Page 87 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

“Kidding,” he said with a flirty smirk but the crinkle in his brow suggested he would very much slaughter the lot of them if they made a counterassault against us.

“I need to check on Alistair, see that he’s recovering, and then there’s my mother.” I bit my lip.

“She’s vile. Horrid. Skillful yet sadistic. Under different circumstances I’d admire such tenacity.” Bez huffed, then hesitated. His expression softened, losing its natural minxy charm. “I digress. But you should know…” His shoulders slumped and his eyes drifted anywhere except for on me. After a long pause, he sat up and straightened. “She’s the reason—”

“I know.”

“What? How? When?”

“Since we got the grimoire.” I rocked my head, contemplating the specifics. “Well, not exactly. More like a few days into evaluating the contents. I wanted to sort out a plan before getting into all the sordid details, which is why I sent you to retrieve those spell items. But then we were attacked here in the motel, and everything just sort of got complicated.”

“An understatement.” Bez shifted, scooting to the edge of the bed where he pulled me into his arms. “What are you planning?”

“I’ll tell you everything because it’s actually a really cool plan. But also, I sort of need your help with part of it.”

I explained it all to Bez, watching his eyes gloss over my more detailed portions since he obviously didn’t find the intricacies of my plan as fascinating as I did, but he didn’t protest them—much. Once we’d set everything in motion, I left the motel and buzzed the entire trip through the city. Though, that might’ve had more to do with the lust fueled by Bez, and not the magics I balanced in my core.

I returned to the Regiment Headquarters. The excitement twisted and turned into dread once I stepped through the doors. I lingered in the foyer, wishing I’d stayed in bed with Bez. Burying my thoughts of him, I sat with the anxiety this place gave me.

News of Alistair’s recovery was on everyone’s lips, then quickly turned quiet once I stepped inside. All eyes landed on me, whispers abundant, yet not one person spoke directly to me. There was so much I needed to do before bidding farewell to the Collective and Seattle. Seeing Alistair was at the top of my list, but it wouldn’t be easy considering all the sentinel security posted during his recovery. Then again, I managed to walk in here without alerting suspicion. I gulped. So far.

A week had hardly settled the dust, but everything had mostly calmed in the city since Ian’s death. Mages worked to glamour exposures, removing memories and footage of the carnage. The chancellors followed the trail to Ian’s body and uncovered details in his home connecting him to other Mythics and mages involved in the attack on the Magus Estate. Most of them turned up dead, too. Guess Ian’s partner didn’t want any loose ends, which didn’t bode well for me as a very much alive loose end.

It was business as usual for a lot of mages who rushed past me with not so much as a second glance. I made my way to the Sentinel Chancellor’s office because she needed to be dealt with before I permanently walked away from the Collective. Not that I expected them to take me back with open arms. My name might’ve been cleared of conspiracy, but they’d definitely consider me a threat if they learned I continued my Diabolic bond with Bez.

Diabolic bond. I needed a better name than that. What we had went far beyond a simple bond, an exchange of power or connection.

I paused at the door leading to my mother’s office. Was I really about to do this? Her actions more than warranted it and if left unchecked, who knew the horrors she’d bring down on the Collective to achieve her goals. Still…

Releasing a breath and as much trepidation as humanly possible, I stepped inside. Before I could form a word, my mother stepped from her desk and took strong strides to reach me. She wrapped her arms around me, squeezing tightly. I nearly collapsed in her embrace. She hadn’t hugged me like this since I was six. No. Five and eight months. I remembered it. Counting down and crossing off the days, thinking it meant she’d buy me that archivist toolkit I wanted so badly for my birthday. She didn’t, though. Said it was a waste of time. When I cried, she blew out my candles and said wishes were for the weak.

Now, I let all that wash away. Years of resentment. Years of rage. Hate. Longing for the same affection my siblings got. Whether it was because she loved them more or they simply fell in line with her expectations better. That wasn’t it. I guessed this hug was what I needed after so many years of waiting for her approval. Sort of the perfect goodbye.

“I’m so happy to see you’ve fully recovered.” She released me, and I lingered in the calm her kindness had left me with. “Chancellor Russo made your injuries sound more dire, as usual. Incompetent girl knows so little considering her title.”

“There were some severe breaks.”

“Please, that rat bastard, low-bred, social climber, misfit could never beat you. Remember that.” She caressed my face in a way I’d seen her do to Alistair a thousand times yet never once felt myself. It was pleasant, awkwardly comforting. A bizarre show of affection I’d never understood before. Made me almost regret why I’d come here.

“It’s good you’re here, though,” she said. “The Collective will be sending representatives from other regions to inspect our standing. They’re going to look for any chinks in the armor. I need your charm to ensure they don’t.”

“I’m sure whoever they’re sending won’t be swayed by a little charm.”

“Please, Alistair.” She patted my shoulder comfortingly, believing it to be my brother’s. “You’ll have them wrapped around your finger.”

I gave a weak smile, attempting my brother’s softest, most charming smirk. No way could I pull off his big, full smile of confidence; I’d need more than a glamour for that. Still, she hadn’t seen through the illusion, which meant my casting had improved tremendously.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” She eyed my shaky cheeks.

“Yeah. Just not feeling a hundred percent.”

“Of course.” She stepped away, making her way back to her desk chair. “I’ll give you talking points to stick with, keep their attention away from Diabolic discussions and more on misfits and Mythics.”

Something I was grateful for, given that I didn’t need Collective oversight finding trails on Bez.

“We’ll have to find that devil,” she said.

“Pretty sure he’s dead, considering how the mage controlling him turned up.” I made a crude dead expression with my tongue sticking out. It was the closest thing I could picture Al doing.

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