“Your frieeeeeeends are here!” Tansy screeched.
Calladia sat bolt upright and shot Astaroth an alarmed look. They weren’t expecting anyone, which meant whoever had come to visit was likely not a friend at all.
Astaroth scrambled to his feet and reached for the dresser drawer he’d stashed his clothes in. Calladia dove for her own clothes, which were heaped untidily next to her backpack. Onesies were cozy but not good in a fight, so she dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt, and boots in record time. She pulled a length of yarn from her backpack and started weaving it between her fingers, setting the framework for a defensive spell.
Astaroth was now fully dressed and holding the fireplace poker like a sword. He motioned to the door, indicating he’d take the left side. Calladia nodded and positioned herself to the right, out of the line of fire should someone come barreling through.
“Lovebiiiiiirds?” Tansy called. “Are you caaaawwaake?”
Calladia cleared her throat. “Yes,” she said.
“Awake, armed, and dangerous,” Astaroth said.
The griffin let out a series of screeches. It took Calladia a moment to realize they were laughing. “Frieeeeeeeeends,” Tansy repeated, then burst into a rapid-fire explanation Calladia only caught half of. Something about hugging? And . . . a scare? She shared a baffled look with Astaroth.
“Did you say they’re lovebirds?” a man asked, loud and clear. A man with a New Zealand accent.
Oh, shit. Calladia reran the griffin’s words through her head. Tansy had said rugby, not hugging, and were instead of scare.
The werewolf pack had found them.
“Do we try diplomacy or shock and awe?” Astaroth whispered.
Calladia considered. They were trapped high above the ground in a room with one exit, outside of which stood at least one werewolf. Astaroth, with his demon immortality, would survive a jump to the forest floor, but Calladia would break a lot of bones at best.
“I hate to say it,” she whispered back, “but I think we should attempt diplomacy.”
Astaroth made a face. “Can’t you cast a spell and turn his organs inside out or something?”
“Did you know werewolves have excellent hearing?” came Kai’s response from outside.
Calladia winced. “We need to workshop your definition of justified violence,” she told Astaroth. Then she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I’m going out there.”
“I reserve the right to bludgeon him to death with this poker,” Astaroth said, waving the implement in question.
“I can still hear you,” Kai said.
Waiting wouldn’t accomplish anything, so Calladia unlocked the door and flung it open to reveal Tansy, Kai, and Avram, the brown-haired wolf she’d teamed up with during the brawl. She lifted her chin and marched out like a queen whose territory had been invaded. “What do you want?” she demanded.
Kai was dressed in charcoal slacks and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to display muscular forearms. His left arm was in a sling, and the outline of a bandage was visible through the thin fabric of his dress shirt.
His right hand was behind his back. When he moved, Calladia braced herself for an attack, but instead, Kai produced a bouquet of red roses. “For you,” the werewolf said.
Next to Calladia, Astaroth made an outraged noise. He swung the fireplace poker at the bouquet, knocking the flowers to the floor.
“Oi!” Kai glared at the demon. “Mind your business.”
Tansy cocked their head. Intelligent black eyes darted between Kai, Astaroth, Calladia, and the bouquet, and then the griffin squawked and raked one leonine paw against the floorboards. “Not friiieeeeeends.” Their wings flapped in short, agitated bursts, and they snapped their beak at Kai. “Liiies. Bad customer seeeervice.”
“Why are you here?” Calladia asked Kai. “And why do you have flowers?”
Kai sank to his knees and clapped his right hand to his chest, then winced. Apparently he’d jostled his injury. “I had to see you,” he said. “It’s not every day a beautiful woman stabs me through the heart.”
Avram rolled his eyes. “She barely nicked your shoulder, bro.”
“It’s a metaphor, bro,” Kai replied. “But a woman who can fuck me up is the absolute dream.”
“Surprisingly,” Astaroth muttered, “we’re in agreement on that. But she’s fucking me up, not you.”
The two men eyed each other, visibly bristling. Calladia sighed. “So you came all this way to give me flowers?” she asked Kai. “At dawn?”