Page 66 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

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Beelzebub

I flew through the sky, wings flapping and Diabolic essence carrying me faster than any eye could detect. As far as any onlookers were concerned, I was merely a dark gust—a shadow cast by a cloud and then quickly carried away by the breeze. Though, I’d tell Walter I used mana to glamour my presence. I certainly didn’t want another of his lectures about treading carefully through the city streets he’d sent me out to in order to procure list after list of necessities this week.

The bond linking us had faded and no longer yanked at my chest when I left his side. For some reason, not feeling the tug made my heart pound faster. It made my breathing hitch. I didn’t require the air, yet since trusting him in a way I hadn’t ever trusted another, I found it impossible not to take wispy breaths when lingering on what it meant. Something to fill these hollow lungs and calm my shaky muscles.

What was it called when a burdensome weight was lifted while simultaneously being consumed by self-doubt? Walter had caused this vexing sensation. I clutched the tank and other magical supplies I’d collected for him on this outing, anxiously determining how he made me feel. Why he made me feel. If I wanted to feel this way. If I wanted to feel.

I’d nearly divulged the truth about my less-than-devil origins to Abe, worried I’d lack the necessary constitution to see our plan through. Turned out best Remington never learned my secret. A pit tightened in my stomach. I couldn’t help but question if Walter would truly be different. I believed he would. But I’d believed far too many lies in my long life.

The only other individual who knew my secret was Mora. It most certainly wasn’t a confessional. It just so happened she’d passed time with the actual Beelzebub, so when she stumbled across me, having no recollection of her and lacking a few scent signatures she’d been privy to, my lie was discovered. Even then, she’d never seen me. The person behind the façade. The fragile, broken demon serving at a god-king’s feet for countless eons. She’d witnessed the brash, misguided soul filling shoes he’d never fit and helped me play a persona to hold my place in the mortal realm. A persona I loved. It offered me a life I never dreamed possible. Free of worries or fear or doubts or anxiety, dread, sorrow, and a hundred other things Walter managed daily. I needed to play the role of the monster for freedom, which I loved being. But I admired how he…how he didn’t.

Walter had seen the demon beneath the mask. He cared to protect me. He wanted to learn everything. I saw it in his delicate prying, careful choice of words, and curious eyes. Whether he considered me another thing to research or a person he cared enough to know, I still struggled to determine. Walter was an enigma of compassion and calculations. Also, a blunder of awkward confusion.

I smiled as I landed at the motel, tucking my wings away. It’d take time to sort through my mind and his. Something I truly desired.

Strutting inside, I maintained an aloof grin. “I gathered everything you wanted and then some.”

Walter remained on the bed. He hadn’t changed, barely shifted since I left this morning, and it didn’t look like he’d eaten the provisions he begged me to get him. All the notes he’d started days ago were sprawled across the mattress in a chaotic fashion. Chaotic to a layman’s eye, but for Walter, these piles each represented something only his squirrely brain could make sense of.

“How much did you steal today?” He sighed, eyeing my lovely belt buckle.

“I didn’t steal this.” I traced my fingers along the colorful STUD letters. “Bought it with hard-earned currency.”

“I gave you the money.”

“Didn’t sayIearned it.”

“By the way, a rainbow stud doesn’t stand for what you think it does, Bez.”

“Really?” I furrowed my brow. “Anyway, I got your favorite candy bar. A Whatchamacallit.”

“Snickers?”

“No. Whatchamacallit.”

“KitKat?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No, dammit.” I held up the candy bar. “A Whatchamacallit.”

His glossy eyes lit up, and he practically salivated. “I haven’t had one of these in forever.”

Forever. Walter, like so many mortals, used the word so casually as if they comprehended the stretch of eternity.

I tossed him the candy bar, which he scarfed down in three massive bites, barely chewing. And he had the nerve to comment on my eating habits.

It’d been eighteen months since he’d had one of these candies. I recalled him muttering about his store discontinuing it for hours, grumbling as he finished someone else’s research. For someone who craved a life of adventure, Walter rarely ventured outside his routine. It made sense, though. The city was massive, and he had spent most hours locked inside the repository, with little time to breathe outside of work. Everything he used to do when not in the repository had an incredibly tight routine. The stores closest to his home or job. Calculated with the most affordable prices.

Returning to his notes, he went back to studying the grimoire. A pit grew in my stomach, a gnawing essence that craved mortal sustenance. Something about their food always eased my feelings. Depending on how all this unfolded, he could potentially sink back into such a simple routine. If everything against him was dropped and the devil on his shoulder vanished, of course. Would they simply throw him back into the repository as an eternal apprentice? Would they see the merit he held and offer him the work he deserved? Would they send him on his way with a cleared name but no career within the Collective? I swallowed hard, annoyed at how I dwelled on his well-being when I needed to think about what would happen to me once the dust settled.

We hadn’t discussed it. During our late-night conversations, Walter had said he’d ensure everything worked out, but I skirted the topic, dodging the inevitable. This didn’t have a happy ending. Nothing in my long eternity ever did.

I held the tank covered in a black cloth. Hopefully, the cloth kept the tiny beast inside settled during our turbulent flight. The last one died of fright before I landed, and I had to tell Walter the pet store was out of what he considered a suitable familiar. “I still think you should’ve gotten another bird.”

“Nope. Can’t use a bird for what I’m planning.”

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