No one accuses you of cowardice. Maire leaned forward, her long braid stark white against the dark red of her shapeless dress. You make it sound as if this demon was expecting you personally. It knew that you transformed beyond the portal. It claimed that it would very much like to get to know you, and that it would remember you.
Demons always say such things . . .
But even as I made the claim, I heard the voice again. . . . It was not a threat. He had no malice in him, Maire. He had known quite clearly, in fact. Known that I was not Rhys, my boyhood friend who had sold his soul to the Lord of Demons.