Page 40 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

“Her name is Mora—Morax. The only demon I’ve ever trusted and still trust.” The tether connecting us snatched me forcefully, drawing a confession. “A former demon king who ruled among the hierarchy of demon lords in another Hell realm, one she abandoned long ago when escaping to this world. Goddammit. We set rules.”

“What?!”

“You broke a rule. The only rule I’d set.” I shoved him. “You issued a command.”

“Not on purpose.” He backstepped, frazzled and confused, his eyes already studying the implications of how he’d triggered the command.

“You still broke a rule.”

Motherfucker. He wanted to find a way to control the Diabolic binding, always studying everything he could down to the deepest core of truth. An annoying trait of his I’d learned to read from the subtlest shift in his quizzical expressions. The arch in his brow, probably asking himself if his tone played a part. The way his fingers tapped his chin while biting his lower lip. Whatever thought had appeared, he’d doubted it. Fingers strumming his chin always meant he wanted to cross off the potential hypothesis but hadn’t found a better solution yet. I growled.

His anxiety ate away at me, stirring my insides. I hated it. Couldn’t decide if it was this bond we shared or three unbearable years of observations, but I had such an acute sense of his inner thoughts and irritating quirks.

“Just spit out whatever you’re thinking, you insufferable bastard.”

“It’s nothing.” He feigned a weak smile.

“Say it, Walter.”

“I’m not sure how commands work, so how can I abide by the rule without accidentally invoking them? You know? And I’d ask you, but you’d likely yell or lie or both because you’d be worried I’d use said knowledge against you. In reality, I’d have more clarity on how to prevent this from happening in the future.”

“You want to know how to avoid commands?” I stepped in close, my chest nearly pressed to his.

His heart thumped faster, and his body warmed from my swift approach. The sensation crept beneath my flesh like a rotted infection of feeling.

“Let’s just find those vanguards your brother suspects and get this over with.” I adjusted my tie, tightening the knot around my neck, hoping to suffocate anything considerate or helpful or kind or equally curious that might accidentally spill out in conversation.

Whether intentional or not, Walter had already broken our deal. Which meant he’d break it again. More likely, he wouldn’t hold it up to begin with. Little wormy mage was probably already conspiring ways to handle me after our bond broke because, as the Diabolic, I was the real threat here. It wasn’t like I’d get anything from this deal we’d established anyway. The only certainty it’d offer was clearing Walter’s name. The only thing he offered was a guarantee to wait out our bond so I could leave in peace and a chance for mages and Mythics to see Diabolics in a positive light. Why’d I even entertain the idea it’d help prove Diabolics weren’t the enemy? Twice in my long centuries, I’d roamed this realm and attempted to show I wasn’t the enemy, the threat. Twice, I’d failed, and I was despised for my efforts. I wouldn’t allow for a third.

I couldn’t trust him. I wouldn’t trust him. Not any mage. Not again. I made that mistake with Abe and ended up dragged into a battle I wanted no part in, where all the blame fell to my feet.

“Hurry up.” I brushed past him, nudging his shoulder.

Why’d I always get dragged into fucking mage politics?

13

13

Walter

Bez grumbled as we stepped off the bus, complaining the entire trek downtown. Ignoring him, I used the GPS to track the outpost where Vanguard Corvine was stationed. This part of the city had a relatively low mage presence, considering the Mythic Council favored the profits and popularity downtown tourism had to offer. The major caveat being all magic had to maintain a low profile.

“What are you doing?” I snapped as Bez stretched, uncoiling his sleek-shorthaired gray tail. Grabbing it, I half expected it to be soft and fluffy. The fur was coarse and muscles firm. I tried to stuff it back into his pants, but within two seconds of gripping the tail, it’d lifted me off my feet and thrown me against a trash can. “Asshole.”

“Says the guy touching me without consent. Rude.” Bez wiggled his tail, shaking his shoulders loose. I half-expected him to release his wings and hold up a sign. “That bus was awful. Unbearable. I hated it. So confining.”

“You spent the better half of a century inside an orb, and you’re complaining the bus was cramped?”

“It was. Too many mortals. Touching. Talking. Smelling weird.” Bez took off his sunglasses, revealing the heavy mascara and eyeliner, which only intensified his crimson irises and the pinks of his eyes. He huffed on the lens, rubbing a smudge and making it worse. “It would’ve been quicker if we’d flown.”

“And be detected?”

“No one can track my essence.”

“It’s broad daylight,” I grumbled, brushing gravel off. “Can you put your tail away?”

Bez blinked at my response. Not quite a glare but still dissatisfied. Maybe that had to do more with the red glint of his eyes. Unlikely. He was mad about my command before, which I had no understanding of controlling. I hoped asking instead of issuing the statement would make a difference. Based on his displeased expression, it didn’t matter.

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