A Demon's Guide to Wooing a Witch （Glimmer Falls, #2(71)

“I’m not afflicted by madness.” Lilith winked. “Madness is afflicted by me.”

Sandranella pointedly turned away from Lilith and focused solely on Astaroth. “Astaroth, how long have we known each other?”

Bollocks. “A while?” he guessed.

She nodded as if he’d confirmed a theory. “What’s the last thing we did together before that high council meeting?”

“It’s . . . ah . . .” He racked his brain, but nothing emerged. “Went to brunch?” he guessed.

Sandranella snapped her fingers. “I knew it! You don’t remember, do you?”

Apparently the charade was over. Risky or not, he needed to come clean. “I may have a mild bout of amnesia.”

“Tell us everything,” Sandranella ordered.

Astaroth gave the condensed summary: a blinding headache, patchwork memories, and no recollection of whatever had happened to him before Moloch had portaled to Earth and attempted to kill him. After a recommendation from a warlock, they were currently on their way to a witch who could help restore Astaroth’s damaged brain and recover his memories so they could defeat Moloch, or, barring that, who might hold the key to ending the demon’s life.

Lilith did not take the news well.

“That wretched, smiling weasel had the gall to try to murder my son? I’m going to rip his entrails out, knit them into a scarf, and wear it while I cut him into pieces!” She unsheathed the dagger at her waist and flung it, skewering a birch tree with so much force the trunk split in half. “I’m going to use his shattered bones for toothpicks!”

“So you don’t even remember the spell.” Sandranella winced. “You may want to sit down for this.”

“Just tell me,” Astaroth said. “It’s not like things can get worse.”

A breeze sighed through the clearing, ruffling Sandranella’s white curls. “Moloch brought a witch to your banishment. He said she would cast a spell to prove you’d been lying to the council. You seized up when she cast it, and then Moloch booted you through a portal to Earth. After you were gone, he told us the witch could alter human life spans, and since she had just altered yours, it was proof of your half-human heritage.” She gave Astaroth a scathing look. “You should have told me about that centuries ago. You know I support hybrid rights.”

“In his defense,” Lilith said, “I told him if anyone found out he would be stripped of power and publicly humiliated. Oh, and possibly tortured for lying to the high council.” She shrugged. “I wish society wasn’t so regressive, but it is what it is.”

Astaroth was stuck on one thing. “What did the witch do to my life span?” he asked, feeling a heavy swell of dread.

Sandranella grimaced. “I’m sorry to tell you, but the witch . . . made you mortal.”

* * *

Mortal.

Astaroth stared at the demoness, head spinning. “She can do that?” he asked, dumbfounded.

The word kept echoing in his head like a bell calling the dwindling hours of his life. Mortal. Mortal. Mortal.

Mortal meant slower healing of injuries. It meant wrinkles and white hair and droopy bollocks, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

Calladia looked shocked. “That must be why you’re sleeping and eating so much,” she said.

Astaroth had never felt such a nauseating mix of terror and helplessness. “Can it be magically reversed?”

“I don’t know.” Calladia’s forehead furrowed. “I’ve never even heard of a spell like that.”

“I’ll find that bitch of a witch and make her reverse it,” Lilith vowed. “It’s amazing what a good vivisection can accomplish.”

Mortal, mortal, mortal.

Lucifer, what was he supposed to do? His cells were already degrading. Soon he would be afflicted with age spots and impotence, unless they could reverse it. Which meant finding the witch who had done this to him . . . or one similarly gifted in life magic.

“That warlock who advised you,” he told Calladia in a surge of desperation. “The one whose name sounds like a prescription drug.”

“Alzapraz,” Calladia said. “Mariel’s ancestor.”

“He’s immortal, right? Can he reverse this?”

Her mouth twisted. “I’ll call him and see, but he’s not a complete expert. He’s not going to die, but his body is still aging.”

Oh, fiery Lucifer. Mortal didn’t just mean droopy balls. It meant death.

Astaroth’s breaths came faster and faster. How did humans bear this sense of inevitability? How could they carelessly enjoy life, knowing it would one day be ripped from them? The forest spun around him, and he swayed.

Calladia was instantly at his elbow, helping him sit on a log. “Easy,” she said. “Deep breaths.”

“I don’t want to die,” Astaroth said in a small voice.

“Me neither, but you’re nowhere near that yet. We have time.”

“Do we?” His laugh was hysterical. “I could trip over a tree root in five minutes, hit my head, and that’s it.”

“You’re not going to trip on a tree root.” Calladia grabbed her phone out of her pocket and started dialing. “I’m calling Alzapraz.”

Lilith and Sandranella hovered nearby, blatantly listening in.