Astaroth shrugged. “I can multitask.”
Calladia shot him a withering glance before turning her attention to the two women. “We aren’t banging. I’m accompanying him on a quest.”
“Ooh, a quest.” Lilith’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Love a good quest. What are you hunting?”
“The secret to taking down Moloch,” Calladia said. “And—” She snapped her mouth shut, apparently realizing she’d nearly given away his amnesia.
Bollocks, Astaroth thought. His mum wasn’t likely to skim over that juicy clue.
Sure enough, Lilith pounced on the information. “And what?” she asked. “A legendary weapon? A dragon’s heart? Those are tasty,” she informed Sandranella in an aside, “and they can be a potent aphrodisiac. Just ask Henry VI. After he rode one into battle, he carved out its heart and ate it, praying for victory.”
“Uh, what?” Calladia asked. “Dragons stopped being used as war weapons in the 1400s because they were becoming endangered.”
“Lilith,” the other demoness said gently, “was that perhaps something you read in a fanfic?”
Lilith’s brow furrowed. “The dragon heart? I’m sure that was canon. Right before that tentacle monster stumbled upon him.” She cackled. “Or oozed onto him, rather. Slurped up to him? Smacked sucker-marks into his ass?”
Sandranella winced. “Definitely fanfic. I don’t think I’ll ever recover after reading that link you sent me.” She gave Astaroth a sympathetic look. “I heard she forced you to beta read her latest explicit fic on AO3. My condolences.”
Astaroth wasn’t sure what in Lucifer’s name they were talking about, so he grunted.
“Anyway,” Sandranella continued, “what’s this about searching for the secret to take down Moloch? You told me you were working on a scheme.”
“Did I?” he asked, then quickly revised the sentiment. “Ah, yes. I did.” A long pause. “Remind me which details I shared with you?”
Sandranella pursed her lips, looking disapproving. “You wouldn’t tell me. You said you wanted an airtight case before confronting him at the high council.”
Astaroth mentally kicked his past self for being so secretive. “Quite right,” he said, forcing a laugh. “I was just testing you.”
Sandranella gave him an odd look. “What did that spell do to you?”
“Erm . . .” Astaroth met Calladia’s gaze. He widened his eyes, silently begging her to jump in.
“What spell?” Calladia asked, thankfully drawing Sandranella’s attention away from him. “I’m not up to speed on the particulars of his banishment.”
“Why do you need to know?” Sandranella’s tone wasn’t mean, just matter-of-fact. “This is demon business.”
Astaroth jumped in before Calladia could argue. “She’s an ally. I trust her.”
Beside him, Calladia inhaled sharply.
“So much of an ally you didn’t bother to tell her about the spell?” Sandranella folded her arms over her breastplate. “Some trust.”
“He’s probably embarrassed,” Lilith said. “Performance anxiety and all that.”
“What?” Astaroth looked down his body, horrified at the idea a spell might affect his prowess. “I can perform just fine,” he hurriedly assured Calladia.
Lilith patted his forearm. “Don’t worry, dear. Aging must be mortifying, but we’ll find a way to fix this.”
An icy chill swept over Astaroth’s skin. Not a product of the wind, but a premonition. “Sorry,” he said, rubbing his temples and wondering if he’d misheard. “It’s been a busy few days. What do you mean, aging?”
Lilith frowned and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. “Are you feeling all right? I always say you’ll catch a chill spending so much time on Earth.” She shuddered. “At least move to the Bahamas, rather than that dismal, rainy country.”
How was he supposed to talk his way out of this? Did he even need to? His mother seemed odd but caring, and Sandranella didn’t come across as hostile either. But trusting another demon with the truth of his amnesia would leave him open to attack should his gut instinct be wrong.
Sandranella narrowed her dark brown eyes. “There’s something he’s not telling us.”
“Ooh,” Lilith said. “I forgot to ask. Astaroth, what is the pedigree of the mortal you’re fornicating with?”
Astaroth nearly choked.
Calladia gasped. “Excuse me, did you just ask about my pedigree? Like I’m a show poodle?”
Lilith’s brow furrowed as she looked Calladia over. “Oh, are you a shifter? Please say you’re house-trained, at least.”
Calladia made an outraged sound.
Sandranella sighed loudly. “Lilith, I know you’re thousands of years old and afflicted by madness, but can we please focus for a moment?”
“I’m not afflicted by madness.” Lilith winked. “Madness is afflicted by me.”
Sandranella pointedly turned away from Lilith and focused solely on Astaroth. “Astaroth, how long have we known each other?”
Bollocks. “A while?” he guessed.
She nodded as if he’d confirmed a theory. “What’s the last thing we did together before that high council meeting?”
“It’s . . . ah . . .” He racked his brain, but nothing emerged. “Went to brunch?” he guessed.
Sandranella snapped her fingers. “I knew it! You don’t remember, do you?”
Apparently the charade was over. Risky or not, he needed to come clean. “I may have a mild bout of amnesia.”
“Tell us everything,” Sandranella ordered.
Astaroth gave the condensed summary: a blinding headache, patchwork memories, and no recollection of whatever had happened to him before Moloch had portaled to Earth and attempted to kill him. After a recommendation from a warlock, they were currently on their way to a witch who could help restore Astaroth’s damaged brain and recover his memories so they could defeat Moloch, or, barring that, who might hold the key to ending the demon’s life.
Lilith did not take the news well.
“That wretched, smiling weasel had the gall to try to murder my son? I’m going to rip his entrails out, knit them into a scarf, and wear it while I cut him into pieces!” She unsheathed the dagger at her waist and flung it, skewering a birch tree with so much force the trunk split in half. “I’m going to use his shattered bones for toothpicks!”
“So you don’t even remember the spell.” Sandranella winced. “You may want to sit down for this.”
“Just tell me,” Astaroth said. “It’s not like things can get worse.”