Page 14 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

So many questions I’d had for Bez, for Beelzebub, surfaced. He was a devil reigning over a Diabolic realm filled with an army of demons. Each devil was a construct of infinite darkness, born of strife, malice, and hatred. Supposedly, every time a new devil tore itself from the seams of universe, a new Hell dimension was created, demons born, and in that world, the devil ruled. Rarely did they come to our world.

There were so many things about Diabolics I wanted to understand. If they had the ability to rip through dimensional planes like the Fae, why didn’t they? Why had Bez come to our world? Why hadn’t he brought an army of demons with him? Why had none come for him? Questions to things the Nexus Grimoire held no answers to and thoughts I never believed would be satiated because I didn’t believe I’d actually come face to face with a devil.

He leaned close, smirking, and tapped my forehead with the sharp blade. “Thinking. Always thinking, aren’t you? Here you are, lying on the floor at a devil’s feet, and your mind is probably buzzing with a thousand thoughts. Annoying questions. Trembling curiosity on how you managed to be the last living person in the Magus Estate. Frightened musings on how badly I’m going to eviscerate you.”

I closed my eyes, refusing to look at his face, the wicked, gloating grin.

“I’ll take that as my cue to begin.”

The blade lifted from my face, and Beelzebub roared. A loud howl which boomed from the acoustics in this room. I trembled, awaiting the first of what’d be many agonizing blows. The tip of the blade pricked my stomach, stopping short of impaling me. I grimaced.

“Hmm. Perhaps that’d be too quick.”

The blade lifted. Bez’s feet bounced beside me, the sticky thud of the boots tapping against the floor and lifting repeatedly. Was he fidgeting? Antsy? Nope. I kept my eyes closed.

He shouted again. This time the blade pinched the inside of my thigh, and yet again stopped shy of piercing my flesh. My legs quaked and my flesh quivered against the sharp tip.

“No. I need to be cautious of those arteries. Don’t want you bleeding out too fast. Won’t be fun then.”

“Dammit, just do something,” I snapped. Somehow his difficulty in deciding how best to torture me was an even more brutal agony than the beating I took earlier.

“Don’t rush me. You’re my first kill in half a century. Possession aside—doesn’t count. I want a real kill.” Bez strolled around me, circling like a vulture. “It needs to be just right. It’s been a while, and I’m rusty.” He stopped moving, feet bouncing again, working himself up. “Bad enough you’re not my first choice. But beggars can’t be choosers, and the choices are slim at this point.”

I opened one of my eyes. “Are you seriously talking about killing me like it’s some two in the morning bar hookup?”

“Absolutely not. It’s far more intimate than screwing.” Bez slapped his forehead with the flat end of the blade. “Intimacy is what we’re missing. Sorry. It’s been so long. Not at all like riding a biker.”

He hurled the blade again, swinging it into a powerful clank as it drove into a stone load bearing pillar. Dropping to his knees, Bez crawled toward me on all fours. Slinking like a beast, teeth bared, and eyeing each of my limbs before resting on my stomach. No, no, no. I backed away, using my elbows to carry me swiftly from his clutches until I could roll over and scramble to my feet. I didn’t want to die. And like he said—he was rusty. I’d outrun him. Or die trying. Definitely going to die.

“Where you going?”

Fuck this devil!

I raced toward the foyer doors, grabbing the handle with my bloody palm. It burned, sending pin needles surging up my arm. Ignoring it, I pulled the door open. Once outside I could…well, running was really all that came to mind despite a thousand ways it’d all go wrong.

Bez appeared next to me in a flash, slamming his shoulder against the door, shutting it. He then popped his hip against mine. Either by the will of telekinesis or the sheer overwhelming physical strength a devil possessed, the light collision of our hips sent me flying across the room. I crashed onto a sofa, a hard thud which knocked the couch into a wall. The stiff cushions did little to soften the landing. Bez appeared again, instantaneous and before I had my bearings, standing in front of me one second and then straddling my waist the next. His body moved mystifyingly fast.

His touch started warm and gentle, but it quickly became less gentle and more invasive. Prodding my face, licking dried blood, tugging my hair. Only when he stopped to sniff me did the blurring movements cease.

“There it is. Under the fear, the dread, the weakness…it’d seem there’s a bit of courage buried deep inside, Worthless Walter.” Bez’s teeth chattered. Each rattling clack wormed itself into my eardrums. The weight of his body pressed down onto my thighs, pinning me to the couch. “Even a bit of mana seeped down in your core. Too bad you’ll never learn to use it.”

“You don’t know me.” I shoved my hands against his chest. The muscles were firm like steel; pushing against him was like moving a boulder. Impossible. Unless… Magic might be the very thing I needed to level this fight. At least long enough to escape.

“I know you too well.” He ran his hands over my face, pressing along the bruises. It hurt, and he smirked. Slowly, he traced his fingertips down my neck, resting a hand on my throat. “Part of why I’ll take some small satisfaction in snuffing out your life.”

Tilting his head quizzically, I figured he was contemplating if strangling me would offer the satisfaction he craved. He shook his head. Clearly, me gasping for breath wouldn’t be fun for him. Delicately, carefully, he slid his fingertips along my chest, resting on my stomach. He poked at my flesh in different places like he was testing the waters.

Fuck. He wanted to make sure he didn’t hit an organ. This sick bastard was going to torture me for hours. Days. Or until someone arrived.Ifsomeone arrived. For all I knew, the attack on the estate was a preamble. This group, organization, whatever they were could’ve struck the Regiment Headquarters too. Our outpost facilities. They could’ve killed the leaders of the six regiments and worked their way through the Mythic Council. For all I knew, outside this manor, the entire city of Seattle could be on fire. If it wasn’t, it would be soon since I allowed a devil to escape.

I didn’t have anything to write down an incantation, and my verse on chanting incantations sucked too so spells weren’t an option either way. Saturation was a possibility, yet the only thing in my grasp to pour mana into was couch cushions. Not sure a pillow fight would break Bez’s grasp. Glamours rarely affected those with access and understanding of magic, and usually required a level of expertise I lacked. I’d never established a familiar bond before, and I’d rather not start by summoning an animal to face its death against a Diabolic. The only slightly viable magic I had to access from the Pentacles of Power was elemental magic.

Taking a deep breath because who cared at this point, I channeled wind. Bez paused, staring directly into my soul. I unleashed what air I could muster in a single shot, and Bez leaned back. He gripped my shoulders, refusing to release them. I failed to knock him off.

As the gust settled and his ruffled hair fell back in place, he leaned forward and headbutted me. I shouted, and he winced, hiding it with a chuckle.

“That’s the good ole college try.” Bez patted my chest. “But then, you failed at college. Or might as well have. A legacy with all the advantages in the world, and you’re what? A seventh-year apprentice? Eighth? Do you even bother tracking the number of years anymore, or is it a sore spot?”

It was. Made worse by Bez poking me in my actually sore ribs. When he jabbed at my tender torso, his convulsed in unison.

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