“You like experiencing humanity?” Calladia asked as she drove out of the neighborhood. “That seems odd for a demon.”
“Mortals live such colorful lives. It’s fascinating.” Humans were bright but fleeting, like flowers that opened at dawn and perished at dusk. He outlived them all, yet they still managed to surprise him.
No one was more surprising than this particular mortal. He studied Calladia, contemplating her contradictions. Her features were delicate, but her demeanor was ferocious. She might weep, then immediately vow revenge. She hated him but had rescued him anyway, and now she was taking him with her.
“What did you learn from Ozroth?” he asked.
“Apparently you and Moloch have hated each other for pretty much forever,” Calladia said. “As for why he’s trying to kill you, Oz thinks it has something to do with a wager you lost, but he doesn’t know the specifics. Just that you placed a bet on his success in taking Mariel’s soul.”
Wagers were an essential method of conflict resolution in demonic society. What price had been named though? The uncertainty was maddening. “What else did he say? What weaknesses does Moloch have?”
“Beheading, I guess.” Calladia flicked on the turn signal. “But he’s apparently an incredible swordsman who will gut us before we get near, so we’ll need to get creative.”
The words we and us hung in the air between them like shining Christmas baubles, beautiful yet fragile. Astaroth didn’t remark on it, lest she immediately revise the sentiment into something less collaborative, but a warm spark lit in his chest.
Calladia unlocked her phone and gave it to him. “Here, read these instructions.”
Astaroth squinted at the notes on the screen. “What’s this?”
“Alzapraz is Mariel’s ancestor, and he referred us to a life witch who can hopefully help us kill Moloch or at least mess him up. She also does memory magic and can maybe help your amnesia.”
“What?” Hope surged as Astaroth looked up. “Wait, did you tell them about me?”
She shook her head. “Alzapraz knows, but he’ll keep it a secret. Anyway, this witch is named Isobel, and she’s super old and lives in the woods.” She jerked her chin at him. “Directions, please.”
Astaroth cleared his throat, then started reading. “Head east and begin the fable. Stalk the red deer, and when you have found it, ask for advice. You shall be directed toward nature’s bosom and the middle of the beginning of the end of your journey.”
“Wait, what?” Calladia pulled over, then snatched the phone out of his hand. “Give me that.” She reread the words, lips moving silently, then gaped at the screen. “What the actual fuck is this?”
“A quest, apparently,” Astaroth said. “You didn’t ask for more details?”
“I didn’t think I’d need to.” She poked the screen, then held the phone to her ear. Astaroth heard faint, tinny ringing. He leaned in, unabashedly eavesdropping, until Calladia rolled her eyes and put the phone on speaker.
“Hello, Calladia,” an ancient-sounding man said.
“Hey, Alzapraz,” Calladia said. “I just looked at the directions you gave. They make no sense.”
“Sense can be surprisingly subjective.”
Calladia looked like she was biting back a sharp retort. “What do they mean, then?”
Alzapraz coughed before replying. “I thought it was fairly obvious.”
Calladia covered her eyes with her free hand. “Alzapraz, this is a bunch of nonsense about fables and a red deer and nature’s bosom.”
“It is!” He sounded delighted.
“Bloody warlocks,” Astaroth muttered under his breath.
“You don’t have an address or anything?” Calladia asked. “Or a phone number?”
“What would be the fun in that? This is the half of the puzzle I have, and the red deer will have the rest.” Chatter sounded in the background. “Ooh, brownies. Happy questing!”
The call disconnected.
Calladia tossed the phone onto the seat, then thumped her forehead against the steering wheel. “Why?” she asked. Another thump. “Why can’t anything be easy?”
Astaroth was inclined to agree. There was a time and place for witchy drama, but this was not it. “Did he say how long the trip would be?”
“No, but he showed me the general area on the map. I’d bet a day or two.” She sat up straight, yanking on her disheveled ponytail. “There’s nothing to be done for it tonight. Let’s find a camping spot.”