Page 3 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires (Diabolic Romance #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 with my 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 from his 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.

I supposed she hadn’t read our barter policy. Dragonic jewels were fascinating but worth about as much as human gems. There was nothing to be gained for me and my research by her gaudy currency.

“I’ve already arranged something with the owner.” She waved a hand, dismissing me from my post. “So go retrieve the shopkeeper.”

I quirked a brow. I’d never met this woman in my life. “I’m actually an owner.”

“And I’m here about employing the services of your nymphs.”

“We don’t have any employees.”

Tony clacked his claws.

“We don’t have any Mythic employees,” I corrected myself. “Tony’s basically the manager here. And I, well, sort of run—”

“Again, put me in contact with the person in charge.”

“Again.” I raised my shoulders, trying not to turtle my neck. “I’m an owner. The owner. Well, one. Um…”

“I need to speak with someone in charge about the nymphs.” The elven woman waved a hand as if to shoo me from her presence and send me off to fulfill her request. Well, her order. More like her rude command. “I’m hosting a gala and could use their services on my gardens.”

A bell chimed, indicating someone new had stepped inside, but I didn’t catch sight of them when they turned down the nearest aisle up front while I stood locked in combat…conversation with this elf.

“Um, well, I’m in charge. Mostly. Sort of. I handle a lot of in-charge things. Books and inventory mostly. Valued exchanges. Paperwork. Legal documents. Artifacts. Employment records—which there are no nymphs in.”

“I’ve seen your nymphs tending to that hideous tree outside.” The elven woman lifted her head high, holding her nose up with a commanding flair and a disgusted expression, as if everything in the front of our store not only lacked in wonder but created an eyesore she forced herself to endure. “I don’t understand why you built this store inside a tree and named it after a well. It’s confusing. Unless that tree ate the well like the signs suggest.”

“Funny you should say that.” I chuckled, running a hand through the back of my head to ease my nerves by brushing my fingers through my blond curls. “There is an actual well in the back—mostly unused except for the occasional explosive experiment on relics by Kell. Hence the name of the store. Well of Wonders. Which is a fusion of the owners, myself—Walter and Kell.”

Kell suggested we’d get a lot of pushback on the name, but I figured it’d make for an interesting anecdote, a bit of a puzzle for our guests to solve, something unique to spark curiosity. Personally, I loved our mysterious little shop set up inside a strangler fig. Even if I had to put up new signs every week to warn folks about the dangers of the tree.

Normally, they didn’t cause harm, aside from the tree it grew around and literally strangled the life out of to become a gnarled beauty and proof of the many wonders of nature. But this particular tree attracted a lot of woodland nymphs that imbued it with the strength to strangle anyone who wandered too far off the path leading to our front door.

“Oh, those nymphs.” I nodded. “Yeah, so we don’t employ them. In fact, Kell and I have actively discouraged them casting…” Well, I’d asked since I worried Kell would either create something destructive to scare the nymphs away or tell Mora, who had an even deadlier impulsive attitude than Bez. She merely sat on a throne while slaughtering those that annoyed her.

“I must’ve spoken with this Kell fella then, as he ensured me I could procure the services of the nymphs for my party.”

I frowned. “I don’t think you spoke to her .”

“I’m absolutely certain I spoke to her.” The elf cleared her throat, staggering for time as she piled on more bullshit to her request. A request I couldn’t even assist with since I didn’t have the contact information for the nymphs.

“But I do know when woodland nymphs patrol plant life, spreading seeds, pollinating, augmenting, altering wildlife.” Seriously, they were like the organic version of Fae as they always kept the shifts they conjured with magic within the realm of possibility for the plant or animal in question.

“You clearly do not understand who I am or the power my opinion wields in the Diabolic Oasis.” The elven woman glared, shooting dagger eyes down at me. “I personally know the king of this city.”

“So do I.”

“You know of her.” The elf scoffed. “Everyone does. But she’ll be attending my event along with so many others. Unless you wish for me to run this business into the ground, I suggest you get me the contact information for those woodland nymphs.”

“We don’t actually require clients to keep this shop afloat.” I grimaced. “I mean, it’s a wonderful perk, but the business is more about cataloging our own inventory and inviting others into a library-like bartering exchange.”

“You listen here, you little bastard.” She pointed her finger, jabbing the air and stirring the store with the radiance of her elven magic.

I took a deep breath, quelling the immediate impulse my Diabolic essence had to surge outward. It buzzed beneath my skin, itchy and synced to the anger I buried. Controlling my devilish powers at will wasn’t the easiest, but finding how they linked to my emotions served a vital lesson—even if it meant having to temper my own feelings to keep from slaughtering someone just because they were annoying.

“As a matter of—”

A hand swiped so swiftly past the elven woman; her aggravated expression didn’t even have a chance to lessen once the Diabolic strike beheaded her.

I gasped, taking in the sight of her lopped-off head whirl with this annoyed face before finally bouncing on the ground with several heavy thuds.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” I dragged out the word, blinking away the shock as I stared at the hand coated in Diabolic essence and a trickle of blood.

Speaking of blood, the elven woman’s exposed neck sputtered blood upward like a little fountain. I backstepped, ready to hurl at the intoxicating smell that sprayed through the store, painting the floor with sweet, sticky red blood. Yuck. Blood was not a yum factor. This was my devil essence coursing through my veins, demanding something gross while tampering with my senses to alter my tastes—quite literally.

If this weren’t such a dire situation, I’d consider performing a study on my tastebuds in various situations to see what stimulated the essence to circumvent control while rewriting my natural programming. No hijacking, though. Once I swallowed the lump in my throat, the desire to lick the floorboards clean faded, which meant the sensory tampering from my essence was short-lived. A working hypothesis. But right now, I had bigger issues to contend with, unfortunately.

“Bez,” I snapped. “You can’t just kill customers. I don’t know how many times we have to discuss…”

I paused my tangent—one I’d given Bez multiple times when he threatened to eviscerate a customer. There was something off about his nails. Black essence coated his bloody hand down to the wrist, but his nails were painted. Bez didn’t paint his nails. They were sharper, longer, and more curled than Bez’s, too.

I looked past the headless elf corpse still standing and spurting blood out and found a shirtless, powder blue-skinned man standing behind the body. A body that finally tumbled forward.

“Um…” I widened my eyes. “You’re not Bez.”

“Apologies. I simply found her behavior atrocious,” the powder blue-skinned guy said with a raspy voice and a wicked smirk. His teeth were sharklike and added to the smile that quickly filled his face. “I’m Prince Corson, here to greet the devil of the Diabolic Oasis.”

“Huh? Greet with a beheading? You can’t just…” I fumbled with words as I took in this Diabolic’s features. And he was a Diabolic, too.

The hands coated in essence was an obvious indicator, so his very human aesthetic was probably a partial possession, hence the skin color, or he had a humany demon body similar to Bez. Like Bez, he also had a very muscular build.

He wore a thin leather strap across his chest on an angle that connected to an armor plating on his right shoulder. His left shoulder remained exposed, perhaps to reveal the many tattoos that covered his entire arm, along with his very large bicep, easily bigger in circumference than my entire head. Between his muscular physique, his bloody hand, and his menacing smile, I took a tense breath from all the intimidation his mere presence radiated.

The guy looked like he’d stepped out of a Roman warrior catalog, wearing only a black leather skirt, easily a modern version of the pteruges the soldiers wore to battle, and a pair of caligae which was sort of a mix between a sandal and boot, at least the black pair he wore.

He ran his bloody fingertips—well, clawed tips—through his ruffled shoulder-length hair, a dark blue with white and gold streaks. His nails matched the streaks in his hair, with every other nail being either white or gold.

“I find it quite surprising that you endured the elf’s dreadfully dull demeanor for as long as you did.” Corson waved his hand, casting telekinesis with his demon powers to toss the elf’s corpse into a corner of the store. “Bizarre even that you didn’t simply obliterate her upon the first offense she dared to utter at you.”

“Offense?” I found the tremble in my legs and attempted to appear as nonchalant about Corson’s arrival as his wicked demeanor did. “Wouldn’t have many customers if I killed them every time they annoyed me.”

“Yes, but the ones who did continue their customer services would be more respectful of their betters.” Corson shrugged, his expression aloof yet definitely curious by the way his eyes studied every subtle shift in my body. “Whatever. A docile devil should make what comes next easier.”

“Easier?” I swallowed hard. “What do you want? Who are you, exactly?”

“I’m here for you, Walter Alden, devil of human mage origin,” Corson said before he pressed a hand to his chest, feigning insult. But despite how his mouth twisted into this offended expression, his eyes still had a smile. “Do you not remember me?”

His bright sapphire blue irises shimmered with the whites of his eyes a sky-blue barely a few shades different from his complexion. It made his dark blue lashes pop and the vibrance of his irises all the more intense.

“I haven’t forgotten you since our last encounter where I tried to murder you.” He chuckled. “I sort of braced myself for your wrath, anticipating vengeful ire from you at mere presence, yet you have this lovely, fidgety, frightened expression—sort of reminiscent of the first time we met.”

“Met?” I thought back to every Diabolic I’d encountered, which mostly consisted of Bez and Mora here in the Diabolic Oasis. Even with other demons in the city, they avoided me, whether because I had devil essence or I had Bez or both.

The only time I’d really encountered other Diabolics was when I was trapped in Baron Novus’ villa, where the demon knight Eligos released demons to help him slaughter Bez, me, Mora, and Kell. There was the demon possessing the pink- skinned Fae, but she had red eyes like Bez. There was the creepy sunshine-yellow demon that blew himself up, but I’d never forget his creepy, hungry voice.

“You were the one possessing the birdlike Fae,” I answered, finally recalling this demon who attempted to kill me in the maze tunnels before Bez ripped out his heart and then devoured him with Mora. “You’re dead!”

“I was.” He tsked. “I fucking hate Oblivion.”

The empty void where all dead Diabolics went, eternally resting.

“How’d you get out?”

“My mommy brought me back,” he said with this mocking, pitchy voice.

“Your mother?” I trembled. Only one thing could pull a demon from the depths of Oblivion. “She’s a devil?”

“Sort of a big shot devil, too. Lilith, the mother of macabre and mayhem. Maybe you’ve heard of her.” His minxy expression shifted into a menacing smirk. “She’s certainly heard of you, Walter Alden. And she wants you.”

“Me?” My voice cracked.

Corson held up his hands, summoning black flames between his palms.

Without an ounce of hesitation, I traced a protective sigil in the air with my fingertips. I poured mana into a written incantation, preparing to summon a barrier that’d absorb even the strongest Diabolic elements unleashed. Usually, their essence rained down with such tremendous superiority against magics, nature, and technology there was no way to compete. And while I didn’t have much control over the essence bound to my being, all the experience I had with Bez, plus my love for experiments, allowed me to find innovative new spellcasting combinations to redirect, deflect, or counter Diabolic abilities.

“What’s your damn problem?” Corson roared, loud and visceral, as he ground his teeth.

Between his fury and the flames he conjured falling to the floor, I panicked and stepped back. That was when I realized it didn’t matter how quickly my brain had reacted, how swiftly I’d channeled mana or written the incantation because my Diabolic essence had reacted faster. Pure instinct took over—which Bez would undoubtedly rub in my face—and my tail had sprung out, piercing through Corson’s wrists and nullifying the threat of his attack.

I gulped.

Not the entire threat. My anxiety surged as the black flames flickered and fluttered to the floor. They were Diabolic made, which potentially meant only a few embers were required to set the entire store ablaze.

“Not happening,” I muttered.

I didn’t even need to formulate a plan because the sharp tingle beneath my shoulder blades indicated the instinctual summoning of my black cherub-sized wings. Another Diabolic feature that moved of its own accord for my needs. Each flap carried a dark gust of smothering wind that devoured the oxygen and magic the flames Corson had manifested.

“This would be more helpful if it wasn’t so unintentional.” I huffed as my devil essence performed feats and techniques I couldn’t muster despite my best efforts.

“Are you seriously trying to fight me?”

“Are you seriously trying to challenge a devil?” I swallowed my trepidation, shifting my stance in the process and attempting to look badass.

But I scrunched my face, worrying the creak in my voice when I spoke hadn’t sold the confidence bit. I mean, he knew I wasn’t an actual devil, so what was stopping him from calling me out for the incompetent little mage who cried Diabolic.

“Fuck it, you wanna go, let’s go.” Corson gestured, arms wide, flames exploding from his palms. “Even if you get lucky and kill me again, at least I can tell Lilith what a fucking fool she was for—”

My tail zipped ahead and sliced off Corson’s left hand. As it fell to the floor, my essence devoured the fire and continued lunging toward the demon who’d dared to face a mage coursing with the power of a devil in his veins.

“I’m so sick of you.” Corson roared, unveiling six powder blue scaled wings. Each flap carried a subtle black gust. Hot, dry wind whirled until flickers of embers mixed and sparked and set the entire store on fire.

“Motherfucker!”

“As if I’d ever bed my shrew of a mother.”

Ignoring his nonsense, I focused on flames and traced a dozen different incantations meant to shield artifacts and suppress Diabolic elements. Instead, black lightning zapped and snapped from my fingertips. It zipped throughout the store like a thousand hungry serpents. Each bolt tackled fire, surged and coiled around the flames, and then consumed the demon’s magic in a way only a devil truly could.

“You made a seriously grave error attacking me.” I studied my essence circle and devoured Corson’s continued futile casting. I only wish I were more involved in my own defense. I muttered techniques my body adapted to instantly without my input and made a mental note to actively learn how to do that.

Corson ignored my mutterings and continued destroying my store in an attempt to strike me. This wasn’t gonna work. I couldn’t allow him to trash the Well of Wonders. And as the thought swirled in my mind, the devil essence lunged ahead, knocking the demon through the door and leading us into a battle outside.

Too bad none of it was my doing, my knowledge. Nope.

Seriously, even with the power belonging to me, I’d still somehow become a damsel forced to rely on my devilish abilities. They acted on instinct—instinct that merely required me to stare in awe. I didn’t have to participate a bit in my own survival.

I still had so much to learn, which, at the very least, I could study during this fight. If one could call it that.