Chapter 9 Zane
Zane
The ugly-as-fuck mage had to be a relative of the unfortunate Tomas. Or no-dick, as I now called him. Who knew mage pox shrunk dicks? I sure as hell hadn’t. The mages had hidden that unfortunate side effect from the rest of the magical world.
“Doing a spot of overtime,” I grumbled. “The boss wanted some spell ingredients fetched.” I shuffled on the spot, doing my best to affect the look of a poor, down-trodden, ugly-as-fuck-mage with a micro-penis.
Was it working?
Tomas’s equally unblessed relative’s expression of confusion would suggest not.
“But I thought you’d gone to that hell club tonight?”
“Too hot,” I muttered before groaning when Alaric zapped me with a spark of lightning. Oh, he meant hell as in the sex club?
Goddess. I felt sorry for the poor sirens. I hoped Tomas paid them a hefty bonus for the trauma of seeing him naked.
“Hot?”
“Look, I’m in a hurry, Tommen. Move, yeah?” Alaric’s arrogant sneer was enough to remind the other ugly bastard who was in charge here. The fat fuck coughed and apologized profusely before shuffling past us with his crate of elkwine.
It hadn’t occurred to me that Tiberius would have a cellar full of expensive liquor. Good to know. Perhaps I could snag a few souvenirs while we were here.
Then I remembered the reason I was currently masquerading as the realm’s ugliest mage and sobered up. My pet needed me to get my shake on.
Alaric strode off, so I jogged after him. We reached a door adorned with glowing runes just as the kitsune blinked back into sight. He chittered loudly and then blinked away again.
“Wait here while I grab the brimstone powder.”
The storm mage pressed his palm to a pad on the left of the door. It glowed brightly for a few seconds before the door opened. I peered inside the room to see shelves upon shelves stacked with glass jars and crates.
Holy goddess, the mage had accumulated some seriously rare shit. My eyebrows shot up when I saw a dragon’s claw and a basket of fire gems. How the fuck had he gotten a dragon’s claw? The last dragon died two centuries ago. Or so the history books said.
Then my gaze snagged on the kitsune.
Alaric and I stared at each other in surprise. How the fuck did the kitsune get into a room protected by the strongest possible wards?
I knew the little shit had hidden abilities. I’d seen him in action several times, mostly at the sex clubs where the high-ranking mages hung out.
Mages like Tiberius Vane and Randall Malfus.
My lip curled in disgust as I thought about the twisted shit they got up to, before Alaric punched me in the arm.
“Focus, Zane,” he hissed. “We have to get in and out before Rink comes down here.”
“In and out, eh?” I smirked. Alaric rolled his eyes at my admittedly pathetic joke.
I scanned the contents of the room while the mage pulled down a box from a high shelf.
The kitsune was busy rooting around in an open basket on the floor. Using his teeth, he picked up a bunch of iridescent green scales tied together with gold thread. Dragon scales, impermeable to almost everything, including angel blades.
“Are you stealing shit again?” I asked the kitsune when he trotted over. “Good boy.” The look he threw could have frozen a volcano, but I just laughed.
“Got it,” the mage muttered from my left as he pulled out a carved wooden box inlaid with black markings. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”
He stopped dead when he spotted what the kitsune had in his mouth.
“You can’t take those! Dad will think I stole them!”
“Will he even notice?” There were so many items in the room I failed to see how he’d realize there was something missing.
“Oh, he’ll notice alright!”
The kitsune blinked out of view again as Alaric reached down to snatch the dragon scales back.
“That fucking creature!”
I heard a faint noise. “Not now. Someone’s coming.”
A familiar face turned the corner. Rink. The odious male who took care of Tiberius’s dirty work.
“Alaric?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“I thought you’d left. Your father was cross you disappeared, by the way.
” He grinned as if the memory pleased him, which, to be fair, it probably did.
Anything that made the elder Vane angry pleased Rink because it increased the chances of him being let loose on a poor, unfortunate victim.
“I did leave, but then I remembered I needed something for a spellcasting assignment.”
Rink’s beady little eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“The academy provides everything students need.”
Alaric rolled his eyes. “Yes, but this is an extra-credit assignment. I’m not an average student.” The mage pursed his lips in annoyance at the mage’s arrogant tone. But because Alaric was his boss’s son, he quickly forced a smarmy smile.
“Of course. How silly of me. Like father, like son, eh?” Then his gaze slithered over me, and he frowned again.
“Tomas, I thought you had a night off?”
“Wasn’t feeling well after catching mage lice.” I scratched my tiny balls for effect, enjoying the way Rink took a giant step back at the mention of the pernicious little beasties that caused uncontrollable itching and were a bitch to get rid of.
“Oh my goddess, seriously?” Alaric turned on me with a furious glare. “You could have mentioned this when I asked you to follow me down here. Get the fuck away from me, you disgusting wretch!”
Damn, the mage had some fine acting skills. He even had me convinced I was utterly repulsive.
“Yes, sir,” I muttered while scratching some more. Fuck, even though I definitely didn’t have mage lice, it sure felt like I did. Gross.
“Goddess, if I catch mage lice, I’ll slice the skin from your body and make you fucking eat it,” Rink growled.
I smothered a snort and shuffled back upstairs to wait for the storm mage by the perimeter wall. He appeared a few minutes later with the box tucked under his arm. We headed for the main gate, where two yawning mages stood huddled under a small shelter.
They nodded at Alaric and ignored me as I followed the mage. Once the gatehouse was well behind us, he spun around.
“Let’s go before Dad finds us and rips me a new one.”
I grinned, still in my repellent Tomas form. “Happy to do that with my giant dick. Just say the word.”
He lunged for me just as I shapeshifted back to myself and blinked us to the crypt where I’d offed a demon.
Alaric heaved his guts up for the second time this evening as I examined the stone floor, searching for the freshest demon blood deposits. A dried puddle of black sludge beneath the altar looked perfect.
“Did Adam say how much demon blood he needed?” I called.
Alaric coughed and grimaced, taking in the dust, cobwebs, and demon stench.
“A few flakes.”
I summoned a blade from the ether and scraped up a hefty amount of semi-dried blood. Better to have too much than not enough.
“Got a jar?”
He scowled. “No.”
The blood on my blade gleamed in the light from the small glass window above the altar. It also stank of death.
It was a pity the spell hadn’t called for fresh demon blood. I was in the mood to slay a few demons.
Or a sea witch.
The blood had dried enough that it stuck to my blade like glue. Perhaps I didn’t need a jar after all.
“Let’s go, vanilla boy.”
“For the love of the goddess, I’m not vanilla!” the mage roared before his voice cut off when I blinked him back to the bear’s cabin.