The control cost Gryphon. Was visible in the fine tremors shaking his hand. But it made a point — that he was in control of his hunger. That it did not control him. It was a point, however, that all but Gryphon had conceded over a fortnight ago. Now it was simply Gryphon's own stubbornness that kept Mona Lisa away.

When Halcyon had announced several days ago that enough time had passed to safely allow her to pay him a visit, Gryphon had replied, "I do not wish to see her ever again. I am demon dead now. My other life died when I died." He was being stupid, stubborn, and noble, of course, trying to keep her away from Hell and its bloodthirsty inhabitants, of which he was now one.

When Halcyon had tried to argue, Gryphon's calm veneer had broken, and he had lunged at his prince, sharp fangs bared. "When I was alive — beating heart, living flesh — I did not trust you, Halcyon. Did not trust a demon. Now that I have become demon dead, I know how very true my instincts were. We are dangerous. Violence is our nature. Control is learned, not natural. I do not want her anywhere near me — or you."

Halcyon had gently broken free of Gryphon's grip. "It is true. Our demon hunger is raw, and our nature more volatile. Violence comes more easily to us — even more to the newly dead whose rage over their loss of life is still so fresh. But that tendency can be controlled, just as you have controlled your bloodlust, especially around someone you love."

"You're wrong," Gryphon said. "My control would be even more fragile around someone I loved. I am dead, no longer a part of her life. Tell her… tell her to forget me." But even as he had grated out the words, his hand had lifted to the medallion necklace he wore. It wasn't just a symbol of what he once was, a Warrior Lord, it was also his last connection to Mona Lisa — what she had pressed into the High Lord's hand and had him bring back to Gryphon.