“Where else would you camp?” Calladia asked.
Astaroth shook his head. “Absolutely not. First off, there are bugs. And dirt. And probably bears and who knows what, and I’m not going to sleep on the ground.”
Calladia looked at him askance. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those precious types who can’t sleep unless they’re in a proper bed.”
“Is that precious?” Astaroth asked. “Or is it a reasonable expectation, considering the technology available? I was born in the late medieval period. Why would I choose to revisit it?”
“Well, for starters, camping isn’t about comfort. It’s about getting away and enjoying nature. Cooking over a fire and staring at the stars.”
“I can enjoy nature through a window, thank you very much.”
“Secondly,” Calladia said, “we’re on the lam. This isn’t some five-star vacation getaway.”
“That doesn’t mean we need to lower all our standards—”
Calladia interrupted him. “Where’s your wallet?”
Astaroth blinked, jolted out of his argument. “What?”
“Your wallet.” She held out her hand, beckoning with quick flicks of her fingers. “Since you clearly have the cash to pay for a fancy hotel.”
“I—” Astaroth closed his mouth, then opened it again. “I’m sure I have plenty of resources on the demon plane.”
“The demon plane where Moloch lives? Sure, sounds good. Let’s go there.”
Curse her, she wasn’t supposed to have a good point. “I’ll pay you back. Eventually.”
She scoffed. “Like I believe that.”
“We could make a bargain,” Astaroth offered. “Those are unbreakable.”
Calladia slammed on the brakes so fast, Astaroth was thrown against the seat belt. “Don’t ever offer me a bargain again,” she said vehemently, jabbing a finger into his shoulder.
Astaroth rubbed the spot she’d poked. “Touchy, touchy.”
Her scowl was even more ferocious than usual. “I know how bargains work. I ask for a favor, and you fulfill it, taking away all my magic and emotions while you do so, right?”
“Well . . . yes.” Bargaining was woven into his being—even if he couldn’t remember all the details, the instinct was there. Demonic bargainers devoted their lives to making deals that protected the species. Even the smallest demon child knew that without the light and magic provided by mortal souls, their plane would darken and die.
Calladia shook her head. “Absolutely not.”
Astaroth felt a flicker of something he suspected might be guilt, but he suppressed the impulse to apologize. Bargaining was a noble calling; there was nothing to be ashamed of. “So that’s a no on the bargaining. A shame. You have such a lovely soul.”
She scoffed. “What does that even mean?”
“I can see your soul if I engage my demon senses. All souls glow, but yours is particularly bright.” When he focused on it, it was like a miniature star centered behind her breastbone. If he’d been able to liberate that golden light from her body, he would have opened a portal to let it drift to the demon plane, where it would join countless others floating through the twilit sky. Hers would be one of the brightest, rejuvenating the demons who passed by and making flowers bloom in its wake.
It would be nice to see that soul floating about, but the Calladia left behind on Earth wouldn’t be the one goggling at him now. Her combativeness and passion would fade, leaving an emotionless echo of the vibrant woman she’d been. She’d walk, talk, and act like a human being, but a crucial part would be missing.
That shouldn’t bother Astaroth.
An ache started behind his sternum, and he rubbed his chest.
Why did that bother him?
Calladia hit the gas. “Well, hands off my soul. I’m not a nice person like Mariel; I’m a total bitch, so you won’t be able to find a soft spot to manipulate me with.”
It struck Astaroth that Calladia had a rather poor opinion of herself. Sure, she was a bitch—and he meant that as a compliment of the highest order, just as he was a proud bastard—but it was obvious she had a strong sense of fairness, and the way she spoke of Mariel indicated a deep level of feeling for her loved ones. Nice was too tepid a word for her. But loyal, protective, and determined to do the right thing? Those were traits to admire.
If this was a bargaining mission, he would try to exploit her insecurities or her protectiveness toward her loved ones. Every human had something they were willing to give up their soul for. Love, money, power, revenge . . . all a clever demon had to do was pinpoint that weakness, stick the metaphorical knife in, and twist.