Shrike

	She set a hand on the corroded metal of his chest and said, "Don't be afraid, Mr. Grike. I know this must be confusing for you. You've been dead for more than eighteen years."

	"DEAD," he said.

	The young woman smiled. Her teeth were white and crooked, slightly too big
for her small mouth. "Maybe 'dormant' is a better word. Old Stalkers never really
die, Mr. Grike...."

Chapter 1: The sleeper Wakes, Infernal devices, 5/237