Page 35 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

“Point is,” Al said, “Chancellor Driscoll’s pledge for interim magus went unchallenged.”

“Not to be rude,” Bez said. “Correction: full intention of being rude. Your theory simply sounds like typical mage hierarchy bullshit. Not a conspiracy.”

“He’s not wrong.” I reached for a second mimosa because I very much wanted a buzz to continue this conversation.

Bez bopped my hand. “Get your own.”

“I asked for a refill on my water five of your cocktails ago.” I rattled the ice in my empty glass and snatched a second flute of orangey champagne.

“There’s more,” Al said. “His elite vanguard squad was the first to respond.”

“Ooooh,” Bez interjected. I glanced at him, assuming he held some curiosity for the mages responsible for detaining him.

Nope.

Of course, it wasn’t the potentially nefarious plot underfoot. He was giddy because the server had brought his triple chocolate banana raspberry waffles smothered in cool whip and a side of tabasco sauce with pickles soaked in the dish. I cringed, knowing he’d probably put the spicy pickles on his waffles.

“Enjoy.” Our server brushed a lock of hair behind her pointed ear, smiling at Bez.

“Thank you so much for your excellent service,” Bez said with a sultry rasp in his voice.

I rolled my eyes.

“I would like to note, however, that you brought the wrong eggs.”

Our server’s vibrant purple eyes widened. “Pretty sure you ordered poached.”

“Not me, darling.” Bez chuckled. “My annoying friend. Well, friend is a strong word.Associate. Heavy on the ass.”

Bez and our server giggled in unison.

“It’s fine. It’s not a big deal,” I said.

“I’ve got a few tables to cover, but I’ll be back to check on you.”

Bez grabbed her wrist and cocked his head. His sunglasses slid ever so, revealing his dark red eyes surrounded by pink.

“Bez,” I hissed, scanning each of the nearby tables in case someone noticed.

“Actually, I’m going to insist you rectify this oversight.” Bez’s smile vanished. “He’s barely touched his meal, and I can’t have my associate underfed.”

Everything went silent. The chatter of nearby tables. The bustle inside the restaurant. The busy street beside us. All of it vanished aside from a subtle ringing accompanied by a slithering sound. It was sticky and grimy, and everyone seemed locked into the ticking seconds, unfazed by this tremendously terrifying presence. I turned, eyeing those nearby. They moved like molasses.

A faint screech wailed in the distance, growing louder and louder until the elf’s teeth chattered and her entire body trembled. Her screech turned into an agonizing shriek, and then the world went completely silent. Nothing for several seconds until every noise in and outside the restaurant bustled again. I shook at the sudden onslaught.

“Let me get this order fixed.” She grabbed my plate, simultaneously snatching a pitcher from a nearby station to refill my water before disappearing.

I widened my eyes, stretching them so far, my eyebrows brushed my curly bangs. “What’d you do?”

“Diabolic dreams,” Al said, unimpressed by the loss of time. “One of your many abilities, correct?”

“I asked her politely first.” Bez shrugged.

I’d read about those, literal living nightmares cast on the person with a simple gaze. I shuddered. There were so many Diabolic abilities I needed to review, to understand better. I squirmed, counting on my fingers all the powers I’d read and comparing them to things I’d witnessed.

His advanced recovery. His augmented strength and speed. The way he could unleash parts of his devil form at will. Telekinesis. The black barrier he’d conjured for protection. There was also Diabolic control over the elements, which was nothing like mages or witches who synced with nature. Diabolics perverted it, bent it to their control—hence the black flames.

“A thank you would be appreciated.”

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