Page 7 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires

“You never listen.”

“Maybe you never shut the fuck up.” I squinted at her telephone face. “Ever think of that?”

“There’s a demon that’s torn through the dimensional barrier.”

“I thought that was impossible.”

The whole point of this tiny pocket dimension was to create a completely self-sufficient world that allowed its residents to weave in and out of the mortal realm as they pleased while creating a precise locking mechanism to thwart intrusion.

“So you want me to kill this demon?”

“I want you to locate them first.” Mora frowned. “I have questions. And concerns. No demon should possess the strength necessary to tear through my dimensional walls.”

“They’re not really your walls,” I said. “It’s not your essence permeating at the edges of the realm. Hell—pun intended—it’s not even held together by Diabolic power anymore. Just a bunch of Fae and witchy magics.”

“Semantics, Bezzy. It’s my realm, and I’d like to know who dared attempt to infiltrate.”

“It’s not really an attempt if they’re already roaming the streets.”

Mora bared her teeth, her pearly smile fizzling away to a frustrated grimace only I could cause. I batted my lashes in response.

“Talk less, kill more.”

I smirked. “Finally, you’re saying something I can agree with.”

3

Wally

I scrambled to toss my clothes on, rifling through a drawer of spare shirts since Bez had shredded mine. At least he had the decency to strip off my jeans this time. Once I finished, I rushed out of the sparring room and toward the front of the store, where Tony sat perched atop the incantation I’d crafted. He alerted the patron to what they owed and whisked the cash they offered into the register.

The sigils allowed about a thousand different talking points for Tony to express through the simple activation of the various sigils weaved into the incantation. It was mostly for me. Not so we could communicate, but so I wouldn’t have to spend all day working in the front of the store.

“Sorry,” I said, a bit haggard. “Got busy back there.”

The click in Tony’s claws carried a very judgmental “uh-huh,” or perhaps that carried through the psychic link I shared withmy familiar. He didn’t exactly have tangible thoughts, but I felt the words, the feelings knocking at the edge of my brain.

Tony finished up with the last customer, using the incantation to bag their golem hammer artifact, and then sent them on their way.

Even though we didn’t get many customers—the place currently emptied out now that the most recent patron had left—working the front of the store was my least favorite thing. Thankfully, Tony didn’t mind dealing with customers. What he did mind was the extended sparring sessions I had with Bez several days a week that often put me behind track on inventory requisitions. And honestly, I didn’t care for the inventory components of our store. I just wanted shiny things to research, analyze, decipher, but the more we dealt with clients, the more opportunities we had when it came to expanding our own inventory.

The bell at the front door jingled, and an elven woman walked inside, bulldozing directly to the checkout desk without so much as perusing the stocked items. She approached and tossed a pouch of jewels onto the counter. Definitely jewels based on the lumps in the small coin purse and the fact elves switched over to dragonic currency after forging a mutually beneficial alliance a millennium ago. Something about dragons possessing no desire to attend Mythic Council meetings and elves requiring the aid of sheer indomitable force to safeguard humanity didn’t truly obliterate the wonders of the world.

“Welcome to the Well of Wonders. How can I assist you?” I asked, to which Tony scoffed. Actually, he let out a little chirpy hiss of judgment as if I couldn’t handle one customer.

And sure, I often avoided the front of the store because it reminded me of my time working in the repository with demanding superiors. Plus, Tony had a knack for customer service. He always picked the most polite ‘fuck you’ phrases fromhis glyph selections that still ensured he didn’t tell a customer off. Part of why Bez wasn’t allowed to work out front anymore. That and the last time Bez interacted with a patron, the ogre ended up losing his tongue.

“I gave him a choice, Walter,” Bez’s snarky voice rang in my head as fresh as it had that day, where he stood over a gasping ogre who rolled in his bloody muck, clutching his mouth. “He waltzed in here demanding a manager—as if I’d ever be managed—and then had the audacity to berate me.”

I recoiled at the memory of him holding the flailing tongue, an organ that resisted Bez’s grip as an ogre’s limbs and pieces never lost motor function unless the brain and heart were smashed.

In retrospect, Bez was pretty considerate…for him. He’d offered the ogre the option to walk away with or without his tongue. It was how the Mythic responded afterward that led to Bez’s impulsivity. Hence, why he handled deliveries now.

The elven woman snapped her fingers. The jewelry bedazzling her hand shimmered close to my face, where she held it to draw my attention.

Did she just treat me like a dog? I shook it off and smiled. “Sorry. How can I help you?”

“As I was saying, I’d like to see the Fae relics you have in stock. Something exquisite and exotic. A conversation starter.” Her eyes drifted to the pouch of jewels she set on the counter, indicating her intention to spend big.

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