Different realms weren't the only things that separated them. Two other things kept them apart: Gryphon's precarious control of his new demon bloodlust, and his ability to cross the portal back into the living realm. Only the older, more powerful demons risked stepping into the portals. Demons who were too weak — and you could not tell until after you had stepped inside the damn portal — were simply incinerated, extinguished, never seen again.

The latter was a barrier only in Gryphon's mind. It could have been easily overcome by simply allowing Mona Lisa to venture down into Hell. But Gryphon did not want his lady love stepping one dainty foot into Hell — even though that dainty foot had indeed done just that, twice already. The first time, Mona Lisa had been dragged down against her will by a rogue demon. The second time had been by her own choice, bringing Halcyon back after he was severely injured and weakened in the living realm. That Mona Lisa was not now in Hell was only because Halcyon and his father had thought it best to give Gryphon time to adjust to his new existence as a demon, and to allow him time to gain control of his new and dangerous hunger before allowing Mona Lisa to see him again.

In that regard, Gryphon had made much progress. He had attained control of his bloodthirst, a feat that took some demons more than a year to attain instead of just one month. But then, Gryphon had been stronger, more powerful than most other warriors. He had been a Warrior Lord, one of the few ever to attain such status.

Sweat dampened Gryphon's face now as he gazed down from the balcony to the revelry of the city below. The heady scent of the blood wine that all were imbibing freely floated up to him. A nearer and even more tantalizing scent of blood came from the chalice Gryphon held in his hand with seeming ease. A chalice he had held for the last ten minutes and not yet tasted. Only when all others in the room had drunk did he finally raise the cup to his lips, not gulping it down as most new demons would have done after having been teased so mercilessly by the scent of blood, but in carefully measured sips.