Page 61 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

Walter leaned closer, listening intently, sympathetically. It was written all over his face. I divulged it all. My friendship with Abe. Our plan to prevent a war. My hope of being seen as a hero as opposed to the eternal villain.

“My desire for acceptance by mortals was something he easily exploited. I think for a time, I even believed killing Magus Walsh was my idea. It took a decade inside that orb before it finally clicked how gullible and pathetic I was for putting trust in Remington.”

“It wasn’t foolish.” Walter rested his head on my shoulder.

A soft, delicate sensation that made me crave him almost as much as the intoxication of his scent. The gentle, quiet empathy he cast lying next to me after closing the grimoire filled with curiosities he likely yearned to explore. Instead, we remained lost in a wordless embrace. I didn’t want sweet or understanding words. Somehow, knowing so little of me, Walter understood that much, offering solace through silence.

Hours passed, yet Walter didn’t move. The night ached in its long unyielding way. Finally, I flipped through the pages of the grimoire to pique some curiosity from Walter. He resisted, wishing to remain considerate.

“Explore away,” I said.

“It’s not like I want to read up on this, but there is definitely something I want to work on.”

With that, his hands flipped through pages, marking them with a tiny grace of mana before moving to the next. Meticulous and confident, the former a common sight, the latter an unlikely one.

“Why are you saturating it?”

“Practicing, maybe.” He shrugged. “Not sure it’ll work, anyway. I’m not very good at saturation.”

His doubt about his control over the Pentacles of Power often led to his downfall before he even got started. “Okay, but why saturate the grimoire?”

“Saturation can imbue an item with your mana and offer it powers, but it can also help the user retain intel from things they’ve saturated. Basically, I’ll have this information stored in my mind by linking my mana to it; however, the caveat is that knowledge fades once the magic wanes. Once again proving there are no real shortcuts with magic. Just temporary band-aids—”

“Walter. I asked a question, not for a fucking lecture. This isn’t the repository. I’m not going to allow you to go on long-winded tangents until my brain rots.”

He huffed, practically snarling. The grumpier he got, the more it aroused me. Walter’s true nature shimmered beneath that timid boy who feared repercussions, and apparently, there was quite a raging fury beneath, fanned by so much repression.

“I just want the grimoire to remain safe until I figure out the best advantage for using it. But much of what I have planned centers on you.”

“Why me?”

“You’re basically unstoppable,” Walter said, beaming with pride before his natural insecurity overtook him and he cast his eyes downward. “I mean, so long as I’m not around. Which is why we could also wait out the Diabolic bond if you preferred.”

“You trust me not to simply take off once it fades?”

“I do. And if you feel better not chancing me as a weakness, I’m okay waiting.”

“What is this plan you’ve got bouncing around that big brain of yours?”

“Track Ian. Catch him in the act of something nefarious. Relay the intel to Al and the chancellors. That’s where you come in. You can help force an audience with the chancellors once I hopefully gather evidence. Sort of making parts of this up as I go, which I hate doing.”

I sulked, dwelling on my supposed invulnerability. The hubris I’d built around it offered many allowances over the centuries, steering threats away from me. It also led to my downfall and a half-century trapped.

“Sorry.” Walter closed the grimoire, tossing it to the floor without a second care. “If you’re uncomfortable with my plan, I understand. After all, the last time you followed a mage’s plan, you—”

“You are not Remington. You are not like any mage I’ve met.”

“There are better mages than me out there. Kinder ones. Stronger. Smarter.”

“Doubtful.” The dangers in this plan were worrisome. Trust in Walter clawed at my insides making my skin itch. “I think we should sleep. It’s late and with everything you have planned, we’ll need to be at our best.”

I rolled over, facing away from him while dwelling on what came next. Every outcome seemed far worse than the next, and I had no idea how Walter handled plotting for every possibility. No wonder he defeated himself before any real accomplishments. The anxiety of failure was truly suffocating.

Walter dozed off in a matter of seconds, lightly snoring. I found it difficult to shut off the ocean of thoughts ready to drown me. Walter rolled over, his cool, bare chest pressed against my hot back. His hands hugged my waist, unconsciously tracing his fingers along the hairs of my stomach. I quivered as he nuzzled my neck and scooted closer until his crotch was pressed against my butt. The warmth of my skin called to him, and he wrapped himself tightly around me, spooning me.

Though I didn’t require it, I synced my breathing with Walter’s, allowing the rhythmic sensation to cradle me into a deep slumber.

A darkness swept over me, flickering flames in the distance. This wasn’t a hollow sleep but a haunted one filled with recollections best left dead and buried. Talking with Walter unearthed memories I didn’t deign to explore or reexamine. Yet here I stood inside my former Hell realm, forced to observe a past I’d abandoned.

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