Malcador was unaware, but he was about to get lucky. 

The wizard had managed to stumble and sprint through the pandemonium of the assault well enough to make it to the other street, with another dead black clad swordsman in his wake from a well placed cantrip. Even with the spellbook, he had precious few spells left. He needed rest, and to link up with Serphia, but not in that order. If he could find her, they could make it out of there as quickly as a bird flew, or near enough. Of course, a part of him screamed he should run away without her, but another part of him also reminded himself that he needed her around for extra protection. Then, of course, another small part of him wanted to feel what it was like to lock lips with her, and that was a very annoying part that would not shut up. 

He stepped over the cold corpse of a man, innocent or not he couldn't know. He did not bother to wait and check. Instead, he stepped over, nearly stumbling, and burst through the front door. He spun and slammed the door behind him, thinking the dangers had stayed behind him. In a twist of fate, however, be both found his salvation and his doom. 

A devil and Serphia were squaring off in a corridor down the lobby of the large home. Arlocke scuttled over to him, webs spinning from his behind. 

Despite his anxiety, seeing Serphia gave Malcador a sense of purpose, and he was cloaked in power as he hugged the tome close to his chest with his left arm, raising his right hand. With a word of arcane power that echoed across the walls, his hand began to crackle with coruscating blue and purple energy. It arced around his hand like lightning, and when the last syllabal left his mouth, it burst from his hand in a bolt of mystical energy that struck the devil like a cannon shot. 

It hit the devil, charring its back and sending it sprawling to the floor. He was uncertain if the attack killed the devil, they were hardy creatures. He doubted it was, and even as he thought it, he was proven correct by it trying to move, albeit still stunned with pain. Arlocke's webs began to sling atop it, but unless Serphia did something, it wouldn't be down long enough to be immobile forever.