Azrael opened his eyes. He could feel the heavy feeling in his hands and legs, which were bound with thick steel cuffs that clinked with every jolt of the carriage.
Everything around him was blurred with some unfocused figures. The only other objects were the dark wooden walls of the carriage and the red velvet seat opposite him.
A figure there sat staring outside the window at the forest flashing by.
That individual became clearer as his vision became sharpened. Pale skin, raven-black hair, and those crimson eyes that would never leave him even if he forgot the rest.
"Marius Strigoi?" Azrael asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.
The vampire turned his head, his slit-pupil eyes fixing on him. A flicker of surprise came into his elegant features.
"Do you know me?" Marius asked smoothly and calmly.
Azrael could not form the right words to explain his knowledge of the legendary character whose image he had sketched once.
