He nodded. “My memories of those days are hazy at best, but apparently I attempted to kill my father. I suppose I blamed him for her death, although I can’t say I recall the exact thought process. I do remember a strong desire to feel the bones of his neck breaking under my hands, however, which may give some indication.”
I licked my lips. “But you didn’t succeed.”
“No, but I came damned close. So close, in fact, that, along with several past . . . indiscretions . . . it convinced the demon council that I was an intolerable threat. They sentenced me to death.”
“Death?” I turned to look at him, shocked for a moment out of everything else. “But . . . but you didn’t succeed. And you said yourself you weren’t sane—”
“None of which matters under demon law.”
“But you’re still alive.”
“Yes, due to my father’s interference.”
“Your father?”
Pritkin smiled slightly. “He was livid. I don’t recall much about those days, as I’ve said. But I do recall him storming into the council chamber and accusing them of attempted robbery—of his only physical child. He said that the damage had been done to him, and therefore he, as a member of council, should be allowed to set the sentence. They agreed.”
“And what was the sentence?” I asked, almost afraid to find out.
“I was to return to court and take up my proper duties as his heir. The ones I had flatly refused to carry out before. He assumed, I suppose, that I would prefer that over death. He assumed wrong.”
“Wait. You chose to die?”
“Better that, I thought, than to live for centuries as his slave. And at the time . . . at the time I can’t recall caring very much if I lived or died. I told them to carry out the sentence and be done with it. They were about to comply when he intervened again—with a compromise.”
“What kind of compromise?” I asked warily. Because I knew it couldn’t be anything good.
“That I would be banished from the demon realms, unable to return, under pain of death.”
I frowned. “Banished where?”
“Here. To Earth.”
“But . . . but that doesn’t seem like much of a sentence. You’d been living here anyway.”
“That is what the council said. They pointed out that many full demons would give a great deal to be ‘banished’ to this world, where they can feed like nowhere else in the demon realms.”
I nodded. Pritkin had told me before that one of the main reasons the council existed was to regulate the numbers of demons allowed on Earth at any one time. Otherwise, there would have been a free-for-all.
“So why did they allow you to come back?”
“They were persuaded by my father’s argument that there can be few punishments more severe than sending a starving man into a banquet hall—and not allowing him to eat.”
“Not allowing—” I stopped, unsure I’d understood. But I’d seen Pritkin eat plenty, so I knew we weren’t talking about regular food. “You mean . . . you can’t . . . at all?”
“The agreement I made was simple: no sex, of the demon or human varieties. Else I would forfeit my ‘parole’ and be returned to my father’s court, forever to remain under his absolute authority.”
“That’s . . . but . . .” I looked around in a panic, why I don’t know. Like Rosier would be chasing us in a car. “Is he coming for you now? After what we did?”
Pritkin shook his head. “Feeding to save my life was specifically exempted. My father does not want me dead, as you saw. He wants me alive and in his service, and I think he was afraid that not allowing me to feed in emergencies would ruin his plan.”
“He didn’t think you could do it,” I said slowly. “Stay here, I mean.”
“No. He was certain I would break, that I would be back within the decade, two at the outside. And either is a trifling amount of time for the demon races. He had waited hundreds of years already. What were a few more?”
“He underestimated you.”
“I believe there were wagers made at court as to exactly how long I would last, all of which have now expired.”
“But . . . did you know what it would be like when you—”
“No.” Pritkin huffed out a humorless laugh. “No.”
“But you must have thought—”
“At the time, I don’t believe I was capable of much thought of any kind. But insofar as I was . . . I truly did not believe I would ever want intimacy again. The very idea was repulsive, on every possible level. I was horrified at what I had done, at what I had become—”
“You didn’t become anything! It was your father’s fault, your wife’s decision. It had nothing to do with you.”
“Other than the fact that I was the instrument of her death.”
“Yes, which makes you the victim here, not the . . . the monster!”
“Not in the eyes of my fellow monsters. Unlike most of the other races, the incubi have a reputation for showing . . . some consideration . . . for their partners. It is often selfish, of course; it is easier than constantly finding new prey. But nonetheless, there were those at my father’s court who shunned me after what happened. Creatures I had long held in disdain were ashamed—ashamed—to be associated with me. And I didn’t blame them. I felt like I would never want to feed again.”
“And later?” I asked softly. It was none of my business, but I just couldn’t imagine what it must have been like. I didn’t know too many humans who could shun all intimacy like that, much less someone whose body was specifically designed to need it.
“Later . . .” His lips twisted. “I began to understand why my father had been willing to make that deal. I had understood intellectually from the first, of course, but the reality was . . . somewhat different.”
“You still feel like this, don’t you?” I asked, in shock. “What I’m feeling now—all the time?”
“Not all the time, no. It was almost constant for more than a decade—”
“A decade?” He shot me a glance, and for some reason, it was amused. Because clearly, the man was insane. “How—”
“I am ashamed to say that I became rather addicted to a number of substances during that time, in an attempt to . . . to survive, I suppose you would say. It didn’t help much, nothing did, but the struggle became easier over time, as the demon part of me became weaker. And I obtained an outlet for my energies in hunting down those who had done as I had—only on purpose.”
I didn’t say anything for a moment. I watched the sand turn mauve and crimson and honey as the night slowly retreated before the sun. And thought about what it would be like to have a part of yourself literally starving to death and yet unable to die. And to know that if you gave in, even once, to the constant, gnawing hunger, you would forever forfeit your freedom.
“Your father is a son of a bitch,” I said, with feeling.
“I wouldn’t argue the point,” he said drily. “However, from his perspective, he feels cheated. He spent a considerable amount of time over the centuries trying and failing to have a physical child. And when he finally managed it, against all the odds, the result was not . . . quite what he’d expected.”
“Too damned bad! A lot of parents have children who aren’t exactly what they thought they would be. But they learn to love them anyway.”
“Most parents aren’t demon lords. And love was never the issue.”
“It should have been.”
“For someone who deals in it, or its physical manifestation, as much as my father, he knows astonishingly little about it.”
Pritkin was quiet for a few moments, and I knew I should probably drop it. But he opened up so rarely, I fully expected tomorrow to come and the lid to be clamped down again, tight. If I didn’t ask now, I might never have a chance. And it wasn’t like the guy was shy. If he didn’t want to talk, he’d tell me. Probably pretty bluntly.
“Is that why you’re a health nut now?” I asked. “To make up for those early days?”