Chapter Three

"Finally,” Diantha Spark wailed. “I’d nearly given up on grandbabies.”

Mariel shared an alarmed look with the demon, though she suspected they were alarmed about different things. Ozroth the Ruthless, otherwise known as Ozroth the Massive Inconvenience. His gold eyes—a color she’d never seen on a human—were wide, and for once in their short acquaintance, he seemed speechless. The pink beanie stretched awkwardly over his horns, but she was counting on Diantha being too distracted to notice.

“Yes, we’re very happy,” Mariel said, hurrying towards the demon. She wrapped her hand around his arm, though her skin crawled at the contact with his too-warm skin. She lifted up on her toes as if she was going to kiss his cheek. “If you don’t play along,” she whispered, “I will explode you.”

Mariel didn’t think she was capable of blowing up anyone—animal, demon, or otherwise—on purpose, but he didn’t know that. She glared at him as ferociously as she could, and the demon swallowed, then nodded.

Mariel switched her attention back to her mother. “So as I said, I’m busy right now and can’t—”

“Tell me everything,” Diantha said, rushing forward. She grabbed Ozroth’s free hand, and Mariel winced. “How did you meet my baby girl? Do you have a stable job? What’s your magical ability level? I know she’s incompetent, but she’s trying, bless her.”

“Mom!”

“We met recently,” Ozroth said, voice smooth as silk. He had the most interesting accent—like British mixed with Australian and spiced with something archaic. Though he couldn’t have enjoyed being grabbed, his smile was warm and wide as he focused his attention on Diantha. “Mariel is a lovely woman, and that’s all to your credit, Mrs. . . .”

He trailed off, but luckily, Diantha was too excited to question it. “Oh, please call me Diantha! She’s never dated before, you know. Such an odd duck! But the prophecy—” She shivered, and a blissful smile broke out over her red lips. “Well, once it comes to pass, you’re going to be a very lucky man, indeed.” She patted his hand. “Just try to endure until then, all right?”

Mariel’s cheeks burned. It was embarrassing enough to have accidentally summoned a demon. Her mother meeting said demon and then shaming Mariel in front of him was an extra level of humiliation. The exploded chicken was shaping up to be the high point of the day.

“I’m already lucky,” the demon said, extricating his hand from Diantha’s. He grabbed Mariel’s fingers, then brought her hand to his lips. His mouth, like his fingers, was hot, and his eyes burned with mischief as he kissed the back of her hand.

Mariel scoffed. Of course he was capable of being charming. How else was he supposed to seduce souls out of the unwary? But Mariel was no naïf to be tricked by soft lips and sweet compliments—her mother’s knowledge of Mariel’s dating history was thankfully limited through a mixture of elaborate subterfuge and blind luck—and she knew what festered behind those pretty gold eyes. Demons were deceptive monsters, which meant she couldn’t trust a word that came out of his mouth.

“Now tell me about you,” Ozroth said, switching his attention to Diantha. “I can already tell you’re a fascinating woman.”

      *

An hour later, Mariel was on her second mug of chamomile tea, wondering how long a man—or demon, rather—could manage to look interested in a conversation. They’d migrated to the living room, where Ozroth sat on a couch with her mother while Mariel perched in a floral-patterned armchair. Diantha had regaled Ozroth the Ruthless with her entire life story and then some, yet he still leaned forward and smiled, even though she hadn’t even asked him his name.

“And you won the trophy for the tenth time,” Ozroth said in a low, purr-like voice. “What an amazing accomplishment.”

Diantha preened, fluffing her hair. “Not that amazing, considering my skill.”

Ozroth nodded. “You’re powerful. I can feel it.”

That drew the attention of both witches. “You can feel magical power?” Diantha asked, sitting up straight.

He was still grinning like a fricking toothpaste ad. His canines were sharp and slightly overlong, and Mariel wondered if he ever bit his prey. “My own talents as a warlock are minimal,” he said, “but my one skill is sensing magic. Mariel is exceptionally powerful.” He nodded at Diantha. “Good genes.”

Mariel bit her tongue. He should add lying and blowing smoke up people’s asses to his list of skills.

Diantha shot a damning look at Mariel. “Unfortunately, she hasn’t learned to harness that power.”

Mariel flinched. “Yes, thank you. You’ve only told him a million times how terrible I am.”

Diantha pouted. “I’m only trying to help. A bit of pressure can be useful.”

A “bit of pressure” had made a wreck of Mariel’s life. She wasn’t in therapy for nothing.

“Your daughter,” Ozroth said, “has the brightest magical aura I’ve ever encountered. She’s destined for great things.” His gaze slid to Mariel, and a smirk tilted his detestable lips. The “great things” he was envisioning probably involved her sacrificing her immortal soul to power his Wi-Fi.

“Speaking of destiny,” Mariel said, seizing the moment and standing up, “I need to do some research. I’m so sorry to leave, but I really think this will help me improve my spellcraft.”

Diantha nodded. “Go study, dear. Your boyfriend can entertain me.”

Was Mariel imagining things, or had Ozroth winced? “Actually,” he said, rising from the couch, “I need to go . . . feed my cat.” He nodded. “Yes, my cat is very hungry.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” Mariel said in a saccharine tone. “Are you sure you can’t stay?”

“Yes, do stay,” Diantha said, pouting her bloodred lips.

“I do have a cat,” Ozroth confirmed. “And no, I have to go.” He looped an arm around Mariel’s waist, and Mariel nearly choked on her own spit. “I’m sure you have very important places to be, too.”

“Oh, yes!” Diantha stood, fanning herself with one manicured hand. “There’s never enough time in the day, is there?”

It took twenty more minutes to get her mom out of the house. When she was gone, Mariel sagged against the closed front door. Ozroth ripped the pink beanie off and threw it on the floor, then ran a hand through his dark hair, fluffing it back to its earlier perfection. It was long enough to conceal parts of the onyx horns that curved along his head.

“That was . . . a lot,” he said.

Mariel groaned. “Welcome to my life.”

“Is she always like that?”

Mariel grimaced. “She’s gotten more intense over the years. Back when I was a kid and she thought I would be the best witch in a thousand years, she was all compliments. It was only when I started to fail that she got so . . .” She paused, trying to think of an appropriate descriptor for her mother. Obsessive? Rude? Terrifying? “Overbearing.”

He cocked his head again, eyes tracing over her. His gaze was eerily intense, like he was looking under her skin. Maybe he was—Mariel knew jack shit about demons. “You are powerful,” he said. “It’s plain to see.”

Mariel was tired of hearing about her supposed power. Plants loved her, but all she’d managed to do otherwise was blow things up and summon inappropriate objects, and she didn’t want to think about the accidental enchantments. Love spells weren’t so fun when Mariel had accidentally gotten distracted by the state of her cucumbers while trying to help a friend with her crush.

“Try telling my magic that,” she said bitterly, pushing past the demon to return to her kitchen. The book sat open on the table, taunting her with knowledge out of her reach. They can offer a witch or warlock any boon, but at a high price. Yeah, but how did she get rid of a demon?

She stepped on a shard of teapot and winced as it dug into her heel. Yet another casualty of Mariel’s lack of talent.

The brush of leaves against her cheek made her sigh. She turned her head towards her spider plant, which stroked her with its long fronds. “Can you get rid of a demon?” she asked it softly. “Maybe the apple tree can help.” The image of Ozroth trapped in a tangle of roots before being sucked underground was an appealing one, but unfortunately, Mariel didn’t think she could be that cruel. Even to a demon.

“So you have trouble with your magic.” Ozroth leaned against the refrigerator, and Mariel was distracted by how large he was. He was tall and broad, and when he crossed his arms, his biceps strained against his black T-shirt. Apparently working out was a thing in Hell.

The demon plane, she corrected herself. Although that made her think of an airplane full of brooding demons all bitching about the lack of legroom.

He snapped his fingers, and Mariel jerked back to awareness. “What?” she asked, cheeks heating as she realized she’d zoned out while staring at his chest.

“You’re having trouble with your magic,” Ozroth said. “I can help with that.”

She scoffed. “Let me guess, for the price of my soul? I’d get control of my magic, and then you’d immediately take it away.”

He scowled. “I shouldn’t have told you it worked like that.”

“Yeah, well, you did.” She grabbed a broom from the closet, then started sweeping up the remains of her teapot. What a mess she’d gotten herself into.

A large hand closed around the broom handle, and Mariel flinched. “Allow me,” the demon said.

She relinquished the broom, backing away. She didn’t like how hot the air was around him or the way her skin prickled at his nearness. “I am not buying your housekeeping services,” she said as she bumped into the table. “Just to be clear.”

He made a huffing sound as he started sweeping. Was he laughing at her? “You know,” he said conversationally as he gathered the teapot shards into a pile, “I can help you with your magic anyway. Without the soul.”

“Why would you do that?”

He shrugged. “It’ll entertain me while you figure out what favor you want.”

He was really convinced she was going to make a deal with him. Mariel might not have inherited anything else from Diantha Spark, but she only bent so far when challenged. When Mariel dug her heels in, she dug in hard. “Never going to happen. There’s nothing I want enough to give my soul to you.” Legacy aside, keeping her soul—and thus her magic—meant keeping her garden alive. It meant the warm, cozy thrum of power in her chest. It meant the chance to someday make her family proud.

Ozroth smirked. “We’ll see.”

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