And there it was. Wanda was silent again, mulling over this revelation. He was related somehow to that horrible monster he'd just banished, to the blood thirsty cretins that wreaked havoc in Connecticut. The things that had possessed Jessica and Nick, cruel and soulless. And yet, Daimon did none of these things. Daimon fought demons, he fought against his own kind. He was still the same Daimon, wasn't he? Still her teacher, and her friend? Fire and fangs and all.
Now she too felt shame, though for a far different reason. Wanda reached out to grip his hand, in spite of his claws, and squeezed his fingers. So he was the son of the Devil? Even if it were true, well, who was Wanda to judge? "And I'm Magneto's daughter," she murmured and managed a half grin. "So I kind of of understand what it's like to have evil asshole for a father."