Page 21 of The Misfit Mage and His Darling Demon

“Only if you insist, sweetheart.”

Wally glowered. “Let’s just get this started.”

Wally muttered half-concocted theories on the complexities of the card for the better part of an hour. Turned out the damned thing required deciphering, which proved difficult—even by Wally’s standards.

He said a few Fae phrases, and the card twinkled. As he continued, the shimmer fizzled out, and he grumbled.

“What’s the problem this time?” I asked, standing over him while he sat in the center of his office floor with Mythic books surrounding him, each a codex on different linguistics.

“It’s weird,” he said.

“That much I gathered.”

“I didn’t realize this would be such a complicated read. The Sylvan symbols used are mostly elementary phrases anyone could learn. Even people with no understanding or knowledge of magic.” He waved a hand at me, head buried in a book. “Hell, even you could grasp these terms.”

“Screw you.”

He completely disregarded my comment, lost in his research. “The problem is they’re rearranged with what I thought were incorrect letters, but they’re actually other languages. A few human and some mostly dead Mythic dialects.” He laughed to himself over what I could only guess was some trivial nerd humor. “Guess he made the decryption as a test of sorts. Make sure he didn’t make a hasty choice in offering me a position. That would be flattering if the position were genuine and not like a trap.”

“The only one you better be flattered taking positions for is me.”

“This is serious, Bez.”

“I’m very serious.”

“Oh, I think I got it.” Wally scribbled some notes, copying the symbols from the card onto a piece of paper in a differentarrangement. “Ready? This should theoretically bring him here or his villa.”

“As long as he doesn’t break my things.”

“It shouldn’t be phased with our reality.” Wally stood with the paper in hand.

All the same, I coiled a tail around Wally’s waist, claws drawn and essence stirring. I wouldn’t take the trickery of the Fae lightly a second time around.

Wally began reciting the incantation, summoning this Novus Fae to us, where I’d do my best to play nice for Wally and Mora’s sake. My own too. Only long enough to uncover his secrets, then I’d accidentally knock him off a high ledge, into a sharp stake, or into a boiling cauldron. I couldn’t be faulted for clumsiness.

The paper in Wally’s hand burned pink, crumpling to ashes. “Shit, I think—”

He exploded into glitter, lost from my grip as each sparkled before fading to nothingness.

I zipped about the office, searching for his scent, his presence, his anything. He couldn’t vanish into thin air.

Not again.

The card remained, and I snatched it up, trying to mentally rearrange the slew of symbols Wally had rewritten on the now-burned paper. I couldn’t recall. I hadn’t paid attention and didn’t know the first thing about the Fae alphabet.

I shouted, fighting back the panic of quick, wispy breaths. Was this panic mine or Wally’s? It had to be mine. I couldn’t sense any trickle of his being.

Not a trace. It was like he’d moved dimensional planes and teleported all at once while also closing the door behind so seamlessly it left this plane undisturbed.

I dove into the shadows of my void realm, hoping the ethereal sensation of running through the pocket world sparked some extra connection to our bond. Perhaps somethingbordering the walls of this plane would help me find Wally. Feel our bond. Sense his mana. Anything. The faintest tug of his link.

Nothing.

I soared throughout the town of Galena, veiled behind my Diabolic web, searching for signs, but I couldn’t feel him anywhere.

I sprinted from across town back into our house in a fraction of a second. Once I emerged, I searched the room—every room—for dimensional tears, tiny fractures like at The Chicago Theatre.

Nothing.

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