Page 6 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires

His curious voice buzzed in my mind as I approached my first destination, dropped the package on a porch, punched the door buzzer, and bolted ahead to my next stop.

“You see, the Fae place integration incantations—or their magical equivalent—into the spell work used for pocket dimension creation,” he had rambled. Quite often, in fact, composing a new theory or test every day. “The process behind how they cultivate miniature worlds is the most fascinating form of preservation. The Fae altered malleable life so it wouldn’t encroach but also wouldn’t simply accept being wiped out—say from Mora’s constant construction. There were augmentations placed in every plant and animal to enhance their survival instincts by adapting them to… Well, for lack of better words, become more adaptable. It’s what keeps the things in this pocket world from going extinct. Again.”

Personally, I didn’t think of the plants and animals as symbiotic with the city so much as a plague. A virus of overwhelming strength that’d learned how to become innocuous. Sure, the plants and the birds and bees and the other damned fluffy-tailed beasts seemed harmless now, working around the streets and the lights and tech, but one day I believed they’d devour Mora’s carefully crafted city.

I shuddered with delight. Maybe I was wrong, but I hoped not. With no real challenges or conflicts or combats, my days had turned into paranoid hypotheticals to maintain some semblance of entertainment. How I hoped the bunnies revolted, sitting atop armored flowers and carrying blades made from the bones of their enemies.

I sighed, tossing another package onto a porch, and resigned to accept this daydream as nothing more than a fantasy. Despitethe joy the thought brought, it seemed unlikely I’d be so fortunate.

Everyone seemed to coexist so well here. It was exhausting. Not that the Diabolic Oasis didn’t have problems. Mortals and Mythics were inherently awful beings, selfish and simple, but the looming threat of the mage Collective didn’t turn every day into a paranoid battle of glancing over my shoulder.

In fact, most seemed to fall in line with Mora’s authority, her reign, especially since it didn’t interfere with their vices, and no one targeted Wally or me. No one who knew my name, my history, challenged the phony devil who no longer wielded Beelzebub’s stolen essence. No one sought to attack Wally, the only known mortal to possess devil essence. A few Diabolics had challenged me when the Oasis first opened to residents, but now… Now, everyone seemed annoyingly content with leaving us be.

Most waged wars with each other on whether nature, magic, or tech would rule with supremacy in this tiny pocket world, yet even that had an obnoxious balance as innovators sought to ensure the three elements melded into interwoven nonsense. The Mythics loved breathing in the magic that seeped throughout the atmosphere, and the mortals indulged in every technological privilege meant to level the playing field. Seriously, if a spell could accomplish something, then suddenly, someone on Mora’s tech team created a Googly app to do the same thing.

And the witches, who remained the highest in the population here, craved nature above all. Sure, they liked their finery and their modern living, but if they sought to fully harness the Four Corners, then every witch required Nature’s Blessing. Nature wouldn’t offer her blessing, her casting, her touch of primal magic, without a bountiful stage to exude her presence. Hence,why so many goddamn plants had become overgrown vegetables that wrapped around every building of the Diabolic Oasis.

My phone buzzed, catching me off guard as I threw another package. It curved a bit too far, so I took a deep breath and unleashed a subtle current of black wind to knock the package back onto the path I’d intended.

It slammed against the door knocker and landed on their welcome mat with a heavy thud. Delivered. Easy peasy.

I swiped the green camera icon, and Mora’s eyes fluttered and filled the screen of my phone as she adjusted the lens to fully frame her face. She raked her long pink fingernails through her blonde locks and treated this video call like more time in front of her mirror, fawning over her own lustful desire for the mortal flesh she possessed.

“A pleasure as always, Bezzy.” Mora pursed her lips, checking her makeup more than attempting to appear flirty. Her gaze hadn’t even met mine yet as she only had eyes for herself at the moment, examining every feature of her newest host body.

She kept a collection of mortals to possess larger than my wardrobe of suits. I had one for every occasion, much like Mora had a body for every day of the year. Hell, every day of the century, based on the vast collection she kept in storage. This week, she wore a petite blonde with vibrant green eyes, not to be confused with Mora’s actual Diabolic green eyes that matched her demon aura just as my aura radiated red. Despite growing more comfortable living her demon truth here in a city of her making, Mora still didn’t indulge in displaying her Diabolic features, though, keeping her essence coiled beneath her delicate mortal flesh.

All the same, her royal arrogance had flourished when returned to a throne. A throne of her own making in a kingdom smaller than most cities, but thanks to her carefully calculatedcunning, she’d already cemented this Diabolic Oasis as a vital silent partner to many outside the dimension.

I tossed the final package into a mailbox. Perhaps a bit too rough as it dented the metal frame. Whatever, their cheap homes didn’t concern me, so long as Wally’s protective wards held up the artifact in the parcels would remain unscathed. “What do you want?”

“Having an issue with our security lines, and I thought who better to handle it than…”

I rolled my eyes. Issues. Meaning she’d undoubtedly invited someone with a ploy into the realm again. Mora indulged too many foes, offering them opportunities I would never. In fact, it was the one benefit of her scheming.

“With the witches already circling, I don’t have time for this drama,” Mora continued.

“Wait.” I smirked. “Have the witches finally risen up against you?”

While, more often than not, the residents of the Diabolic Oasis coexisted well enough, there were times when people acted out and needed to be put in their place. Their place being a grave that I got to put them in. Sanctioned murder wasn’t the same as impulsively ripping out someone’s heart for touching my man, but it quenched the bloodlust.

“The witches are fine.” Mora waved a dismissive hand. “Plotting their coup while I placate them with concessions until I decide what the most lucrative solution will be.”

“Your solution should be bloody.”

“Perhaps.” Mora pouted her lips, posing for her camera as if my presence on the telephone didn’t exist. “They’re under the delusion that since the city lacks Collective authority, there’s a vacuum in power. I believe with a few polite meetings, I can quell this hubris without the need to slaughter them all.However, I’m always prepared for a bit of carnal carnage should the discussions not go accordingly.”

“Well, call me when bloodshed is on the table, not diplomacy or whatever.”

“I’m not calling about witch drama. Though, that is becoming irritatingly high on my list,” Mora said with an edge in her voice. “My concern is for the unknown intruder waltzing intomycity.”

While serving as a delivery service for Walter’s silly shop was my main occupation, I also freelanced for Mora, handling issues or threats when they arose. Technically speaking, Mora could handle them herself, but apparently, it was unbecoming for a king to soil her hands with unruly peasants, so she’d declared me an official lord or knight or thug—some absurd title I didn’t ever use or announce when eviscerating enemies.

Plus, I struggled to pay attention when Mora went on about the semantics of monarchs and the roles of her society. At least Walter was cute to look at when he rambled. Mora had this unpleasant scowl as her expression shifted into a sour face whenever I didn’t listen to her. Sort of like right now.

“Bezzy, did you hear a word I said?”

“Yes, all of them, in fact.” I huffed. “Someone’s doing something to cross you. Blah, blah, blah biddy, blah. Kill ‘em for your king. Wait, don’t kill ‘em. Hang on, maybe blah blegh blob.”

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