Page 73 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

He jabbed Ian in the chest. My pec flexed at the powerful poke.

“A former ally has your belongings, which I’ll be retrieving soon. I simply require your—”

“No. You made promises and spun lies all to manipulate desperate fools to your agenda. No more, misfit mage.”

“It was always about freeing magic; those who saw this vision died for the cause. I’m offering you a chance to live. See it through. Tonight, I will end the Collective in Seattle. I’ll kill every mage in the state, the region.” Ian traipsed past the minotaur, unthreatened by the huge beast. His confident strut caught the eye of a few curious Mythics. “All I ask is once they are gone, once the sentinels and vanguard who keep you in check have perished, you cast openly, sharing Mythic wonder with the world. The infiltration regiment will not glamour away your magic from mortal eyes because they will be felled in one fast swoop.”

“You make bold and reckless promises,” the minotaur said. “What you suggest is more and more bloodshed until we’re all dead.”

A few Mythics agreed.

“What if he’s right?” asked a banshee. She stepped from the crowd of Mythics. “The only bloodshed I’m hearing is for Collective mages. We could cast freely then.”

“And be dragged into a war,” a gorgon said.

“I don’t require any of you to fight,” Ian said. “I’ll handle all the regiments myself.”

“Lies.” The minotaur’s words were echoed by many, but the confidence in Ian’s stance, the fire in his eyes, and the powerful mana radiating off him captivated some.

“Let me prove it to you. I will burn the Collective down and give you everything. I’ll give the world the magic it deserves, in the hands of everyone willing to learn it.”

“There are tens of thousands of mortals for every Mythic life in this world,” the minotaur said. “Revealing our presence wouldn’t offer us freedom or power. It’d force us on the run as it did to the Mythics of the past. Minotaurs thrown in labyrinths to be hunted for sport. Gorgons having their heads decapitated and eyes sold as enchanted gems. Witches burned for daring to rise above mages or humans.”

“Our magics can outpower any force of humans,” the banshee said.

“But not their weapons. Centuries back, their violent nature was enough to drive us into the shadows. Now they possess tools that can level a nation. What happens when they wage war? If they unite under a single banner to eradicate us?”

“I offer you a future, and you cry at the cost.” Ian shook his head disapprovingly. “It’s no wonder the Mythic Council bends to the Collective’s will. You’re pathetic. Weak. Worthless. Most of all, undeserving of the world I’m creating.”

“I was about to say the same, misfit mage.” The minotaur roared, grabbing Ian by the shirt and lifting him off the ground.

My heart jumped, pattering with dread and excitement. If he were wise, he’d impale Ian with his horn and end this now. The thrill faded when he hurled Ian across the warehouse. His back crashed into the metal garage door, and he sliced his forehead when smacking the ground. Blood dripped down my own forehead, my back aching from our shared pain. I cracked my neck; hopefully, a gorgon would petrify him to stone before he said a word. Or a banshee’s wail would silence the sound of his impending command. Perhaps a goblin could rip out his tongue before he spoke.

Ian stood, wiping the blood dripping down his eye. He stared at his bloody hand, chest puffed as he took fuming breaths.

“I should’ve mentioned…I have a devil under my command now.” Ian snapped his fingers. “Kill them all, dog. Quickly and painfully.”

I leapt from the rafters in a blur, unveiling my wings to slow my descent, wishing I could resist his commands, but the incantations placed on my flesh itched and added to Ian’s control. Unleashing my tails, I strangled the banshee and turned two gorgons to face each other. They petrified one another, and I smashed their stone bodies together. By the time a few other Mythics had called forth their magics, I’d ripped most of them to shreds with my talons, moving through the crowd faster than they could blink.

All that remained was the minotaur leading them. The one who should’ve killed Ian. I took a bit of satisfaction in snapping off his horns and gutting him with them.

“Not bad.” Ian clapped. “Hopefully, you’ll have a bit more enthusiasm when you’re killing the chancellors and their regiments.”

I glared, taking a deep inhale of the blood and death I brought. Each of these lost lives carried traces of Mythic residue released into the atmosphere. It was doubtful he’d allow me to feed on the magic to its fullest and unlikely I’d gain much mana in this act. Still, I hoped for enough magic to cast a spell. Maybe something to break these incantation chains or snap Ian’s neck before he ordered me to stop. My essence circulated inside him, reminding me that if I made any attempt to fight, it would defend against me for all our sakes.

If only my essence understood, we were better off dead.

25

25

Walter

Everything throbbed. I stretched my jaw, moving it side to side, which only added to the pulsing pain coursing down my neck and settling into my chest. All my muscles vibrated, a constant ache as I rocked in this confining tub. My arms were bound in rope, looped together, and knotted around my ankles. Fuck.

I tugged at them, then winced. My arm seized. All the nerves in my broken arm fired off in agony. I clamped my teeth together and took deep breaths through the pain. I had to undo these ropes. They were sturdy. Likely enchanted. But I doubted Ian carried rope on him, so that meant he’d conjured these. Things manifested through an incantation were easy enough to dissolve with magic.

Taking careful breaths, I searched for the elements radiating within my mana. With each exhale, I tried to ignite a flame. I’d seen this done a hundred times. Practiced a thousand times. Surely, when lives were at stake, I could manage to successfully summon one tiny godsdamn flame.

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