The first person he saw again was Halcyon, entering the room with a chalice of blood. One heady whiff and his eyes had fired red, his hunger growing monstrous within him. All else was wiped away — grief, rage, fear — and Gryphon became nothing more than overwhelming desire… overwhelming need for that blood.

It seemed that Halcyon was always there in those first hazy days following Gryphon's rebirth. Once the jealous contender for affections from his beloved Queen. Now his ruler. Only he didn't act like a ruler; more like a brother. Someone who cared for Gryphon, bringing him the blood his new demon body craved. First lamb's blood, then over the next several days cow's blood diluted with wine, thinner, less sweet. Challo, they called the mixture. Blood wine. The normal drink of demons.

Halcyon held him when he grieved, calmed Gryphon when he raged. And he was glad then, when that unthinking madness gripped him, that he was locked up, safely contained. He destroyed the room, ripped everything into pieces. A new bed, new furniture, and new sheets were brought in.

Let me out! he raged.

When you can control yourself had been Halcyon's answer.

Emotions, though, controlled Gryphon. His rage, his grief. Railing against what had been and what was now.

Mona Lisa! He cried out her name in anguish, in love, in grief and fury. Mona Lisa! And knew each time he howled her name that he had lost her.

"You have not lost her," Halcyon told him, over and over again. "You will see her again when you regain control of yourself. When you can control your rage, your grief, your hunger." But he had lied.