Page 12 of The Misfit Mage and His Darling Demon

He huffed and walked from the bedroom through the three-foot length of space he dared call a hallway that led directly to our kitchen-dining room combo in this open-floored humble home.

I wanted something more spacious since we would remain stuck in this tiny town for the foreseeable future thanks to the freelance work we’d gained through Mora’s connections, but Walter claimed this fit our budget. He glamoured the renters into overlooking a background check, forgoing deposits, and accepting a month-to-month cash payment lease when he could’ve easily used that charmed magic to sweet talk us into something more accommodating. But oh no, he put his foot down and demanded a low profile.

So if he got to make grand declarations on what we could and couldn’t do, then so could I, which was why I made it clear he wouldn’t accept the Fae’s offer.

“There’s no coffee?” he asked with aggravation in his gravelly voice. The first cup would remove the gravel, but I was certain the spite would remain.

I slurped the rest of my cup. “Nope. Fresh out.”

“Real mature.”

“Perhaps your fairy friend has coffee.” Perhaps he had better coffee, too. We were all out of sugar. Coffee was only ever good when made with sweet and bitter in equal measures.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult about this.” He went to make a new pot. “I know things got off on the wrong foot—”

“There is no correct foot for abduction.”

“How many times do I have to explain? It wasn’t exactly an abduction, per se. In fact, it’s common practice for the Fae to see something or someone they like and snatch them from our realm. It’s just how they do things. Had I been less surprised by being grabbed for a friendly conversation, I would’ve remembered that fact.”

“I don’t care about the semantics behind Fae customs where they declare abduction a form of conversation or courtship.”

“Courtship?” Walter scoffed. “Please tell me this isn’t some misplaced jealousy.”

I scowled. I wasn’t jealous. Walter was mine, and I was his, and I held zero concern of another lesser, far more inadequate lover attempting anything to come between us. That said, I didn’t like the pheromones wafting from that Fae as he studied Walter. I didn’t trust the Fae.

“The so-called job offer is nothing more than a ploy.” I pointed to the television when Sandra came back onto the screen. “Television, freeze. Freeze, I said.” I grumbled and retrieved the clicker to freeze the screen as Sandra’s face went blurry mid-image. “Take Sandra, for instance. She has offered her best friend an opportunity to go into a business venture with her, some pyramid tactic meant to deceive simpler mortals, but in truth, Sandra only wishes to lure Monique into a false sense of security so she can uncover her secrets and exploit them because Monique…well, that’s a much longer story, but she is awicked siren—actually a harpy I think, great glamour to keep the mortals unaware—not the point, which is Sandra is luring—”

“Are you seriously using daytime television to teach me some lesson on manipulation?” Walter huffed.

“The point,” I continued, “is this offer is a trap.”

“If he meant to harm me, he could’ve done so immediately. He could’ve killed me, killed you. Simply not returned me to our plane of reality when I asked. Why do all that?”

“It’s called the long con, Walter. I can go back to season seven’s origins if you wish to see when Sandra’s machinations began.”

“This is a great opportunity to take my work and my abilities to the next level. Practitioner level. You said you wanted more of that for me.”

“I do. Not with someone who clearly has no interest in you, though.” I stared, considering carefully, but Walter needed this bubble of delusion popped. “He’s only interested in you because of me. This con is meant to harm me.”

“Of course, because it couldn’t possibly be about me.” Walter sighed, his heart thumping hard and blood coursing faster. In part, the fury probably came as an extension of my own, but the sadness weighing heavy on him—that was all him. Sorrow I’d etched by being what he considered as unreasonable.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the performance,” I said, upset I’d hurt him and upset I’d allowed some Fae to drive us into conflict through his manipulative ego-stroking. “I’m glad you can take pride in the attention others have noted of your talented work. You are talented, the most studious mage I have ever met. But I am uncomfortable with you taking this offer.”

“Because you don’t trust I can take care of myself. Because you think I’ll just walk directly into an obvious trap.”

“No.”

“Yes, even though it’s been my judgment, my caution that’s kept our profile low the last six months, my decisions that have led to zero traps—don’t you dare bring up the gremlin faux pas—so why can’t you trust my judgment now?”

“I do trust you and your choices.” I clenched my teeth, swallowing the rage I had and the guilt from Wally’s sadness. “I don’t trust the Fae. They are shifty. Imbued with greater magic than any other Mythics, more pompous than mages, as cunning as Diabolics, and far too many unknown factors for my liking. There are few things in this realm I lack insight on—”

“Oh, please.” Wally poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee, the gravel in his voice fading simply from the first inhale. “You can’t even figure out how Instagram works. Clearly, you lack insight on more than you realize.”

“Algorithms are dumb,” I snapped before composing myself.

“Speaking of insight and bizarre introductions, we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.”

True. It was my left that kicked him down the stairs and pinned him to the floor of the Magus Estate. I smirked. We did have unique circumstances, and I was certain he tried to rationalize our connection, our outcome, into the factors he played in his head when planning for things. Like risks. Which this was.

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