It’s not twisted. I’m your dhampir, you’re my Moroi, done. Some days we’re cookie teenagers and other days I’m risking my neck to protect you from an ancient race of predatory vampires. Or whoever else, and that’s life. At least until they come up with a better word for it.
“You remember that? Knights of the Round Table. Had all of King Arthur’s knights, and they were all on the quest for the Holy Grail. And I remember looking at this picture of Sir Galahad, and, and, and he was kneeling, and— and light streaming over his face, and— I remember thinking I could never go on a quest like that. Because I’m not clean. I mean, I was just a little kid. You think… maybe I knew? I mean, deep down, that I had demon blood in me, and about the evil of it, and that I’m— wasn’t pure?”