1

Walter

My entire body trembled in Bez's grasp, his chest pressed against mine, a hand firmly planted between my shoulder blades keeping me in place while his other hand rested delicately at the small of my back. I kept my thighs tightly wrapped around Bez's waist, my hands hooked at the joints of his wings. Even with my eyes squeezed shut, I could feel his smirk. It caused a tug in my own trembling cheeks.

Our minds, bodies, and emotions were very much our own, yet something primal coursed through us. The Diabolic essence he'd shared with me created this synchronized spark.

That said, whatever joy he had in this moment didn't pass to me. I gritted my teeth, annoyed and uncomfortable. He moved too quickly, too aggressively—I could barely catch my breath.

"Bez…" I gasped. "You need to slow down."

"Relax. I'm almost there." Bez slid his hand further down, then gripped my butt.

"Don't you dare get any ideas."

"What? I've always wanted to join the mile high club."

Bez flapped his wings rapidly. I opened my eyes, squinting from the furious wind carried between the two of us in the night sky as he soared faster, which helped add to the scowl I gave.

"Fine." He huffed. "Just want to get a firm grip on—what is it you mortals call it, a slice of pie?"

"The expression is cake," I said, feigning frustration because his touch did excite me. "You know this."

He'd referred to my ass as cake multiple times. Attempting to introduce Bez to social media in an effort to catch him up with the millions of things he'd missed out on when trapped inside the orb was a huge mistake on my part.

"Ah, yes. Cake." His red eyes glimmered. "Such a lovely cake you've got. I must ensure my dessert is properly secured."

With that, Bez took a sharp turn, zigging and zagging through the sky. The jostle churned my stomach a hundred different ways as he seemed to follow the street patterns below—completely unnecessary considering we flew high above even the tallest Chicago buildings.

"Here." Bez descended.

I craned my neck, taking in the bright city lights so luminescent it was as if night couldn't pierce the busy streets. High beams from oncoming traffic caused a glare in my glasses, and the sound of every car raddled in my head, a nauseating cacophony of blasting music, honking horns, and accelerating mufflers.

Bez hovered above, outpacing the flow of traffic on the highway leading deeper into the city. He hated noisy cities—even when dimming his senses, any venue with too many people made him irritable. Yet, the second he got home today, he demanded we leave the house for some impromptu outing to Chicago. If I'd known he was going to fly me all the way there, I would've protested harder.

Bez landed in an alleyway downtown. My legs wobbled as he released me, so I kept my hands on his shoulders until I found my bearings. He didn't allow me a chance to rest or catch my breath, though, pulling me out onto a less crowded street near some secluded restaurant.

I took in the elegant stonework of several buildings and the prominent turquoise clock of the historic Marshall Field.

"Whoa. How in the…" The drive from Galena to Chicago was three hours, yet according to the time, we'd gotten here in under thirty minutes. Still, I would've preferred flying on my own, broom in hand, saturated with my mana to maintain a gentle breeze and at an appropriate speed. Not Mach whatever matched a jetliner, forcing me to hold on for dear life. "What are we doing downtown?"

"We're here for a night on the town—something to celebrate."

I quirked an eyebrow. "Celebrate what?"

"Our anniversary, of course," Bez said plainly as if it should've registered.

Our what?No, no, no.

"Six months today."

This wasn't our anniversary. Not possible. I'd never forget the date, any date—I'm incredibly good at remembering specific details, one of the few skills I had going for me. Though, I'd been totally engrossed by work lately, doing my best to make the most out of my freelance gigs because as grateful as I was to have Bez in my life, as much as I wanted to walk away from the Collective, the policies, the hypocrisy, I very much missed the repository. Cataloging fenced artifacts didn't come close to the sophistication or resources of working in the archives of the Magus Estate, but it offered a routine which I needed for some semblance of normalcy.

My head pounded, thoughts spiraling through a hundred different things. I'd done what I always did. I'd allowed myself to become so fixated by work that time simply vanished. No. Not possible; our six-month anniversary was nineteen days away. I glanced at my phone, checking the date because there was no way I'd screwed this up. And if we were getting technical, it was nineteen days, five hours, and thirty-two minutes away.

"This…" I bit my lip. "I think you're, um, well, maybe…you're incorrect because—"

"Look at that frazzled little face trying to piece it all together." One of Bez's tails playfully tickled my chin as he strutted past me toward the neighboring restaurant. It was in an elegant building, so he must've made reservations. "This is not our dating anniversary, the one you so desperately needed to put a label on…"

I frowned. I wasn't desperate. I simply preferred precise clarification. Plus, it was nice knowing for certain that Bez was, in fact, my boyfriend. A term he claimed to find juvenile, yet the few times I'd introduced him as such, his breathing had hitched momentarily—a funny response considering Bez didn't require the "rudimentary functions of mortals" as he put it with biting snark.

"No, no. This is our real anniversary," Bez explained. "A far more important date to commemorate. It's the six-month marker to when we first coupled."

My jaw nearly dropped before I pulled my face into a smile. He'd counted the days and knew the exact six months that'd passed since we first coupled? My ears burned. Coupled. Made it sound almost endearing like love making, but I recalled it as a very carnal experience much like most of our sex. Still, there was a tender passion to it, as there'd been every time since, and that meant something to Bez. Meant enough to plan something special. A surprise.

"Aw, that's really sweet."

"Yes, the sound of your begging moans as I railed you again and again were quite sweet. Almost as delectable as the menu options here, I'm sure."

"And your lack of tact takes away all the charm to your actions."

"If you'd like to see my charming actions in action, we can—"

A passerby gasped, followed by a second, and then a third. I turned to find a half dozen people standing outside this restaurant staring wide-eyed at Bez.

"Shit." I pressed my hands together, channeling mana between my palms and releasing a glamour to wipe away the shock these people had observed.

I'd spent so much time with him that the Diabolic features tearing through his host body hardly registered at this point. When we were in mixed company, I had to ensure he blended.

In order to create a potent and successful glamour, I had to envision and believe the illusion I casted upon others. The four curled ram horns protruding from his head vanished, no longer ruffling his shaggy black hair—orange roots removed. He could love the tacky neon color all day long, but my glamour, my rules. I washed away the beautiful pink of his sclera and shifted the crimson of his irises to a vibrant green. I'd glamoured his eyes in every human color under the sun and a few others bordering outside the box but enjoyed the pop of Bez with emerald eyes best.

He pulled his wings and tails inward, tucking them inside his body and wrapped within his essence, while I delicately stitched the holes of the gray suit jacket and matching slacks. No glamour for the holes—gods, he'd ripped through so many good clothes, I had to finally master a slew of sewing incantations just to avoid his need to buy new suits every day.

Once I'd fixed his suit, wrinkles and all because he'd most likely whine if he had to go in looking unpresentable, I laced a trace of Diabolic haze around the glamour cast in the air. Smoke swelled above us like a storm cloud, spreading along the street in a thick fog. Crimson flashed within, adding to the reminiscent lightning effect, but the haze lacked the thunderous sound. Lacked all sensation in fact, except visual which only Bez and I could see.

A basic glamour itself would be enough to fool any human who looked at my dashing boyfriend, but with Bez's essence coursing inside me, I preferred balancing it with my Pentacles of Power so I could practice each. Truthfully, I only had a fraction—a very tiny fraction—of the effect Bez had with his own abilities, but the potential remained, and I sought to cultivate it.

"You know, you could've cloaked yourself and saved me the hassle of wiping their minds."

"I only do this so you can improve, Wally."

"Uh-huh."

He claimed it was to help me learn all the ins and outs of casting his borrowed essence, but I suspected Bez was too lazy to care. If it weren't for me, he'd leave an obvious trail of magic everywhere he went, tasking the Collective to clean up after his antics, but that'd mean they'd catch us. Which I didn't want. Ever. Another reason we typically avoided bigger cities with more prominent mage influences.

"Besides, you've got to get your casting cardio in"—Bez strolled close behind me, hand on my lower back as he guided me toward the door—"but not the mortal cardio. We'll find other exquisite ways to workout later. Thinking perhaps we replay a bit of what makes this an anniversary worth celebrating."

I rolled my eyes, perhaps playing a little hard to get. In truth, if Bez even suggested dragging me into the bathroom between courses, I wasn't sure I'd say no. He'd been gone the last two weeks, securing freelance work for me, and I admit I'd wanted to jump his bones the minute he walked through the door. Instead, he rushed me into getting ready for a surprise.

"Bez, this place is something. Something very nice." I grimaced, lingering by the street corner where the valet greeted others. It was more than nice. The ambiance exuded opulence in a way I hadn't experienced since attending family events.

Bez had planned this evening for me. I didn't want to burst his bubble, his efforts, his consideration, but…

"Not to complain because the gesture is great. It's just…why are we dining here? I mean, I love the surprise. Absolutely think it's, you know, sweet—please don't interrupt. I just don't understand why you wanted to surprise me here. In the city. Chicago. A major transient hub for the Collective. Which you know because we discussed it when taking on work in Galena"—a few hours from Chicago and outside major Collective influence—"which, by the way, has plenty of fancy restaurants that I've mentioned multiple times. Repeatedly. Some with really fascinating stories. One with a cool historical tour beforehand. Seems like that could be…hmm…more discreet?"

Bez stared, slowly blinking and smoldering. Gods. His lashes were so full and perfect, always accentuating his eyes no matter what color I gave them.

"And I know what you're going to say," I added before he could use some snarky wit to charm his way out of my concerns. "Who needs discretion when I have you subtly glamouring the details away?"

I lightly saturated mana to move in sync with my steps, surmounting the glamour around the street, allowing it to follow our path inside and wipe away any magical mishaps others might observe.

"But nothing this deep into Collective territory is subtle." I swatted away his tail. "Any sign, even someone sensing my spark of mana in the air, could reveal our presence."

Another reason I used Diabolic essence in tandem with my casting. Since Bez's magic couldn't be detected, it helped cloak mine.

"Well?"

"Sorry." Bez yawned, stretching his sharp jaw in the most exaggerated sense. "I assumed this would be one of your hour-long lectures rehashing precautions."

"I wouldn't rehash them if you took them seriously." Or listened. I knew he was tuning me out this very second.

"That tiny town you picked has much to admire, a lack of mages at the top of the list, but it doesn't have what I wish to offer. Something that'll whet your appetite." Bez looped his arm through mine, escorting us past the restaurant.

"Wait, where are we going? Don't you have reservations?"

"No. Why would you think that? I didn't bring you here to eat." Bez chuckled. "Doubt any dining experience could match my expertise in the kitchen."

I scrunched my face, hoping he didn't plan on cooking for me. Bez had many talents, but his taste in food wasn't one of them. My stomach churned, half anxious about where he was leading us, half remembering his kitchen concoctions, the most recent being a cookie dessert pizza topped with pickled peppers, sauteed mushrooms, and spicy cool whip.

"The last six months have been less than amazing. There have been fun times, it's been calm, but not nearly as many sights and adventures or travels as we intended upon when we took our leave from Seattle."

True. Bez wanted to show me the world, yet the Collective wanted to show us their reach and prove that no matter where we went, justice would find us.

"You deserve all the joy there is in unraveling the mysteries of the world. Instead, you've been working nonstop handling artifacts procured outside of mage hands. You've done wondrous work, helping decipher lost or arcane facts, rarities some never fathomed, cultivating loyal clients, yet that's all you've had time for—work."

Bez batted his long lashes, and I found myself lost in them and the softness of his voice. No sarcastic lull, only kind praise.

"I like working. I like routine," I said.

"Perhaps, but you put yourself through longer hours of laborious research now than when working in that awful repository. And as far as routine, we haven't even had that. These freelance gigs send me all over retrieving baubles; you spend as much time searching for a new place for us to maintain a low profile as you do meeting the absurd demands of clientele."

The demands weren't absurd. Some simply expected perfection, and considering what they paid and the relics they acquired, it wasn't a big ask. Plus, they were still less demanding than most of the archivist practitioners I'd worked for at the Magus Estate.

"In fact, you've been buried in that Fae artifact for weeks, when you should be experiencing it," Bez said.

"It's more of a Fae relic stolen by witches and modified into a tool that's now an ancient artifact I haven't quite figured out yet. The only thing I do know is, like most Fae items, it lacks even an ounce of their magic within."

"My point is, I promised adventures unlike any other. Promised to show you this whole world and hidden majesties you've never seen."

Golden lights spelling Chicago on an orange sign filled the entire street with luminous light. The Chicago Theatre. Its letters twinkled above the billboard displaying a performance by Regular Rhapsody.

"What are you planning?" I asked, curious and perplexed.

"A performance unlike any other." Bez withdrew a pair of tickets from his blazer and ushered us inside. "Prepare to witness a show you'll never forget. One of the greatest mysteries the Mythic world has to offer."

"At a Regular Rhapsody concert? I'm honored, I guess." I half smiled, biting back a giggle. "Not the celebration I anticipated but certainly a surprise all the same."

"You're mocking Regular Rhapsody?" Bez tsked. "Their velvety melody is obviously above the caliber of your simple mortal ears."

Oops. I'd best keep my mouth shut.

Music. One of the few mortal things Bez adored beyond reproach. The range of voices, the unique melodies of every instrument, and the combinations they all created. He enjoyed all music from classical and pop to rock, country, rap, all the way to the oldies—it didn't matter. But he had a major soft spot for Regular Rhapsody, a band that mixed orchestra with techno and had lyrics somewhere between screamo metal and bubbly pop. It seemed Bez's ears had the same eclectic tastes for music as his tongue did for food. He'd discovered this band two months ago and played their music on a loop, insisting I'd learn to love their bizarre combination. I hadn't.

I frowned. I bet that was why he encouraged my choice in moving to Galena. There were certainly other places. How long had he been planning this special date night? One that also served his interests.

"They're merely the opening act."

"Huh?"

Bez ignored my question, escorting us through the lobby. Before I could attempt asking for clarification, he swatted at people in our path with his tails and left me busy glamouring away the incident. No posted signs indicated another performer tonight, and I didn't see any hidden glyphs revealing the band had connections to magic; there were plenty of mages and Mythics who used their abilities to acquire celebrity status.

Inside the theater, a sea of red filled the huge auditorium where thousands took their seats, and Bez led us to our row close to the stage and centered in the crowd. I focused on my glamour, ensuring none of his features were glimpsed, then felt the lightest tug of his essence.

He'd buried my mana beneath his Diabolic haze, obscuring himself so I wouldn't have to cast during this concert. Kind of sweet. Not sure how much I wanted to see Regular Rhapsody, but I found myself curious about how this tied to a Mythic performance unlike any other.

I tried listening to the introduction as the curtain rose, the kind words to the packed audience, and even the lyrics of the opening song. However, I found myself lost in Bez's smile as he hummed along. He'd planned this evening to celebrate us, our relationship, and offer me a special night to remember, but I'd probably only carry the happiness this date brought him.

"Pay attention, Wally." Bez nodded to the stage as a pink mist seeped around the band.

A woman entered the stage. Her magenta skin stood out against the soft, bubblegum pink magical vapors trailing ahead of her. A silver crown sat atop her head, and her ears were elongated like a rabbit's, covered in feathers as vibrant as a peacock's.

She crouched, taking long, flowing steps with a dancer's grace. The lightest movement of her arms caused a ripple in the smoke like she moved through water. I studied each sway of her body, eyes wide and unblinking, yet she flickered in and out like a glitch on a screen. A rainbow of colors streamed off her hands, carrying the band's music and vocals higher and further and louder. The array of colors took on musical notes. A violet breve, a green minim, a flurry of indigo semibreve, then a single yellow quaver dancing from behind.

"What's going on?" I asked, a note twinkling close enough to touch.

"Fae Divinity."

My heart raced. I squeezed Bez's hand, he had it open like he'd prepared for my shock and waited. That explained it. Fae almost never revealed themselves. When they did, they beguiled everyone who laid eyes upon them in this world.

"How did you know about Fae Divinity? This is unreal. Impossible. No one knows what venue they'll choose. Not even the highest-ranked members of the Collective are privy to such secrets. And it's only—"

"Once a century, the Fae will pick a place to join in a performance, revealing themselves to mortals while putting on a show unlike any other." Bez rubbed his thumb against my tense palm. "I do, occasionally, listen when you ramble."

"But how—"

Musical notes popped across the theater, exploding with chaotic melodies which held the most harmonious sounds. Echoing screams, enchanting whispers, effervescent lullabies. And like that, the audience was enthralled. The true performance would now begin.

"You're not the only one capable of researching things for work, Wally." He winked, washing away the glamour of green and allowing his lovely crimson eyes to fully radiate. It wasn't as if anyone in the audience would notice now. Their awareness had shifted toward the magics of Fae, locked and lost in this event.

Bez had found a once-in-a-lifetime experience almost nobody ever witnessed and surprised me with it. Me. Walter talks-too-much Alden, misfit mage and a disgraced legacy