Page 45 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

“Are you done yet?” I asked.

“Shut up.” Walter stood.

“You must realize how futile these attempts are.” I shrugged. “I mean, even a competent mage would struggle against a devil.”

“I am competent.”

“Are you, though?” I tilted my head.

Walter’s hazel eyes widened, bloodshot and pissed. I’d never seen him so enraged. My veins bulged and constricted in sync with his fury. The little nerd finally had his last straw and snapped. I evaded his pathetic swings, lightly smacking him. Cheeks. Ribs. Gut. Soft and vulnerable spots without invoking the Diabolic protection. Nothing fatal. Nothing deadly. Just enough to remind him he stood no match.

He panted, struggling to stand as his rage consumed him. Was this an effect of the Diabolic bonding? I continued recoiling over his neurotic emotions enveloping me, had mine finally infested his heart? I smirked.

“Stop fucking smiling.” Walter swung a fist.

I dodged. Honestly, my muscles and joints ached more from his failed fighting than his successful blows.

“Can we quit this?” I asked, resting my elbow on his shoulder.

He spun around, swinging furiously. I zipped away, backstepping faster than his eyes could follow. Still, he chased, predicting where I’d land. Impressive. A fist landed on my bicep, aimed for my torso, but I admired the valiant effort. His body trembled from his exhaustion.

No. This had nothing to do with me and so much to do with years of repressed rage. I loved it. Loved his outburst. Had he had more of these moments in the repository, I probably wouldn’t have wanted him dead so much.

“Enough,” Walter shouted.

Fire surrounded me.

“Looky there, when you get out of your own little head, the magic just pours out.”

Walter had a bewildered expression. He stared at his hands, then the flames, and shook his head doubtingly. The fire spiraled and intensified. I snarled. Something sweet wafted in the air, covering something foul. I’d caught this scent before. I turned. In the distance, a mage flew closer on a broomstick, controlling the flames and muttering something. Beneath the fire, faint sigils glimmered. Dammit. The elemental attack was merely a distraction. The mage darted over me and snatched Walter into the air. I leapt forward but not fast enough. Metal sprang up, enclosing me from every direction in a circular container.

“This won’t hold me,” I growled, punching the hot metal.

My chest ached. The Diabolic tether linking me to Walter yanked at my core, knocking my footing off. It’d be quicker to punch my way through the rooftop than this magical wall, but I found myself pinned to it. Every muscle of my body was drawn to the fleeting Walter. I channeled essence, coating my hands in sheen, black talons. I shredded through layer after layer of metal walling.

“Get back here!”

15

15

Walter

Wind whooshed across my face. My chest tightened, a light tug reeling back to Bez. I quaked, clutching the fabric of a sweater tightly while sitting on a broomstick twirling through the sky.

“Ian?” I held him as he zipped further from the devil bound to me. My legs intertwined with his, and I clamped my thighs around his waist, certain I’d plummet otherwise.

I wouldn’t, though. Ian had a hand firmly planted on the small of my back. Mana saturated the broom, and the glowing sigils offered extra support and comfort in this swift ride. We’d cleared several blocks, perhaps a whole mile, as I gained my bearings. What was Ian doing? How’d he find me? Soon, we slowed, descending toward a rooftop with a beautiful waterside view of Elliot Bay which meant we might’ve still been downtown.

Sunlight trickled through the thin clouds casting a rainbow shimmer on the water’s surface. The merfolk, who remained glamoured to humans, created a dazzling array of glittering colors from their fins and aquatic magics. I could stare at this all day. All night too, given the way their magics created firework vibrance under the moon’s light, the sun tended to obscure. Unlike mages or witches or most Mythics, in fact, they displayed their magics daily for entertainment and beauty and joy. How wonderful to live beneath the sea.

“What are you doing here?” I slid off the broom, just as anxious and confused as the last time I’d shared a ride with Ian.

“You know”—Ian brushed his finger through my hair—“you look pretty good with brown eyes and hair. But I prefer the curls to this shaggy style.”

I clutched the grimoire from Vanguard Corvine. My ring clinked against the lock, sealing the spell book. Of course, Al’s glamoured ring. I twirled it with my thumb pressed against my ring finger. It changed my appearance but must’ve had a secondary tracking feature.

“Did Al send you?”

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