Page 48 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

The city was a blur of lights and noise and reeked of magic and mortality. I needed someplace safe. Somewhere to fix Walter. Fix myself.

“Beelzebub,” Mora called out, feeling my presence.

Her voice vibrated along every web I traveled, and I searched endlessly for her. She’d have a solution. Black tendrils weaved inside this vacant reality, snatching at my misty form.

I hit the hardwood floor of a living room with a thud, Walter’s broken, shuddering body resting on top of my chest. Searing pain coursed through this host body; every ounce of my essence shredded the internal organs, repairing them, and breaking them apart again in search of this phantom injury. An injury housed inside Walter’s unconscious body.

“What happened?” Mora stood half-dressed in an oversized sweater, her pale legs exposed.

“He’s dying. I’m dying.” I sat up, cradling Walter and checking for his faint, irregular breaths. They’d become so shallow, his pulse nearly nonexistent. He’d die in a moment and drag me with him to his grave.

“We don’t know that,” Mora said, poorly hiding her frantic fear. “Diabolic bonds are as unique as fingerprints. Trust me, I’ve had some close mortal calls.”

“I can’t chance it,” I snapped. “Get your witch to heal him.”

“Kell’s not here and not a witch who specializes in healing.” Mora kneeled beside me. “Sort of what makes us work so well. I do the healing and immortality, along with a few dozen other tricks.”

“Mora, I can’t die like this.” My voice cracked, hollow and lacking my natural bass. It was happening. My hold on this host was fading away because I was fading away. “This mage has my essence.”

“I know. I thought it was cute. You said you’d never settle down and—”

“Dammit, Mora.”

“Sorry.” She pulled a comforter off her couch and pressed it to Walter’s chest. Like it’d do any good considering his blood already soaked into my clothes and pooled on the floor.

“What do I do?”

“You could give more of your essence. That’d fix him up.”

“Shit.” I groaned. “Beats dying, but I’m not sure I can bear another second with him.”

“If that’s true, I have another possibility.” Mora planted her hand on my shoulder, squeezing to draw my attention as I stared vacantly at Walter’s anguished face. “Take your essence back.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. Right now, what little remains is fighting to keep this mortal alive.” Mora leaned in, blocking Walter’s face and filling my vision. “All you have to do is dig your hand in there and rip it out. It won’t resist. Too preoccupied with your dying mage.”

“You’re sure?” I asked.

“Positive. I’ve rescinded my essence from a few mortals in my long life.” Mora half-smiled the way she’d done a thousand times when she hid the twinkle in her eyes and the agenda on her lips. “If you want him dead and your freedom intact, I suggest you act quickly.”

Mora stood and sauntered out of the living room.

My eyes watered. I growled, then rolled them up to the ceiling until the blurry mess disappeared. Tears caused by the pain created in my shared burden of Walter’s pain. I lifted his body. His eyes fluttered, long lashes sticking to each other between sweat and tears. My essence deep inside him did everything it could, triggering every muscle until his body convulsed. He really had such a small amount of my essence. Another few days, and it would’ve burned out.

“I never wanted to meet you, Walter.” I cracked a knuckle against my thumb. “Not really. Yes, I endured your presence at the repository, but I never wanted to meet you.” I cracked a second knuckle. “When fate smiled on me for what felt like the first time in centuries, I didn’t want to meet you in the manor.” I cracked a third knuckle. “I was so angry with Remington. Abe, the old prick. Mages in general, I suppose. I knew what’d happen if our paths crossed. The same thing that happened every time I encountered a mage, a mortal, a conflict I didn’t like.” I cracked a fourth knuckle, wiggling my pinky afterward as it’d gone numb with the rest of my body. “How you must be in such agony. Don’t worry. It’ll all end soon.”

I dug my hand into his warm, bloody chest. He gasped and screamed as I invaded the wound in search of my essence. I shushed him, then covered his mouth with my other hand as I wormed my way deeper. There it was. The puncture in his heart. The last droplets of my essence circling the drain of a dying mortal. As I scooped them into my palm, my own heart began to stitch itself together. I might actually be released from this pathetic nothing of a mage. He could die untethered to me. Die from a betrayal which burned deep in his core. Die from the onslaught of charges his Collective threw at him. Die from trusting the wrong person. People. He’d trusted me. Such a foolish mistake.

I’d made foolish mistakes, too. Mistakes in a dimension of damned demons seeking salvation they’d never be gifted because our world didn’t offer compassion. Mistakes I’d made when entering this realm, believing compassion came so freely here. Those errors nearly cost me everything too many misfortunate times, until one day the mistake actually cost me my freedom. But none of them cost my life. Not like Worthless Walter lying near dead in my grasp. He’d lose his life for his naivete.

“It really could end this easily.” I brushed a hand over the damp curls along his forehead. The phantom sensation I’d carried lingered, ruffling my shaggy bangs. Or perhaps it was a delusion of these days bound together.

I squeezed my hand embedded in his chest into a fist until my nails punctured my palm. Blood oozed into him, taking with it traces of essence. Walter had stopped fighting as he seemed to have thankfully gone unconscious again. Tiny crimson tendrils leapt to defend his exposed chest, stabbing at my forearm. Pinpricks which didn’t faze my mostly numb and exhausted body, much like Walter’s broken form.

He couldn’t die. Shouldn’t die. I needed the essence to grow stronger and faster, so I lifted my other hand, coating it in sheer black talons and slashed my arm. Blood gushed into Walter’s chest. The Diabolic essence boomed inside him. Tendrils thicker than my biceps sprang out in defense and hurled me away. I slid across the living room floor into the kitchen, smiling.

He began healing quickly. Nothing could harm him with that much essence; then again, given the severe injuries he had and how close to death he’d been, most would fade. Each restorative breath Walter took consumed my essence, absorbing it and replacing the energy with life. His life. There’d still be essence remaining once he’d fully healed, which would be burdensome, but at least this time, I’d go with my original plan. Detain him until the essence faded naturally, then part ways. He didn’t need to die for being foolish. Neither of us did.

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