Ch 12 – Never trust a diabolist, especially when they make your stomach do weird flips and flops.

I glared at the hand hovering in front of my face, willing my mana to pass through it and do, well, anything. My other hand gripped the seat of the chair tight enough for my red skin to pale. On the study table, several books were splayed open in front of me, while others sat in a haphazard stack to the side, discarded. Thus far none of them had been any help.

For five hours now, I’d been studying everything I could in an effort to cast even the most minor of spells.

Once more, I tried to push the magic through my body and to my hand, desperately attempting to achieve even the smallest of effects. I felt as the thick mana inside me began to stir. Before my change, the magic inside me felt lighter, gliding and swirling within me like the air that filled my lungs or perhaps an oddly chilling fire flickering within my chest.

Now, it flowed like blood throughout my body—a hot liquid that felt far more integral to my existence than it ever had before.

It should have channeled into a small glowing orb of light, hovering barely an inch above my finger tips. I’d done the spell hundreds of times before. Yet this time—much like my previous attempts since arriving in the library—the mana refused to flow from my body, not even by the smallest trickle or drop.

The oddest part was the fact that I’d obviously managed to do some type of spell or effect to block the demon from my mind, crude as it was. Keeping the connection blocked had become a mental chore, bringing with it a throbbing headache that I feared would never desist.

I glared at my hand for several minutes, until exhaustion won out. Slumping forward, my head hit the table. A book smacked against the floor to my right, and I winced. If one of the keepers of the library heard that, they were going to be pissed. Though that was the least of my worries.

Magic had always been somewhat of a struggle for me, at least compared to the children of the other great families. Much like my father, I simply didn’t have a large enough mana well or the natural talent that others were blessed with. It was a common problem of those in the Zelian Family, hence our typical focus on runic magic and martial prowess. My older sister was one of the few exceptions, ignoring those who married in.

I groaned, beating my head against the thick wood of the table. None of the minor cantrips I’d tried had worked. And the books before me held nothing of value. After all, I’d read most of them before.

I truly couldn’t cast.

My ability to defend myself became bleaker by the hour, and I only had one more day before classes resumed.

“Already giving up?”

I shot up in my seat, eyes wide. Warmth colored my cheeks at having been caught doing something as silly as hitting my head against a study table. I quickly covered it up with a scowl as I glowered at the student in front of me.

Melkar Kheln—young scion of the Kheln family.

And top suspect for the alteration of the spell diagram that caused my transformation.

Oddly, I saw no demon trailing at his heels. Though that did little to ease my nerves. The man strode up to the table across from me and pulled out a chair. With a dramatic swish of his black cape, he straddled it, facing me. The second-year diabolist student folded his arms across the top, dark eyes gazing at me as though looking at a curiosity. His head tilted to the side as the chair tilted forward, just a meter away.

“Though I doubt you’ll find whatever it is that you’re looking for, regardless,” he continued, eyeing the stack of books. “There’s very few books on demons here in the library, and even fewer that are useful.”

The pause gave me a brief moment to think. I had to go about this carefully, I knew. It was likely that Melkar was the culprit, but I couldn’t be fully certain. I needed to be careful of what information I revealed to him. Even if the transformation had somehow been an intentional act by him, that didn’t necessarily mean he would know that I was still Gellin in mind, if not in body.

“Can I help you?” I growled.

The idiot smirked, running a hand through his short black hair to shift it from his eyes. “I’m certainly hoping so.” He paused, seemingly expecting a response.

My lips pressed further into a frown, and I waited in silence, refusing to take the bait.

“Perhaps we can start with an exchange of names?” he suggested.

“No.”

He sighed. “Very well. I’ve heard a number of interesting rumors today. About a certain missing student and an unbound succubus that suddenly appeared. I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that, would you?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

He let out a hum. “Apparently, Gellin Zelian decided to summon a demon. Which I find rather odd, considering his lack of experience. What’s interesting is the rumored results, however. A number of students claim that he was pulled down into the Under, allowing something else to take his place. Others are saying that he was possessed, his soul consumed and body taken by the succubus that took his place.”

Melkar rocked the chair back and forth, precariously balancing on two of its legs.

“And I imagine you believe me to be that succubus?” I responded.

“Perhaps.” Another smile slid across his lips. “The most interesting rumor is the last one, though. The oddest one of them all. Rather than possessed, he was transformed—taking on the body of a demon while keeping his mind intact. Though there is some debate on the latter.” He shrugged. “Either way, there seems to be a new, surprisingly unbound demon running around the academy. Which is an oddity in and of itself.”

It was difficult to keep my aloof expression in check and not give anything away. The likelihood that Melkar didn’t know which was true seemed high. Though that meant little regarding whether or not he’d altered the book that I got the summoning spell from. Demonology was a highly unexplored field. It was just as likely that he’d meant for the spell to simply fail, rather than do anything so drastic as transform me. In fact, I very much doubted he, or really anyone, had the knowledge to change the spell in such a way. From what I’d read, it was a very old magic, with many of the runes and even entire sigils sitting firmly in the realm of the unknown, lost to time.

Whether it was intentional or not, I still planned to make the culprit pay for what they’d done to me.

“What does the information matter to you?” I finally responded. “Perhaps I’d be willing to trade for it.”

Was that something a normal succubus might say? I had to hope so. It frustrated me that it was probably better for him to think I was just a normal demon. The alternative though—him knowing that I’d been transformed into a succubus with little ability to defend myself—would prove disastrous for me. I needed to find a quick escape out of this conversation. The less I inadvertently revealed the better.

“A trade,” he hummed. “I might be amenable to that. In fact that brings me to the other reason that I wanted to meet with you.” Melkar’s dark brown eyes pierced through my own. “I’d like to form a contract.”

I stood to my feet, the chair scraping across the floor behind me as I leaned forward and hissed, “And why would I want that?” This time, I didn’t even have to act; the display of emotion was quite genuine.

“Oh don’t get up in a huff over it. The reality is that you need someone to protect you. Were I to bind you to me, you’d have little to worry over. I take good care of my demons.”

“I think we’re done here,” I growled.

As I took a step, a shadow fell over me, and a clawed, pale-red hand gripped my shoulder. My body froze, and I barely held back an embarrassing squeak.

“Master is not yet finished speaking with you,” a gruff feminine voice whispered into my ear.

A shudder passed through me. That explains why she wasn’t by his side. He’d sent her around to ambush me from behind.

Turning my head, I gazed up at the tall muscular demon standing over me. Two large, ram-like horns spiraled out from the sides of her head, parting through short and messy white hair. Numerous scars marred her face, heightening an already intimidating appearance. Around her neck was the magical binding. Two dark lines circled around her neck, a row of runes between them. The binding sigil could be anywhere on the body, though most diabolists seemed to prefer the neck, treating it like a symbol of ownership.

My eyes trailed down her tattered, warlike apparel, noting just how worn and damaged it looked. The ogre woman shot me a toothy grin full of pointed teeth.

“Like what you see?” she asked with a smirk.

I was beginning to wish I’d gotten a private study room, rather than being here out in the open. With how one of the librarians had glared at me when I came in, I hadn’t dared to ask for one. Though there was a good chance it wouldn’t have mattered. I doubted that Melkar stumbled upon me by chance.

“Please, have a seat,” the diabolist said with a casual tone as I turned back to face him.

The hand on my shoulder pushed downward, and I plopped back into the chair.

I gave Melkar a strained smile. “Perhaps I will hear you out.”

Luckily we were in the library. He couldn’t harm me here. The librarians wouldn’t allow it, and I was fairly certain they’d had eyes on me since I’d arrived. I was far more concerned about what he might do once I was no longer within the safety of its walls.

“Good.” He leaned forward, the chair bumping into the one in front of him as he smiled. The diabolist then tapped a finger against his lips. “Where was I? Ah yes—from what I’ve heard, Lilis has been assigned to watch over you. I think it's clear that she can’t and won’t protect you. But I certainly can. Not to mention that I can provide you with blood. Althea there is a potent source,” he said, gesturing to the demon towering over me. “I imagine she alone could provide all the blood you’d ever need.” That seemed questionable to me, but perhaps he knew something that I didn’t.

I gave him a flat stare, unimpressed. “I can protect myself.”

“Can you? Without magic, you’ll find yourself quite out of your depth here at Fir’va.”

“And what makes you think that I don’t have magic?” I asked. Careful Gellin; don’t accidentally give yourself away. I needed to better watch my words.

Melkar raised an eyebrow. “According to everything I’ve read and seen, succubi can’t cast. Unless you have evidence otherwise?” He leaned forward, eyes shining with curiosity.

My own eyes widened, before I managed to school my expression. Succubi can’t do magic? That couldn’t be right. It can’t be.

The diabolist hummed. “Interesting. Is that new information for you?” His knowing look gave me chills.

Fuck.

“I—I was merely surprised you knew,” I spluttered out. “Or that you thought so. Not that…” My voice trailed off.

“I know plenty of magic,” I grumbled.

“I’m sure,” he said, plainly unconvinced. The words made me slump in my seat. “Why don’t I give you some time to think it over? We can discuss it further at a later date.”

Melkar leaned back, bringing the chair once more onto all four legs. He hopped to his feet.

“Ah yes, ‘discuss.’ I’m sure you’ve no intention of forcing the issue at all,” I growled back, very much cognisant of the claws still on my shoulder. At least the demon was surprisingly gentle.

“Force you? No, I don’t want to force you; I don’t need to,” he said with a dismissive wave and then smirked, “You’ll come crawling on your knees begging me to make you mine.”

His words made my stomach do a strange flip. That was a threat, I was certain of it.

Melkar gave a wave as he walked away. “See you later, mystery succubus.”

The clawed hand on my shoulder finally released me. Though instead of immediately leaving, the demon leaned down once more to whisper into my ear.

“If you do end up needing somewhere to go, I won’t let him harm you. Good luck, little vyxa.”