Page 33 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

I rolled my eyes. “I could’ve done that.”

“Made one for you too, devil. But I see you’ve got it covered.”

“How do I look?” Walter looked up at me.

“The same.” Which he did. Nervous grin, curly blond hair, hazel eyes frantically searching my expression for tone or sarcasm. Nothing had changed in his features either. Same dimpled cheeks, small nose, and jutted chin.

“Diabolics and their resistance to the Pentacles of Power.” Alistair chuckled. “It’s fine. Should work on everyone else.”

True, but a practitioner could easily see through deceptive glamours. Would this glamour Alistair provided oh so conveniently be enough to trick his fellows? I wasn’t convinced.

“Let’s discuss this over a meal,” Alistair said. “There’s a lovely elven cuisine around the corner. Outdoor seating which will offer a bit of distance for private conversation and public enough to hide in plain sight.”

This was the first thing that’d come out of Alistair’s mouth I didn’t immediately distrust.

“I could go for some food,” I said.

The high-ranked sentinel practitioner led Walter and me out of the alley and down the crowded street.

Walter pulled me aside, leaning in so close the lavender body wash he’d used became the only scent in this swarm of scrambling shoppers. “W-why’d you kiss me back there?”

“Huh? Oh. That. Yeah. Hmm.” I grinned, minxy, intimidating, and frazzling Walter long enough to contemplate my reasoning. “I was simply abiding by your rules.”

“What?”

“Your rambles are deadly. Those poor unsuspecting sentinels had no idea what they were walking in on.”

“Talking doesn’t kill people,” he hissed, gritting his teeth.

“Trust me, your voice holds a violence unlike any I’ve heard before.” I gestured. “See, you’ve still got that whole contrived over-complicated explanation face—yikes. I simply worried you’d talk the sentinels to death as a diversion. Since you’re so opposed to murder, I didn’t want you breaking your own rule.”

“Jerk.”

I winked.

He stormed ahead, joining his brother for our little investigative meeting which would likely lead to nothing. Staying back a bit, I searched more recesses of the memories I’d kept, skimming for names, locations, or anything that’d actually uncover this conspiracy and lead back to Worthless Walter. Their choice in making him a patsy was a bizarre one, indeed.

I craned my neck, sniffing the air. Whether Walter’s brother intended on leading us into a trap remained unknown, but darkness clustered in the air, a delicate thread of crimson-black fibers thinner than hair and stronger than steel unseen by all in Mercury’s Marketplace other than myself. Carefully crafted webs stalked our movements toward the restaurant.

I huffed. Guess I’d have to determine if she’d come as a friend or foe. Of course, I couldn’t allow Walter to realize or he’d pester me with a thousand questions. He’d question me even more if we walked into a demon’s trap. As if the Collective wasn’t enough of a hassle—I really didn’t have time for Diabolic drama, too.

11

11

Walter

Bez ordered half the menu when we arrived. The elven server had brought him three appetizers, four mimosas, and his second entrée before she brought my only ordered dish. Bez shoveled food in his mouth in the most obscene manner. I should’ve been listening to Al or ignoring Bez. Instead, my mind wandered back to that kiss. Most of what Al said came down to idle chit chat anyway while we’d ordered, flirting with the server or joking about Bez’s appetite.

Why had Bez kissed me? My ears burned. Why couldn’t I get it out of my head? His lips were soft and aggressive. His tongue was invasive, the worst type of kiss, and yet… I bit my lower lip, worried I’d debate it out loud at the table. He did it as a diversion because he claimed my slight talkativeness would be…NO.

There was a passion in his touch. I couldn’t get his hands out of my head. The way they caressed me, touching every part of my body as his lips consumed me. How his panted breaths synced with mine and time simply stopped. Fear. Anxiety. Dread. It all washed away in those short seconds. Was that all an act, too?

My body vibrated at the memory. Was it purely out of distraction? It worked, totally throwing off the sentinels. But was he interested in me? He had straddled my waist but that was in an effort to murder me. Was it that strange instinctual compulsion he’d vaguely referenced? He had flaunted his very naked body last night.

I shook my head. No. Watching him eat the bratwurst he’d insisted on substituting for the maple sausage links, he clearly wanted to get a rise out of me. What better way than to mess with my head? Bez knew all about my guy problems, my lack of dates, my awkward inability to talk to anybody except for him the past three years, mainly because he never answered back.

He was a Diabolic, which wouldn’t be a bad thing—it wasn’t as if they could all be cruel, murderous beings—except Bez had already attempted to murder me, a chancellor, and several mages including Ian.

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