Page 37 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires

“Only I haven’t stopped,” he muttered aloud because he had to share his internal ramblings. “Breathing requires a constant flux of reflexes formed by instinct with the complex motor function and neuromotor control and so many other pieces of the body. But I’m not taking anything in, am I?”

Suddenly, the air around us felt so stale and hollow. Bursting his bubble on the reality of life here, if one could call living in Hell a life, somehow added to the emptiness of this realm.

“Would you like to know what the stars are?” I teased.

“Probably just more essence since everything is just essence.” He sighed. “Even your magic is just twisting your essence into another form, right?”

I nodded, then gestured up to the twinkling stars shimmering around the setting sun. “Just as the stars are an after-effect of Fae births in your reality, they are merely infantile Diabolics too young for sentience. They watch from the heavens above, far from easy reach, so they can observe and study the world.”

“That’s kind of sweet, showing them all of Hell, but kind of sad they have to stay billions of miles away all by themselves. Of course, this assumes the distance is similar to the mortal world.”

“It is. And the method is to protect them,” I explained. “Babies are violent and stupid on top of being ugly and boring, so it makes for a deadly combination. If thrown together in a playpen, they’d devour each other.”

“Geez.” Wally squirmed. “Demon babies are ruthless.”

“Like human babes are any better,” I said. “But it also removes Diabolic infants from the weak, feeble demons who might be tempted to feast upon defenseless babes to enhance their own essence.”

Wally’s expression twisted into this desire to yack. Despite all the warnings I’d given him since the day we first met and the ruthlessness I’d demonstrated upon our first interaction, he still didn’t quite grasp the full extent of Diabolic destruction. We were beasts of primeval power, pioneers of carnage and mayhem, warriors born and bred into eons of savagery. Even in Hells such as Lilith’s that professed diplomacy over combat such as mine, no dimension of embodying virtues of compassion and consideration survived.

We approached a large building meant to host our first course. Wally mumbled audibly loud approval over the structure of this place. This temple, according to the string of words that escaped his lips held fine authentic craftsmanship that balanced mortal and Mythic influences.

“Now, remember.” I squeezed Wally’s bicep. “You must maintain a level of control, dominance. Show no hesitation if possible.”

“I got this,” he squeaked. “I’m totally okay.”

“I’ll serve as a buffer, but I can’t appear the one calling the shots.” It was hard enough to portray myself as an arrogant demon high on my devil’s reign.

I’d met demons who deemed themselves equals to their devil because they were treated as lovers or brothers or both. Anything to delude themselves into thinking they weresignificant in their devils’ eyes. They weren’t. To a devil, anything beneath them was merely a whim of entertainment. Whether they were kind or cruel, the emotion was as fleeting as a mortal’s existence.

“We got this.” Wally led the way. “Just the first course of what’ll be a long day or century or forever.”

“Relax.” I pressed my claws to the small of his back, guiding him until we reached an audience, where I changed my demeanor to something aggressively subservient. I reeled my essence outward, close to the ground at Wally’s feet. I kept my head lowered with my eyes locked on everyone nearby. I even hunched my shoulders while keeping my wings upright and high to add to the flair of the devil’s arrival. Even with a small entourage that embodied only myself, I needed to appear imposing. Not a hard act since I’d walked this line into a hundred Hells at Beelzebub’s side.

When we arrived at Court, the demon lords in attendance had this aristocratic air about them. Yes, they dressed in garbs suited for the best Roman parties, but with all my time spent in Hell, the most notable mortal comparison came from the wealthy nobility. Those truly seeped in opulence to their very core, high on their title, on their station, on their divine purpose gifted by fate over effort. Few in Hell who toiled ever succeeded beyond what their devil deemed they deserved.

“Did you know the Romans had several distinguishable types of banquets and parties?” Wally said nervously as all his collective knowledge spilled out as we crossed the threshold of white stone pillars to the temple we entered. “They had public feasts which were referred to as an epulum and drinking parties known as comissatio and banquets of all kinds that were really more than simple dinner parties.”

“Well, let us hope this isn’t one of the orgy parties.” I grinned. “Everyone would be clamoring for a piece of the new devil.”

“Orgies actually weren’t very common practice,” Wally said with this matter-of-fact bravado on the plethora of knowledge he possessed. “Banquets were, though. In fact, when the Romans hosted a banquet, it was never meant to be a frivolous gathering. It was a spectacle, a display of authority and status and worth.”

Wally paused as the realization of his words sank in, and suddenly, the choice in theme rang loudly. It was called a Devil’s Banquet for a reason. One misstep in front of these demon lords, and they’d feast upon Wally. They’d rip us both to shreds and devour us down to the last speck of our being, dropping what remained of our consciousness into the void of Oblivion, where we’d lay dormant until the end of time. If such a thing ever occurred.

I stood confidently as we approached the crowd. The demon lords exuded authority; it seeped from the fibers of their being, danced on the edges of their essence, and radiated from their Diabolic cores. They were not merely the rulers over the vast territories in Lilith’s domain but the best of the best meant to provoke a reaction.

Thankfully, Wally fixated more on their appearances than he did their power. “Is that demon just a collection of triangles?”

“It’s symmetrical aesthetic.” I shrugged. “Some prefer their essence appear sleek as a sign of control.”

“It’s like a geometric nightmare.” His eyes locked onto the other demons who pointlessly wore togas over their assortment of clustered shapes. Then, he studied the beastly bodies similar to birds, reptiles, felines, and so forth. He mouthed the various species he recognized.

At the core stood Orias, iris curved in a demure sign of respect. Not for Wally, the devil in attendance, but the demon Orias passed the baton of hosting duties off to.

I ground my teeth at the sight of that blue demon, Corson, who’d delivered Lilith’s invitation. He stood at the center of thebanquet, surrounded by the best of the demon lords, posturing as if this event was in some way a celebration of his ego.

“Is it rare to look mortal?” he asked quietly, worried about eavesdropping, but based on how well the demon lords kept their essence coiled and away from our path, I suspected none dared listen in on Wally’s musings.

A few—a very small margin, in fact—possessed a human shape and appearance. Only a handful here at the banquet and not many others throughout the many Hells I’d had the misfortune of visiting.

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