Bronwyn groaned. “She’s still refusing to give out her address?” She stepped out from behind the desk, gesturing for Calladia and Astaroth to follow. “Let’s get you settled, and I’ll check our notes to see what your next step is supposed to be.”
Another stuffed wolf head presided over the dining room. This one’s glass eyes were crossed, giving it a comedic air, and a red felt tongue stuck out one side of its mouth. A trestle table sat beneath it, and there was a pool table in the corner near a fireplace. A roaring fire cast a cheery glow over the scratched wooden floorboards.
Bronwyn led them to a table and handed them menus. Calladia ordered a panini, while Astaroth settled on the salmon, which was what she should have expected from his pretentious ass.
After Bronwyn left, Calladia propped her elbows on the table and leaned in. “Salmon, huh? On my dime?”
“I promised I’d pay you back.” Astaroth looked utterly unruffled—and utterly gorgeous—and Calladia despised him for both, almost as much as she’d hated letting him share her toothbrush that morning. While she was a scruffy, smelly mess with tangled hair, Astaroth looked like he’d stepped off the cover of a magazine. Being a demon, he had no stubble, and his blond hair came across as stylishly tousled. Worse, he still managed to smell good, the tang of sweat merging with his apparently natural scent of pine trees and exotic spices. Calladia had wiped her pits down at the stream and was still worried about raising her arms too high.
She really should find a mud pit to toss him in.
She wasn’t actually concerned about him paying her back. Insurance would cover the loss of the house, and as a Cunnington, she had a trust fund. A trust fund she’d adamantly refused to dip into, not wanting to become more like her entitled mother, but it was a hell of a safety net, and she knew she was privileged to have it.
It was an uncomfortable balance, hating what she’d been raised to be while still profiting off her family’s wealth. Was she a hypocrite? Probably. But as she’d told Astaroth, she wasn’t a good person, just a fair-to-middling one.
A loud ringing split the air, and they both jumped. Astaroth fished in his pocket and pulled out his phone. “What in all the planes?” he asked, squinting at it. “Why is it making that infernal noise?”
Calladia snatched the phone and looked at the screen, then promptly gasped. “It says Mum!”
She wasn’t sure what was more startling: that Astaroth had a mother, versus having emerged fully formed from a lava pit, or that he had her listed as Mum in his contacts. Calladia had switched her mom’s contact info to Cynthia Cunnington a decade ago.
Astaroth looked freaked out. “I don’t remember.”
Calladia wasn’t going to let this opportunity slide. She tapped the screen to answer, hit the speaker button, then handed it to Astaroth. “Roll with it,” she whispered. “We might get some answers.”
Astaroth took the phone gingerly. “Um, yes, hello?” he said, holding the phone to his ear.
“ASTAROTH!”
Astaroth recoiled at the loud exclamation, and Calladia stifled a laugh. “It’s on speaker,” she murmured. “Put it on the table.”
He did, shooting her a chiding look. “This is he,” he said.
“Obviously it’s you,” Astaroth’s mother said in an unidentifiable accent. “What’s this I’m hearing about you getting ejected from the council? I don’t know who they think they are—well, scratch that, I know exactly who they think they are, pretentious little worms—but you’re worth a thousand of them. Why did they banish you?”
Astaroth eyed the phone like it might leap off the table and bite him. “Erm . . . the demon high council?” he said tentatively.
“I heard Moloch is to blame,” the woman continued. “I will wear his intestines like a feather boa, I swear to you. They didn’t find out, did they?”
Astaroth looked thoroughly freaked out, and Calladia didn’t blame him. “Find out what?”
His mother scoffed. “Playing dumb? Really?”
Astaroth rubbed his temples, and Calladia wondered if his headache was troubling him again. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been an eventful few days. Humor me?”
“You know how Moloch feels about hybrids,” she said. “He didn’t find out you’re half human, did he?”
Calladia’s jaw dropped. Astaroth was what?
FIFTEEN
I’m—excuse me?” Astaroth asked, staring dazedly at the phone.