A Demon's Guide to Wooing a Witch （Glimmer Falls, #2(93)

Astaroth would punch the witch first if she lifted a finger against Calladia. “She’s off-limits,” he snapped, standing as well.

Calladia shot him a damning look. “So are other people. You do not get to hop off the redemption train just to get on the murder train.”

That seemed unfair. “What if I only kill annoying people?”

“No!”

He made a frustrated noise. “It’s no different than bargaining. Well, a little different.” A lot different, actually, and the more he thought about the concept, the more it nauseated him. For all his flaws, Astaroth didn’t kill indiscriminately.

But if it was between that and becoming so physically frail he could barely function . . .

“The people whose souls you harvest consent to that,” Calladia said. “Not that I approve of soul bargains either.”

“Some people consent to being killed,” Isobel said. “You might try Hagslist.”

Astaroth wasn’t familiar. “Hagslist?”

“It’s an online marketplace,” Isobel explained. “Most often used to find housing, odd items, and unusual sexual encounters.”

“And you can find consensual murder victims on there?” How intriguing. Humans were such a strange species. “I wonder if the platform can be leveraged for soul bargains.”

“We are not having this conversation,” Calladia said. She pointed sternly at Astaroth. “No Hagslist. No murder!”

Astaroth had a burst of inspiration. He turned to Isobel. “What if I bring you an immortal? Would it be possible to harvest their life, and then we only need to do it once?”

“Only if they’re half human.”

He could probably rustle up another immortal demon-human hybrid, but the idea of trading their life for his didn’t sit well. “Otherwise I’ve got to bring you a mortal every few decades to top off.” That didn’t sit well either.

“That’s the unfortunate thing about humans,” Isobel said. “Like Snickers bars, they’re good for brief bursts of energy, but they’re not filling.”

Calladia looked appalled. “Why do you talk about people like that?” she asked Isobel. “You used to be human—or at least part human.”

Isobel fingered the pointed tips of her ears. “After you’ve lived many life spans, the kinship with other mortals falls away.”

“Maybe if you weren’t murdering them, you would still feel a kinship.” Calladia’s voice was growing louder. “Witches aren’t supposed to use their powers to prey on other people.”

Isobel sipped her tea, looking unbothered. “The youth are always full of moral outrage.”

Calladia looked like she was about to start punching, so Astaroth stepped between them. “Excuse us a moment, Isobel.”

Astaroth took Calladia’s elbow and guided her out of earshot. “She’s not going to stop killing people because you’re upset with her,” he whispered. “And frankly, if she’s that murder-happy, we probably shouldn’t antagonize her.”

Calladia glared at him. “I’m more worried about her convincing you to murder people to regain your stupid immortality.”

“What if they consent to be killed? And it isn’t stupid,” Astaroth said. “I need to regain my position on the high council. I can’t do that as a mortal.”

“Why not? Who says you have to be a pure-blooded demon or even an immortal to serve on the council?”

He scoffed. “Because that’s how it’s always been.”

“Things can change.”

“Not this thing.” Council appointments were for life unless someone retired, was removed by group consensus, or was executed. Debates could last for decades. How could a mortal accomplish anything in such a brief span of years?

Calladia thumped his shoulder, brown eyes burning with fury. “How many people will have to die to keep you in power? One every century? Every fifty years? Every twenty? For how long? Indefinitely?”

Astaroth felt sick at the thought. He didn’t want to kill mortals for the sake of extending his life span, but if they consented, as Isobel said they sometimes did, would that absolve him of blame?

He knew what Calladia would say.

As much as Astaroth wanted an instant solution to his mortality problem, he wanted Calladia’s good opinion more. “It might not come to that,” he said, backing down from the argument. “Isobel doesn’t know every life witch—there might be one who can restore my immortality without any murder.” Calladia still looked pissed, so Astaroth grabbed her hand and kissed it. “This is only one option. We’ll find another.”

“You’re damn right we will,” she snapped. She looked toward Isobel, then sighed. “So what do we do now, if she can’t kill Moloch and you can’t regain your immortality or your memories here?”

It was a setback, but the solution to his amnesia was somewhere inside his head. He just had to figure out how to trigger the return of his memories now that Isobel had healed some of the damage. “She said the memories will return when I’m ready to seize the life I want, right?”

“Not the most helpful instructions,” Calladia said.

“Still, my amnesia isn’t permanent.” It was a massive relief. He’d been afraid he would stay broken forever. “So we’ll carry on, and maybe Lilith will have some answers the next time we talk. Or who knows, maybe I can meditate or see a hypnotist or something.”