Lilith made a rude noise. “I don’t care what that pathetic worm wants. He can wait.” She grabbed one of her braids and started chewing on it. “I’ll create a distraction,” she said around a mouthful of hair. “There’s a fyre drake who owes me a favor. If she torches a few key buildings, the council will have to investigate.”
Calladia was starting to like Lilith.
“Let’s fight on multiple fronts,” Sandranella said. “I’ll start a word-of-mouth campaign that Astaroth will be returning, more powerful than ever.”
Calladia could think of one major flaw in that plan. She raised her hand. “Um, slight problem. Moloch thinks Astaroth is dead. If he finds out otherwise, he’ll come after us again.”
“Not if we keep him busy enough.” Sandranella looked at Astaroth. “You know returning will be easier if the public is primed for it. The hybrid community would also welcome the news. Morale has been low since your banishment.”
“Wait, I thought no one knew he was a hybrid,” Calladia said. She knew next to nothing about demon politics, and it was rapidly growing confusing.
“They don’t,” Sandranella confirmed. “But Astaroth and I have been vocal about protecting the rights of hybrids.”
“What if the news gets out?” Astaroth asked. His face was tight, stress carving lines in it she hadn’t seen before. “I’ll be a laughingstock.”
Calladia bristled. “Hey, being part human isn’t that bad.”
The demons ignored her. “Baphomet will make sure the information doesn’t leak,” Sandranella said. “It makes him look negligent to allow a half demon to hold power for so long.”
Lilith abruptly clapped her hands, and Calladia jumped. “So we’re decided,” Astaroth’s mother said. “Sandranella and I will wreak havoc on the demon plane while Astaroth seeks out this witch who may be able to restore his memories and immortality. I’ll also do some digging through Astaroth’s den to see if I can uncover whatever information he was compiling on Moloch.”
“My den?” Astaroth asked, sounding surprised. “It’s mystically locked, since I’m rarely there. How do you plan to get in?”
Lilith smiled indulgently. “Oh, sweetie, I dug a tunnel into your bedroom centuries ago.” Everyone turned appalled looks on her, and she shrugged. “What? Sometimes a mother likes to watch her baby sleep.”
“Well, that’s unsettling,” Astaroth said, “but convenient, I suppose, since I can’t return to the demon plane like this.”
“What about your flat?” Calladia asked. “Would you have stored information there?”
“I portal into his closet in London frequently,” Lilith said. “I’ll check there, too.”
“Seriously?” Astaroth asked incredulously. “You’ve been spying on me all this time?”
Lilith blew him a kiss. “Stalking is my love language.”
“I thought commissioning bounty hunters was her love language,” Calladia muttered. “And kidnapping.”
Lilith turned her icy blue eyes on Calladia. “Love can be expressed in any number of ways,” she said solemnly.
The woman was mad as a hatter, but Calladia felt a twinge of jealousy. How was it possible the legendarily deadly Lilith was a better mother than Cynthia Cunnington? Lilith might stalk Astaroth, but she clearly loved and supported him, up to and including drinking blood from the skulls of his enemies.
Would Calladia’s mom do the same? No, she would not. Skull chalices would be deemed bad for campaign optics, just like Calladia herself was.
Sandranella motioned, and a portal appeared in the air. “We’ll head out. Do hurry on your quest, Astaroth. The demon plane needs you.”
Lilith made kissing sounds. “Bye-bye, dear, can’t wait to vanquish Moloch with you.” The demonesses stepped through the portal, which vanished as if it had never been.
“Well,” Calladia said. Her legs felt weak, so she sat on the log. “That was a lot.” She ground the toe of her boot into the mulch. “I don’t understand why everyone talks about being part human like it’s some terrible thing. What’s so wrong about us?”
Astaroth raised his hand and started ticking items off. “Humans are fragile. They live short, cosmically meaningless lives. They’re overly emotional. They—”
“All right, all right,” Calladia said. “I get the picture, even if I disagree with it. But you are—or you were—immortal, and you’re hardly fragile. What does it matter if you get emotional?”