Page 10 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

He jumped at the pounding of the door. Walter clammed up, eyeing the secured door. Not that it’d do him much good. Clearly these attackers didn’t require clearance to move about freely. Such delectable ambition, yet it interfered with my immediate goals, so these interlopers could wait their damn turn.

“I’ll just ask your friends after they kill you.” I fidgeted, still pathetically attempting to shake this orb off the ledge.

The door flung open, and in came two attackers.

“There wasn’t supposed to be anyone in the repository,” the mage said. Definitely a mage with how the magic residue clung to his flesh, as opposed to the Mythic woman, whose pores seeped with magic from head to toe. A Mythic who required blood sustenance, given the metallic taste wafting off her. The fangs weren’t quite vampiric, though.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this trashed either.” The woman kicked an artifact, strutting toward a frightened Walter.

He held the wand up like it possessed any actual ability to assist with his casting. That wand had one setting saturated into it: it moved incantations from spot A to spot B. Walter, in his dreadful dismay, had no incantations cast, no time or skill to conjure them, and absolutely no use for that limp wand.

“Please.” She lunged forward in a blur, unamused and unthreatened by Walter.

Such an amateur. He could’ve gouged an eye out with the wand at the very least. Instead, he clutched it tight, resisting the ghoul’s grip. And she was definitely a ghoul. Not much stronger than wimpy Walter either. Vampires weren’t all that quick but stronger than most mortals. Ghouls were quite possibly the fastest of Mythic beings, but everything about a ghoul moved in an accelerated way, including the rot taking over their necrotic flash. That explained the mask and the fully adorned leather getup from head to toe. Bet her teeth were prosthetics too.

“Stop toying with him.” The mage checked his watch.

Walter shouted, struggling beneath the force of the ghoul, and dropped to his knees. Quite a pleasing position to catch him in before his untimely death. My only regret was that I couldn’t wring his scrawny neck myself. Plus, these two very rude intruders would probably be even less inclined to assist in releasing me than poor, soon-to-be-dead, Walter. Taking the wand, he aimed it at the mage’s sword.

“Well, well, well,” I mused. “Not as incompetent as I thought.”

He ignored me. Rude.

Latching onto the incantations, he ripped them off the blade and flung them at the ghoul. Six symbols sprang to life, hacking into her back and unleashing fire and ice, cleaning away the blood all at the same time.

What a bizarre collection of incantations the invading mage had placed upon his blade. I chuckled at the cleanliness this mage took for his murderous endeavors. Deathshouldbe messy.

The ghoul screeched. An intolerable and grating sound, yet it flowed deep within my discombobulated form. I’d been stuck behind a barrier of protective wards so long, I hadn’t realized everything had held a hollow echo like listening beneath a pool of water. Her crisp wails were refreshing in that sense. It must’ve hurt.

Oh, how I’d missed pain. Any sensation of living. Truly relishing each breath of life.

“You little bastard.” The mage stormed toward Walter.

Whether from the shock of the collapsed ghoul, the excitement inside the repository, the momentary badassery he’d managed using someone else’s incantations against a threat, or a thousand other variables he attempted to process in an instant, Walter froze. He should’ve aimed the wand at the still churning incantations ripping through the ghoul and flung them at the mage. Burned him alive. Cut off his head. Something. Anything.

Instead, he remained doe-eyed as the mage punched Walter across the jaw. Quick and brutal. Then again. And again. And a few more times for good measure. Geez. Walter wheezed and cried. His face was red with fresh welts and bloody, glasses cracked and half knocked off. It was painful to watch, though silly with his dazed expression. Yes, Walter had many irksome qualities and was an utterly pathetic individual, but surely he could’ve overpowered this tiny, angry tyrant. The mage didn’t even cast magic, simply unleashed furious blows in swift succession. Walter had height and weight on him. He was a lanky little thing, far too slender for a full-grown mortal lacking muscle, but still. He could’ve countered a few of those strikes.

Walter was weak-willed, but the obnoxious fire of belief should’ve mustered some fighting spirit. Nothing. Each blow a crack against his frail head. Beating my little companion seemed to be the only highlight of this incursion I’d find, bound yet so close to freedom.

So much for being quick about it. This mage on a schedule took his sweet time beating Walter. After pummeling him, the enraged mage took a breath, releasing his incantations and offering his ghoul partner a reprieve. She shuddered on the floor while Walter dragged himself away, pathetically crawling past artifacts.

Some might’ve helped. Most would, at the very least, make for a good blunt object to chuck.

“Fight back you weakling,” I snapped.

Walter ignored me. His loss. I had a thousand solid suggestions for him.

The mage scanned the room for the source of my voice, the veins on his forehead bulging. Returning to his prey, he waved a hand, creating a powerful gust of wind that hurled Walter against the wall. I shook. The impact cracked Walter’s back, sending a cascading shiver through me.

No. This wasn’t a shiver or shake, but wobble. That filthy, angry mage had slammed Walter into the wall beneath me. My orb tipped ever so.

More. More. More.

Then it rolled back into place on the mantle. Dammit. So close.

“Please, stop.” Walter wheezed, each breath adding to his pained, bloody expression.

“Stop?” The mage’s eyes held a petty impetuous hatred. “I’m just getting started.”

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