She'd stopped touching him. Good. But what was with her answer? Chevaliers are Chevaliers. He thought about the other thing she'd said. He owns everything, and everybody else is underneath him.

Rosenberg was powerful, but he was still subject to the government. They had frozen Project Leviathan, after all. Was this Amshel a government operative? Somehow, it didn't seem likely. He might just be some guy, perhaps from the witches' council, to which Rosenberg had given the illusion of power.

The girl looked like she was, mercifully, going to fall asleep, but then she spoke again.

You're not human, but you're definitely not one of mine. Not with that blood. You can't be one at all, I don't think. And then what are you? You must know that.

Um, what? Why was she pretending to know some things but not others?

"Listen," he said, again in a low voice, this time almost in a growl, "stop playing dumb. I know what's going on here. You're not really a patient. You know who I am." And just because she had insulted him, "So you're a witch, huh? Well, just because I was artificially created doesn't mean I'm not one."