Page 5 of The Misfit Mage and His Darling Demon

“That’s what I was saying. Weren’t you listening?”

“I was.” I moved in close to his neck, nuzzling the back of his ear with my nose and tickling his skin with soft breaths. “As I said, the Fae control all that comes from this world, not that which dwells in it. Their sway holds no bounds over the Diabolic.”

“And since I have your essence…” He practically squealed. “That means I’ll remember this.”

“Just another benefit of having me inside you.” I blew a kiss.

He rolled his eyes, playing hard to get poorly because as his eyes went back to the stage, his hand landed on my leg, quickly drifting up my thigh and resting there.

“No one remembers their encounters with the Fae. Even mere glimpses are wiped from one’s mind. I should document it. No. Maybe. No one else has. Although that might draw their ire, and we already have the Collective breathing down our necks. That could be part of why there aren’t documented encounters with the Fae. Well, none with their physical presence. Always with their relics, carrying a message they wish to share. I wouldn’t want to anger the Fae, but what if others wanted to know about this? There could be some curious mage working on research who’d benefit.”

“Maybe you should address all these questions after the performance.” I kissed his cheek tenderly with reeled-back affection. I wanted to pull him in close and kiss his lips with fiery intensity, especially after two weeks away, procuring artifacts for his clients and running extra errands for Mora while she figured out where and when the damned Fae would appear.

I stifled my desires, though, because I wouldn’t take away from this moment. After all, I was irresistible, and poor Wally would find himself so enamored by pleasing me, he’d miss the entirety of this simple show.

I wasn’t certain why he or anyone else found the Fae so intriguing. They were simply secretive Mythics with a highertier of magic that allowed them control over dimensions and to create meager temporal folds in reality. Basically, knockoff Diabolics—equally as murderous, from what I recalled.

“Look. He’s handing out seeds of passion to everyone.” Wally’s legs bounced as he watched a violet-skinned Fae hovering through the audience. His butterfly wings fluttered, sprinkling glitter, while he carefully placed a shimmering seed atop the heads of each person he flew past. Their euphoric haze remained, and magic washed over them, radiating, then seeping into their skin.

“You never get this excited when I give you my seed—and I do so with far more passion than this fairy.”

“This is sacred, ceremonial,” he whispered, ears burning bright red. “Don’t make it dirty.”

“Ah,” I said, leaning in close enough to graze my teeth along his earlobe. “Perhaps you’re reminiscing your enthusiasm for my seed, after all.”

“Shush. He’s approaching. No funny business.”

“But of course.”

I averted my gaze when the Fae arrived; he floated before us, extending his golden-taloned hand and revealing a glowing green seed. Wally scooched closer, eyes wide and a smile filling his entire beautiful face. How he must’ve wondered what passion this seed would offer. I only hoped it didn’t add to his already-driven compulsion for research. Gods, he had enough motivation and fulfillment there.

The violet Fae lingered, trepidation in his creased brow. He closed his hand, clutching it and the seed close to his chest, then flew away.

“Oh, no.” Wally sighed. “Did I…did I do something wrong?”

Despair consumed him as he sank into his seat, casting his eyes downward as if he no longer saw himself worthy of witnessing the sparkle of the Fae performance.

“Get your glittering ass back over here and give us our stupid seeds of inspiration,” I growled, “or so help me, you fairy fuck, I’ll rip those wings off and stuff them so far down your throat you’ll be—”

“Bez, stop. You’ll cause a scene.” Wally pressed his hand against my chest, his pulse thrumming almost as rapidly as my enraged heart.

“I’ll cause a lot more if that tiny-pricked bastard doesn’t get back here.” I stood, adjusting my rolled sleeves, fully intent on plucking out a Fae’s still-beating heart.

Several of the dawdling dancers froze on the stage. Music continued as one feathered Fae hummed in the band’s ears, casting more waves of rainbow-hued notes into the air. I was a few seconds away from unleashing black flames to burn down this entire theater.

“It’s okay.” Wally squeezed my arm. “I’m honored just to be here, to hold onto this memory. I don’t need inspiration or passion. I get both from you. Don’t, you know, kill anyone.”

“I’d never.” I allowed his grip to pull me back into the seat. “Simply wished to have a word with them is all.”

The rhythm of instruments slowed, softening. All Fae halted their movements, stiff but not frozen. Their gaze, no matter where they stood or hovered, peered upward toward a single balcony seat where a low chime rang. Glitter carried static through the auditorium, mixed with a screech. Bubbles blossomed, each exploding and releasing a foul note.

“This must be the Fae dialect,” Wally said. “Their actual voice. It’s beautiful.”

It was ugly, a noise reminiscent of the beeping screeches Wally’s lap computer would make when it turned a sickly blue and died merely at myattemptto use it.

A snow-white hand waved from the balcony. Gaudy, golden rings covered the long, slender fingers of this individual’s hand,their arm covered in the sleeve of a fine red coat. Whoever sat there hidden away kept captive attention from the performers with that simple gesture.

The pink Fae who began the performance skipped along the air like she bounced from hidden clouds beneath her bare feet. Retrieving a seed from the Fae who’d denied Wally, she made her way toward us, dropping the glowing green seeds before turning on her heel and fluttering back to the stage.

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