A Demon's Guide to Wooing a Witch （Glimmer Falls, #2(72)

“Hello?” The wheezy voice was barely audible.

Calladia put the phone on speaker. “Hey, Alzapraz. Is now a good time?”

“Is it ever a good time?” the warlock asked. “Objectively, I don’t think time can be assigned a value.”

Lilith nodded, looking thoughtful. “That’s a good point.”

“Who’s that?” Alzapraz asked. “Are you with friends?”

“Not really,” Calladia said. “Or, kind of? It’s a long story, but basically, a few demons.”

Astaroth expected the warlock to express panic. Instead, Alzapraz mildly said, “Oh, have you added more to the party?”

“Who are you?” Lilith asked loudly.

“A gentleman never tells,” Alzapraz said. “To whom am I speaking?”

Calladia was shaking her head, but Lilith launched straight into it. “This is Lilith, first of her name.”

“The Mother of All Demons?” Alzapraz gasped.

Lilith looked pleased. “Oh, you know my AO3 username! What’s your favorite fic?”

“He doesn’t mean that,” Astaroth said distractedly. His head still hurt, full of the clanging of mortal, mortal, mortal. “He means that old religious rumor.”

“Oh.” Lilith laughed merrily. “That silly stuff again. No, I may be a massive slut, and proud of it, but I’m only the mother of one demon.” She waggled her fingers at Astaroth. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

“The point is,” Calladia said, “we’re having an issue. Do you know how to cut someone’s life short?”

There was a pause. “I mean, there are lots of methods,” Alzapraz said, “but you can probably Witchipedia murder and pick a favorite.”

“Magically, I mean.”

The silence this time was longer. “Calladia,” he finally said, “what have you gotten yourself mixed up in?”

“Long story. Think an immortal human-demon hybrid cursed with a mortal life span by a witch. Can it be reversed?”

Alzapraz whistled. “Not a lot of life witches will mess with that. Nasty stuff, and very advanced. I don’t know how it’s done, unfortunately.”

Astaroth’s stomach fell. There went that hope.

“Do you know how to restore immortality, then?” Calladia asked.

Alzapraz coughed. “The problem with life magic is that there’s always a price. I managed to extend my life, but it came at the expense of my health. It’s possible we could look into something similar for your hybrid, but I have to warn you, the extreme geriatric lifestyle isn’t for everyone.”

Horror filled Astaroth at the possibility. “I’ll pass.” He didn’t want to be hauling his brittle old bones around the demon plane in a few centuries, complaining about his joints.

“So that’s it?” Calladia asked. “He just has to live with it?”

Or die with it, Astaroth thought bitterly.

“I’d ask Isobel, if you haven’t already seen her,” Alzapraz said. “She’s been around for a long time. She’s never cared about any life span but her own, but she’s knowledgeable about rare magic, especially life magic.”

Calladia thanked the warlock before hanging up. “So,” she said, looking at Astaroth, “looks like Isobel is still our best play.”

Astaroth stood. “Then let’s get going.”

“Wait,” Sandranella said, sharing a look with Lilith. “There’s something we still need to tell you.”

TWENTY-TWO

Calladia couldn’t believe how surreal the morning had gotten. A surprise werewolf ambush, the appearance of demons, and now the revelation that Astaroth was no longer immortal . . . It was a lot to process when the sun had been up for less than two hours. Not to mention what had happened before the werewolves, but Calladia was good at compartmentalizing, so she shoved that interlude into a box in her brain. There would be time to panic about it later.

She felt out of place among the demons. She’d gotten used to Astaroth’s otherworldly beauty, but now she was faced with two more stunning people. Lilith’s face held the same sharp angles as Astaroth’s, and her hair looked like molten fire. Her swashbuckling outfit was beyond cool. Sandranella’s face was perfectly heart-shaped, her eyes were dark and intense, and she resembled a warrior goddess in her wine-and-gold dress.

Were demons universally sexy? A question for a later time.

“Go on,” Astaroth said, sounding defeated. “What other disaster awaits?”

Sandranella looked grave. “Moloch is moving quickly to consolidate power. He’s suggested Tirana as your successor.”

“Tirana, Tirana . . .” Astaroth wore a look of concentration, and then his eyes widened. “No, you can’t choose her. She’s a powder keg, and she’s even more vocal than Moloch about hating hybrids.”

“You remember her?” Calladia asked.

He grimaced. “A particularly unpleasant memory from the Spanish Inquisition just popped up.”

“Trust me, I don’t want her on the council either,” Sandranella said. “But without you, the progressives are outnumbered, and Baphomet is showing signs of being receptive to Tirana and Moloch’s arguments. I fear without your return to strengthen our alliance, the council will regress further into the Middle Ages.”