Page 74 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Finally, a tiny gust carried across the fine fibers of the rope. I kicked my legs against the tub.

“Wrong fucking element,” I shouted.

A sizzle popped. Small sparks trailed the gust, burning through the rope. I’d done it. I kicked the lever to the shower nozzle before the flames caught onto my clothing. Cold water beat against my sore body. I shivered, then dragged myself out of the tub.

Cradling my arm, I crawled out of the bathroom on my knees and into the bedroom.

Bez was gone.

The grimoire was gone.

Every hope I had for helping was gone.

I failed. Failed the same way I had a hundred thousand times before. Never in my life had I done anything right. Wincing, I slowly inched across the floor. Just once, I’d like not to screw everything up by constantly falling short.

There was nothing to be done. Bez was bound to Ian. Ian had more magical ability than I could ever muster. On top of that, he had Agatha’s Heart to enhance his mana and that Diabolic demon killing blade he stabbed me in the chest with.

“Not that he needs it since…” I paused. It stung when my teeth met my busted open lower lip. Damn habits. “I don’t have the grimoire, but I have notes.”

I searched the scattered pages strewn about the floor. Countless notes, most trivial, some useless given the circumstances. But I’d jotted a few of those skeleton key spells for further analysis. Something about them reminded me of things I’d learned as a child.

“There it is.” I found the notes on hacking pocket portals. Not an actual pocket realm like the Dimensional Atrium, but a tiny holding area mages could create by saturating the air around them and creating a unique incantation. Ian had done that to keep Agatha’s Heart and his Demon’s Demise blade hidden away. If I could remember the specific symbols he used, I might be able to hack his treasures. “Not that any of that matters.”

He’d still kill me or make Bez kill me. Oh, Bez. There was a way to free him from Ian. It had to do with the commands Ian had contracted to Bez. If I reached them, I could tell Bez, let him restrain Ian, then…

“Do something useful?” I groaned, laying back on the floor.

A miserable feeling clouded my thoughts, making it impossible to think clearly. It might’ve also been the concussion. I probably definitely most likely had one. Staring at the ceiling, the draped glass aquarium Bez had gotten caught my eye. Inside sat a familiar who could fix some of this.

I lifted the black cloth. Motionless, a small emperor scorpion lay. Its black shell was almost as shiny as Bez’s talons when coated in Diabolic essence. Opening the top of the tank, I placed my hand inside, patiently waiting while casting trusting energy. Familiar links depended entirely on the aura of a mage. The emotion radiated from mana, which in turn seeped inside the animal. The pigeon I’d connected with to deliver news to Alistair was easier. Less likely to attack, too.

The scorpion backed away, feeling the anxiety I cast in waves. I shook it off. I’d specifically picked an emperor scorpion for their docile nature—they were almost always calm, even when aggressive, they were more likely to pinch than sting. And if this scorpion used his stinger, it wouldn’t kill me. Merely a bad bite. Honestly, Bez and Ian had done the worst already, so what would a pinch or sting really matter at this point? Scary looking, perhaps. Dangerous if provoked, sort of. Overall, a friendly familiar which could achieve a lot more stealth than others.

The scorpion skittered onto my palm. His legs lightly tapped, his claws outstretched.

“Ready to come out?” I lifted my hand. “I had a much cooler plan for you. I’d uncovered some things in a dangerous grimoire connecting to a very bad person who put their ambition above the Collective.”

A person who threw me into the fire, ensuring blame fell to me. That pissed me off more than anything. Ian had played his part, using and manipulating me, but it was all set in motion by a chancellor who sought to—I didn’t know. Provoke a war? Strengthen policies against Mythics? Provide more funding to regiments designed for safety and protection? I ground my teeth. Feeling my rage, the scorpion pitched at the air.

I exhaled. The reasons didn’t matter. Not anymore. I set the scorpion on a few pages I’d saturated with mana for a plan which no longer mattered. “It was supposed to be a sophisticated and triumphant win on my part. Guess my life isn’t really made for winning.”

The scorpion walked along the sigil I created for cloaking, another for tracking, and one to add an extra powerful dose of venom to my familiar’s stinger.

“Still, I have some use for your wonder. I hope I can ask this favor of you.” The scorpion abandoned the saturated pages I no longer had use of and crawled up onto my leg, crossing over my thigh and laying on my broken arm.

Even without explanation, the scorpion—my scorpion, my familiar—felt the need I had. It knew how I could repurpose the exoskeleton into something durable to mend the break and temporarily heal the injury.

The chitin of his armor was tough, protective, and a flexible fibrous material. I definitely wouldn’t hold a candle to anyone in the panacea regiment, but I’d helped Sarai study hundreds of different healing spells, which involved augmenting materials into substitutes for fractured bones, torn flesh, or blood loss. If I were half as skilled as her, I could alter the bed frame. But working with organic living tissue from the scorpion was more at my basic level.

I muttered an incantation, tracing my fingertips along the hard, smooth shell of the arachnid. The polysaccharides and nitrogen would soften and transform. As it dissolved, the scorpion scurried away, left vulnerable and exposed without an exoskeleton. The shell seeped into my pores. I shouted as the fibers burned and crawled under my skin, tearing through muscle and meat to reach the bones.

Taking wispy breaths, I flexed my arm. My body still ached. My finger was still broken. I barely had enough exoskeleton to work with to mend my arm. It would have to do.

“All right, buddy.” I scooped the scorpion up and set him inside the tank. I saturated the glass with water, not a lot, just enough to create a more comfortable, humid environment. Grabbing a blank page, I drew a simple incantation for air and placed it inside where the scorpion had hidden himself while molting. “I’m sorry. This is the best I can do for now.”

I sat on the bed, letting my arm acclimate to its newly healed form. There was no way I’d actually be able to stop Bez or Ian. There was no way I could actually free Bez from Ian. Free Bez before the Collective killed him. Killed Ian. I stood.

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