Page 18 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires

She dug her arm in all the way to her shoulder, reaching far through the pocket portal of storage, and tossed a few business cards onto the counter. Not cards. Customized parchment sigils. Sort of the personalized magical house key we’d created for residents of the Diabolic Oasis.

This place wasn’t a prison, Mora wanted people to come and go as they saw fit, but we had to ensure no one unannounced stepped through the barrier. These allowed us to track any movement in or out of the city.

It also kept people from leaving or entering with undocumented items. No need for relics to be removed and returned to Collective hands.

“Make your copy,” Bez said as he approached the front desk to join us. “I will have a request once you achieve that.”

“If,” I interjected. “If Kell achieves making a copy of the devil’s invitation and it doesn’t like self-destruct or something.”

“You assume a devil would feel the need to safeguard their work.”

“Exactly.” Kell shot me a smug smirk. “Nothing better than stumbling onto the so-called invulnerable. They’re always the easiest to exploit.”

“It’s actually how Kell first met me.” Bez shrugged.

“What do you mean?” Kell winked. “I always stab boys before I kiss them.”

“Ha,” Bez snorted. “Didn’t you screw Wally’s brother?”

“Once or twice or five times.” Kell laughed.

“Wait, what?” I widened my eyes.

“But we never kissed.” Kell playfully poked Bez’s chest. “No need for stabby stabs.”

Bez roared with laughter while Kell cackled, and I couldn’t piece together how much of this conversation was nonsense banter between friends and how much of it was the truth because they both had sordid dealings romantically and otherwise.

“You two are impossible.” I glowered. Not at their history of fucking. Their past was their past. But this desire to playfully tamper with primeval powers.

That didn’t sit well with me. Somehow, our roles had returned right back to where they started. I was the overly cautious one, and Bez was once again willing to risk it all on some impulsive idea.

“What is your idea?” I asked him as Kell walked to the back of the store to retrieve the fireball key meant to open a door to the Devil’s Banquet being thrown in my honor.

“It’s a discussion to have later,” Bez said. “Right now, I’d like to apologize for not initially supporting your decision.”

“You’re fine,” I said. “I mean, I hadn’t even really made a decision.”

“You did,” he said. “You made it the moment you found out others would be at risk if you hesitated. Your compassion is your biggest flaw.”

“Thanks?” I raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t call it a flaw.”

“I was hasty when suggesting we run,” Bez said. “There is no running. And as much as it frightens me, the idea of what could happen to you stepping into Hell—the voyage itself, the intricate layers of the dimension, and the inhabitants themselves—I know we don’t have an alternative.”

“We’ve been forced into challenging situations before.”

“This will be unlike anything you’ve faced. It’s imperative you treat this seriously.”

“I’m not you, Bez.” I grabbed his shoulders and squeezed. “I treat everything seriously. Too seriously, sometimes.”

“Know that I will serve as your right hand, your commander, your personal vanguard of protection.” He delicately traced his hand along my face, gently rubbing my cheek. “I will ensure your safety against any and all foes in Hell.”

“And I’ll follow your lead completely.” I tilted my head, leaning into his hand, the soft touch, the longing. “While we walk through Hell itself, you’ll be in charge.”

“How’s that different from any other day?” Bez chuckled.

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, Wally.” He shrugged with this obnoxious expression of arrogance and cockiness. “We both know I run this relationship.”

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