Page 88 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

“No. Ian is dead. Autopsy shows he was carved up by a fucking de-possession blade.”

Ugh. One, I should’ve burned the body. Two, Demon’s Demise. How hard of a name was that to remember? Whatever.

“And your brother’s out there with it.”

“The blade?” I shrugged. “Unlikely.”

“No. That devil. It’s very probable. Knowing him, he’s plotting. Planning something against us.”

“Why would he be planning something against us?” I attempted to laugh it off.

She wasn’t wrong. I was plotting against her. Keyword—her. Not Al. Not my sisters. Not the other chancellors or any mage in the regiments. Just her.

“I know you love Walter, but he’s always had his issues. His selfish needs. This drive to put himself ahead of family at every turn.”

I ground my teeth. Selfish. Forcing a smile, I nodded, still seeking her awful approval. “I doubt he’s plotting anything. What would he even do?”

“Bring that devil down upon us, for starters. No. I’ve been trying divination around the clock with practitioners, but that Diabolic energy makes it difficult to pinpoint.”

I huffed. That explained how Bez and I avoided tracking for as long as we did.

“Maybe Walter’s out of range.” I shrugged. Divination only ever worked within a few miles, and that span lessened based on experience.

“No.” She squinted, tilting her head. There was a long silence between us, and then my mother pursed her lips and continued, “There’s Diabolic essence circulating the city. A lesser mage wouldn’t note it, but I feel his presence. The devil’s presence. We have to act before he brings ruin to everyone.”

Congratulations. I bit my lip. She’d figured out there was Diabolic essence lingering throughout the city. I should tell Mora her concerns about being noticed weren’t unwarranted. Pretty certain she was dismantling her void as we spoke.

“You can’t actually think he’d come for us,” I said.

“I do.” Her expression darkened, affection in her eyes lost, and the typical hardened stare emerged. “I worry he’ll attempt something sinister. Try to kill me. You. Others. With Agatha’s Heart and a devil at his beck and call, he could do more damage than Ian ever attempted.”

I couldn’t believe she’d think I’d actually kill her. Sure, I’d come here, guised as Al, attempting to put an end to her threats. She fully deserved that. But kill her?

“He wouldn’t kill you. He has no reason.”

“Walter doesn’t need a reason. He’s got insurmountable resources, and he’s crafty. A dangerous combination.”

Impressive she’d considered me such a threat. A bigger threat than Ian. What could she possibly think I wanted? She was probably concerned Bez told me of her involvement, which he had. But like I’d explained to Bez, I’d pieced together her involvement while analyzing the grimoire we acquired which was intended to frame Chancellor Driscoll. Something I planned on telling him sooner, but then Ian kicked in the motel door and… I balled my fists, squeezing them tight until Ian’s memory faded. The intricate detail put in place to set up the vanguard for a coup would’ve worked too. It almost did. Anyone else would’ve missed the subtle markers of sentinel sabotage.

It was practically missed by me.

“What would Walter even want?” I asked, wondering if she’d confide the truth to Al. She trusted him so much more than me, than anyone, but even he didn’t see behind all the masks she wore, creating the Alden façade.

“I think he’d…” She paused. Silence stirred until she filled it with a slow applause. “You’ve gotten better, Walter.”

“Excuse me?” My heart hitched.

“Walter. Walter, Walter, Walter.” She stood, hands firmly planted on her desk, already saturating everything in her office, claiming this space and fueling her magic to attack. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.”

“Fuck.” I grimaced. “Al calls me Wally. Everyone, really. Except you. And Bez. Fucking Bez. He threw off my mojo. This would’ve worked if it hadn’t been the name thing, right?”

“Nothing you do works.” Her face scrunched, eyes almost breaking contact to investigate the mild pain that had hit her hand. Instead, she swatted the air, keeping her glare trained on me.

“Well, that worked.” I approached, delicately walking my fingers along her desk until they reached her hands.

Only then did she break eye contact and look at the pinprick on the back of her hand. A tiny, red bump.

“Don’t worry. Less lethal than a bee sting. Despite the name, emperor scorpions aren’t the monarchs of destruction humans are.” The scorpion that’d saved my life crawled onto my hand and up my arm as the saturated cloak fell away. “They’re quite docile, friendly even in a quiet way. Perfect balance for Bez since he’s so loud.”

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