Page 10 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires (Diabolic Romance #3)

Bez

Wally nearly gave away his compassionate heart a dozen different times. But thankfully, he recalled my warnings and silenced his protests while I burned this daring demon to cinders. It wasn’t that there weren’t kind devils. There were. There were plenty, in fact. They’d been birthed into the universe to balance the scales, perhaps, but the universe underestimated the wickedness of the foulest creations.

Devils like mine, devils like Lilith, devils who reigned superior through the test of time, didn’t tolerate compassion and deemed it an easy weakness to exploit. The devil Walter couldn’t be considered weak. Not if we wanted to walk away from this unscathed. He’d want his life back, a life without Hell, without Lilith’s authority, without the ominous threat of death for daring to exist, and as such, it fell to me to ensure I evoked a level of terror befitting a devil.

I served as commander and needed every demon in the vicinity—not simply those in attendance to serve, but also the tens of thousands watching from a safe distance, studying and composing theories for Lilith on whether they should strike or submit. It was a delicate process, one I’d contributed to many times for Beelzebub over the eons. Demons conspire, cautious and obedient and always willing to take the fall for failure.

“Bez, what the fuck!” Wally ground his teeth, nostrils flaring because he loathed the smell of charred flesh. Always so sensitive, but I loved it almost as much as I loved him. “It was an accident!”

“It was an overstep, my lord.” I dropped to one knee, arms swiped to the side to bow in submission, and hoped for the love of everything simple that Wally caught the cue. “But this audacious behavior could not be tolerated.”

“Absolutely!” Orias wriggled and went to bow himself. “Lilith does not tolerate such obstinate failure. These demons were hand-picked for their precision of flattery and understanding, and I am ashamed to have considered that fool to be even remotely…”

Orias’ iris zipped erratically, and his voice slipped into the Diabolic language, the singular tones we shared across every Hell, proving that, despite immortality and massive power and dimensional travel, we lacked uniqueness like the obnoxious mortal Walter pitied.

“Enough,” Wally snapped. “Out. Out. Everyone out.”

I stood along with all the demon attendants, preparing to leave as I needed to appear as obedient as everyone else under the order of the devil’s command.

“Stay.” Wally seethed, pointing a finger to the broken floor I’d smashed, and honestly, there was something so hot about his rage in that singular second. Stay . I nearly dropped to my knees again.

Once everyone had exited, Wally’s enraged expression fell flat into a frazzled panic of disarray, and suddenly, my desire to kneel fizzled away along with his confidence.

“What the actual fuck, Bez?”

“No actual fucking thanks to that panicked pancake face.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” I mumbled.

“You can’t just kill someone over a mistake.”

“It wasn’t a mistake.” I locked eyes with him so he’d truly listen. “Nothing here that happens will be unintentional. The theme picked carries a message. These demons picked to tend to our needs are the best of the best. They wouldn’t make a mistake in a million years and probably lived that long at Lilith’s side tending to her needs.”

Wally swallowed, losing confidence in whatever retort he’d had bubbling in his thoughts. “So, you’re saying the accident was on purpose so they could see how I’d react?”

“Did you not listen to a single warning I gave you?” I cocked my head. “This is Hell. Lilith’s Hell. A Hell where everything you do is observed, studied, scrutinized, and evaluated.”

Wally’s face turned pensive.

“But don’t get a woody over it,” I continued. “These aren’t musings like your artifact studies. Lilith’s goal is to determine your power. Right now, she can’t quantify your strength. The reaction for any demon to acquire a devil essence varies dramatically and is rare enough. But to find another being, a non-Diabolic, to possess a piece of the most powerful devil in the universe? That fear she holds is the only thing affording us privacy right now.”

I didn’t say it, didn’t tell him how Lilith herself had watched since we arrived, but I could feel her looming above us, intangible and merely goosebumps in my paranoia. All the same, even without being able to detect her, I sensed her through the sheer horror-struck awe I held for devils.

“It’s my goal to make sure Lilith realizes Walter Alden isn’t a gnat on steroids,” I said. “I want her to see you as the potential nuke that could eradicate anyone who poked too hard.”

“You think I can pull that off?”

“Wally, I’ve seen you slaughter when pushed. Stop empathizing with demons. They’d gut you the first opportunity to lay at Lilith’s feet in the muck of fallen foes.”

“Yes, yes, yes, I know. Very dramatic.” He nodded reluctantly. “One misstep could be our deaths. You’re in charge.”

“Thank you,” I said. “But remember, as far as they’re concerned, you’re in charge. I’m just an eager pleaser jumping to defend my devil.”

“Yes.” Wally sighed.

“It’s important that you remember, you can’t tolerate any slight.”

“So all devils strike down for the tiniest flaws?”

“Any devil who wishes to keep themselves and their demons out of Oblivion does.”

“Well, I don’t have demons.” Wally pouted.

“You have me.”

His pouty lips fell into a frown. “Sorry. I know I need to follow your lead. I know I need to just be a dick to everyone. This shouldn’t be so hard.”

I smirked. “There’s a joke there.”

“As an Alden, this whole entitlement thing should come easier to me.”

“If you’re having trouble coming, I can help.” My grin widened, hoping to elevate the tension with terribly dirty puns, which worked when Wally finally broke into a smile. We might be risking our lives, our very existence, but I didn’t want him to panic the entire time. We could die at Lilith’s whim any second for something we did or didn’t do or a billion other factors that suited her mood, so I needed to hold onto any brief moments of happiness here in Hell I had with Wally.

He stood tall, squaring his shoulders. “I’m going to make a solid effort to be imposing moving forward.”

“Just don’t be complacent or tolerant or kind or considerate or nice...” I rocked my head from side to side. “If you find yourself wanting to Walter the situation, do the opposite.”

“Don’t turn me into a verb.”

“Why not?” I shrugged. “I turned you into a devil.”

He huffed. The cutest, breathy little exaggeration. Now, if I could get him to add a scowl with that attitude, we might be able to trick a few demons into thinking Wally was a threat.

“Just ignore any instinct that seems rational,” I said. “Impulse is honestly your friend.”

“You would think being all-powerful beings would afford devils a bit of resistance in their moods.”

“When has anyone with absolute power proven to be anything other than absolute trash?”

And with a glum tsk, Wally concurred, and we took our leave from the bathhouse. Orias left a trail of glitter meant to guide us to our first destination on this trek through Hell for the Devil’s Banquet.

“Whoa.” Wally adjusted the glasses meant to help alleviate the strain he had on taking in the sights of Hell. Thankfully, Diabolics didn’t have much understanding of where mortal parts began and ended, so they likely assumed the lens was merely an extension to the eyeball. “It’s so pretty.”

We walked a trail leading out of the stadium. It led us into the heart of a lush field of plants, trees with bright and vibrant barks reflecting the false sunset projected nearby. Lilith’s many filters cloaked the intricate layers of her deadly dimension, cloaking it with an aesthetic meant to lure guests. I couldn’t see beyond the three-dimensional design she offered, but I trusted nothing. Wally, on the other hand, found himself entranced by the splendor and beauty put on display. This design emulated the parts of the Diabolic Oasis Wally loved most, having a fondness for the exotic plant life that grew alongside Mora’s expanding city.

Clear evidence that Lilith had spies observing Wally’s interests prior to the buffoon she sent to deliver our invitation.

“Hell’s not all bad.” Wally brushed his fingers along the pedals of several different flowers. “Fields of plants with several extinct species, guessing to highlight some of our natural beauty.”

“You give Hell too much credit,” I said. “It’s all part of your mortal theme.”

“It’s nice. You think they imported some of these, same with the human hosts?” Wally chose to delude himself with grand hopes that those human host bodies would be treated with similar kindness as Mora exhibited to those she possessed. “Obviously, some of it’s magic. I mean, unless they did like hybrid cloning for the extinct flora, but that’d require—”

“It’s just essence that’s been spruced up.”

“Wait, what?”

“Diabolic essence.” I gestured to the grand field of flowers. “My guess, by the size of it, a few hundred demons shredded and reshaped. Well, there’s also the stadium.”

“Wait.” Wally’s eyes bugged out. “The stadium was made of demons?”

“Oh, yeah. A few thousand at least.” I shrugged playfully. “Probably why the stands were so empty.”

“That’s awful.”

“It’s a joke.” I laughed. “Because the audience would’ve been slaughtered and shredded and seamlessly reshaped into all of this. If there was ever an audience. Probably just some lesser, forgettable Diabolics.”

Wally’s expression turned queasy, which was a good indication the reality of this horror show sank in fully. “Wow, that’s disturbing.”

“Well, it’s not funny if you have to explain it.” I ignored his internalized turmoil because he needed to reflect on this while seeing me maintain a light-heartedness to the dire situation we stepped through.

Wally’s hand retreated from the flower like it’d somehow snap its pedals around his fingers and devour them.

It wouldn’t. The Diabolics used to paint the walls of Hell rarely kept sentience. The few centuries I spent with my essence spilled out to create a diamond-floored entryway were a blur of nonsense. There was an occasional flicker or flash of footsteps from that time, but otherwise, simple silence. And pain. Constant agonizing pain with no understanding of the purpose. The duration. The existence of nothing else.

“They’re fine,” I said. “Life as a flower is a pretty easy existence.”

“I guess.” Wally sulked. “Just seems kind of sad.”

“It’s only sad if you dwell on it.” I shrugged. “Like most things.”

“Are there animals?” Wally searched the fields, his pupils dilating then tightening to view the many intricate layers of plant life stretched for miles upon miles.

“No. Plants are already too lively,” I answered. “Personally, I think devils simply enjoy the stillness in their beauty.”

“So, no animals?” Wally asked. “Not even insects?”

“Thinking of yours?”

“Tony’s an arachnid, not an insect.”

“In either case, an animal—a beast of any level—would require a level of sentience not afforded to the essence of any particular demon when divided and reshaped in such ways.”

“Is everything here just Diabolics in one form or another?” He kicked the dirt at our feet. “Essence?”

“Yep.” Hell itself was the soul of a devil, their greatest organ, and as such, it fueled their infinite power to layer their realm with the essence of their creations.

“The air we’re breathing?”

“We’re not breathing.” I widened my eyes to clue him in on the obvious secret that he’d stopped breathing.

“Only I haven’t stopped,” he muttered aloud because he had to share his internal ramblings. “Breathing requires a constant flux of reflexes formed by instinct with the complex motor function and neuromotor control and so many other pieces of the body. But I’m not taking anything in, am I?”

Suddenly, the air around us felt so stale and hollow. Bursting his bubble on the reality of life here, if one could call living in Hell a life, somehow added to the emptiness of this realm.

“Would you like to know what the stars are?” I teased.

“Probably just more essence since everything is just essence.” He sighed. “Even your magic is just twisting your essence into another form, right?”

I nodded, then gestured up to the twinkling stars shimmering around the setting sun. “Just as the stars are an after-effect of Fae births in your reality, they are merely infantile Diabolics too young for sentience. They watch from the heavens above, far from easy reach, so they can observe and study the world.”

“That’s kind of sweet, showing them all of Hell, but kind of sad they have to stay billions of miles away all by themselves. Of course, this assumes the distance is similar to the mortal world.”

“It is. And the method is to protect them,” I explained. “Babies are violent and stupid on top of being ugly and boring, so it makes for a deadly combination. If thrown together in a playpen, they’d devour each other.”

“Geez.” Wally squirmed. “Demon babies are ruthless.”

“Like human babes are any better,” I said. “But it also removes Diabolic infants from the weak, feeble demons who might be tempted to feast upon defenseless babes to enhance their own essence.”

Wally’s expression twisted into this desire to yack. Despite all the warnings I’d given him since the day we first met and the ruthlessness I’d demonstrated upon our first interaction, he still didn’t quite grasp the full extent of Diabolic destruction. We were beasts of primeval power, pioneers of carnage and mayhem, warriors born and bred into eons of savagery. Even in Hells such as Lilith’s that professed diplomacy over combat such as mine, no dimension of embodying virtues of compassion and consideration survived.

We approached a large building meant to host our first course. Wally mumbled audibly loud approval over the structure of this place. This temple, according to the string of words that escaped his lips held fine authentic craftsmanship that balanced mortal and Mythic influences.

“Now, remember.” I squeezed Wally’s bicep. “You must maintain a level of control, dominance. Show no hesitation if possible.”

“I got this,” he squeaked. “I’m totally okay.”

“I’ll serve as a buffer, but I can’t appear the one calling the shots.” It was hard enough to portray myself as an arrogant demon high on my devil’s reign.

I’d met demons who deemed themselves equals to their devil because they were treated as lovers or brothers or both. Anything to delude themselves into thinking they were significant in their devils’ eyes. They weren’t. To a devil, anything beneath them was merely a whim of entertainment. Whether they were kind or cruel, the emotion was as fleeting as a mortal’s existence.

“We got this.” Wally led the way. “Just the first course of what’ll be a long day or century or forever.”

“Relax.” I pressed my claws to the small of his back, guiding him until we reached an audience, where I changed my demeanor to something aggressively subservient. I reeled my essence outward, close to the ground at Wally’s feet. I kept my head lowered with my eyes locked on everyone nearby. I even hunched my shoulders while keeping my wings upright and high to add to the flair of the devil’s arrival. Even with a small entourage that embodied only myself, I needed to appear imposing. Not a hard act since I’d walked this line into a hundred Hells at Beelzebub’s side.

When we arrived at Court, the demon lords in attendance had this aristocratic air about them. Yes, they dressed in garbs suited for the best Roman parties, but with all my time spent in Hell, the most notable mortal comparison came from the wealthy nobility. Those truly seeped in opulence to their very core, high on their title, on their station, on their divine purpose gifted by fate over effort. Few in Hell who toiled ever succeeded beyond what their devil deemed they deserved.

“Did you know the Romans had several distinguishable types of banquets and parties?” Wally said nervously as all his collective knowledge spilled out as we crossed the threshold of white stone pillars to the temple we entered. “They had public feasts which were referred to as an epulum and drinking parties known as comissatio and banquets of all kinds that were really more than simple dinner parties.”

“Well, let us hope this isn’t one of the orgy parties.” I grinned. “Everyone would be clamoring for a piece of the new devil.”

“Orgies actually weren’t very common practice,” Wally said with this matter-of-fact bravado on the plethora of knowledge he possessed. “Banquets were, though. In fact, when the Romans hosted a banquet, it was never meant to be a frivolous gathering. It was a spectacle, a display of authority and status and worth.”

Wally paused as the realization of his words sank in, and suddenly, the choice in theme rang loudly. It was called a Devil’s Banquet for a reason. One misstep in front of these demon lords, and they’d feast upon Wally. They’d rip us both to shreds and devour us down to the last speck of our being, dropping what remained of our consciousness into the void of Oblivion, where we’d lay dormant until the end of time. If such a thing ever occurred.

I stood confidently as we approached the crowd. The demon lords exuded authority; it seeped from the fibers of their being, danced on the edges of their essence, and radiated from their Diabolic cores. They were not merely the rulers over the vast territories in Lilith’s domain but the best of the best meant to provoke a reaction.

Thankfully, Wally fixated more on their appearances than he did their power. “Is that demon just a collection of triangles?”

“It’s symmetrical aesthetic.” I shrugged. “Some prefer their essence appear sleek as a sign of control.”

“It’s like a geometric nightmare.” His eyes locked onto the other demons who pointlessly wore togas over their assortment of clustered shapes. Then, he studied the beastly bodies similar to birds, reptiles, felines, and so forth. He mouthed the various species he recognized.

At the core stood Orias, iris curved in a demure sign of respect. Not for Wally, the devil in attendance, but the demon Orias passed the baton of hosting duties off to.

I ground my teeth at the sight of that blue demon, Corson, who’d delivered Lilith’s invitation. He stood at the center of the banquet, surrounded by the best of the demon lords, posturing as if this event was in some way a celebration of his ego.

“Is it rare to look mortal?” he asked quietly, worried about eavesdropping, but based on how well the demon lords kept their essence coiled and away from our path, I suspected none dared listen in on Wally’s musings.

A few—a very small margin, in fact—possessed a human shape and appearance. Only a handful here at the banquet and not many others throughout the many Hells I’d had the misfortune of visiting.

“Seems more like you lot aimed to look like us.” I puffed my chest and strutted with some extra swagger so my tails and wings swung wide. “The best-looking bunch, at the very least.”

The added span in my steps afforded us more space from those who’d already cleared a path for our entrance.

“Hmmm.” Wally strummed his fingers against his thighs, thinking. “Right, because so many Diabolics predate human existence. Predate a lot of the animals you’re guised as—not guised because skin isn’t a disguise. Well, it is when possessing a body, but no one is doing that here. Well, not here here, anyway. The point is”—he released an exasperated breath not meant for the lack of air in his lungs but the crowded words in his brain—“this all begs the question of how much of the mortal realm’s development is happenstance and how much was influenced by Diabolics?”

The room quieted, and Wally’s question echoed loudly in the silence offered. He swallowed the lump in his throat and bit his lower lip to silence the need for clarification resting on the tip of his tongue.

This whole ordeal might have me in a stranglehold of anxiety, but I couldn’t help but smile at Wally’s quirky excitement and curiosity.

“It reminds me of a paper I read about the influence of Mythic magics on biological evolution and the symbiotic connection between the pair. After all, magical entities often replicate themselves to share some distinction with nature,” Wally whispered, shrinking in on himself because he still struggled to accept everyone’s eyes resting on him. This was the type of thing he did when he worked in the archives. I had witnessed him bury his thoughts because those who outranked him treated his every musing as prattling drivel. “Or um…oooooooh. Maybe Diabolic features evolve and change to replicate the realities of others. I mean, your bodies differ from every other species in existence, magical or not, basically being nothing more than goopy energy that willed itself into a preferred aesthetic.”

“I’m so much more than goopy energy.”

“A fascinating theory,” Orias said, joining in our conversation as we approached the room’s center stage. “It reminds me of findings by Alloces in Belphegor’s Hell. Oh, you must be quite close with Belphegor’s demons.”

Wally raised a questioning brow.

“Not particularly,” I said. “Walter does not often make time for demons on a quaint pilgrimage.”

Much like Mora’s devil, Bael, let his demons come and go as they pleased, Belphegor had a notorious reputation for sending his demons to travel and chronicle every lesser world. Truthfully, an invitation from Belphegor would’ve been fortuitous since he was the only devil equivalent to a nerdy explorer like Wally. Unfortunately, devils with kind or aloof or lazy natures were few and far apart. And devils like Bael and Belphegor didn’t concern themselves with oddities like Wally.

“They researched the soul of your most popular planet and presented a hypothesis that she traveled various dimensions before settling on a realm with more malleable inhabitants.”

“You mean Nature?” Wally’s hazel eyes shimmered with excitement. “A demon talked with Nature herself? Kell’s gonna be so jealous. Wait, did you say Nature traveled interdimensionally?”

“As all higher beings, certainly,” Orias said. “It’s Alloces’ belief she presented her collection of perception to some of the earliest devils, and they offered the images to their demons.”

“Though, who really remembers after all this time?” Corson side-stepped in front of Orias. “And who would be brazen enough to ask a devil?”

“Only a fool would speak to a devil so cavalierly,” Bez said.

“And we are no fools, which is why my tongue only moves for you, Beelzebub.” Corson winked. “Bez. Bezzy. Phezy? That stands for Phony Bez, if you were curious.” Corson turned to speak to Orias and the other demons. “Composite names are quite popular in the mortal realm from what I’ve gleaned.”

“Bez is sufficient.” My nostrils flared, but I held back the need to snarl and shout and slap this fucker right across the face.

He wasn’t actually that bad, but I simply found his arrogant aloofness so irritating.

“I see.” Corson nodded playfully, letting his hair bounce dramatically. “It’s just so hard to know the name you go by. So very hard.”

Never mind. He was the fucking worst.

“Don’t do that,” Wally snapped, quick and sharp, so concise it carried a wave of silence.

Every demon took a pause, eyeing Wally, whose eyes had turned black. Hollow and haunting and fueled with Hellish power. It was unexpected and hot. So damn hot watching Wally exude his authority over the tiniest slight. Something I didn’t believe he’d ever do being so kindhearted. I supposed he didn’t like the false flattery thrown at me.

“Apologies.” Corson knelt to one knee and lowered his head to Wally’s feet. “I merely jested. Mother calls me her favorite jester. A foolish waste unworthy of your reprimand.”

The title might be insulting, but he meant to reveal his mother’s love for him, Lilith’s awareness of his existence. Not something the trillions upon trillions of demons in this Hell could lay claim to. Her favorite jester implied acknowledgment and likely a desire to change Corson’s ways so he’d be less of an embarrassment.

“I want space.” Wally waved at Orias and the demons who crowded by him.

“But Great Lord Walter, we planned on a proper introduction before the first course.”

“Space.” Wally’s voice deepened, and a spark of essence added an echoed layer to his demand.

Every demon backed away. Corson backed away on his hands and knees, seeking not to offend further. If I were a guessing demon, and I very much was, then I’d bet he’d been threatened with Oblivion for the slightest mishap. His trip to our world probably made him believe Wally a pushover—rightfully so, given his docile behavior—and he wanted to boast in front of his fellow lords with subtle jabs. Prove himself. And now, he crawled away, afraid of the ire he’d sparked.

Wally gripped my shoulder and pulled me close. His black eyes stared out at everyone, menacing and casting essence meant to sting anyone foolish enough to reach out with their own.

“I gotta say, I didn’t expect the demonstration this early,” I said without the whisper, knowing full well every demon kept a cautious distance from Wally, going as far as dampening their senses so as to not intrude or observe something above their station. “We can play this to our advantage, Corson being a cocky cunt and all, so it won’t look like you’re emotional over lil ole me. Merely a devil displeased with lowly demon antics.”

Not a single demon here would dare eavesdrop on an angry devil.

“Bez, I can’t turn it off.” Wally’s expression remained firm and hostile toward anyone who met his gaze, but there was an anxious crinkle in his forehead. One I’d seen a thousand times over without the show of toughness. This authority was him doing his part to appear devilish, but the fear—the fear was real. “My essence is boiling. Like it’s trying to eat me from the inside.”