Page 7 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires (Diabolic Romance #3)

Wally

The flame exploded in an instant, a fraction of a second, and engulfed the entirety of my being. And I do mean the entirety. Every fiber from physical matter, my magical extension, and the essence coiled deep into the roots of my cells. Everything burned with a blistering sear. I lacked the words to express the hot-white agony that I struck because as quickly as it’d stabbed me from all directions, it ceased. The only comfort came from a slow, steady drumbeat. It echoed and indicated an arrival, a delivery, an ending. Or so I hoped as I endured agony and followed the sound.

Suddenly, the flames bathed me with cool relief, shifting to a campfire warmth, then a day at the beach—usually not a feeling I enjoyed baking under a bright sun, but currently, I embraced it, hugged the sensation. Then, a blink later, the inferno returned, devouring everything down to my intangible thought process.

Pain didn’t begin to describe the horrors. It peeled away my flesh instantaneously, yet when I glimpsed my hand between the infinite layers of light, I saw every cell. Each microscopic cell. Fully intact but divided, held together by thread.

Not thread. Essence. My essence. My devil essence that kept me wrapped up and safe as I crumbled apart and burned the entire trip. The voyage. The long-lasting eternal journey up the never-ending hill.

I screamed. I cried. I begged.

But my voice released nothing. I was motionless and moving. Flashes forever long passed in the tick of a second.

This wasn’t what traveling between dimensions was. I’d read every account of dimensional travel I could get my hands on because, truly, I wanted to escape my life as an Alden. But this trip to Hell. This single step into a world unlike any other felt eternal, never-ending.

Perhaps I’d already died.

Perhaps I’d never lived.

Perhaps I’d only ever experienced this unyielding agony.

And as quickly as the pain had burrowed its way through every fiber of my being, it dissolved away and fell to dust at my feet.

The fire sizzled, and the intense blaze disappeared. It shrank and split apart into tiny blobs of liquid before evaporating into nothingness.

Here I stood in a sandy field. It stretched far from every direction, leading to large walls so far away, they appeared fuzzy. I squinted, which did little to alter the blurry splotches.

“Wow,” I said, taking in the sound of my own voice, a voice that sounded so much crisper after what seemed like a lifetime of silent agony. “That was…”

“One Hell of a trip?” Bez snickered.

I glowered, which only made the smirk across his face grow that much bigger.

“Oh, come now, you’re the one who insisted we make this voyage.” Bez squared my shoulders and looked me over. “And don’t start with the betterment of the world blah, blah, blah biddy, blah.”

I wanted to argue the point, firmly express this wasn’t some frivolous decision, but the phantom ache of a hundred thousand injuries inflicted over lifetimes or fractions of a second still clung fresh in my mind. “Is my skin on fire? Melted?”

Bez continued checking me over, his expression calm for the most part, but he maintained composure a lot better than I did. “No cracks or dents or obvious injuries I can see.”

“It feels like there are needles poking every pore on my body and that there’s spikes under my skin and that there’s—I don’t know—pain lurking.” I trembled as Bez continued his examination. “You might’ve been right; this trip might be too much for my mortal body.”

“No, that all sounds like standard passage.” Bez grabbed my face, turning my gaze to meet his, then used his clawed nails to stretch the skin so he could thoroughly inspect my eyes. “Everything seems in order. Your mind isn’t oozing out anywhere, so I think you’re okay.”

“Wait.” My jaw went slack. “My brain might start oozing?”

“I said your mind.”

“Which is—”

“Not the same thing,” Bez clarified. “Mortals always attach everything to their organs like they’re so special. I don’t even have organs. Well, currently, I have some.” Bez wiggled a bit, poking his torso from either side. “But they don’t do anything. Except for the tummy. I like to use that one.”

“Fine.”

“The point is, if the voyage between dimensions was too much, your memories would’ve started pouring out, forming sentience. Like little ghost films floating around until all that was left of you was an empty husk of drool and living death.”

“You certainly could’ve elaborated on the risks.”

“I said you could die.”

“Yeah, I was thinking quick and heroic, not like an agonizingly slow death that felt like a bajillion years only for my mind to fall out of my head and leave me what? A decaying mess of mortal mush in Hell?”

“Pretty much.” Bez grinned. “Letting the world burn doesn’t seem like such a bad deal now, does it?”

I scoffed. “Whatever. My essence and mortal coil are fine here, mostly, so what’s next?”

“We wait for our host.” Bez scrunched his face. “And by host, I mean some grimy demon lackey sent to escort us.”

“Why’s everything so fuzzy here?” I asked, and then the realization of a paranoid possibility dawned on me. “Wait. Did the trip use up all my essence? Is that why I can’t see anything clearly?”

“No, don’t you think I would’ve mentioned that while looking you over?”

“Right. Then what’s up with the blurs?”

“You still suck at focusing your essence for the proper sensory experience.” Bez waved a hand, creating a spark of black and crimson lightning, which conjured a pair of glasses. “These will help.”

“Fascinating.” I grabbed the glasses. It’d been so long since I’d worn a pair, I almost forgotten the feeling. After the essence adjusted my vision, enhancing all my senses, I sort of fell out of the habit. That and the prescription strength on the lenses gave my eyes a headache. “This is not the Hell I was expecting. We literally arrived through fire, but now it’s all…”

The field of sand stretched far in a perfectly symmetrical circle with gated doors evenly lined in opposing directions. Pillars were sculpted into intricate designs, etched against the stone walls surrounding the sandy arena. The walls stretched so high, it’d require flight to reach the stands, which went even further up. They angled back and towered so high it blocked out almost all light above. This place reminded me of an ancient colosseum.

“Lilith has a filter on her realm, so even I can’t see the full extent of her Hell,” Bez explained nonchalantly as if warping the way a world was perceived wasn’t a godly ability. “She’s muting her dimension for us.”

“Huh?”

“Basically, she carved off a piece of her dimension and lessened it—removing the truly exquisite aspects, then turned it into this place where we’re attending the banquet.”

“Because we can’t see things fully?”

“No, we can. I’m Diabolic, and you have devil essence. You’d be more than capable of comprehending the full ratio of five-dimensional reality.” Bez grumbled, stringing together a few quiet profanities. “This is meant to shame us. A note that we’re from a poor, weak dimension, and she’s extended this veil as a sign of pity.”

“I mean, it’s kind of nice.” I shrugged. “Just stepping through was like a sensory overload, so if every second in Hell was like that…yeah, I’ll take the filter.”

“And the pity as she parades our weakness on display for all her children.”

“Speaking of…” I bit my lower lip, looking around the empty area. “Where’s our host?”

I was sort of expecting a party when we got here. Or at least the waiting room of said party. Looking around, there was nothing nearby.

“It’s disrespectful to encroach upon a devil’s territory,” Bez explained. “This is yours. A modest gift for your arrival.”

“Modest?” This arena would easily fit three or four football fields into it. “I mean, were they expecting more people?”

“Generally, a devil would bring a horde or legion at the very least.” Bez rocked his head side-to-side. “Beelzebub dragged me to these events on occasion. Not Lilith’s Hell, but generally, there’s more on display when a devil arrives in another’s realm.”

“Like what?”

“Well, we got a continent to the last Hell I visited, a couple sacrifices, and I believe there was a feast of Fae magic before we traveled to the festival.”

“Wow.”

“But it wasn’t much of a festival. Beelzebub used the invitation as a way to invade and obliterate another Hell to expand upon the nothingness and allow his Hell domain to grow.”

“A monopoly on Hell.” I shook my head. Bez’s devil truly was the worst devil. Suppose he was my devil, too, since I held the essence of Beelzebub inside me.

Eight giant tentacles waved from behind the walls of the arena. Each one stretched high, wriggling at least twenty to thirty feet in length. It was hard to tell from the center of this arena. They gripped the edges with spiked suckers and dragged a bulbous head into view before the enormous body slithered down the stage seating. The sandy brown held a stark contrast from the white stage, but once the giant octopus-like demon plopped onto the ground, its tentacles and core blended, accentuating the sparkling gems in a variety of colors adorned across its entire body.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome!” The voice bellowed from the giant eyeball itself. The squishy sclera held a lime green hue, while the iris was a deep emerald.

“Blegh.” Bez stuck out his tongue and made a yuck face. An expression he usually reserved for when I cooked something so bland it could kill. “He could’ve at least come dressed.”

I cocked my head, studying the sheen-white fabric stretched across the tiny bulge that must’ve been the center—the core—of this demon’s body because no octopus had such a part. I mean, they had a mantle, which connected their heads and arms, but the anatomy was different. I supposed, ultimately, I was drawing octopus conclusions for Diabolic anatomy, which was equivalent to comparing Bez’s humanish shape to human anatomy. Not related.

“But he is dressed.” I pointed, once I’d processed my observations, to the tunic pulled tight across the demon’s core with frilly ruffles for the eight giant tentacle limbs. At least I hoped those were limbs. “When you say he’s not dressed, do you mean he’s exposing a certain appendage—appendages—of himself?”

“What?” Bez scrunched his face. “No, you pervert! I thought he might possess a host. Something out of respect for you.”

“How would possessing someone show me respect?”

Bez rolled his eyes and went back to studying this grand arena we’d arrived in. While he might’ve played it casual, I could see all the mental notes he took, the calculations he made, the concerns he held back because Bez always preferred to shield me from worries.

“It is an honor to meet the esteemed Walter Alden, Devil and Mage of Misfit Hybridization.”

My chest warmed. That was quite the title. It made me sound special.

The emerald iris of his eye moved every time he spoke, similar to a heart monitor.

“I am your host, Orias.” He extended all his tentacles and nodded his bulbous head almost in a bizarre curtsy.

Unsure how to respond, I went to bow back until Bez flicked me with his tail.

“Devils don’t submit,” he whispered. “If you wish to accept his greeting, then merely allowing him to live is all the consideration you need to offer.”

That seemed cold.

“Can I ask what’s with the set up?” I asked. “Lilith seems to have an interest in the Roman Empire.”

“As your host, the design of the banquet fell to me, so I thought you’d enjoy a mortal theme.”

“This is a mortal theme?”

“Oh, yes.” His iris wriggled alongside the excitement of his voice. “We are on top of all the current trends in mortality, having a panel of esteemed experts who recently toured your realm.”

“Time moves differently in Hell,” Bez explained. “Chances are a handful of demons dropped in a few thousand years ago and recently reported their findings. Hell doesn’t change the way mortal trends do.”

“I did peek at the current realm of mortals,” Orias added. “A brief visit, and it seems more or less the same.”

“The world appears the same as when the Roman Empire reigned?” I asked, blinking at the perplexed expression I felt growing on my face.

“A few distinct differences, certainly, but nothing too extreme based on my research.” Orias’ iris expanded so big the pupil filled his entire lime green eyeball, then tightened into a thin, shaky strand. “Is it not to your liking?”

“Oh no.” I waved my hands back and forth, gesturing for Orias to relax. “I think it looks—”

“Acceptable,” Bez interjected. “Walter will tolerate this blatant albeit cheap imitation of our realm.”

“It’s very homey.” I nodded assuredly. “I mean, I wasn’t even sure if I’d left home or arrived in Hell. Practically identical.”

“Oh, lovely, lovely, lovely.” Orias’ eye wriggled as he clapped his eight tentacles together. The spiked suckers clicked and clacked against each other, creating an almost rhythmic tap dance beat. “If there are any changes you require, I will see to it immediately!”

He waved a tentacle, casting a gust with a sparkling black and green hue. It shook the ground beside us, carving open the earth and summoning walls that formed into a large room. With a click of his spikes, Orias created marble portraits and pillars to support the structure, making a modest temple.

“In theme with the festivities leading up to the banquet, I’ve collected every piece of knowledge possible for a proper human spa day treatment in accordance with a young emperor, which I hope is a close mortal equivalent to your stature.”

“You think being a devil is like being an emperor?” I asked, holding my expression in a tight smile because I could feel my whole face ready to fall into this bewildered, dumbfounded confusion. “You think I’m like an emperor?”

I might’ve squeaked a bit at the end of my question, but I remained mostly composed.

“Hardly,” Bez hissed. “But I suppose you would see the grandeur, Walter.”

“Walter?” And then it dawned on me he properly addressed me the same way Orias had. No Wally here. Only the great Walter Alden, devil hybrid guy of unquantifiable ability that needed to be measured at a party with an ancient Rome theme since Lilith hadn’t allowed any of her demons proper pilgrimage to the mortal realm in several thousand years.

Geez. This was already too much for me to keep up with.

The door to the structure Orias just created opened wide. and several humans stepped through. Not humans. Each had vibrant-colored irises, with the whites faded a similar shade. Bez had explained how demons had their own auras of magic since they weren’t pure Diabolic like devils who radiated black essence. Hence why my eyes sometimes turned pure black without a hint of crimson like Bez or emerald like Mora.

Each person wore the bare minimum in attire, completely topless, no matter the sex or gender of the human they possessed. They all had on skimpy underwear, which, since they’d gone with an ancient Rome theme, had an authentic subligaculum cut. Almost skirt-like. Hmmm. Now, I began to wonder if the stretched fabric of Orias’ tunic was actually a pair of skimpy subligaculum undies.

“We’d like to treat you and your…army of allies, should you bring anymore forth, to leisure experience accustomed to those under your reign.” Orias’ tentacles flailed a bit as his iris zipped back and forth with awkward pauses. The discomfort in his tone made me tense.

“He’s wondering where your army is,” Bez whispered.

“I know that,” I said, feeling the second-hand embarrassment Orias had for asking the question. It reminded me of every time I had to do a chancellor’s job when I worked in the archives and fill out requisition forms for the Mythics who’d inquired about artifacts the Collective had stolen centuries back. Ugh. The flashbacks to my complacency were mortifying.

“He’s being polite,” Bez said in a louder hush. “But he wants to know where they are, should you choose to invade.”

“What? No!” I gestured a definite no with my arms. “We don’t need an army to invade. No army required at all! I am not bringing an army to invade.”

Orias’ iris bounced back and forth so quickly I couldn’t follow the movement. The words bellowing from his giant eyeball changed, no longer carrying a sound I could comprehend. Faint elements of it felt familiar, but as the essence in my stomach tightened, I figured he’d shifted to some type of Diabolic language. Which made me wonder how Orias had learned English. Gods, I wanted to ask. But the fact that he scrambled and shouted and flailed his tentacles at the human-possessed demons told me I would regret further inquiries.

I leaned closer to Bez. “Why’s he freaking out?”

“You just said you didn’t need an army to invade.” Bez chuckled. “He’s freaking that he just started a war with you.”

“What?” I stepped forward. “I need to fix this.”

“You’ll do no such thing.” Bez snatched me by the arm. “Let the minions fret. It creates mystique. Lilith won’t hear. No one would inform her since all know the messenger always pays the price, and none here seek Oblivion.”

“I do hope we can provide you a truly divine experience.” Orias’ eyeball gurgled, and the iris moved with a steady beat. “Perhaps we can provide you with proper accommodations for the spa treatment.”

Several of the topless attendants weaved their hands around, stringing together their essence in the air and materializing various garbs. The clothing fit with the ancient Roman theme, from tunics and togas to various levels of armored materials. They had replicas of basic infantry to what a general would don. It was clear they didn’t understand what a mortal would wear to a spa treatment.

“You should embrace the full experience.” Orias waved a tentacle to the outfits on display.

I ran my hands over the soft wools and lovely silks.

Orias wriggled. “Would you like to undress? Surely, you must feel quite limited in this design.”

Bez snarled and adjusted his tie. Getting him out of a suit and tie was a challenge most days. Usually, the only way was when we trained or screwed, which, more often than not, had a tendency of overlapping.

“I can assist.” Orias scooted close behind Bez. “Help you undress for the full experience?”

“Oh, absolutely.” I laughed a little, eyeing the demons dressed as oiled-up Roman attendants meant to see to our every need, and a part of me really wanted to see Bez rocking the subligaculum undies. “He’d love to strip out of that suit and into something befitting the theme.”

“Certainly, Great Lord Devil Walter Alden of the Misfit Mortal Mage Hybridization.”

Fuck me, that was a mouthful. Oh, man. Now I had to make that joke to Bez. Make him call me by that mouthful of a name.

Bez, whose eyes had gone wide with shock. He stared, perplexed for a second, and then furrowed his brow. “Walter, take it back before—”

The spikes of the tentacled suckers stabbed Bez from every direction and dug in deep before ripping him apart.

I screamed.

What had I done? What had I allowed?