“To give in to sentiment is to embrace weakness.”
Calladia was going to call bullshit and brainwashing on that one. “Lilith loves you. Is she weak?”
He scowled. “No. But she was already insane by the time I was born. Everyone accepts that’s the way she is.”
Calladia shrugged. “Maybe if you came out as a hybrid, everyone would accept you, too.”
“I would say I appreciate the optimism, but it would be a lie. With demons like Moloch shaping policy, there’s no way hybrids will be granted equal rights.”
Calladia disliked Moloch more and more as time went on, which was really saying something, since her second encounter with him had involved him blowing up her house. “Then pull a French Revolution. Overthrow his snooty, purebred ass and create a new political system.”
Astaroth let out a pained laugh. “Calladia, you are far too naive.”
She bristled. “I am not.”
“You’re thinking like a human. Your political dynasties rise and fall in the blink of an eye compared to the demonic power structure. Our course can’t be changed so easily.”
Calladia rolled her eyes. Definitely calling bullshit on that one. “You know what I think the problem is? You’re falling into the same trap people like Moloch do. You think of humans as inferior.”
“I do not,” he said, outrage suffusing his face. “I’ve always been fond of humans.”
“But you hate the part of you that is human, don’t you?”
Astaroth didn’t reply.
Just as she thought. Calladia was tempted to smack Astaroth across the horns and tell him to expand his worldview. “Maybe you think human politics are too brief to pay attention to,” she said. “But the demon plane sounds stagnant, in my opinion.”
Now he looked offended. “It’s a beautiful realm with a long and storied history. Just because we live longer doesn’t mean we’re stagnant.”
“And yet hybrid rights haven’t advanced much since you were born six hundred years ago.”
Astaroth opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked down at his lap and started fussing with the hem of his T-shirt.
Gotcha. Calladia might prefer solving problems with her fists, but not every problem was a nail in need of a hammer. Some required a more delicate touch. “I think,” she said, “that being half human can be an asset when confronting Moloch. Everyone expects you to behave and think like a purebred demon. So what if you don’t? What if you forget everything about long, storied traditions of discrimination and take drastic action to change things?”
Astaroth picked at a loose thread. “It won’t work. Who would want to listen to me after they learn the truth? They’ll call me emotional and weak, my logical mind clouded by my heritage.”
“Who would want to listen to you? The entire hybrid community, for starters.”
Astaroth looked up quizzically. “The hybrids? What could they possibly do?”
“Maybe they aren’t just victims in need of protection. Maybe they’re warriors waiting for a chance to fight for their cause.” Sensing his hesitation, Calladia went in for the kill. “Maybe they’re strong, disciplined, and cunning . . . like you.”
She shifted, insecure and a bit embarrassed at having delivered the compliment. The two of them didn’t say nice things about each other. They bickered and joked, and, yes, sometimes felt each other up, but their dynamic had little room for softness. But with the way Astaroth was staring at her like she’d blown his mind and hung the moon all at once, she couldn’t regret it.
While she waited for his response, Calladia closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun. The woods were wild and awake, full of buzzes, chirps, and rustles. The wind that tugged at her hair also ruffled the treetops and raced over the hills and valleys, like the exhalations of some great beast of the earth.
Being in nature made her feel small, but in a good way. Maybe that was part of being human. In the long stretch of time, she was just a blip. And when you were a blip, you didn’t have to worry about the weight of eons. You could live as loudly as you wanted in the space allotted to you.
Calladia’s life had been lacking in joy for a while. Had she let her fear of being hurt stop her from living boldly?
Could she make a different choice, as she was asking Astaroth to do now?
Astaroth’s hand covered hers on the log. Calladia opened her eyes to find him still staring at her with that wonderstruck expression. “Calladia Cunnington,” he said, “you are a marvel.”