Page 13 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

The loll in his voice was sadistic. Droplets of fresh blood dripped onto my cheek, running over the dried blood on my face that pulled and itched at my skin. Someone else he crushed beneath his heel or maybe he had stepped in one of the pools of puddling blood across the estate.

He plopped down. Literally fell to his ass, landing on my back like he thudded onto a couch. “Crushing your skull would be satisfying, but way too quick and boring.”

“Get off of me.”

Bez sucked his teeth with some grating, contemplative whistling. “No.”

“You can kill me, but you can’t—”

“You’re right, I can kill you. And I will. However, there’s literally nothing I can’t do. Except get that awful song you were humming earlier out of my head. How’s it go again?” He hummed. “It’d help if you could hold a tune or offered some lyrics.”

He continued humming the song I’d had stuck in my head earlier. Something simple and sweet and silly when my evening was supposed to end early with a date.

Ian. My chest tightened, partly from the pressure of Bez on my back but also in fear for Ian’s safety. He wasn’t here, but he would be soon. All the mage regiments would arrive once they realized the magus was in danger. Would it be enough to stop a devil? A devil that killed over three hundred mages before Magus Remington detained him inside the orb. I shuddered. Everything happened so fast, and I let it shatter between my hands. I couldn’t do anything right.

“Kind of ironic. The one night you’re happy, the whole world goes to shit.” Bez cackled. “Maybe not irony. A sign for sure. Worthless Walter’s joy brings doom upon the world.”

I squirmed beneath him, attempting to lift myself up and knock him off my back. Too exhausted, I collapsed back onto the floor. Besides, I had no plan for if I got free. Run? From a devil? Very unlikely. Fight? Given how even the best mages with access to all five Pentacles of Power would waver in the face of a devil, I didn’t like my odds.

“Back pain?” he asked.

“What?”

“I feel you there,” Bez said, jabbing his finger dead center into my upper back where his feet had collided with me a moment ago.

I twitched, grinding my teeth. He wouldn’t have the satisfaction of a scream. He walked his fingers along my spine, playful, and sinister. I waited for the cruelty as two fingers walked over sensitive skin, likely already bruising. He poked me again, and I yelped.

“Yeah, right there. I’ve got the same gnawing ache in my back, too. Not sure if it’s because it’s been so long since I possessed a body or if this mage simply had shitty posture. Either way, it’s like a pinched nerve. So annoying. Not as annoying as you, but you know.”

My teeth chattered.

“We can be bruise buddies.” Bez slapped my back, making me yelp again. “Well, you’ve got a lot more bruises.”

“What do you want?”

“I’m bored.” Bez adjusted, fidgeting around on top of me, crisscrossing his legs. “I’ve done a quality lap around the entire estate. Everyone’s dead. Corpses everywhere. Mostly your mage fellows, but they took out a few of the intruders. Seemed like a big, very calculated strike.”

“Everyone’s dead?” My breathing hastened. My eyes watered. Everyone? No. Surely someone else had lived. Escaped. The portals were down but…

I looked to the closed foyer doors leading out of the estate. Had no one gotten this far? Had no alert been signaled for help?

“Everyone. Even that insufferable magus.”

“Did you ki…kill…” I panted, terrified for an answer and whatever came next while trapped beneath Bez.

“Kill Magus Remington? I wish,” Bez huffed, a grumbling irritation. “I would’ve liked to kill some of the sentinels too, but alas, all dead. Would’ve even settled for killing a Mythic or misfit mage, but they’re gone. Well, the ones who aren’t dead.”

He meant like the mage he possessed. Misfit mages were known for offering their services freely, breaking away from tradition and serving their own needs. A light term for mages who indulged in chaos for profit. Murdering the magus, the estate, and killing so many in a full-scale attack was bigger than some hired mages.

Bez hopped off my back, and I rolled over, taking a deep breath. Standing above me was a devil in human flesh. His Diabolic nature had fully rooted inside the host body—red eyes with pink filling the whites, his veins slithered, bulging and black, filled with Diabolic essence, worming inside the cells of the human host.

“Get up, Walter.” He nudged me with his foot.

“No. You’re gonna kill me. Just get it over with already.” I couldn’t even muster bravery in the hollow words. I didn’t want to die. Didn’t want to suffer at his hands. But what could I do? Nothing. At least I could refuse his rude request.

“Die like a man, a mage, a mortal with some pride. Stand up.” Bez snapped his fingers, the blade he’d hurled twirling in the air and then reaching his grip with a telekinetic pull. Diabolic magics had a vast array of capabilities. If he wanted me dead, literally this second, he could do so in about a hundred different ways. “You really want to die like that ghoul you impaled?”

“What?” I scrunched my face. Was he screwing with me? I barely dragged myself out of the repository when I came to. I assumed he’d stabbed her when taking possession over the mage’s body.

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