When I first met Pritkin, I didn’t even know that he was part demon. He didn’t use his incubus powers, substituting human and fey magic instead, and eventually he explained why. His incubus nature had gotten away from him exactly once—on his wedding night—when his bride had tried to initiate the feedback loop of power that incubi royal house used to magnify magical energy, both theirs and a partner’s.

She was part demon, too, but weak, which had constantly left her on the outside looking in where demon society was concerned. She’d planned to change that by switching on Pritkin’s abilities, and unfortunately for her, she had succeeded. Pritkin didn’t know how to shut down the loop once it began, having never previously utilized that particular talent, and before he could figure it out, his demon side had drained her dry.

She’d never received anything back, having not had enough power to fuel a single loop, leaving him with a lifeless husk in his arms, a feeling of crushing guilt, and a burning hatred of his other half. He’d kept it on a hard lock down thereafter, starved it of power, and tried to pretend that it didn’t exist. Which had worked pretty well—right up until the fight with Ares.

In order to defeat the god of war, he and I had had to engage the feedback loop. On the plus side, it hadn’t drained me as it had his wife, since it had pulled from the Pythian power, giving it plenty of energy to feed on. And then to multiply, many times over, before sending it back to me, allowing me to distract the god of war while a member on our side reflected one of Ares’ own battle spells back at him, thus killing him.

But everything comes with a price, and for Pritkin, the price of victory had been a newly reinvigorated demon side. It had retained some of the power from the exchange, and had been using it to try to influence me ever since. First, by making me feel sorry for it—poor little demon, all locked away—and then by attacking me, trying to drain my power during a previous trip to Gertie’s.

I didn’t know what its end game was, but I didn’t think I’d like it.

And I didn’t want to deal with it right now, goddamn it!

“How did you possess me?” I demanded.

“I haven’t. I—”

“Liar!”

I saw a flash of annoyance cross my face in the mirror, and then a look of… almost defeat. I actually felt bad for a second, before reminding myself sharply that this was an incubus. They traded on emotion, manipulated it, twisted it to get what they wanted. They did more gaslighting than Victorian England! I did not feel bad for it!