Ilya paced a small area while Kai spoke. After a moment he stilled and pivoted on his foot to face the man. Vampire, he corrected himself mentally. Father, his mind added with a little flutter in his heart.
When he'd first concluded that his father must have been a vampire, he'd made up stories to justify the absence in his life. It was much, much later that he had learned of the ritual, the expectancy, that dhampir's such as himself were put to death, assuming the child lived past the first year.
Ilya had always been stronger than most, despite the ill fated conditions of his birth. He had thrived, perhaps because of his mother's Gypsy blood. He had no way of knowing, for certain. He'd been denied any information concerning his father, and had put his mother in the ground without getting any answers from her.
And now, now, here he was. The fabled vampire Ilya had long dreamed about. He could do little more, just then, than nod.