Page 57 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

“All at once, apparently.”

“Yum.” Bez snapped his teeth like biting the air itself. The act highlighted the sharpness of his jawline and made one of the veins along his neck bulge momentarily, turning black before settling into a normal human appearance.

“But do you actually need anything to survive?” I asked, grabbing a few things from the produce aisle. “Or is it more of a ‘you think, therefore you are’ kind of situation?”

“My essence feeds on the Mythic residue in the atmosphere and energy exerted and lost in the ether by the living. It’s not something I require, as my essence will also restore itself in time, but this helps speed up the process as well as offering a few additional skill sets that aren’t inherent to my kind.”

“Like how you accessed the Pentacles of Power by glamouring your hair,” I said, fascinated by the whole process. “Theoretically, you could access any unique magics or abilities by any mage or Mythic if you devoured their essence or energy?”

“Yes and no. The energy is more muscular. It’s something everything in this world gives off through basic function, which I transform into my own physical form or the physical form I’m inhabiting. The Mythic residue can only translate into my own natural abilities or those of the host body I possess.”

“Let’s put a pin in that because I have lots of questions,” I said, reaching the register.

After checking out, I convinced Bez to walk the half mile to the motel. He preferred flying, but it was close enough to walk, and we needed to maintain a low profile. Plus, I had to focus on a plan. What came next. Something increasingly more difficult when soaring through the sky wrapped around Bez.

The grimoire weighed heavy on my back, along with the overfilled plastic bags of groceries Bez refused to help carry. I had to find a way to fully decipher and connect this grimoire to Ian. If there was a connection. There were so many signs and seals and symbols within this book that dealt with protocol magic. Spells and keys designed to unlock security measures. Things that shouldn’t exist. Things only the best of the best in the infiltration regiment would know about—yet Corvine worked inside the vanguard regiment. These skeleton keys definitely helped him rise in the ranks, making vanguard cases easier for him to pursue without the limitations of seeking aid from other regiments. Still, none of that tied to Ian, who was part of the sentinel regiment. Unless he assisted in acquiring them. Doubtful, since this grimoire was years old and filled to the brim with secrets. I needed to talk to Al about this.

First, I had to develop preventive measures. Then I had to find a way to prove Ian’s involvement. Also, I needed to locate him. Not in his sentinel post but among the Mythics and misfit mages he worked with when attacking the Magus Estate. He claimed to have big plans, and I believed if we found a lead, the sentinel regiment could use it to catch him in the act. It’d make a huge difference. It’d be easier finding something on Ian if Bez hadn’t tossed half the essential memories in his host body out. Nothing he searched held viable leads. Or so he said. It wasn’t that I doubted him. Well, I did. I bit my lip. But I also trusted him. More than anyone in my life right now.

I also found it difficult to plan for anything because Bez filled my every thought. His body. His touch. Our sex. We hadn’t exactly mentioned it since. Part of me wanted to attribute that to Mora’s presence, my recovery, and the outlandish idea that under that gruff attitude, Bez was partially a gentleman about it. I practically snorted. Not a chance. Still, he hadn’t brought it up, and I was too timid to mention that we’d screwed.

Did he enjoy it? Was it bad? Was it a one-time thing? Or I supposed, multiple times, one sensation thing? My chest warmed. I hoped not. After every second spent pleasing Bez, tasting his body, allowing him to explore and control mine, it created this calm, collective satisfaction. Clarity I hadn’t had in… Well, ever.

It was just difficult to know what this meant for us. Bez was a Diabolic who happened to relish in eliminating anyone who crossed him. Not sure he’d change. He was pretty murderous. Something I definitely couldn’t do. My breathing hitched with each step toward the motel, tightening my throat similarly to the way I’d choked after being stabbed in the chest. Ian did that. Acted without a moment of hesitation. With Bez at my side, it’d be so easy to track him down and return the favor. Bleed him dry, the way I nearly bled to death on that rooftop. Then on Mora’s floor. It was only thanks to Bez I survived. And his essence ensured I wouldn’t have a scar. The same essence currently circulating through my veins at that very moment. I wanted to blame the Diabolic bond for the vengeful thoughts bubbling when Ian came to mind, but that was me. Maybe…

“You’re awfully quiet, Walter.” Bez spun around, walking backward with his hands tucked behind his head. The muscles of his biceps flexed, stretching the tight fabric of his suit jacket.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Sweat pooled in the wrinkles of my brow, sliding down the nose pads of my glasses. I wanted to wipe it away, adjust my glasses, or both. Instead, I trudged ahead, carrying the bags of groceries.

“You always have something buzzing about that beehive you call a mind. No, no. There’s a reason you’re being quiet.” Bez pouted his lips, crinkling his chin in the process.

I lifted the grocery bags, frowning. Bez rolled his eyes.

“Hmm. I suppose I can offer my assistance.” Bez grabbed the bags of groceries, and I flexed my fingers until the red along my knuckles lessened.

We continued until we reached the motel. I had Bez wait outside while I checked us in at the lobby. The woman working behind the counter had made it clear on the phone that the cost for two guests went well above my budget, but I had to ensure we had a safe, discreet place to rest for at least a week. Maybe longer. There was so much I still wanted to line up. What I had planned… a lot of it fell to chance. Luck. Fortuitous alignment. Stuff that never really happened to me. The only thing which ever really lined up in my life was misfortune and failure.

“Key.” The woman slid a cardkey across the chipped countertop.

I stuffed it in my pocket and led Bez down to the end of the motel close to the overgrown wooded area beneath an interstate bridge.

The room had a dark green shag carpet and matching comforter. It smelled stale and rotten. The hiss of the AC unit did little to wash away the humidity inside and probably added to the foul scent. At least I hoped it came from the ripe fluids inside the rusted AC unit and not something else. Bez set the groceries on top of the single large table in the room where a box television with rabbit ear antenna sat. I didn’t know those still existed. The box TV. It was so bulky and inconveniently located since it was positioned in front of the full-size bed, but the table was lower to the floor, more like a coffee table. There were no chairs in the room, only the mattress for sitting, so if I wanted to watch television, I’d have to crane my neck to see it. The single dresser would’ve made a better spot for the TV. It was higher and perfectly sized for the box television.

“Though, I suppose most people don’t come here to watch TV,” I muttered.

“Huh?” Bez raised his eyebrows, scanning the room.

“Nothing. Just thinking aloud.”

“This is by far the worst accommodations I’ve been forced to endure. And I lived in a Hell realm, a tiny orb, and a London prison during the plague.”

“You did?”

“I suppose it makes sense,” Bez continued, ignoring my curiosity about the prison story. “We need a low profile. Scary. Manhunt. Or mage hunt? Devil hunt? Point is, they’re hunting us, and no one would think of checking these shabby accommodations.”

“Well, actually, I’m sure they would. I’m hoping they won’t.”

Bez plopped on the squeaky mattress. I ground my teeth at the piercing screech of rusted coils.

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