Windsor. It was an ugly age, and she hated it, all the more for the brief glimpses she’d had of worlds beyond human imagining.”
“But she didn’t tell you this?” I didn’t need to guess on that one. I couldn’t see Pritkin having much in common with someone who had loved the world he hated.
“She told someone, but it wasn’t me.”
“Rosier.” I don’t know how I knew. Maybe because Pritkin only got that particular look on his face when he discussed his father.
A curt nod. “She went to see him, gained admission by mentioning my name. He later told me that she said she’d lived her life like a child in a candy store—one without any money to purchase anything. Able to see the beauty of her other world, but unable to gain access to it.”
“Because of her mixed heritage?”
“No. Demons aren’t like some of the Fey, jealously guarding their bloodlines, afraid of any impurity. They regularly mix races, among themselves, other types of demons, humans, Weres, Fey—anyone who has an attribute they think might be useful. Anyone who might give them an edge over a rival.”
“Then why couldn’t she just change worlds if she wanted? If she didn’t like it here—”
He shook his head. “It shouldn’t be difficult for you to understand. In that regard, as in others, your vampires are very similar to demonkind. What is the only thing that really matters to a vampire?”
I hesitated, not sure where he was going with this. “There are a lot of things—”
“Are there? In that case, why is your friend Raphael not the head of his own family? He is arguably one of the greatest artistic talents the West has ever produced, and yet he serves a sniveling, wretched nobody like that Antonio.”
“He doesn’t anymore. Mircea broke Tony’s hold.”
“But he did until recently.”
“Not by choice. Rafe is a master, but he isn’t that powerful—”
“And there you have it. Power. The one thing, perhaps the only thing, your vampires respect. It is the same with demons. And Ruth had almost none.”
“But she was part demon—you said so.”
“Yes, but demons are like any other species. Mix the genetics and you never know what will come up. Even full blooded Ahhazu aren’t that strong, and in her case . . . she may as well have been the human she pretended to be.”
“But you’re part demon and part human. And you told me yourself that the incubi aren’t considered one of the more powerful species, either. But you—”
“Yes, but my other half was magical human; hers was not. And that, or the small amount of Fey blood I inherited from my mother, or the way the genes combined—something worked to boost my abilities. I ended up stronger magically than I should have been, instead of weaker. If I had not, I doubt I would have ever known who my father was. He would have rejected me as another failed experiment and moved on. And the same was true for Ruth. Without power, she was of interest to no one.”
“No one except you.”
Pritkin was silent for a long moment. And when he spoke his voice was different from usual, softer, almost tentative. As if he had to find the words because he never spoke about this and didn’t have them ready.
“She saw me, I think, as an entrée into a world she could only imagine. She knew I was part demon from the moment she met me. It is difficult to hide that from another of our kind, but it is also difficult to tell which species one belongs to if the human side is dominant. I think—I would like to think—that she didn’t know until I told her. That her affection for me had some basis other than the fact that my father was the prince of one of the most magnificent of the courts. It is far from the most powerful, but in opulence, in decadence, in wealth . . . it would be difficult to name another more entrancing. Certainly, it entranced her.”
“I’m sorry.” I couldn’t think what else to say. No one liked to feel they were wanted only because of what they had, or, in his case, who they were.
“As am I.”
He was quiet for a while, the whoosh of the air conditioner and the faint buzzing of the overhead light the only sound. It was peaceful, and the small office was oddly cozy. It felt like an island away from the craziness of our usual lives, another moment stolen out of time. Maybe that’s what did it, or maybe, like me, he just wanted to tell someone. Have somebody understand.
“Demons do not . . . have relations . . . the same way humans do,” he finally said. “Or, rather, they can—the more humanoid of the species, in any case—but it isn’t considered a real joining. That comes only from merging with another, gaining power by feeding off their energy, having them feed off yours.... If done between two full demons, it can result in an exchange of power, enabling both to grow stronger. Some matings are done specifically for that purpose, to allow beings with complementary abilities to enhance them, possibly even mutate them into something neither had experienced before.”
I frowned, trying to grasp what he was telling me. “So instead of making a new life, you . . . remake yours?”
“In a way. Of course, a joining can result in both outcomes, although that’s exceedingly rare. But demon lives are long and experimentation is . . . almost a universal hobby. It is like the human fascination with genetics, the attempt to make oneself better through whatever means are available.”
“And Ruth wanted to do that with you?”
He nodded curtly once, and then went still. When he finally spoke it was harsh, clipped. “She didn’t tell me. She told my father, asked for his advice—why I don’t know. He would be the last person to give anyone selfless advice, but perhaps she assumed he would want the best for his son.” His lips twisted in savage mockery.
“And he told her to go ahead?” I asked.
“I don’t know what he told her. I know only what he said—
“Why? Why would he care—”
“Because it would lend him influence with the courts. Most demons have a very limited pool of partners with whom to experiment, because most are restricted in what kind of energy they can absorb. Incubi, however, are the . . . the O positive of the demon world. We can feed from virtually anyone and transmit energy to anyone, anyone at all.”
I stared at him for a moment, sure I’d misunderstood. But as crazy as it sounded, I didn’t see what else he could have meant. “He was going to
Pritkin shot me a glance, and something of the tension went out of his shoulders. His face relaxed, not into a smile, but into something less forbidding. “If you could see your expression.”
“How else am I supposed to look? You’re his son!”
“Which makes me a bargaining chip. Or was supposed to. I don’t know what he envisioned—someone like him, I suppose, handsome, charming, ready to bed whomever and whatever was needed for the good of the clan. He did as much himself when it would help his negotiations. But while he could offer a power exchange, he couldn’t give the other races what they truly wanted.”
“And what was that?” I asked, almost afraid to find out.
“Children. Progeny who might carry the traits of both parents, thereby enriching the line with new blood for eons to come. Full demons have an incredibly low reproductive rate. They live for so long, if anything else were true, they would face mass starvation. But humans . . .”
He paused, but I didn’t push it, didn’t say anything. I just sat there, torn between horror and outrage. But he saw, and that same quiet came over his face, as if my anger somehow lessened his own.
“It is the greatest strength humans have, and their greatest asset in the struggle to survive. Despite living far longer, other sentient species can’t touch the human reproductive rate, can’t even come close. Rosier spent centuries trying and failing to father a child with other demonic races. But it wasn’t until he switched to human partners that he managed it. And even then . . .”
Pritkin trailed off, but I knew he was thinking about the countless children Rosier had fathered on his quest and who had died—and had taken their mothers along with them. I’d never known if that was because of the
