Page 11 of Zero Happily Ever Afters (Branches of Past and Future #4)

Thanks to my manifestation, I hadn’t struggled with the constant flux of my telepathy stretching far across the country. Sometimes, my magic would unravel and coil back into my head. The surge of psychic energy would rocket through my skull and rattle every bone in my body before sending a pulse of electrical snaps like a static shock over my skin. That didn’t happen much, and even when my telepathy returned, it whipped back out like a yoyo in search of Milo’s mind.

As I graded papers this evening, looking over the shitty rough drafts that screamed first-year incompetence from my second-year students’ research essays, I found myself drifting off. Charlie had wedged himself between my stomach and arm as I worked. I rested my hand on his head, rubbing the orange fluff on his face and sinking into the couch to unwind.

I needed to finish grading these essays since I still had a stack of practice FAP tests to get through, plus standard classwork I’d slacked off on grading. Oh, how quickly a few thin sheets of paper piled up into a mountain of horribly written incomplete thoughts filled with garbled talent and incoherent tangents.

I reached out to the tether that connected me to my manifestation, syncing up our perception, our memories, or dual senses. Each time I practiced, it got easier, more bearable, a natural response like something as simple as taking a breath. Yes, there was work involved, so many pieces of the mind and muscle working in tandem, but through instinct, it just sort of fell together. I needed to continue improving, finally master this telepathy, and harness all the missing pieces I’d broken off and dropped into the well of my subconscious.

Milo stayed in Benjamin Oxland’s bedroom as the kid recovered. Barely five years old and that child had endured so much loss. His entire life had been stripped away in a single day. Family. Friends. Future. All of them slaughtered and wiped from this world. New futures blossomed in Ben’s fateful threads, but Milo stalled in making a major decision on The True Witch because so much of this kid’s fate remained tangled in her horrid actions.

No, Ben’s future wasn’t actually entwined with The True Witch, but the last droplets of her magic still coursed through the boy’s body, according to the medical staff who oversaw the full recovery. I hadn’t removed every ounce of that ocean, it seemed, but perhaps that was for the best. It offered Milo a stronger link to the witch’s trail that he tried to follow. Her thinning thread from the singular interaction she’d had with Benjamin wouldn’t last much longer, but it offered Milo the best chance of tracking her down before more unsuspecting people found themselves lost under the weight of Oceanic Collapse.

The strain of carrying the weight of an ocean in his mind for almost two weeks had left Ben in a state of exhaustion. His frail frame, his ghostly complexion, his clenched jaw cracking the two loose baby teeth, and his sunken eyes with deep rings of sleep deprivation. It was as if he hadn’t slept the entire time the ocean of magic tried to crush and drown him. Even now, his warding magic worked to shield his mind. I sensed the blue barrier, frightened to let down its guard. The overworked magic seeped out in strange ways, turning Ben’s hair a faded blue like the sky on a cloudy day.

More than anything, Milo avoided a decision, a course of action to strike down The True Witch because part of him continued searching for possibilities of Ben finding a happy future. I couldn’t glean what potential outcomes lay ahead for the kid, but Milo didn’t like the idea of any of those broken horrors.

Benjamin coughed, clearing water from his throat as he’d done every time he woke up, convinced he was still drowning. But he wasn’t. He wouldn’t ever again if The Inevitable Future had his way.

“There it is.” Milo’s eyes fluttered, everything in his mind clicking together as the visions aligned in his thoughts, helping him formulate the plan that’d eluded him this entire time. “Thank you, Ben.”

“Who are you?” Ben asked, a subtle blue glow radiating from his chest and ready to shield him entirely.

“My name’s Enchanter Evergreen.” Milo smiled, soft and friendly.

“Where’s the other guy?” Ben looked around the room.

“Enchanter Wadsworth?” Milo asked.

“No.” Ben shook his head, eyeing the nearby medical staff who tracked his vitals. “He’s not here.”

“Who?” Milo asked.

“The angry raccoon dragon guy.”

Milo snorted. “Wait. Who?”

“The raccoon guy with all the fire,” Ben explained, his thoughts opening and an image of me projected on the surface.

Only it wasn’t me. I hadn’t actually worn that much eyeliner or had fire spilling from my mouth, but in his recollection, I looked like a fucking court jester.

“Raccoon guy?”

“Cause of the rockin’ roll face.”

Milo shook his head, biting back laughter. “I see. And the dragon part?”

“He breathed fire everywhere. He murdered the water like a rockstar.”

I huffed. I didn’t spit fire anywhere. I majestically summoned it in the form of a fierce beast to remove the threat of that arcane magic. It was badass. He made me sound like some type of knockoff brand enchanter.

“I’d love to continue this discussion on the angry raccoon-faced dragon guy,” Milo said, surface thoughts shifting into memories of the gothiest phase in my youth. Images flashed before his mind with surly-faced stills of my teen years, scowling, flipping him and Finn off, practically growling when they dragged me somewhere. “Unfortunately, we’ll have to cut this short so I can fill in my team about your recovery.”

“Is the rockin’ roll face guy on the team?” Ben asked as nurses came over to check him over.

“No,” Milo said, barely able to fight back the wheezing laughter that bounced around his head as he envisioned me with a guitar and whipping my head round and round while breathing fire.

Ugh. I looked like a total tool in both their imaginations. This was the last time I ever helped someone.

“I’ll be back soon. I promise.” Milo nodded to Ben as the nurses checked him over.

“Okay.” The trepidation in Ben’s eyes didn’t lessen despite Milo’s best efforts to offer him a friendly smile and kind words.

It gutted Milo, but he needed to speak with the other Global Guild witches about what he’d seen, about what lined up for him, about how to prevent this from ever happening again.

Milo stepped outside where Enchanter Wadsworth stood perched against the railing of the porch, smoking a cigarette. Gladiatrix levitated in the front yard, cape flowing from the touch of her telekinesis, offering the perfect heroic aesthetic for an audience of no one. I guessed the best of the best were always performing for the watchful world.

“The kid’s awake.”

“Finally. Now you can focus less on one little life and more on the entire world.” Wadsworth sucked down a deep puff of his cigarette and tossed the butt. “Because Enchanter Predicts the Future Sort of Kind of but Not Really definitely needs to prove his clairvoyance is real and not some parlor trick for the Tweeter Face Click Clockers.”

I rolled my eyes at his attitude and the way his lack of knowledge had smashed together every social app he’d ever heard referenced.

“I have a plan, a way for us to stop this witch.” Milo unraveled the potential futures, eyes fluttering at the continuously shifting subtleties, at the bright light of possibility.

The True Witch’s threads of fate presented themselves in the most bizarre fashion, unlike anything Milo had ever encountered. Not from witches, warlocks, demons, or devils. This veiled woman was something entirely different and he considered her frightening arcane branch played a role in how he perceived her possibilities.

“I’m taking every possible calculation into account. Some steps will involve us steering her onto a different course and away from other objectives that might cross her mind.”

“What does that mean?” Gladiatrix asked.

“It means he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.” Wadsworth huffed.

“I know you’re after the quickest resolution,” Milo said, fighting off a frown that tugged at his cheeks. “I can’t offer you that.”

“You can’t offer much of anything.” Wadsworth scoffed.

“The result in stopping her sooner is… There’s too much carnage in it. I won’t be a part of a path that leads to such certainty.” Milo wanted to ensure no other towns were laid siege to in the same way as Harmony Valley. He wanted to make sure no one was left orphaned like Benjamin Oxland. He wanted to offer everyone the best possible future, the happiest ever that ever aftered.

“So what are you proposing?” Gladiatrix asked.

Milo had genuine joy on his face, eager to divulge the many facets of his plan that involved intercepting The True Witch in various places, drawing her attention to locations that hadn’t fully occurred to her, and luring her to a spot at the precise time that’d all but guarantee a future Milo could take pride in. “It’s a big plan with lots of variables that might take a bit—or a lot—longer than the Global Guild wants.”

“The Global Guild merely wishes for an end to this witch,” Gladiatrix said, looking over at Wadsworth. “No matter what pressures for faster results certain members try to apply.”

“Fine.” He waved a dismissive hand at Gladiatrix and then turned to Milo. “What’s your damn plan?”

“Well, for one thing, we’re gonna have to take Ben with us.”

“Who?” Wadsworth asked.

“The kid who…” Milo pointed a thumb back toward the house, baffled Enchanter Wadsworth hadn’t bothered learning Ben’s name, having the horror seared into his mind, or any sort of empathy in his expression when the realization dawned on the old man.

“Oh. Why exactly?”

“Once we start moving forward with our objectives, things will shift. The True Witch may attempt to pivot, change course, and I don’t have a strong read on her.” Milo gestured to the house again, where Benjamin Oxland recovered. “Trace amounts of her interaction and magic still linger in the child, which will allow me to maintain a connection to our target.”

Milo averted his gaze from the aggravated Wadsworth and stared out into the empty neighborhood. No trace of possibility nearby. Every fate in this town had been snuffed out once everyone had been killed. This barren town saddened Milo, but he maintained his composure and focused on his goal of putting an end to The True Witch.

“Fine. Take the kid, leave the kid, what do I care?” Wadsworth lit a cigarette. “Can we just get a move on already?”

“Almost,” Milo said with a minxy grin. The type of playful bullshit he used on me but quickly realized Enchanter Wadsworth had no patience or care for. Cute didn’t work on the old man. “We’re gonna need a professional tracker.”

“You’re our tracker for this mission,” Gladiatrix said.

“Yeah, for pinpointing where The True Witch will be,” Milo explained. “Once we get to her location, we’re gonna want a witch that specializes in hunting.”

“I’ll see who the Global Guild can offer.” Gladiatrix reached for her phone.

Milo basked in the bright pieces laid before him, absorbing the possible future he might be lucky enough to cement into reality.

Milo continued working toward unraveling the potential futures tied to The True Witch, but her image remained veiled in light so bright it made the sun seem like a moonlit night. The Global Guild stayed in the town of Harmony Valley while Enchanter Evergreen worked on determining their next best step. He had a thousand plans. Part of him was honored by the belief The Global Guild held in his branch; another part of him froze at the idea their next move came down to his decision, a decision that he needed to determine based on the possible whims of a witch he’d never encountered.

Would The True Witch raze another town that made its fortune on streamlining technology alongside magic? Sure, her motives remained secret, but Milo had pieced together that much. Every possibility of her next destructive destination seemed to tie into destroying those who made casting more accessible, who pushed the bounds of science, who decided magic should come second in this world.

Whoever The True Witch was, her ideology was that of an old belief, that of a woman who fancied tradition, one who prayed when she channeled her magic. He watched countless snippets of altars, flickering candles, sacrifices of earthly goods, tributes of blood made with oaths of loyalty. Few witches continued these practices, not since the earliest days of magics return. Mostly, people adapted, evolved, and we learned that our magic stemmed from other places. We didn’t have to pray to the four corners to channel our roots. We didn’t have to offer tributes to silent gods to access our branches.

Malice, bitter and filled with disgust, ate away at the edges of the veiled images of The True Witch. Every possibility Milo gleaned revealed how much she despised the world as it was and sought to bring it back to something it should’ve remained. Milo simply needed to discern which possible act of destruction, of carnage, would peak this vile witch’s desires most.

“Well, well, well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a sultry voice with a thick southern twang said, pulling Milo from his visions as he took in the sight of a gorgeous man.

He waltzed across the front yard, a swagger in his hips with each step he took. The man was tall, taller than Milo by a few inches, standing at 6’5” or 6’6” and built like a titan with broad shoulders. His physical build was only further accentuated by the sapphire blue corset vest that showed off his tight waist and muscular chest. The corset had a definite allure, drawing attention to his bare arms, too, flaunting his huge muscles. I followed the veins along his flexed biceps, and my eyes traveled down his inner left forearm, where a tattoo spelled out “Texas Daddy” in some fancy calligraphy font.

Seriously? This guy.

I recognized Enchanter Diaz, whose username— Texas Daddy —popped up across multiple platforms since Milo and him interacted a bit on social media, given how they both built their audiences on thirst traps showing off their good looks, annoying so-called charm, and skilled casting.

Enchanter Diaz had quite a contradictory style, which he seemed to take delight in as he often wore a cowboy hat with matching boots that were tied together by the laced up satin corset vest.

Milo seemed to like the look too as his eyes traveled down the fellow enchanter’s narrow waist and hung on the man’s thick thighs that seemed even larger due to the skintight jeans that complimented all of Diaz’s assets. Assets Milo continued admiring with each step the enchanter took.

I rolled my eyes. Whatever. We all had crushes, and this lust or pining for Enchanter Diaz went way back to Milo’s days as a rookie enchanter.

While Milo fought a daydream boner, I unraveled how well he knew this Enchanter Diaz and why he’d been brought in. It turned out he had worked as a traveling member of The Global Guild for over a decade now, a member who accompanied covens for missions as their tracker. That made sense. Milo’s magic would help locate this dangerous True Witch, but Diaz’s skills would allow them to pinpoint her presence.

Turned out, Enchanter Diaz had visited Chicago years back when Milo was fortunate enough to partner with the expert tracker and trail a dangerous warlock that led them all across the city until they landed in Gwendolyn’s Guns & Gals, the private burlesque club that also served as an illegal shop for magical merchandise.

Milo still recalled the scowl on Cassidy Gardner’s face when Enchanter Diaz and Enchanter Evergreen tore her club apart dueling a particularly difficult warlock. A smile crept onto Milo’s face at thinking back to how much Cassidy shouted at him, threatened him, and screamed bloody murder at the Global Guild witch, Enchanter Diaz. But when the global witch dropped a hefty apology in the form of buying out the most expensive club in Chicago for the evening, the night turned into a blur of fuzzy recollections.

Flashes of beautiful women, lipstick marks, booze, dancing—so much dancing, Cassidy cracking one small smile, laughter, passion, sweet skin, and desires not quite met as Milo and Diaz both left with different women and never had the good fortune of crossing paths again.

“You remember Vanessa?” Enchanter Diaz asked.

“Yeah.” Milo nodded, recalling the petite burlesque dancer who pulled Diaz onto the stage, pinning him to the chair she’d used as a prop and turning the burly man who was nearly twice her size into a play toy. “Pretty sure I do.”

Milo’s breathing hitched when he recalled the two of them together, imagination already twisting the memory at the edges.

“She finally made an honest man outta me.” Diaz wiggled his fingers, revealing the wedding band. His pink and black fingernails shimmered against the sunlight.

“Really?” Milo’s bright blue eyes widened, then he smiled with genuine excitement for them. “Here I was worried Cassidy had run the poor girl out of town.”

Vanessa was one of her more popular dancers, destined for a bright future in Chicago the last time Milo saw her on stage, but when she stopped appearing at the club, all Cassidy said was, “Good riddance. No one needs her here anyway” and then merely glowered if Enchanter Evergreen alluded to the woman when stopping in to visit his undercity friend. The news served as a reminder that potential futures were potential for a reason and could take a sharp turn from any unlikely interaction.

“Cassidy came pretty close.” Enchanter Diaz grinned, a minxy expression almost as captivating as Milo’s. “But Vanessa was done with that life, felt like her dances were behind her.”

The dance that brought the couple together played in Milo’s mind. Diaz’s intense stare, the sharpness of his jaw when Vanessa ran her gloved fingers across his face. Vanessa’s hauntingly pale porcelain skin under the bright lights, her strut, her stance, the bounce of her black curls. Each perfect movement of her body was etched into Milo’s memory.

Soon, the truth of the memory fizzled away, and suddenly, Enchanter Diaz wore a sapphire corset vest. Oh great, Milo’s mind had wandered into a fantasy where Diaz and his wife performed a show just for Milo. They grinded against each other and the chair in equal measure, tearing at each other’s clothing but careful not to rip the corsets, which Milo found utterly arousing.

Music blared, synced to the dance, to the lust, to the passion. Milo’s teeth flashed in his mind, biting and tearing at the strings that held the corsets together. He unraveled a gift meant just for him, and I tried to simmer my connection because while fantasies were normal, I really didn’t want to see the hot naked couple my boyfriend pictured in his head. He’d gone from a single musing of bending Enchanter Diaz over to suddenly living out the most erotic club sex his imagination could fathom.

Most people didn’t even realize their thoughts had turned into carnal fantasies the first few seconds. Milo’s passing thoughts had only been a total of six seconds, yet they felt infinitely long as I waited for him to reel back his desires.

“Fucking hell.” I huffed with utter contempt now that Milo’s fantasy had fully actualized.

No longer did Enchanter Diaz and his wife parade through the halls of Milo’s fetishes. They’d merely been tools for him to piece together his true desire, one he was completely aware of as it bounced around his head.

“Seriously?” I grumbled, half tempted to whisper, persuade, or tempt him back to the hot couple that danced in his mind.

Instead, I watched as Milo pictured me in his head, strutting across the dance stage with a black and scarlet corset vest and matching leather pants. My performance was far better than anything I could ever hope to attempt. In all fairness, I didn’t hope much. Here I was in Milo’s head, pinned against a pole, crawling down a runway, grinding against a chair, and a million other erotic movements that only further elicited Milo’s imagination for all the things he craved to do to me once he’d completed his mission.

“Christ, they sent you?” Enchanter Wadsworth croaked, taking a deep inhale from his cigarette and exhaling his aggravation for the younger enchanter.

Who knew I would ever once find myself grateful for Wadsworth’s rude interruption. It immediately popped the fantasy from Milo’s mind and settled the lustful aura wafting in the air.

“It’s good to see you too, Wadsworth.” Enchanter Diaz smiled, bright and unfazed by Wadsworth’s venomous gaze. “I see that habit hasn’t slowed you down. God truly loves the wicked.”

“You know, they used to have real witches with tracking magics.” Enchanter Wadsworth shook his head with disappointment. “Now they send incompetent psychics that need more time and bumbling fools that need an animal to cast magic.”

A roar in the distance filled the entire block, and a huge brown bear walked down the street. Each step more intimidating than the next. I’d never seen a bear this big. Her body on all fours stretched longer than Enchanter Diaz stood, and her size was more than twice as wide as his broad shoulders.

“Relax, Priscilla.” Enchanter Diaz kept his playful grin. “You know Wadesy just likes to run his mouth about the good ole days, pretending they were a real thing.”

“It used to be those with familiars didn’t waste their time applying for the industry,” Wadsworth continued as if anyone cared. “We used to have standards in the Global Guild—in any guild, actually. Now witches who need a pet to help them apply in droves. Next thing you know, they’ll be letting branchless witches into the organization. They’ll nominate warlocks or fiends for guild master jobs.”

“Yup.” Enchanter Diaz grabbed his chin and nodded affirmingly, a sly glint in his brown eyes. “It’s all downhill from here, old man. You should do yourself a favor and hop off the ride.”

Wadsworth glared. “Did you and that fat grizzly manage to find any leads?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that she’s a Kodiak bear? They’re an entirely different breed.”

Diaz’s surface thoughts popped with facts about the Kodiak species.

For starters, Kodiak bears could weigh up to 1,500 pounds, and Priscilla was a healthy 1,275 the last time she stepped on a scale. She stood at six and a half feet tall when upright. Most bears had incredible tracking skills, and thanks to Priscilla’s connection to magic, she could sniff out the faintest trace of someone or something for up to twenty miles. Her claws were four inches long, and with the reinforcement of a mere trickle of telekinesis, she could slice through steel.

Christ. I was suddenly very grateful to have King Clucks in my classroom because I wouldn’t trust Gael with a familiar as deadly as Priscilla.

“Bah.” Wadsworth waved a dismissive hand. “Fake news.”

“The disrespect. You realize she’s a killing machine.” Diaz held out his arms like he was gesturing to a car, which he might as well have been, considering how giant his familiar was. Priscilla yawned, huge mouth and sharp teeth stretched wide, but she appeared far less deadly when she rolled onto her back and shifted on the ground to scratch an itch. I knew the look. I’d seen Carlie do that a hundred times over, which made me miss my little fat cat. Also, how the hell did Diaz handle his familiar’s food bill?

I might’ve delved into his mind just a tad out of curiosity. Nothing about her eating habits, but apparently, he kept specialized enchantment sigils on hand for her if the climate became unbearable. Oh, Christ. That unintended pun was going to haunt me. Kodiak bears were native to Alaska and required colder temperatures. Priscilla rarely got cooler temperatures on the road or in Enchanter Diaz’s home state of Texas.

“I see the boys are all getting along.” Gladiatrix levitated outside, hovering between Milo and Diaz and doing her best to ignore Wadsworth.

“Alicia.” Enchanter Diaz half hugged the fellow enchanter, then eyed her golden cape and dark clothing. “Where’d all the pink go?”

“Still got it.” She pointed to the heart shaped trans flag embroidered onto her outfit, possibly all her work clothes.

“No. You used to have style.” Enchanter Diaz sighed, making an exasperated expression, and then flashing his pink and black nails. “We were finally gonna match. Leo’s in his pink phase.”

“Leo?” Milo asked, eye quirked.

“My kid,” Diaz said before pointing to his familiar. “Everything has to be pink these days.”

Priscilla, the bear, huffed and rubbed her head, revealing the streak of hot pink that started at the top of her head and trailed down her spine. There were also patchy, tiny handprints along her belly. If I had to guess, this Leo kid was quite young.

Enchanter Diaz’s surface thoughts revealed the two children he had. A son and daughter who each got to help their daddy get ready for big cases. Leo picked pink nails, and his sister picked black. They argued and so Diaz compromised by using both.

“Speaking of kids,” Milo said, steering the conversation toward their case. “With Benjamin awake and our expert tracker here, I think it’s time we finally set out for the next phase of our mission.”

“About goddamn time,” Wadsworth said, lighting a cigarette.

Milo smiled bright eyed and eager, ready to lead them down a future pathway he believed would offer the best possibilities for everyone involved. The Inevitable Future always wanted what was best and this new pursuit of The True Witch wouldn’t change that.