Page 82 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

“But he doesn’t know the first thing about the devil. He doesn’t know the first thing about you, Bez.”

Bez clutched my shirt, his hot breath and bloody lips nearly pressed against mine. Then…

Bez released me. He dropped me and climbed to his feet.

Diabolic essence raged out of him, and he roared. A ferocious shout that shattered all the active magic in the area. His wings flapped, creating a thundering black whirlwind. His three tails whipped about aimlessly. Not aimless. Defensive. Anytime a mage attempted to move in, they struck out. If an incantation or element targeted me or him, the tails blocked them with a crimson cloak.

Ian limped toward us, screaming. His commands fell silent. Either from the chaotic roar carried in the wind cast by Bez or because Bez knew the orders were hollow. The Diabolic link still existed between them, though. I couldn’t risk Ian figuring that out until Bez had a chance to breathe. Ian was dangerous. Manipulative. Too intelligent not to discover another way to invoke commands from Bez. Even if he blurted something instinctively like I had, it’d cost me my life and Bez his freedom again.

“I’m going to kill you, mage.” Bez glared at Ian.

“No, you’re not.” I forced myself up, standing in front of Bez, blocking his path. If Bez killed Ian, he’d die too.

“There’s no other option, Walter.” He shoved me aside.

“I’ve got another solution.” I propelled myself forward with a gust of wind, nearly costing the last of my mana.

It worked, giving me a push ahead of Bez and knocking me into Ian. As I crashed into Ian, I wrapped an arm around the back of his neck. Holding him close to my chest and clutching the blade. With my other hand, I jabbed Ian in his stomach wound. He shouted. Bez stalled. Not long, but long enough for me to drag Ian into the void and finish this before Bez got himself killed.

Ian would pay for what he’d done.

Bez wouldn’t. I refused to let him.

I’d fix this.

28

28

Beelzebub

I soaked in the freedom of the fading commands. One by one, the incantations fell. They peeled off my flesh like sunburnt skin, twinkling brightly as they crumbled to glitter among the ashes on the ground. Embers burned, holding the smallest hints of Ian’s magic, kept alive by my Diabolic essence fueling them.

Sucking in a deep breath, I absorbed all my power and the lingering mana on a field of corpses. More potent mana stirred nearby. I grumbled. Mages regrouping. Took them long enough. The faint traces of their magic wouldn’t outpower me. For whatever reason, the chancellors had fallen back. Their particular scents had vanished. Killing those who remained would be easy, but there was only one person I wanted dead.

I shook away the last vestiges of Ian’s waning magic, allowing the incantations to disappear. He’d overexerted himself, lost his precious artifact, and now he needed to die. Somewhere out there, he held a piece of me and the potential to control my very breathing if demanded. I wouldn’t allow it again.

Walter had stolen him. Swept him away. For what purpose, I could only guess. Likely some absurd need for justice. He’d want everything to end so ridiculously delightful. Wait out my essence inside Ian’s body. Return him to the Collective for a proper trial. Send me on my way because he pitied my past. Some basic pathetic bullshit I wouldn’t allow. Ian would die for what he’d done. What he did to me. Mostly, what he’d done to Walter.

I slipped into Mora’s Diabolic web of instant transportation, half expecting her to dwell within. Nothing. Her most recent perfume didn’t hit. She hadn’t been here in some time, which meant I was right. Some bold move on her part to throw a mage into her laced essence and offer him access to her temporal fold without any understanding of how it worked. Then again, it was Walter. He’d mastered this terrain quite quickly. At least in appearance, he knew the basics.

Kneeling over, I plucked the webs. Each flick of my claw sent a musical melody through this void. It’d help me trail Walter’s movements and find him in an instant. No matter how quick a study he was, he’d never grasp the complexities of a Diabolic temporal fold. His path would be easy to follow.

“Son of a bitch.” I huffed.

Orange musical notes, the color of Walter’s aura, radiated like little stamps all over. He’d gone everywhere in the city with this temporal fold like he was sightseeing or some shit. I continued plucking the webs, uprooting other musical melodies searching for Ian’s notes.

“Are you joking?” I furrowed my brow.

A half dozen other colors, representing mages Walter had dragged in here, trailed off in various directions. It’d be impossible to know which one was Ian since memorizing mana auras wasn’t a fucking hobby of mine. Where had Walter taken him? How many mages had he dragged in here? And why had he run laps around every inch of this place ten times over?

A deep gash opened below my ribcage. I hissed. Pressing a bloody hand to the wound, I waited until it healed. Light cuts appeared one after another along my stomach, each a shallow slice that healed as quickly as they’d struck. Walter was doing this. It meant Ian fought back against him from wherever they’d landed. Walter aimed for more superficial cuts because he didn’t want to kill Ian. But that deranged mage would have no problem killing Walter.

I wouldn’t allow that.

Closing my eyes, I zipped through the void along thin webs. I followed each path, weaving crisscrossed circles in search of the tug which connected Ian and myself.

Now that his commands had faded, his obnoxious presence became impossible to feel. Mora had mentioned slack and the sensation. Attaching a connection to Walter had happened inadvertently. It wasn’t like I meant to tighten the tether pulling us closer.

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