The silence this time was longer. “Calladia,” he finally said, “what have you gotten yourself mixed up in?”
“Long story. Think an immortal human-demon hybrid cursed with a mortal life span by a witch. Can it be reversed?”
Alzapraz whistled. “Not a lot of life witches will mess with that. Nasty stuff, and very advanced. I don’t know how it’s done, unfortunately.”
Astaroth’s stomach fell. There went that hope.
“Do you know how to restore immortality, then?” Calladia asked.
Alzapraz coughed. “The problem with life magic is that there’s always a price. I managed to extend my life, but it came at the expense of my health. It’s possible we could look into something similar for your hybrid, but I have to warn you, the extreme geriatric lifestyle isn’t for everyone.”
Horror filled Astaroth at the possibility. “I’ll pass.” He didn’t want to be hauling his brittle old bones around the demon plane in a few centuries, complaining about his joints.
“So that’s it?” Calladia asked. “He just has to live with it?”
Or die with it, Astaroth thought bitterly.
“I’d ask Isobel, if you haven’t already seen her,” Alzapraz said. “She’s been around for a long time. She’s never cared about any life span but her own, but she’s knowledgeable about rare magic, especially life magic.”
Calladia thanked the warlock before hanging up. “So,” she said, looking at Astaroth, “looks like Isobel is still our best play.”
Astaroth stood. “Then let’s get going.”
“Wait,” Sandranella said, sharing a look with Lilith. “There’s something we still need to tell you.”
TWENTY-TWO
Calladia couldn’t believe how surreal the morning had gotten. A surprise werewolf ambush, the appearance of demons, and now the revelation that Astaroth was no longer immortal . . . It was a lot to process when the sun had been up for less than two hours. Not to mention what had happened before the werewolves, but Calladia was good at compartmentalizing, so she shoved that interlude into a box in her brain. There would be time to panic about it later.
She felt out of place among the demons. She’d gotten used to Astaroth’s otherworldly beauty, but now she was faced with two more stunning people. Lilith’s face held the same sharp angles as Astaroth’s, and her hair looked like molten fire. Her swashbuckling outfit was beyond cool. Sandranella’s face was perfectly heart-shaped, her eyes were dark and intense, and she resembled a warrior goddess in her wine-and-gold dress.
Were demons universally sexy? A question for a later time.
“Go on,” Astaroth said, sounding defeated. “What other disaster awaits?”
Sandranella looked grave. “Moloch is moving quickly to consolidate power. He’s suggested Tirana as your successor.”
“Tirana, Tirana . . .” Astaroth wore a look of concentration, and then his eyes widened. “No, you can’t choose her. She’s a powder keg, and she’s even more vocal than Moloch about hating hybrids.”
“You remember her?” Calladia asked.
He grimaced. “A particularly unpleasant memory from the Spanish Inquisition just popped up.”
“Trust me, I don’t want her on the council either,” Sandranella said. “But without you, the progressives are outnumbered, and Baphomet is showing signs of being receptive to Tirana and Moloch’s arguments. I fear without your return to strengthen our alliance, the council will regress further into the Middle Ages.”
Lilith made a face. “The Middle Ages were so dull. Everyone stank.”
“Who’s Baphomet?” Calladia asked, looking between them.
“The lead demon on the high council,” Astaroth said. “At least he was when I was young. He must still be.”
It was promising that he was recovering memories of the demon plane—well, sort of, since she didn’t want him to turn into a villain again—but learning there were more demonic enemies to face wasn’t exactly reassuring.
“We need you, Astaroth,” Sandranella said, “but not like this. We need the old Astaroth, the one with a master plan to take Moloch down. If you can eliminate him, Baphomet can be persuaded to undo the banishment.”
Astaroth grimaced and ran his hands through his hair. “I wish I could bloody remember that master plan. Can the decision on a replacement be postponed?”
“Maybe, but Moloch is pushing hard.”