“Oh, shit.” Tirana sketched an oval in the air with her finger, and another portal opened, which the demoness immediately disappeared into.
“Coward,” Moloch muttered.
Sandranella stepped through the portal after Lilith. At the sight of her, Baphomet hastily made his own portal exit, but not before Sandranella pointed at him and shouted, “You!”
Moloch looked between the various people facing him and apparently came to the same conclusion as the others. He bared his teeth. “This isn’t over.” He opened a portal and disappeared.
Silence fell.
Kai was the first to break it. “Aw, bugger,” the werewolf said, lowering his crossbow. “I was hoping for a decent fight.” The other werewolves grumbled in agreement.
Themmie landed next to Ben’s SUV, and Mariel and Oz joined her. Calladia winced as Oz pointedly looked at Astaroth in the passenger seat of her truck.
“So,” Mariel said, planting her hands on her hips. “Care to explain what the heck is going on?”
* * *
They agreed to meet in Griffin’s Nest for a debrief. Since the werewolves showed no signs of leaving—I sniff good trouble! Kai had cheerfully declared—they picked the only restaurant that wasn’t overrun with tourists for the Mariachi Festival. This was, unfortunately, NecroNomNomNoms, which catered mostly to creatures of the night and smelled even more strongly of blood inside. The walls were black, the windows were painted over, and the only light came from dramatic candelabra. The day shift waitress was a nonmagical human, but she seemed unruffled by the eclectic mix of supernaturals that had descended on her. She led them to a back room and left them with menus and water glasses.
The mystery of how the werewolves and Calladia’s friends had teamed up had been solved by the revelation that Ben and Avram were cousins. After Avram had shared news about the brawl in a family chat, Ben had decided the Glimmer Falls gang needed to investigate what Calladia was up to. Bronwyn had given Avram the same directions she’d given Calladia and Astaroth, and the combined expedition had reached them just in time.
Calladia was grateful for the intervention, if not particularly eager to explain what she’d been up to. She squinted at the menu to avoid looking at Mariel, whose initial confused look had settled firmly into the “damning gaze” category. The reason for that gaze sat to Calladia’s right, playing nonchalantly with his water goblet.
Or maybe Astaroth wasn’t so nonchalant, after all. His expression was relaxed, but his shoulders were tense, and he kept sneaking glances at Oz.
The waitress returned with a tray. “Chips and salsa,” she declared, plunking down a bowl of what looked like dried severed ears and a ramekin holding a very liquid salsa Calladia suspected was not made from tomatoes. The waitress handed a steaming goblet to Astaroth. “Regenerative potion.”
“Cheers,” he murmured, giving her a smile that made the waitress do a stutter step and nearly walk into a wall. He downed the drink in one go and grimaced. “Whew. I’ve got to say, I prefer immortality to whatever that was.”
Calladia had done what she could to patch Astaroth up, but it had been a relief to find out the restaurant had a wide potion selection. As Calladia watched, the wound left by the splinter she’d pulled out of Astaroth’s shoulder closed until all that was visible through the hole in his shirt was smooth skin.
“Feeling better?” Calladia asked him.
“Much.” He turned his smile on her, though it was a softer, more genuine version of what he’d given the waitress. Calladia wanted to smile back, but her skin itched under the weight of too many stares.
Time to face the music. She was seated at the head of a long table, and she took a deep breath before confronting the rest of the group. It was like presiding over the weirdest Last Supper ever. On her right were Astaroth, Lilith, Sandranella, Kai, and two random werewolves. On her left were Mariel, Oz, Themmie, Ben, Avram, and the last unnamed werewolf. The wolves were eagerly digging into the “chips and salsa,” but the atmosphere on Calladia’s end of the table felt more like a standoff. Oz and Mariel in particular were glaring daggers at Astaroth.
“So,” Astaroth said. “Who talks first?”
Oz exploded out of his seat and slammed his hands on the table. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Mariel aimed a similar question at Calladia. “Are you seriously hanging out with Astaroth?”
Calladia squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “It’s complicated.”