Isobel inspected it, then folded the contract and set it on the fireplace mantel. “Relax and close your eyes,” she said.
A moment later, her fingers touched his temples. She spoke spells under her breath, and as her fingers fluttered and tapped against his skull, a wave of cool, soothing energy spread through his head before dissipating.
“There,” she said. “The physical damage will heal more quickly.”
He opened his eyes. “That was fast.”
Isobel inclined her head with a small smile. “I have been honing my skills for a long time. Brains are complex, so this will need a period of natural healing as well, but I fixed your superficial injuries while I was at it. Consider it a first-time customer bonus.”
He’d gotten so used to avoiding touching the scab on his head, he hadn’t realized it was gone. When he tentatively prodded his skull, he found unbroken skin, and his black eye felt similarly healed. Even his cut finger was whole again. “Cheers, appreciate it.”
“About the other issue,” Calladia said. “How many witches can reduce an immortal life span?”
“Several that I’m aware of can manipulate human lives,” Isobel said, resuming her seat. “That’s the reason a witch was able to turn you mortal,” she told Astaroth. “The ones I know can’t influence the life spans of other species, but your human half made you an acceptable target.” She tapped her chin, looking thoughtful. “Although I suppose someone out there might be capable of influencing a pure demon. Life magic is a rare discipline, but there are enough practitioners I can’t say who was responsible.” She shrugged. “Alas.”
“Let’s say there’s a purebred demon we want to eliminate,” Astaroth said. “You’re saying you can’t kill him with your magic?”
“With magic? No. With a guillotine? Sure.”
Curses. Isobel was a dead end on the “kill Moloch” front, but maybe the witch could still assist them. “Can you restore my immortality?” Astaroth asked, hoping it would be that easy.
“That is more complicated,” Isobel said. “It isn’t as easy as telling someone to ‘live long and prosper.’ No one can conjure life from nothing; it must be a trade. That is why Alzapraz looks the way he does. To attain eternal life without harvesting it from others, he had to trade away his physical health.” She sighed. “A shame. He was such a virile lover.”
“Why don’t you look old, then?” Calladia asked.
“I trade the lives of others to extend my own,” she said calmly.
“What?” Calladia demanded, sitting up straight. “You kill people?”
Isobel shrugged. “I outsource most of the murder.”
Astaroth was getting the sense Isobel wasn’t an empathetic sort. He considered his options. “So you’re saying if I want to be immortal and not physically decrepit, I need to kill people and harvest their lives?”
“No,” Isobel said. “You’ll need to bring me the people to kill so I can harvest their lives and add them to your life span. Otherwise they’ll just be dead.” She cocked her head, studying Calladia. “We can start with her, if you like. No charge for the first one, as proof of concept.”
Calladia shot to her feet. “What the hell? You are not harvesting my life, you creep.” Her hands fisted at her sides like she was thinking about punching the witch.
Astaroth would punch the witch first if she lifted a finger against Calladia. “She’s off-limits,” he snapped, standing as well.
Calladia shot him a damning look. “So are other people. You do not get to hop off the redemption train just to get on the murder train.”
That seemed unfair. “What if I only kill annoying people?”
“No!”
He made a frustrated noise. “It’s no different than bargaining. Well, a little different.” A lot different, actually, and the more he thought about the concept, the more it nauseated him. For all his flaws, Astaroth didn’t kill indiscriminately.
But if it was between that and becoming so physically frail he could barely function . . .
“The people whose souls you harvest consent to that,” Calladia said. “Not that I approve of soul bargains either.”
“Some people consent to being killed,” Isobel said. “You might try Hagslist.”
Astaroth wasn’t familiar. “Hagslist?”
“It’s an online marketplace,” Isobel explained. “Most often used to find housing, odd items, and unusual sexual encounters.”
“And you can find consensual murder victims on there?” How intriguing. Humans were such a strange species. “I wonder if the platform can be leveraged for soul bargains.”
“We are not having this conversation,” Calladia said. She pointed sternly at Astaroth. “No Hagslist. No murder!”
Astaroth had a burst of inspiration. He turned to Isobel. “What if I bring you an immortal? Would it be possible to harvest their life, and then we only need to do it once?”
“Only if they’re half human.”
He could probably rustle up another immortal demon-human hybrid, but the idea of trading their life for his didn’t sit well. “Otherwise I’ve got to bring you a mortal every few decades to top off.” That didn’t sit well either.
“That’s the unfortunate thing about humans,” Isobel said. “Like Snickers bars, they’re good for brief bursts of energy, but they’re not filling.”
Calladia looked appalled. “Why do you talk about people like that?” she asked Isobel. “You used to be human—or at least part human.”
Isobel fingered the pointed tips of her ears. “After you’ve lived many life spans, the kinship with other mortals falls away.”
“Maybe if you weren’t murdering them, you would still feel a kinship.” Calladia’s voice was growing louder. “Witches aren’t supposed to use their powers to prey on other people.”
Isobel sipped her tea, looking unbothered. “The youth are always full of moral outrage.”
Calladia looked like she was about to start punching, so Astaroth stepped between them. “Excuse us a moment, Isobel.”
Astaroth took Calladia’s elbow and guided her out of earshot. “She’s not going to stop killing people because you’re upset with her,” he whispered. “And frankly, if she’s that murder-happy, we probably shouldn’t antagonize her.”
Calladia glared at him. “I’m more worried about her convincing you to murder people to regain your stupid immortality.”
“What if they consent to be killed? And it isn’t stupid,” Astaroth said. “I need to regain my position on the high council. I can’t do that as a mortal.”
“Why not? Who says you have to be a pure-blooded demon or even an immortal to serve on the council?”
He scoffed. “Because that’s how it’s always been.”
“Things can change.”
“Not this thing.” Council appointments were for life unless someone retired, was removed by group consensus, or was executed. Debates could last for decades. How could a mortal accomplish anything in such a brief span of years?