“How quickly they forget,” he said dryly. “I was under the impression that this whole odyssey began when Emrys was sent back to hell for having demon sex—defined as an exchange of power—with you.”
I had been about to say something, but stopped. Not because I understood what he was getting at, but because a flood of memories suddenly swamped me: lying on a hillside, a huge moon riding the clouds overhead, the hulk of a dead dragon steaming in the distance, and my life force trickling away into the dirt. Cold; it had been so cold. . . .
Pritkin had recovered from his wounds, but we’d gotten separated. And I’d ended up battling the last Spartoi on my own. I’d won, if you count dying later than him as a win. But then Pritkin had shown up, barely in time, and returned the power I’d given him earlier, saving my life. And forfeiting his own—the only one he cared about, at least—because he’d thereby broken the terms of a parole he’d been laboring under for more than a century.
Breaking it had sent him straight back to hell, and me on this crazy journey.
Rosier was right; that was where everything had started.
But I still didn’t see his point. “What are you getting at?”
“That a feedback loop of power was set up between the two of you that night,” he said, still weirdly intense. “You gave him power in the car—he gave it back to you on the hillside, triggering the loop. Admittedly, it was a very poor one, which never had a chance to really get started before he was snatched away. But it existed. And apparently still does!”
“You’re basing that on what? One incident in Amsterdam?”
“I’m basing it on tonight. We were stuck in that corridor, having to put on that bloody pantomime for the fey, because he couldn’t break through the wards. Yet after a few moments with you, he shreds them like tissue paper! Where do you think he acquired all that power?”
“I—”
“He was pulled away that night, before the loop could finish, and no one canceled the spell. Leaving it open between you.”
I shook my head. “No. I think I’d—”
“Oh, forgive me,” Rosier interrupted. “I’m merely the Prince of the Incubi. What could I possibly know about it?”
I glared at him some more. “I don’t care who you are! If I was carrying a major spell around, I think I’d notice!”
I certainly had before. A geis had almost driven me and Mircea insane before I managed to get it lifted. And the Seidr spell my mother placed on me, while less intense, had had really obvious consequences. So yeah, I thought I’d have noticed another open spell, especially one like that!
“My people’s magic is more subtle,” Rosier said slyly. “Have an increase in erotic dreams recently? Find yourself wanting sex more than usual? Find yourself initiating it, trying to scratch an itch you can’t quite reach—”
“That’s enough!” I snapped, massaging my temples.
God, I hated this stuff. Pritkin was the one who dealt with the metaphysical crap that went with this job, and explained things in a way that didn’t have me wanting to hit myself in the head. Rosier didn’t even try. But that didn’t make him wrong. Because I was suddenly remembering some things, some very weird things, that had been happening lately.
Shifting back in time to Pritkin—in my sleep—because I had no other way to reach him. Establishing the Seidr link with Mircea—by accident—because of a little personal shower time that got out of hand. All kinds of crazy dreams, most of which—yes—had been pretty damn erotic. And then there’d been a few instances with Mircea, which, yeah, I had sort of initiated—
I blushed again.
“So what?” I finally said. “Even if you’re right, what difference does it make? It didn’t hurt anything, and it may even have saved our butts at Nimue’s. I don’t understand why you’re so concerned about this.”
Rosier just looked at me some more, with his huge, freaky eyes. And uttered a single word: “Ruth.”
Annnnnd the record scratched.
“Shit,” I whispered, and put my head back in my hands.
The demons called their feedback loop “sex” partly because it was how new little demons were made. That was rare—like really rare—but something new was created every time a loop was in existence, namely power. The spell magnified whatever was put into it, many times over, which was why demons were willing to give a lot for a roll in the hay with Rosier despite his winning personality.
It was also why Ruth, Pritkin’s ex-wife, had married him.
Her own family was part demon, but were very low on the power totem pole. They’d lived on earth because they were seen as little more than fodder in hell, with no respect from anyone. She’d been determined to change that, to go back to what she viewed as her rightful home in triumph, and with power to burn.
And she’d decided that Pritkin was going to give it to her.
She must have been thrilled to find a prince of the incubi slumming on earth, even more so when she realized that he didn’t look down on her like other demons of his rank. That he didn’t care about status in a world he’d never regarded as his. And that he had a ton of power she could access if she played her cards right, because he’d never had demon sex before.
It wasn’t by accident. Pritkin was experienced enough with human women, but he’d left demons strictly alone. Not out of prejudice, but because the feedback loop sometimes exchanged more than just power. It was a blending of energies, in which traits from one partner could be left behind in the other. And for a man who already hated the demon half of himself, adding any more hadn’t been appealing.
But the gap in his knowledge had left him vulnerable to someone willing to play on his emotions. Someone who knew that, while most demons could only sex up their own kind, the incubi could establish the loop with anyone. And that they could magnify the power many more times than the average demon.
And that was especially true of the ruling family.
Unfortunately for Ruth—and Pritkin—she underestimated that last point. By a lot. The loop she initiated on their wedding night—without telling him—took her power but didn’t give any back. It never had the chance. Pritkin was so powerful that he drained her dry in seconds. She’d ended up a burnt-out husk in his arms, and he’d ended up a basket case, blaming himself because he hadn’t known how to stop it.
“I thought you were being clever,” Rosier said quietly. “That you’d assessed the situation, and decided to resume the loop as a desperate bid to boost your power. And if you could control it, that would have been fine. But if you can’t—”
“I didn’t even know it existed,” I whispered.
“—then we have a problem.”
I looked at him. “Pritkin would never hurt me.”
“Do you think he wanted to hurt Ruth?”
“I’m not Ruth. And I have the Pythian power—”
“But would it draw from that? Or would it draw from you? Most people have one source of power; you have two. What if it decides to pull from the wrong one?”