Page 44 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires

Corson rejoined our table, continuing his suggestive innuendos as he picked over the best-presented food and ate.

“He reminds me of a certain demon,” Wally whispered. “You know, with all the sexy murder jokes.”

“Mora’s not nearly this crass.” I scoffed.

Wally’s face fell into bewilderment. “Do you seriously not see it?”

I eyed this pampered prince of Hell, studying his blatant arrogance, recalling how much he despised his devil, yet publicly remained an obedient puppet.

“I guess they’re both kind of prissy since they’re royal Diabolics,” I said, rocking my head from side to side.

“You,” Wally blurted. “He reminds me of you.”

“Walter.” I furrowed my brow. “The audacity.”

“The absurdity more like it,” Corson interjected. “I’m nothing like this warrior of Beelzebub’s. At least, I presume you’re a warrior based on how you carry yourself.”

“As if you know anything about the classes of Beelzebub’s realm.”

“Not much other than warriors and fodder, if memory serves.” Corson bit into a piece of meat. “Though, given your hidden history and false name and whatever other lies you composed over the centuries, I’d wager a defective warrior.”

“Don’t say that,” Wally said with a sharpness in his tone as his eyes went black.

“Apologies.” Corson waved his arm round and round into a frilly, phony gesture of bowing as he sat at the table. “I merely meant to convey my understanding for the warriors of Beelzebub’s world. In fact, breaking their bluster used to be a favorite pastime of mine before their Hell closed off entirely.”

I barred my teeth.

The dining hall rumbled, and I turned to Wally, ready to calm him for whichever comment had finally set him off. Only it wasn’t him. His essence circulated, protective, yet contained. This sudden overwhelming force came from Lilith’s return as we wrapped up the first course.

Flames burst from the sealed doors, charring them and leaving nothing but a flutter of cinders that sparkled with the dying embers of the essence Lilith had eradicated for no other reason than it added a bit of flair to her entrance.

Lilith wore a sleeveless cream dress with an opening in the cleavage that reached her belly button. The cream held a cleaner white at the skirt portion of the dress that reached all the way to her ankles and exposed her bare feet. Feet coated in essence and gave her toes a clawed aesthetic.

“Nice dress.” I crinkled my nose, fishing for a compliment.

“It’s a stola,” Wally said, already whispering a hundred random facts about whatever the ancient Romans called fashion. “A sign of wealth for sure, traditionally speaking, but usually they weren’t worn independently like this. Too exposed.”

I nodded to Wally’s rambling asides and studied Lilith’s appearance. She’d returned to the banquet in her own skin but not her own form. There was something strikingly familiar about her look. Skin the same light gray as mine. Longer hair, for sure, but a sheen black with neon orange roots. A pair of feathered wings sprouted from her back, the same dark gray as mine. Three tails, each playfully batting around the tables and causing mischief. Four curled horns atop her head, accentuating the jewels she adorned like a crown. Even her eyes had a crimson allure to them—an aura impossible for a devil to possess. They were pure darkness, utter black, devoid of any spark of any other color along the spectrum.

I leaned over to Wally to ask a question and confirm my suspicions. “Does she look human to you?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Actually, kind of surprised she possessed a person, considering she seemed so against lower beings and whatnot.”

“It’s not possession,” I said. “Merely an augmentation of her essence meant to reflect her appearance to resemble the person looking at her.”

“Whoa. That’s similar to how a siren song can alter sensory perception of smell or sight through sound. Also, the way succubi shapeshift for aesthetic pleasures.” Wally adjusted his glasses, bewitched by the ability and likely curious if his devil essence could accomplish the same. “So, this is sort of a femme version of me?”

“Slightly more feminine, yes.” I winked. “But I doubt she could rock that bossy bottom boy strut you’ve got no matter her altered presence.”

Wally tsked, then grinned, then bit his lip to hold back a snicker. Once he’d settled, he eyed Lilith again as she approached our center-staged table. “The curls really get some nice buoyancy with more length. Though, not a fan of herglasses. The frames are kind of blocky. All in all, I make a pretty girl.”

I studied my image from Lilith’s perspective. In truth, I’d possessed a few female bodies over the years because Mora always made it look like such fun. But it never felt quite right, and the composites were never to my liking. “Personally, I think my femme fatale look is quite fuckable.”

“I’d say your current form is quite fuckable, too.” Corson smirked.

“Blegh.” I mimicked a need to yack. “I forgot you were here.”

As Lilith sauntered closer, her wings spread wide, cascading an air of caution to the demon lords. Perhaps they saw limbs or extremities matching their own Diabolic forms; then again, she might’ve shown her demon kin’s actual essence flowing in a show of authority. Dominance. It worked.

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