A little late, I remembered Casanova saying something about Pritkin being thrown out of Hell. I’d assumed he was exaggerating. Or not, I thought, as Pritkin jumped up and began pacing, his face redder than when we’d finished practice.

“You grew up with those creatures, yet you defend them! I have never understood that, how any human could align herself with the very beings who feed on her!”

“You’re confusing demons and vamps again.” He’d had that problem all along, and living around Casanova, the only incubus-possessed vamp, probably hadn’t helped.

“Am I?” Tension radiated from his body, and his mouth tightened to its usual downturned line. “They’re self-centered, morally bereft predators who feed off any humans foolish enough to give them the chance. I fail to see a great deal of difference!”

I was beginning to understand why Pritkin had never been a big fan of vamps. The way they and incubi fed might seem a little too close for comfort. Vamps took blood, while incubi fed directly on the life force itself, accessed through the emotions. But the distinction might get a little blurry for someone with his background.

“It’s not that simple.” I struggled to my feet, trying not to wince at the ache along my spine. I’d twisted too fast or stepped wrong, and rolling my head left, then right didn’t seem to help. Pritkin noticed, but I didn’t get a neck rub. Somehow, I hadn’t expected one.

“Some vamps, like Tony, are monsters,” I agreed, “but I strongly suspect he was that way before the change. There is no typical vampire, any more than there is a typical human.”

He stepped closer, pain and anger warring on his face. “There is a typical demon! Rosier is no different from your friend downstairs, or from any of the others. Except in the amount of power he possesses, in the amount of pain he can cause.”

“My father may not have been a monster, but he worked for one,” I reminded him quietly. Pritkin wasn’t the only one who’d had to face a few unhappy truths about his background. “I’ve had to come to terms with that, to accept that just because he refused to hand me over to Tony, doesn’t mean he refused to do other things—”

“Your father was human,” Pritkin hissed, the abrupt lash of his anger hitting me like a slap, backing me up a step.

“So are you!”

He laughed his short, humorless laugh, and I realized that I’d never heard him laugh for real. He had smiles of wry amusement occasionally, but that was as close as he came. And even they were mostly in the muscles around his eyes. I wanted to see him really laugh, just once. But, somehow, I didn’t think today would be the day.

He moved suddenly, so that we were pressed together from thigh to hip to shoulder, but I refused to give ground again. “Am I? Have you never wondered why your geis reacts so much stronger to me than to anyone else, sees me as so much more of a threat?”

“It doesn’t seem to feel that way lately.” The goose bumps running up my arms were proof of that.

“Because he was here! He wanted to make a point, to have me demonstrate yet again that I’m no better than he is.”

“Wait—Rosier can block the geis?”

“He is a demon lord. Human magic has no power over such a being.”

“Could he remove it?”

Pritkin grabbed my arms, his fingers digging into my flesh until they were haloed with pale, bloodless outlines. “You will not seek out that creature!”

“I don’t usually go around trying to find people who want me dead!” Enough of them found me all on their own. “But if whatever he did could be duplicated, maybe by another incubus—”

“No. No one else is that powerful.” His words were suddenly calm again, but his eyes slid away from mine.

“Pritkin, if there’s even a chance you could do something about the geis, I need to know.” Before I went to MAGIC and did something really, really stupid.

“What do you think I’ve been doing?!”

“I know you’ve been looking for a solution in human magic, looking hard. But you hate demons so much, I wasn’t sure if you’d considered…another alternative.”

“There is no alternative,” he said flatly. “Even Rosier could not break the geis, and he has no need to do so. His power can override it long enough for him to feed, long enough to drain you of your life and the power of your office—a fine meal indeed!”

“Is that what he wants? The power of my office?”

Pritkin didn’t answer; I doubt he even heard me. He picked up a strand of my hair and gave it a sharp tug. “You see how strong this is, how resilient? Do you know what someone looks like after an incubus drains them entirely? Hair brittle as straw, skin thin and aged, youth gone, everything—” He turned away abruptly. “I have a long list of reasons to hate that creature,” he said after a moment, with a bite in every word, “but at the very top is his failure to warn me about my nature, to take even one minute to help me avoid becoming what he was.”

“You aren’t a demon, Pritkin!”

“Tell that to my victim.”

“I don’t understand.”

He whirled to face me, and I flinched just from his expression. “Then let me make certain that you do. When I returned from my sojourn in Hell, I decided to make a normal life for myself. I met a girl. In time, we were married. And on our wedding night, I drained her of life the same way that thing almost did to you.”

I blinked. It occurred to me that I might know who the girl in the picture was, and why Pritkin had kept it. I should have known: it wasn’t out of sentiment; he was using it to flog himself. I could have reminded him that it hadn’t been his fault, that he hadn’t had anyone to ask about his abilities, to warn him of the danger. I could have told him that if it had been me, I wouldn’t have wanted him torturing himself over my death for more than a century. But I knew what response I’d get. The glare he was already sending me could have melted glass.

“It was an accident,” I finally said. “You didn’t know—”

“And I am certain that was a great comfort to her as she lay gasping her last,” he said, biting off each word. I’d never heard his voice so clipped, so cold. “Betrayed by the one who should have protected her, by the one she trusted most. Seeing me in the end for what I truly am, and being horrified by it—as she should have been all along. As you would be, if you had any sense at all.”

“Pritkin—”

He backed me up until I ran into the wall and there was nowhere left to go. The air around him crackled so restlessly that it was uncomfortable to look at him. “But they bred it out of you, didn’t they? You don’t mind the monsters feeding from you. You’ve convinced yourself that they’re just like you, merely humans with a disease. Would you like to know how your vampires actually feel about you?”

I’d grown up around creatures who could kill me with the same effort I would need to squash a bug. I knew how they saw me, how they saw all humans. But just because you can kill something doesn’t mean that you do. Not if that something is far more valuable alive. It was the tightrope I’d walked long before I ever knew I was on one. “I already know—”

His eyes went very green and flat, like when he’d been killing people who were too stupid to run away when they had the chance. “I don’t think you do. Believe that they care, believe that they love, believe anything that makes it easier not to see the truth. But understand this. To them, you are food. Nothing else. Anytime you forget that, you become vulnerable. And if you make yourself a target often enough, they will destroy you. Not because they hate you, but because it’s their nature. And nothing will ever change that.”

I didn’t try to tell him again that this was old news. Because he wasn’t talking about vampires anymore, and we both knew it. And because he already looked like he’d lost a fistfight with himself. A pulse beat in his neck and his cheeks looked hot, but his eyes were shadowed. “Don’t tell me what I am. Just learn how to defend yourself. From them, or from me!”

It wasn’t until after he’d left that I realized I still didn’t know why Rosier wanted me dead.

Chapter 18

“What, I can’t leave you alone for five minutes?” Billy hissed. No matter how many times I body-swap—not that it’s been all that many—I still get a weird tingle hearing my voice saying words my brain didn’t think up. Maybe I’ll get used to it eventually, but I doubt it.

I glanced at the darkened window and saw what I’d expected: a swarthy, saturnine type in a too loud suit, with slick black hair and a slight overbite. Not the prettiest face around, but also not one to attract anyone’s attention. I’d have to remember to thank Alphonse for strong-arming his man into this.

Possession tends to weird vampires out, mainly because it’s supposed to be impossible. Even low-level vamps are able to evict an unwanted guest with a little effort, and the stronger ones have shields formidable enough to ensure that nothing takes up residence in the first place. But Marcello had preferred allowing a hitchhiker aboard to suffering his master’s punishment. So far, he’d behaved himself, staying quiet and not attempting to wrest back control. I wondered how long that was going to last.

Outside the limo, neon-lit streets melted by in chaotic smears, shimmers of light and color and noise. Billy and I were headed out of the city to our rendezvous with the Senate. I’d slipped away without telling Pritkin, mainly because he and the Consul hadn’t exactly hit it off the first time they met and I didn’t need any help making a bad impression. But also because as soon as I got my hands on Mircea, I was off to get the Codex and finish this thing. And I still wasn’t convinced that Pritkin was all that interested in saving a vampire’s life—especially not now.

It still felt strange not having him there, though: like an empty holster where there should be a gun. I hadn’t realized how much I’d come to rely on his particular brand of insanity. It was too bad; what we were attempting tonight would have been right up his alley.