Page 19 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

“I’m doing okay.” I fidgeted as she swooped in close, examining my bloody face and arms. “Thanks for checking on me, Chancellor Russo.”

“You don’t need the formality, Wally.”

“Youdon’t need the formality, Chancellor Russo.” I very much did. I understood my place among the hierarchy as an apprentice to a regiment I’d likely never join now, standing alone in a cell with a practitioner chancellor, third youngest to ever reach the rank of leading an entire regiment in our collective of mages.

I’d barely graduated with my apprenticeship intact three years ago, and Sarai moved from being an elite practitioner among the panacea regiment to running it by twenty-two. Her touch was soothing, casting waves of saturated healing mana meant to mend injuries I didn’t think existed anymore. And they didn’t—Bez’s bizarre connection had healed them. So her advanced healing strengthened my tired muscles, fueling me with buzzing energy that’d keep me up for days. Not that I could sleep. Not after all the death. All the horror. Everything that bound me to Beelzebub.

“Relax.” Sarai sat on the lumpy mattress, motioning for me to join her.

“What’s going on?”

“Right now?” She continued working. “I’m examining you, the extent of your Diabolic binding, and making sure there isn’t something deeper ailing you.”

“I didn’t perform a binding. Wouldn’t even know how.” My face heated. “Well, I’ve read about them. A little complex from my understanding, but easy enough. Still, with everything that happened, I didn’t have time. Not that I’d make time for a binding ritual. It just sort of happened by accident.”

Sarai smiled, continuing to channel her mana through me, rooting through my insides and searching for answers the most detailed MRI would miss. “I’m not here to question you, doubt you, or judge you, Wally.”

Maybe. But someone surely was. Otherwise, why else would they detain me?

“So, how’s work been in the repository?” Sarai grimaced. “Sorry. My small talk is lacking. Usually, I keep it simple and distracting while doing a scan of vitals before moving into the more invasive checks.”

“Invasive?”

“Yeah, getting the patient talking, comfortable, maybe even a bit chatty. Then”—she reached into her white coat, withdrawing a syringe—“when we get to the blood draw portion, it’s easier.”

“It’s fine. After everything, a needle doesn’t seem all that scary.” I turned away because while I knew the prick of the needle wouldn’t hurt nearly as badly as the beating I’d taken, the slicing of my hand, and the brash encounter with Bez, I still didn’t want to see the needle go in.

Sarai swabbed my arm. “Here we go.”

“You’re not supposed to tell someone when you stab them.” I winced, preparing for the inevitable jab.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

I blinked. Wow.

Sarai tucked three vials of blood into her coat pocket. I hadn’t felt a thing. Also, the crimson tendrils didn’t reach out or stop the needle. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about them. What if they’d reacted? Struck Sarai? Made my Diabolic binding all the more terrifying?

“Why hadn’t they?” I asked.

“Huh?” Sarai raised a brow, then quickly recovered and grinned. She’d grown accustomed to my need to think aloud.

“There were these tendrils that appeared when Bez tried to stab me,” I explained as I’d also done to the vanguard. Which should’ve made it clear his intentions were as malicious toward me as every mage in the city. State. World. “Maybe they only react when he attacks me. No, then they would’ve stopped him from tackling me down the stairs.”

“Good thing you’re not concussed,” Sarai interrupted. Her exam would’ve revealed any injuries, so many already healed by the Diabolic essence inside me.

Maybe the tendrils reacted when it was something life threatening. They’d intercepted every serious strike Bez attempted. It might only have prevented him from harming me, or it might have acted on more serious threats from anyone. I had a hypothesis, but it’d require testing if I wanted it to carry any weight.

“Could you stab me?”

“Whoa. Um, no?”

“Not like in the chest. Well, maybe. Something that’d be semi life threatening but not like actually threatening.”

“No.”

“It won’t hurt much. Probably,” I said. “Plus, I’ll heal fast. Maybe. Most likely.”

“I’m not stabbing you.”

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