Astaroth was a clever demon, and Calladia had revealed several weak points, from her strained relationship with her mother to her broken engagement to her belief she wasn’t a particularly good person. Throw in friends she adored and a destroyed house, and there was plenty he could offer in terms of demon magic.
Still, the idea bothered him.
He cleared his throat. “No bargaining. We shall maintain a semi-cordial partnership to accomplish our mutual goals.”
He was surprised when Calladia laughed. “This is what you consider semi-cordial?”
“You haven’t tried to gut me yet,” he said. “That’s something.”
She chuckled again, and Astaroth’s lips threatened to tug up at the corners in response. Proper demons didn’t succumb to emotional impulses though, so he bit down on the smile and focused on the view out the window.
Glimmer Falls was a charming town in daytime, but it took on an ethereal glow at night. Hanging holiday lights decorated restaurant patios, candles flickered from windowsills, and magic displays sent cascades of vibrant color into the sky. A wide variety of species mingled freely everywhere he looked.
It was a far cry from the desperate times he remembered from Earth centuries ago. Then life had been hard for everyone, and people had generally gathered in groups to protect their mutual interests. The pixies stayed with the pixies, the witches with the warlocks, the nonmagical humans with each other. There was some cross-group pollination, but overall, the world had been cut into categories.
Now those boundaries were gone, and it was a marvel to see.
The advance of night had brought a drop in temperature though, and he shivered.
Calladia turned the heat on. “Are you cold?” she asked.
“A minor inconvenience, no more.” He shivered again.
Calladia grumbled, then pulled into a strip mall, parking in front of a secondhand clothing store that was nestled between a ramen shop and a nail-and-talon salon. “What size do you wear?” she asked.
“Erm.” Astaroth racked his brain. “I don’t know. Whenever the Queen sent her tailor, they just measured me and delivered the clothing later.” He’d been a particular pet of hers for a season, and she’d adored him in a gold waistcoat.
“The Queen?” Calladia’s jaw dropped. “Like . . . the one in Buckingham Palace?”
“Probably not the same one,” Astaroth said. “Unless Queen Charlotte has a life witch on call?” Witches who could expand life spans—both theirs and others—were extremely rare, and their methods were top secret.
Calladia rolled her eyes. “Stay here,” she said. “I’ll eyeball it.”
He watched her enter the store with trepidation. There were some decent pieces in the window, but Calladia didn’t display the best judgment when it came to her own clothing.
After ten minutes, she returned holding a bag. “You can change in the tent once I get it set up,” she said, handing the clothes over. “No stripping in the truck.”
He dug through the fabric as she started driving again. She’d picked up a pale blue shirt, an oversized hooded sweater, undershorts, socks and trainers, and black leather trousers. Or faux leather, as a check of the tag indicated it was made of various synthetics. Still, he raised a brow at the bold choice. “Do you enjoy a man in leather?” he asked. It matched his horns, and the blue shirt was close to the shade of his eyes. Simple garments, but functional, and she’d given at least some thought to aesthetics.
Was it his imagination or had her cheeks flushed? “It’s the only thing I thought would fit. You’re welcome, by the way.”
Ah, yes. Manners. Important when buttering up one’s enemies. “Thank you for buying me clothing,” he said. And he meant it, truly. She’d used her own money to make him comfortable, and a warm, fuzzy feeling filled him at the gesture, growing warmer as he put the jumper on. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.”
“Don’t bother. Secondhand stores are cheap.” She slid him a glance. “Let me guess, you hate the idea of secondhand stores. That suit probably cost a fortune.”
He couldn’t say how much it had cost, but he resented the first bit of conjecture. “Excuse you. Shopping vintage and used is an excellent way to craft a unique style, as well as be more sustainable for the planet.” He smirked and gestured at his torso. “As evidenced by myself, the best things are built to last.”
Calladia let out a startled-sounding laugh. Her teeth dug into one side of her lower lip, and her eyes were bright. It was a real smile, surprised out of her, and it was just as stunning as he’d imagined.