turned on his heels, military-style, and faced Mia and Christian. "You two, fortunately, have options. Only one of you will die. The other will live on in glorious immortality. I'll even be kind enough to take you under my wing until you're a little older. Such is my charity."

I couldn't help it. I choked on a laugh.

Isaiah spun around and stared at me. I fell silent and waited for him to throw me across the room like he had Elena, but he did nothing else but stare. It was enough. My heart raced, and I felt tears brim in my eyes. My fear shamed me. I wanted to be like Dimitri. Maybe even like my mother. After several long, agonizing moments, Isaiah turned back to the Moroi.

"Now. As I was saying, one of you will be awakened and live forever. But it will not be me who wakens you. You will choose to be awakened willingly."

"Not likely," said Christian. He packed as much snarky defiance as he could manage into those two words, but it was still obvious to everyone else in the room that he was scared out of his mind.

"Ah, how I love the Ozera spirit," mused Isaiah. He glanced at Mia, his red eyes gleaming. She shrank back in fear. "But don't let him upstage you, my dear. There's strength in common blood, too. And here's how it will be decided." He pointed at us dhampirs. His gazed chilled me all over, and I imagined I could smell the stink of decay. "If you want to live, all you have to do is kill one of these three." He turned back to the Moroi. "That's it. Not unpleasant at all. Just tell one of these gentlemen here you want to do it. They'll release you. Then you drink from them and are awakened as one of us. Whoever does this first walks free. The other will be dinner for Elena and me."

Silence hung in the room.

"No," said Christian. "No way am I killing one of my friends. I don't care what you do. I'll die first."

Isaiah waved a dismissive hand. "Easy to be brave when you aren't hungry. Go a few days without any other sustenance … and yes, these three will start to look very good. And they are. Dhampirs are delicious. Some prefer them to Moroi, and while I myself have never shared such beliefs, I can certainly appreciate the variety."

Christian scowled.

"Don't believe me?" asked Isaiah. "Then let me prove it." He walked back over to my side of the room. I realized what he was going to do and spoke without fully thinking things through.

"Use me," I blurted out. "Drink from me."

Isaiah's smug look faltered for a moment, and his eyebrows rose. "You're volunteering?"

"I've done it before. Let Moroi feed off me, I mean. I don't mind. I like it. Leave the rest of them alone."

"Rose!" exclaimed Mason.

I ignored him and looked beseechingly at Isaiah. I didn't want him to feed off me. The thought made me sick. But I had given blood before, and I'd rather him take pints from me before he touched Eddie or Mason.

I couldn't read his expression as he sized me up. For half a second, I thought he might go for it, but instead he shook his head.

"No. Not you. Not yet."

He walked over and stood before Eddie. I pulled against my flex-cuffs so hard that they dug painfully into my skin. They didn't give. "No! Leave him alone!"

"Quiet," snapped Isaiah, without looking at me. He rested one hand on the side of Eddie's face. Eddie trembled and had gone so pale, I thought he would faint. "I can make this easy, or I can make it hurt. Your silence will encourage the former."

I wanted to scream, wanted to call Isaiah all sorts of names and make all sorts of threats. But I couldn't. My eyes flicked around the room, searching for exits, as I had so many times before. But there were none. Just blank, bare white walls. No windows. The one precious door, always guarded. I was helpless, just as helpless as I'd been from the moment they'd pulled us into the van. I felt like crying, more from frustration than fear. What kind of guardian would I be if I couldn't protect my friends?

But I stayed quiet, and a look of satisfaction crossed Isaiah's face. The fluorescent lighting gave his skin a sickly, grayish hue, emphasizing the dark circles under his eyes. I wanted to punch him.

"Good." He smiled at Eddie and held his face so that the two made direct eye contact. "Now, you won't fight me, will you?"

As I've mentioned, Lissa was good at compulsion. But she couldn't have done this. In seconds, Eddie was smiling.

"No. I won't fight you."

"Good," repeated Isaiah. "And you'll give me your neck freely, won't you?"

"Of course," replied Eddie, tilting his head back.

Isaiah brought his mouth down, and I looked away, trying to focus on the threadbare carpet instead. I didn't want to see this. I heard Eddie emit a soft, happy moan. The feeding itself was relatively quiet-no slurping or anything like that.

"There."

I glanced back when I heard Isaiah speak again. Blood dripped from his lips, and he ran his tongue across them. I couldn't see the wound on Eddie's neck, but I suspected it was bloody and horrible too. Mia and Christian stared wide-eyed, both with fear and fascination. Eddie gazed off in a happy, drugged haze, high from both the endorphins and the compulsion.

Isaiah straightened up and smiled at the Moroi, licking the last of the blood off his lips. "You see?" he told them, moving toward the door. "It's just that easy."