Page 15 of The Misfit Mage and His Darling Demon

I hit the red button, and it obeyed the swipe of my finger, hanging up on Mora. I had no time for her if I was meant to make a decision, either of which could endanger Wally and myself.

All knew me as the devil Beelzebub, and I couldn’t afford some pompous Fae to uncover or unlock anything that indicated otherwise.

I closed my eyes and lay back on the couch. Unraveling my essence, I sent my mind to traverse in an astral sense, mentally plucking at the strings connecting realms while keeping part of my essence anchored to my physical form. The Fae weren’t the only beings capable of traveling through the blackness of space between time and reality, though I had no intention of actually tearing dimensional walls apart. I merely sought to observe the barren roads leading to otherworldly doorways. Ignoring the rhythms of other lesser worlds, Fae realities, and countless possibilities, I searched for tethers that led to locked doors of infinite Hell realms until I found the one I wanted—Beelzebub’s Hell. It remained sealed, far off and mostly forgotten as I hoped it always would.

When I first arrived in the mortal realm, I regularly checked for the possibility of his Hell opening again. It took years to learn he’d never be able to open his door, given the piece of him I’d escaped with. Whether out of paranoia or curiosity, I continued to check for the better part of a century. The paranoia was that Beelzebub or one of his many subjects would drag me back and carve out the devil essence coiled amongst my own. The curiosity from a guilty conscience, not for the billions of demons I trapped for eternity, but for the one who’d shown me kindness.

Eligos. A true knight of valor.

He’d made me believe the mortal realm was a place anyone could recreate themselves, being the champion they wanted, but I learned too soon upon my arrival here that mortals, mages, and Mythics only ever saw me as a heretic monstrosity. Suppose Eligos wasn’t wrong in his many speeches on demons being whoever they wanted because I did recreate myself as a champion no one would oppose.

I tsked, dragging my essence back into my body on this plane. I didn’t have time to reminisce about old, dead fools. Eligos dug his grave when he helped lead the charge in a foolish coup to conquer a devil.

If Mora’s intel was accurate, then this Novus needed to be dealt with. I didn’t care a bit about whatever demons he exploited, but I’d be damned if I allowed his hubris to destroy the life I’d created, especially since I finally had a life worth living with Wally.

5

Walter

Was I pouting? Maybe. Was it justified? Probably.

“Definitely justified,” I muttered as I continued the monotonous task of forming complex sigils at my workstation for a derelict Fae relic, not that anyone would know since it was imbued with so much witch magic only the original framework of the clock indicated Fae origins. I slowly unraveled crudely placed incantations that overloaded the structure and nearly disintegrated the gears. Not the kind of Fae craftsmanship I’d like to work on, not even close to the type of artifacts I could work with based on Baron Novus’ offer.

The only thing I’d managed to fix from this clock was the cracked glass casing that surrounded the clock and would sit neatly on the base of the device. It needed sturdy symbols to absorb and store the magics within the clock itself without shattering.

Twirling the gears, I couldn’t figure out why the second’s hand continued moving faster while the hour’s hand barelyslugged along. Despite carefully disassembling it and removing the haphazard and lazily lain incantations by the owner, this anniversary clock still needed lots of attentive care.

I grumbled. Anniversary. One hell of an anniversary, too. Anniversary clocks were supposed to run for exactly one year from when they were wound.

I couldn’t believe Bez unilaterally decided for us. For me. And yes, I’d made a few unilateral decisions, but that was regarding avoiding Collective mages and Bez’s general impulsivity.

Flashes of the flames destroying The Chicago Theatre hit, followed by Bez’s frantic expression—something I hadn’t seen since Ian stole Bez’s essence and forced his obedience. Bez wasn’t impulsive last night. He was protective.

I only wished he hadn’t shut down when we talked last night. He’d refused to come to bed, claiming his essence was too wired. Total lie.

And this morning, the way he hurled around his trust in my judgment. The way he slipped in, “Always have. Always will.” My mouth went dry, and I swallowed hard.

Gods, he even twisted my guilt trip and threw it back at me ten times stronger, sufficiently claiming it for himself. Dammit. He had more Alden family skills than I did.

A soft touch trailed along my neck, and I smiled. The gentle movement was like fingertips walking over my shoulder.

“Tony.” I reached my hand out to offer my scorpion familiar an easy step onto the workstation, where his gaze rested.

He stayed planted on my shoulder instead.

Tony, which was short for Anthony, which was short for Antoninus, which was short for Titus Aelius Hadrianus Antoninus Augustus Pius, most commonly known as Antoninus Pius, the most peaceful emperor of Rome. A fitting name for Tony since he was kind and docile, also an emperor in his ownright. And like Antoninus, Tony wasn’t magical but navigated the world between Mythics and mages quite well.

The actual Antoninus kept Rome out of conflict better than any other emperor and even expanded relations with many Mythic creatures, despite the mage council of the time disliking such things as the most powerful mages declaring themselves gods of the era. To think, their legacy still stood from the pantheons born through their arrogance.

Tony pinched my cheek.

“Ow.”

He jabbed his tail in the direction of my incomplete sigils.

“Iamworking,” I said. “Just a bit distracted.”

He scurried down my arm, his feet clicking along my workstation, seeping mana I’d shared with him into the sigils to help complete these tasks. Sunlight from the window shined against his black exoskeleton. Tony always knew when my mind wandered too much and I risked falling behind schedule. Without the threat of angry archivist practitioners regularly scolding my lackluster work ethic, I struggled to maintain such rigorous deadlines.

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