Page 72 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires

“A fallacy and a lie are not one and the same, Walter.”

I huffed. Damn, that was somewhat valid.

“There are people who profess the devil is an angel who reigns over Hell—one singular location, such nonsense—and this devil man assigns demons to torment mortals for all eternity, poking them with pitchforks for being naughty on earth.” Bez twisted his face into a sour, judgy expression where he pouted his lips and scrunched his forehead. “People say lots of absurd things they believe to be truth.”

“Maybe we just need a little faith.”

“Did you hit your head?” Bez asked. “Are you practicing life as a jester?”

“I just don’t want to be idle, not when I could do something.”

“Okay. What’s your plan then?”

“I think we should start by asking the expert in question.”

“Expert?”

I grinned, a little giddy at the idea. “The coven leader who made these modified Diabolic orbs in the first place.”

“The one I murdered?” Bez nodded affirmingly. “That may pose to be a problem.”

“Not with a little dark magic and a doggo pup specifically bred to contain the souls of the dead and damned.”

I expected to be more hands-on during this part. Especially since the whole plan hinged on my idea. Mora brought Weather, who spent the whole time seeking approval from Bez, so when I instructed his placement, the pup ignored me until Bez snapped his fingers, prompting Weather’s obedience. All the while, Kell turned me into an errand boy, sending me from the stockroom to the front displays to the boxed-up goods we hadn’t even accounted for yet. Always sending me to grab just one more thing while she set up a ritualized summoning circle meant to bring forth the souls of the dead.

“You know, I’ve actually done a lot of research on necromancy,” I said. “I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be inverting those symbols.”

“They do a lot of soul raising in the Collective?”

“No, but I’m telling you based on—”

“Since only one of us has actually raised the dead, maybe you follow my directive.”

“Okay. I see you’re skipping around the steps,” I said, not-so-quietly judging the messy spell work.

Casting a quality spell was like baking. It needed to be properly measured and accounted for. She hadn’t even gotten to Weather’s role yet.

I had actually dug up my old essays on forbidden magics when we got Weather. It turned out I had a lot of solid notes on the Mythic species, which I’d hoped would help in properly raising him. But that was useless since he only ever listened to Bez, anyway.

Tony skittered through my hair, nestling again. A gentle reminder that I didn’t need Weather, the beast my familiar merely tolerated. Tony was my companion while Weather was Bez’s pet.

“Bet you haven’t done this with the assistance of a Cerberus.” I folded my arms, ready and waiting for her to ask about Weather’s role.

“Oh, sweet Wally. I don’t need a Cerberus. Just an ingredient or two.” Kell raised a hand toward Weather. “Come.”

“You want my dog to cum?” Bez cocked his head. “Pervert.”

“Shut up.” She scoffed, then snapped her fingers until Sunny led the way forward, sniffing her hand.

Kell pet each of Weather’s heads, giving Sunny lots of pats, giving Cloudy head scrunchies, and delicately avoiding heavy affection when stroking Stormy’s chin. In the process, Kell pulled off a thread of fire from each of their manes. Magically, she weaved the red, blue, and purple flames together and placed them in a jar.

“It’s not my first dance with the dead.” Kell smiled, smug and so annoyingly versed in all the spells I’d only ever considered hypothetical.

“Are you sure about this, sweetie?” Mora asked, eyes fixated on the flicker of the flame jar in front of Kell. “Didn’t Maurice’s ex nearly set you on fire the last time you did this?”

“Why are you always getting set on fire?” I snorted. “Maybe I really should be the one casting this spell.”

“She saidalmost.” Kell rolled her eyes. “Thank you very much.”

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