Page 47 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires

The passage of time in the city I’d left to attend this Devil’s Banquet really became more apparent with each surge of connection that seized a hold over me. I couldn’t make sense of what I saw, so I ignored it, waiting for the link to falter and fade, all while hoping my time in Hell would soon come to an end. I hoped even more that Bez and I could safely depart without incurring a devil’s ire or an expectation of regular visits.

This one very brief trip had left my thirst for knowledge about Hell quenched. Well, not really. But I’d gladly bury my curiosities if it kept me and the whole world alive and unharmed.

“Walter, I do hope this room is to your liking.” Lilith entered the room, a pep in her step, a bounce her long blonde curls, and a coy smile.

“Yes,” I said with a strained smile. “The next course wouldn’t happen to be scheduled nap time?”

She laughed, loud and bold and echoing throughout the entirety of this suddenly smaller room. Maybe it felt smaller because of her presence, or maybe she’d used some devil abilities to actually subtly shrink the size.

Something about Lilith’s glamoured human form emulating my appearance reminded me of my sisters. Not that any of them really looked like feminine versions of me. Honestly, the only sibling who looked like my double was my brother, Alistair—minus being taller and buffer and the all-around jockier build.

Really, the only thing about Lilith that reminded me of my sisters was the carefree giggle that had this aloofness of my youngest sister. The innocent grin with a subtle mischief hidden behind it reminded me of my older sister. But the fierce, stern sharpness in Lilith’s gaze was completely reminiscent of my oldest sister. But the confidence in her sultry swagger, the pop of her hips with each step, was definitely a move my brother would make. There was this air of bravado without effort in the movements. A carefree strut. Squared shoulders. Arched back. Cocky tilt in her neck.

A twinge of guilt hit me, dwelling on how little time I spent missing my family, how little time I thought about them, how much time had passed since I’d seen any of them, and how much more time would be lost while I attended a party in Hell and days passed every time I blinked.

What would they think of the mage I’d turned into? The fact that I wasn’t very much a mage anymore at all. The irony of finally feeling comfortable with my proficiency over the Pentacles of Power only for a whole new set of Diabolic skills to consume my every waking thought. Devilish Diabolic abilities at that, ones that seemed to differ from known devils and pretty much meant I had no manual to rely on.

It was weird to think about my family while here in Hell. But this banquet, this party that required caution with every action,reaction, inaction, and instant contemplation for everything in between, brought all the Collective galas I’d been forced to attend as an Alden rushing back. A name that meant everything in my world, yet nothing at the same time. Aldens walked among titans in the world of magic, but to mere mortals, we were simple nobodies with too much old wealth.

The same could be said for my name in Hell. Alden would hold no authority to the Diabolics, to the devils, to even the weakest and most broken demons. But the name Alden tied to the title of a devil hybrid seemed to mean everything here. Here in Hell. Hell, belonging to Lilith. Lilith, who studied me. Me, the simple overthinking fool who’d landed a piece of devil essence he couldn’t fully control and needed a few more centuries of studying to properly prepare for this Devil’s Banquet in my honor.

“You spend a lot of time in your head.” Lilith stood with barely a breath of distance between us.

Her essence burned so hot it hit with an icy sting, sending a shiver coursing over my body. My hairs rose. My legs quaked. My teeth chattered.

“Paradoxical cold is the sensation,” I said, searching for any flimsy excuse that might’ve explained why I appeared so frightened and frail. Only, I probably should’ve led with an explanation to a question Lilith hadn’t asked. “The reaction of my body is because your essence is cold.”

“Is the temperature too much for you?” Lilith brushed her hand along my face, and I froze—almost literally from the cold but also in an effort not to react negatively. “Does contact bother you? You seemed quite content with contact earlier. Though, I understand some touching should remain civil lest your little demon find himself in a mood to slaughter.”

“Oh, Bez is fine,” I said, realizing Lilith referenced the demon he’d killed.

The demon he’d burned to a crisp. The demon who died when Lilith was supposedly nowhere nearby.

“Are you talking about the demon that pricked my nail? I’m sor…” I cleared my throat, swallowing the apology and my anxious need to fill the silence before redirecting my words. “I’m surprised you’d deign to acknowledge a demon in your service that’d failed so spectacularly.”

The silence between us was haunting. Lilith’s gaze was reminiscent of every judgmental look I’d ever received, threatening to rip me apart and reveal the awkward coward who desperately wanted to apologize for his sharp words. But this was Hell, this was my banquet, we were a pair of devils presumably on equal footing, and if I faltered, stumbled, then the most powerful force I’d ever encountered would devour me.

“No real loss,” Lilith finally said. “A few centuries or eons in Oblivion does a demon good. How else will they learn to value eternity unless they’re given a taste of nothingness?”

It seemed I’d done what Bez hoped, avoided a misstep. Now, I just needed to casually turn the conversation to a ‘thanks for the invite, lovely party, but I should be moseying on home.’ I tsked. Who was I kidding? There was absolutely no way I’d steer the conversation in that direction, so I might as well see how much curiosity I could lean on before this branch holding me up cracked.

Metaphoric branch, though, given how the entirety of my experience in Hell was filtered by this themed party, then technically speaking, I could be standing on literal branches without even knowing it.

“Speaking of glamours or filters which is just…” I bit my lip, realizing I’d muttered aloud. That had to stop. I didn’t need one of my rambling tangents pissing off Lilith.

“Continue.” Her black eyes locked onto my mouth. “Now.”

“Um, yeah, sure. I was just thinking how, you know, I’m flattered by the human glamour, but you don’t have to dress for the theme,” I said because, quite frankly, even I’d grown tired of this tunic. It was already a couple of inches away from flashing my privates, and the slits Bez ripped into my clothes didn’t help matters.

“I like the mortal getup.” Lilith twirled a few times, letting her long blonde hair whirl and stretch further. By the time she stopped spinning, the curls had lost their bounce, and her hair reached past her knees. “I also wouldn’t fit in this tiny dwelling.”

“Oh.” I quirked a brow. “Why not make a bigger building?”

“Orias insisted it was important for the theme,” Lilith said. “Apparently, size is quite important to mortals despite them all being so tiny.”

“I wouldn’t say we’re obsessed with size.” I quizzically considered everything from homes, wealth, bodies, vehicles, reputation, partner count, partner parts, personal parts, measurements that needed to be smaller or bigger or… “Yeah, okay. Maybe a little bit.”

“Though, part of me is curious if someone with the eyes of a devil can grasp the sheer magnitude of my glory.” Lilith held a hand over her mousy smile, feigning this coy, girlish giggle. “Lower beings can’t view the magnificence of my true form. The purity of my being overwhelms their senses and obliterates those beneath. Even my weaker children struggle to take in my full splendor.”

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