Sunny: Mona Lisa Darkening

In that regard, Gryphon had made much progress. He had attained control of his bloodthirst, a feat that took some demons more than a year to attain instead of just one month. But then, Gryphon had been stronger, more powerful than most other warriors. He had been a Warrior Lord, one of the few ever to attain such status.

Sweat dampened Gryphon's face now as he gazed down from the balcony to the revelry of the city below. The heady scent of the blood wine that all were imbibing freely floated up to him. A nearer and even more tantalizing scent of blood came from the chalice Gryphon held in his hand with seeming ease. A chalice he had held for the last ten minutes and not yet tasted. Only when all others in the room had drunk did he finally raise the cup to his lips, not gulping it down as most new demons would have done after having been teased so mercilessly by the scent of blood, but in carefully measured sips.

The control cost Gryphon. Was visible in the fine tremors shaking his hand. But it made a point — that he was in control of his hunger. That it did not control him. It was a point, however, that all but Gryphon had conceded over a fortnight ago. Now it was simply Gryphon's own stubbornness that kept Mona Lisa away.

When Halcyon had announced several days ago that enough time had passed to safely allow her to pay him a visit, Gryphon had replied, "I do not wish to see her ever again. I am demon dead now. My other life died when I died." He was being stupid, stubborn, and noble, of course, trying to keep her away from Hell and its bloodthirsty inhabitants, of which he was now one.

When Halcyon had tried to argue, Gryphon's calm veneer had broken, and he had lunged at his prince, sharp fangs bared. "When I was alive — beating heart, living flesh — I did not trust you, Halcyon. Did not trust a demon. Now that I have become demon dead, I know how very true my instincts were. We are dangerous. Violence is our nature. Control is learned, not natural. I do not want her anywhere near me — or you."

Halcyon had gently broken free of Gryphon's grip. "It is true. Our demon hunger is raw, and our nature more volatile. Violence comes more easily to us — even more to the newly dead whose rage over their loss of life is still so fresh. But that tendency can be controlled, just as you have controlled your bloodlust, especially around someone you love."

"You're wrong," Gryphon said. "My control would be even more fragile around someone I loved. I am dead, no longer a part of her life. Tell her… tell her to forget me." But even as he had grated out the words, his hand had lifted to the medallion necklace he wore. It wasn't just a symbol of what he once was, a Warrior Lord, it was also his last connection to Mona Lisa — what she had pressed into the High Lord's hand and had him bring back to Gryphon.

Gryphon fingered it much the way Halcyon fingered the silver ring he wore around his neck. His bonding ring. Strung on a chain, the ring was hidden beneath Halcyon's shirt, kept close to his non-beating heart. It was forged from the same silver used to craft Mona Lisa's necklace, which had his likeness engraved upon it. The symbols carved along the side denoted what she was to him, his royal consort, something he had not told Gryphon or made known to his people yet. Only his father knew.

It put Halcyon in a dilemma: How to tell Gryphon that his noble intentions were for naught. That Mona Lisa was already intricately involved with demons. Had become one. in part, herself. That she had sucked down Mona Louisa's demon-tainted essence into herself while trying to avenge Gryphon's death, and that it now dwelt in her, making her something that not many knew was possible — Damanten demon living.

Time. Halcyon had decided to grant both of them that. And he had watched Gryphon and Mona Lisa separately come to terms with their new and more volatile natures. Watched both of them exert that essential control over their new hungers, control that ensured their survival. Without it, they would have had to be destroyed. And he would have had to be the one to do so.

Halcyon watched the other demon now as he carefully sipped the blood wine. Watched barely visible fine tremors shake Gryphon's elegant hand as he swallowed down the blood that his demon body so desperately craved. And was proud and relieved and unbearably grateful for that exhibited control.

Suddenly Halcyon felt something change, alter. As he was surrounded by the noise of his people and the loud popping display of the lightworks, he felt his bonding ring grow cold against his warm demon flesh. The ring was not only composed of silver but of rare and prized stones from their mother planet. Two precious pebbles had been crushed and mixed with the silver ore of both ring and necklace. The mystical properties of those stones linked bonded mates. That, and Halcyon's own blood that resided in Mona Lisa, strengthening their link, allowed him to sense her, to feel her living warmth in his ring even when he was down in Hell. Only now, that sense of connection, that sense of her, was gone.

Terrible foreboding quaked through him. "Something's wrong," he said, his eyes changing to the color of churning blood, his fangs lengthening into lethal points.

Seeing their prince's response, the demon guards glanced around on heightened alert, seeking for threat, danger.

"What is it?" Blaec demanded.

Halcyon turned to his father, his gaze turned inward. "I don't feel her anymore."

"Feel who?" Gryphon asked.

"Mona Lisa," Halcyon said, and started to walk away.

Gryphon exploded, grabbing Halcyon by his shirt, his own fangs lengthening, sharpening, his own eyes burning with fury and fear. "How can you sense her, and why?" he growled.

With a mere thought, a small mental push, Halcyon sent the other demon flying away from him to slam up against the wall. Held him there by his will. Tearing his shirt open, Halcyon revealed the silver ring. "We are bonded. She is my mate. Something's wrong," he said with no time or care for finesse or tact. He whirled to face his father. "I must go."

"Then go," Blaec said. "I will oversee things here — and explain things to Gryphon."

Blaec's hand gripped Halcyon's shoulder, and the calm waves of the High Lord's control helped to steady Halcyon.

"I will return when I can," Halcyon said.

"Journey safe, journey sound. And journey home once more," Blaec said — ritual words of farewell to demon guardians before they crossed the portals. Then he uttered something more. "Be well."

Words that Halcyon could not respond to as he walked away. Because if anything had happened to his mate, he would be far from well.

Halcyon materialized in the business district of New Orleans. It was quiet here, just past the midnight hour, the stroke of time that split night from day. All slept or partied elsewhere. He walked out of the alleyway, and moved with inhuman speed closer to where people gathered. As he neared the French Quarter, he slowed and became visible once more. His mental compulsion more than his lifted hand made a passing cab screech to a halt.

The hour it took to drive to Belle Vista stretched hideously long. Only now, as he journeyed by means other than his own power, did Halcyon open up his senses and cast them wide, searching for that pull of like to like, that distinct and thrilling recognition of blood. His blood. Always before, he had sensed it, sensed her — Mona Lisa. Only now there was no answering echo in return. Only emptiness. A chilling void.

Not here answered back the silence.

He searched farther, trembling as he stretched his senses to their limits. Nothing there. Nothing that he could detect anywhere in this realm.

He arrived into chaos at Belle Vista. He sensed it, heard it in the quickened heartbeats stirring within, and quickly sent the cab driver on his way.