God-awful stuff, indeed, Roman thought. "Have you recovered?"

Gregori took a deep, shuddering breath. "What was in there?"

"Ten percent garlic juice."

"What the hell?" Gregori jerked to an upright position. "Have you gone mad? Are you trying to poison yourself?"

"I thought I'd see if the old legends were true." Roman's mouth curled into a slight smile.

"Obviously, some of us are more susceptible than others."

"Obviously, some of us like to live too damned dangerously!"

Roman's attempt at a smile faded into oblivion. "Your observation would have more merit if we weren't already dead."

Gregori stalked toward him. "You're not going to start that 'woe is me, I'm a cursed demon from hell' crap again, are you?"

"Face the facts, Gregori. We have survived for centuries by taking life. We are an abomination before God."

"You're not drinking this." Gregori wrenched the glass from Roman's hand and set it down out of his reach. "Listen to me. No vampire has ever done more than you to protect the living and tame the cravings within us."

"And now we're the most well-behaved pack of demonic creatures on Earth. Bravo. Call the pope. I'm ready for sainthood."

Gregori's impatient look melted into curious speculation. "Is it true what they say, then? You were once a monk?"

"I prefer not to live in the past."

"I'm not so sure about that."

Roman clenched his hands into fists. His past was a subject he would discuss with no one. "I believe you mentioned some sort of development at the lab?"

"Oh, right. Sheesh, I left Laszlo waiting in the hall. I wanted to set the scene, so to speak."

Roman took a deep breath and slowly relaxed his hands. "Then I suggest you begin. There are only so many hours in a night."