[ It's a troubling idea, but nothing that Armand hasn't already considered. The power of the forces at work is unmistakable, having cowed devils and gods in their control -- he can't see any other explanation than being trapped somewhere beyond the veil.

He remains where he is, watching Emmrich from across the room, glass-sharp nails resting lightly on the pages of the book in his hand. After a moment, he nods, carefully closes the book, sets it on a nearby stack, making sure it aligns exactly with the book beneath it. ]

We're not all living and breathing. [ He spans his hand lightly on top of the stack of books, trailing his fingertips over the leather as he approaches Emmrich's desk. ] I am dead, yet my soul remains. A quandary for your order. When I was turned, I was already at the gates of death, poisoned and sickened. Because of you, as I lay dying once more, my mortal life was restored to me. Your mistake meant that I was able to taste mortal food for the first time in five hundred years. I felt my heart beat, my lungs fill with air. I was able to remember..

[ He pauses, glancing away from Emmrich, hands fidgeting closed and open again, clearly lingering over his words. When he looks back at him, there's a fragile resolve in his expression. ]

You killed me and you gave me life. I wanted to thank you.