Calladia pointed to the sign. “Maybe Alzapraz’s instructions weren’t so bad, after all. ‘Head east and begin the fable.’?”
“It’s a bit of a reach,” Astaroth said. “Shouldn’t he have said ‘begin at the Fable’ if he meant it as a literal place? Or, I don’t know, ‘drive to Fable Farms,’ if he really wanted to be helpful?” A certain type of warlock adored riddle shite like this, and though it was a solid branding move, it was deeply obnoxious for the people forced to solve those riddles.
Calladia flicked on her blinker. “It’s the best clue we’ve gotten, and I’m driving, so you can shut up and go along for the ride.” Her lips curved. “Or you can sing more pop songs. Silence or singing—those are your options.”
The radio had moved on to something jangly and unpleasant. He sighed. “Silence it is.”
FOURTEEN
Calladia stood with hands on her hips and toe tapping, gazing down the main drag of Fable Farms. And by main drag, she meant the only drag.
“Bit underwhelming,” Astaroth commented. He stood beside her on the sidewalk next to Clifford the Little Red Truck.
Calladia grunted in agreement. She was used to life in a reasonably small town, but this was something else. Unpaved roads wound into the trees, where a few buildings were visible, but the one paved street housed a general store, a gas station, a few unidentifiable structures, what looked like some kind of hunting lodge, and an antiques market/clothing boutique/ice-cream parlor/sports equipment store with a sign declaring kai’s korner. Other than the gas station, the buildings were built from timber, giving the impression of an Oregon Trail settlement that had survived to modern times.
“Presumably the red deer is in the forest somewhere,” Calladia said. “I guess we start hiking?”
Astaroth’s stomach chose that moment to grumble.
“After we eat something,” Calladia said. She was peckish herself, and lunch with a demon wasn’t the worst idea she’d ever had.
No, rescuing the demon in the first place had definitely been the worst idea.
A blue convertible was parked outside the general store, and a large man in a green shirt stood by it, guzzling a sports drink. Maybe he could direct them where to eat.
Calladia waved and jogged over. “Hello,” she called out.
The man wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and she realized he was wearing a rugby kit. Fable Farms Furies was emblazoned in an arc across his chest. His reddish-brown skin had a damp post-workout glow. “Well, hello to you,” he said in a New Zealand accent. “We don’t get many tourists here. Where are you coming from?”
He was handsome, with dark eyes, a roguish smile, and a bold nose that had clearly been broken several times. His massively muscled build, combined with the shaggy quality of his black hair, led Calladia to suspect he was a werewolf. Once she was close enough to feel the animalistic energy radiating off him, she was sure of it.
“Glimmer Falls,” Calladia said.
“Sweet as.” He shook her hand, and Calladia noticed an intricate tattoo extending from the sleeve of his jersey to his right elbow. “My name’s Kai. Auckland by origin, but I’ve made my home in these woods for a decade. What brings you to Fable Farms?”
“I’m Calladia,” she said, “and I’m on a quest.”
“A quest to Fable Farms, population 203?” Kai laughed. “What an exciting life you lead.”
Calladia huffed in shared amusement. “I’m trying to find a red deer. Any idea where it might be?”
“Who sent you on this quest? Welp?” Kai asked, referencing the mobile app that posted crowd-sourced reviews of budget food options. The app’s tagline was Good enough, I guess, and Calladia had found some great dive bars using it. Kai grinned and pointed down the street. “The best food in miles is at the Red Deer, end of the road.”
Calladia looked at the building he’d pointed out—the one resembling a hunting lodge. “Oh! I hadn’t considered it might be a place, not an actual animal. We’ll check it out.”
“We?” Kai asked, cocking a brow. He looked over her shoulder, and his eyes widened. “Sweet Remus and Romulus, that fucker has horns.”
Calladia bit her cheek. “He does indeed.”
Kai returned his startled gaze to her. “What is he?”
“Demon.”
Kai whistled. “Never seen one of those before. Are you, you know, with him?” He gave the last two words heavy emphasis.
“We’re traveling together, yes.”
Kai clicked his tongue. “No, I meant like . . . with him, with him.”
It took Calladia a moment to understand the implication. “Oh!” She frantically slashed her hands in a no gesture. “Absolutely not. We hate each other. Two sworn enemies on a quest, that’s all.” Totally normal. Everyone ended up on a road trip with their disgustingly attractive nemesis at some point, right?
“Ah.” Kai relaxed and gave her another charming grin. “Well, in that case, may I offer my phone number to a very lovely tourist in case she needs directions, assistance, or a nice dinner sometime?”
Was he hitting on her? The few advances she’d received were more along the lines of that lout whose face she’d slammed into the bartop. But here was a charming werewolf offering to take her to dinner, and he’d nailed Asking a Woman Out 101 by offering her his number, rather than requesting hers, allowing her to choose whether or not to contact him.
“I, uh, sure?” Calladia said, feeling flustered. Themmie would have known exactly how to proceed, but this was not a situation rough-and-tumble Calladia was equipped to handle. Was she supposed to flirt back? Did she even want to? Men were more trouble than they were worth, as she’d learned the hard way.
Kai reached out. “Can I put my number in your phone?” Apparently noting her hesitation, he held his hands up. “No pressure. It was just a thought.”
Calladia was still tongue-tied, but she had to do something, and he was being awfully polite about the whole thing. She fished the phone out of her windbreaker and handed it over, and Kai started typing.
“What’s this?” Astaroth’s voice came from very close by.
Calladia turned to find the demon scowling beside her, hands on his hips. “This is Kai,” she said, cheeks heating. “He’s been very helpful.”
“I’m sure he has.” Astaroth narrowed his eyes at the werewolf. Kai met his gaze, smirked, then kept typing, and Astaroth’s fists clenched.
Wait. Surely he hadn’t just sounded . . . jealous?
There was no way. Astaroth hated her, like she hated him. He probably just wanted to make sure no one distracted his quest-helper.
The tension growing in the air set Calladia’s teeth on edge. Even glowering, Astaroth looked gorgeous, albeit in a different way from the werewolf. Where Kai was bulky, Astaroth was leanly muscular; where Kai’s features were rugged, Astaroth’s seemed to have been carved from marble. Astaroth wasn’t a massive man, certainly nowhere near the size of the werewolf, but when he looked like this, territorial and pissed off, he seemed . . .
Dangerous.