A Demon's Guide to Wooing a Witch （Glimmer Falls, #2(105)

Calladia glared at her friends. “Are you done mocking me?”

“Let me think,” Mariel said, tapping her chin. “No.”

Themmie cackled. “You brought this on yourself, Calladia. If you expect us to give you grace for bagging and tagging that jackass, you need to let us roast you first.”

“Okay, fine,” Calladia grumbled. “But I will have you know I never would have done any bagging, much less tagging, if he wasn’t different.”

“You really believe that?” Mariel leaned in, expression turning serious. “You honestly believe his amnesia is real and he’s a better person now?”

It sounded ludicrous. Astaroth of the Nine, legendary demon bargainer, magically transformed into a better person by amnesia? Calladia ought to scoff at the very thought. She had scoffed when Mariel had claimed Oz was genuine and really cared for her. As experience had taught her, some people were liars who would say and do anything to get power over a partner, then gradually chip away at that partner’s independence and self-worth.

Calladia had always been a creature of instinct. After Sam, she’d stopped trusting her heart, but it was still beating, and it insisted that Astaroth truly had changed. Sure, it had been alarming when Isobel had proposed killing mortals to extend Astaroth’s life span, but he’d promised they’d find another way.

Was it irrational? Maybe. But she believed him.

“Yes,” she said, looking Mariel in the eye. “I do.”

Mariel bit her lip. Then she held out her hand, pinkie up. “Pinkie swear?”

“What is this, grade school?” Ben asked, nudging his gold-frame glasses up his nose.

“Shhh,” Themmie said, whacking him on the shoulder. “The pinkie swear is a sacred pact.”

“If you say so . . .” Ben had the baffled, nervous expression of a man introduced to space aliens and trying to respect their customs.

Growing up, Calladia and Mariel had played pranks, teased, and sometimes lied to each other, as all children did. Coupled with unpredictable mothers, they’d realized they needed to implement a foolproof system of trust with each other whenever absolute honesty was required. Mariel had been skeeved out by the idea of a blood pact, so they’d settled on the tried-and-true method of the pinkie swear. The tradition had lasted to adulthood.

Calladia extended her hand and looped her pinkie finger around Mariel’s. “I pinkie swear I believe Astaroth has truly changed after getting amnesia and that he’s much nicer and not nearly as ruthless or murdery anymore. I pinkie swear that I think his feelings for me are genuine. I also pinkie swear that if I find out he’s been lying to me, I will kick his ass so hard he’ll cough it up.”

They shook once, then released hands.

“Pinkie swear witnessed!” Themmie crowed.

“Weird women,” Ben said.

Mariel set her hands on the table and leaned in. “In that case,” she said, eyes gleaming with interest. “I need all the details.”

“Well, he really is good with a stick,” Calladia said. “Literally. He fought off Kai’s pack.”

“Avram told me that,” Ben said. “I still can’t believe you got in a fight with my cousin.”

“We got in a fight with each other,” Calladia said. “Very consensual. And speaking of consensual, about Astaroth’s metaphorical stick . . .”

She broke off as the door swung open, letting afternoon light into the restaurant. Two familiar horned silhouettes appeared.

“Oz!” Mariel shot to her feet and hurried over. “Everything okay?”

Calladia stood, too. After the door closed, it took her eyes a moment to adjust, and then warmth flooded her chest at the sight of Astaroth, whole and seemingly unharmed.

Then she noticed the bruising on his jaw. “What happened?” she asked, jogging over. She turned his face in her hands, inspecting the mark. Thankfully, she still had half a restorative potion left after healing the cut on her head from Tirana’s whip.

“Ozroth hit me,” he said.

Mariel gasped. “Oz, you were supposed to talk, not beat him up.”

“We did talk,” Oz said. “After I beat him up.”

“I had it coming,” Astaroth pointed out. The two demons shared a look, then a nod of acknowledgment.

Reconciled, then, or at least on the way. Calladia felt a massive surge of relief, not just for her friendship with Mariel, but for Astaroth and Oz. Astaroth had basically raised Oz, and when a relationship like that turned toxic, it was almost impossible to correct course.

Her phone seemed to burn a hole in her pocket. After calling multiple times the previous night, her own mother had gone quiet. It wouldn’t last though. And Calladia was beginning to accept that, unlike Astaroth and Oz, there might not be a way back for her and her mother.

She forced a smile. “I’m sure he did have it coming,” she said, patting Astaroth’s cheek. “But I’m glad you didn’t permanently maim him.”

“Yeah, she needs all his parts in working order,” Themmie called out.

Mariel started snickering, and Calladia rolled her eyes. “We’re meeting in the demon plane tomorrow, right?”

“Right,” Themmie said. “I’m making protest signs tonight.”

“Then I’m going to say goodbye for now.” Calladia winked at Mariel. “If it’s our last night on Earth, I want to take my time appreciating all of Astaroth’s parts before Moloch chops them off.”