Page 7 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

The petrified heart had a low echo with an alluring rhythmic thump. Licking my lips, I was surprised this had been placed in the vault as opposed to added to our vast catalog of items loaned to the vanguard regiment. It was Mythic, but that didn’t always stop mages from finding roundabout ways to add them as support tools.

Despite years of training and full understanding of how the five mage magics worked—from incantations, saturation, glamouring, all the way to elemental sway and creating a familiar bond—I still botched each and every demonstration during the exams. Usually, tenfold worse than my brief practice flight with Ian.

“This artifact would all but ensure I aced the practitioner exam.” I shuddered at the idea, contemplating even for a fraction of a second using this preserved heart as a catalyst to amplify my magic and finally escape life as a lowly apprentice. I stared at the display where Magus Remington had already conjured to seal the heart behind an invisible protective barrier of his magic. Beside his incantation sat a wand to assist me in enacting his wards. A practitioner would easily activate Magus Remington’s incantation without a wand, but since my incantations floundered, I always had to use a tool to achieve the same goal. “Guess that defeats the purpose of proving I can sufficiently use my magic.”

I continued typing up my report until I stumbled upon a passage written by an archivist in London. She surmised Agatha’s Heart magnified mana and magic potential while simultaneously intensifying the user’s emotional state, swaying users into an erratic frenzy to achieve their heart’s greatest longing.

I gulped. There were no shortcuts to skill.

“Since it amplifies magic and emotional desire, it’s definitely not safe to use.” I detailed this in my report. “Hopefully, the witches read the risk factors of using this artifact because it looks like Agatha wasn’t fond of having her heart ripped out and used to empower others. It’s kind of poetic or tragic or both.”

I grabbed the pedestal, carefully carrying Agatha’s Heart to an empty spot on the mantle for display. Ignoring the wand, I reached for the incantation of words on parchment. It was an easy thing to do, which I’d done a thousand times before—granted with a wand to redirect the symbols. All I needed to do was feel for the threads of his magic and pour my own will of thought into their placement around the artifact. Closing my eyes, I searched for the slightest tug of resistance, the words that wanted to stay on the page. My chest warmed, and my fingertips pinched.

A short whoosh hit the air, and a satisfying collection of clinks cemented the incantation. I opened my eyes. All twelve symbols glowed blue, surrounding Agatha’s Heart with a barrier, then they faded away, hidden from the eye but fully active.

“I did it.” I hopped—actually, jumped in the air. “Bez, tell me you saw that. Oh my gods, even if I don’t pass my practitioner exam, which is statistically very possible, I just adjusted Magus Remington’s sealing ward without a tool. At this rate, I’ll never need a support tool for setting the wards in place, and I’ll never have to ignore the snickers of practitioners as I request a wand for a simple incantation activation. Eat your hearts out, archivists; I am making progress.”

Did I shimmy? Bet my scrawny ass I did. I’d never managed to enact Magus Remington’s wards before. Yes, all the work was done, conjured, prepared, and only needed a literal last step to properly seal an artifact. But I always screwed that up.

“It’s seamless,” I proudly boasted. Oh, dang. I hoped this wasn’t the third good thing I had to look forward to because I’d love to finally ace the practitioner exam. All I needed was to show mastery over three of the five Pentacles of Power. Saturation, check-ish. Incantation, check-sort of. Glamouring, to be determined. In very unlikely circumstances, maybe I’d reach seven positive signs in short succession. Not that I needed it—three was a better fortune than expected. Superstition included. “Oh, Bez. I wish I had someone to tell other than you. Not that I don’t love sharing news with you, which you probably, maybe, kind of, sort of enjoy, but I think I’m actually getting my shit together. Literally organizing all the chaos in here.”

I ran my fingers along my head, a soothing sensation that likely further messed up my curly locks.

My phone buzzed.

Dammit. I’d lost track of time.

I told myself not to forget. What was wrong with me? Wait. I took a deep breath. He wasn’t there yet, also distracted by work. We could laugh about this. Tell funny, witty, cute jokes about it.

What was wrong with me? I lied. Well, my fingers lied. Clearly, they had a will of their own, saving me from screwing up the first date I’d had in four years.

He added a gif of someone stating it was time to ‘leave the mansion,’ which I assumed was the closest he’d found for ‘leave the estate.’ Something I needed to do. Mainly because I’d told him I already had. Which I’d planned. And failed at. Always failing. Shit.

I added a ‘strumming fingers of annoyance’ gif.

Yikes. Too forward. Too formal. Rude. Why was I lying? Also, I should’ve added a better gif and taken the time to scroll past the first page of choices. The guy in the image looked very displeased, and I wasn’t displeased at the bar. Mostly because I wasn’t there yet. This was why I didn’t do fun. I didn’t know how. It involved something I lacked.

My heart lurched. He’d ignored the barrage of nonsense.

I groaned. That was the furthest thing from smooth or sexy. He’d probably cancel before I even stepped out of the Magus Estate, which I should’ve done twenty-six minutes ago, according to my watch.

I blushed at the shirtless men he dropped in quick succession by gif-spamming. Slightly cringey and definitely not the direction I’d take a first date, but I admired the enthusiasm. Maybe he was like me, awkwardly finding the right online thing to set a proper mood.

I stuffed my phone in my pocket, ignoring the buzzing because I needed to leave the Magus Estate and get downtown before it was too late. Thank goodness for portal transports.

“Time to go,” I double-checked the wards surrounding Agatha’s Heart, preferring to have a chance to triple-check them, maybe have someone else finetune the magic I’d applied, but there wasn’t time. “It’s fine.”

The bulb closest to Bez’s mantle flickered, which I ignored considering I’d already placed three polite, highly detailed tickets for repairs that no one deemed essential. I squinted when the flashing intensified, lights blinking rapidly. This wasn’t the bulb but one of the glyphs in the repository.

“Nooooooo.” I read over the prompts Magus Remington had left six times over, reciting them verbatim. Everything went exactly accordingly to his simple commands. There was no way this should be glitching. How’d I fuck this up?

Deep breath. I could quickly fix this screw-up before someone noticed and reach the club before Ian realized I’d lied. What was wrong with me? I tugged my hair until the pain settled my anxiety.

“Okay, I need to retrace my steps.” I eyed Bez’s orb. The symbols holding the artifact in place flickered red, illuminating the barrier, then vanished. One by one, the symbols cast by Magus Remington’s incantation magic glowed, blinked, then faded away. “No, no, no, no, no.”

This wasn’t me. Even if I’d messed up the incantation sealing Agatha’s Heart, none of the other seals should be affected. A glitch at this level was beyond my capability to fix. I needed a practitioner. No. I needed Magus Remington now. What happened to his incantations?

I exited the repository, quickly approaching the glittering golden portal.

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