Page 45 of The Misfit Mage and His Darling Demon

“Clearly, these things were designed with some structural integrity.” Mora smacked her forehead with an ah-ha moment. “No wonder we couldn’t track the essence. These orbs make it utterly impossible to detect anything.”

I raised my brows. “What would you know of it?”

“Not much. Only that they’re hard to pin down.” She shrugged the words off like a random musing, but in all our time together, I couldn’t recall her having any prior knowledge of Diabolic orbs until I ended up locked away inside one for the better half of a century.

Did that mean Mora looked for me when I was imprisoned? I shook away the curiosity, the confusion that came with gauging Mora’s intentions. She didn’t look that hard since all my days were spent in the same boring repository.

Mora stepped in close, studying the swirling, discombobulated essence of each orb. “I suspected it’d require more Diabolic essence to safely usher a Mythic to and from a Hell realm.”

I joined her, running my fingers along the mantle housing these six troublesome Diabolics that could potentially open Beelzebub’s realm with the right mix of Fae magic, a bit of devil essence, and the wrong hands.

“Well, I’ll be damned all over again.” She nodded past the railing.

Deeper in the lower reaches of the engine room spanned hundreds of other orbs, and each contained a demon. And those demons were powering this place.

“Fuck.” This was becoming an even bigger headache.

13

Walter

I was still exhausted after unsuccessfully chasing Kell through the library when Bez dragged me through the lower labyrinth, demanding I help decipher the construction of this bizarre room. Thankfully, Kell hadn’t been invited, which made sense, considering it held hundreds of unique orbs. None of which were the same make or model based on the six displayed on an upper railing. Each distinct orb was much smaller than Bez’s but slightly different in size and shape from one another. Two had a wide oval shape, whereas one looked like an upside-down egg held in place by the wires attached. The others were all perfectly rounded, yet at a glance, different in size, like a penny next to a dime.

“This is how Novus was shielding himself and the villa when jumping into a Hell realm?” I asked, studying the discombobulated essence within each glass container.

“You tell us,” Mora said, arms folded as she walked the railing. “You’re the only person either of us knows who’s actually examined a Diabolic orb.”

True. I’d studied the orb containing Bez on countless occasions, curiously determining if he possessed awareness, even if his fractured essence seemed mostly lacking sentience. Turned out he was very aware.

“Time to put your expertise to use,” Bez said.

Expertise was a stretch.

I eyed the six orbs, wondering if they were all as aware as Bez during his time contained in the repository.

I swallowed hard.

The subtle shift of broken energy inside the orbs cast shadows, dancing against the light of this engine room, revealing the faintest tracings of the symbols etched onto the glass. I’d never realized the symbols which held Bez were of Fae origin. Like the Sylvan letters lining the doorframe to the tarlike portal leading into this room, they were spelled out in what seemed to be utter gibberish. Not that my understanding of the Fae language was anywhere near proficient, but it was still intriguing they combined a dialect with Diabolics.

“Similar to how they use codes and riddles and so much more by entangling it with other Mythic languages, even a few humans,” I muttered. “It’s like the Sylvan alphabet has an almost symbiotic effect with magic, creating powerful incantations, wards, seals, enchantments, and a million other things all dependent—”

“You weren’t kidding about the history lesson.” Mora sighed.

“Told you,” Bez replied. “It’s the price of acquiring his insights; you have to take all the rambling, too. Just plug your ears, grit your teeth, and think of something happy until he finishes.”

I rolled my eyes.

The most fascinating part of all this was how the Fae constructed something specifically designed to contain Diabolics, seemingly with Diabolic assistance. “Or at the very least a study of their culture, which begs to question, how far back the Fae have been observing the Diabolics since these orbs go back—” I bit my lip, ignoring the agitated thump of Bez’s tails smacking against the grated metal floor.

Truthfully, I didn’t have an inkling of how far back these orbs went. Fifty years at the very least since Magus Remington used one to store Bez, but the finish on his orb never held any ancient remnants of mana seeped over centuries like much of what we kept stored in the repository.

“Eventually, even Walter tires of his tangents. Should only be a few hours of mutterings until he blurts something of value.”

“Be a lot faster if you stopped talking about me like I wasn’t right here.”

“Ah, yes.” Bez pointed the tip of his tail at my crinkled forehead. “He also gets cranky when interrupted during his studies. If you observe the number of lines currently on his forehead, I’d say this is a level two on the scale of seven for Walter’s rage implosions.”

Seriously? I ignored Bez and Mora and returned to observing the orbs. I wanted to hold them, closely inspect the sigils, but until I deciphered how the wires worked, I didn’t want to touch them and risk disrupting the flow of energy.

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