Page 21 of Zero Happily Ever Afters (Branches of Past and Future #4)

My manifestation leapt through the chaos, barreling toward me. Each moment created a kaleidoscope of dual sensations. When my other half connected, the two halves of my being surged with memories. I could spend hours sifting through these flashes, but only fractions of seconds passed outside my mind.

The results of Milo’s plan unfolded before me. Enchanter Diaz and Priscilla versus The Sisters Three, the divine psychics. Gladiatrix versus every single inmate, then against Grim, the living, breathing body of bones. Enchanter Wadsworth and the Global Guild reinforcements versus Lazarus, the rejuvenating witch who killed with a deadly touch. And then Amara, The True Witch, reunited with her bone staff, a weapon she used to drop everyone who opposed her.

Not Milo, though. Not yet. Images splashed in swift succession of Milo reacting to Theodore’s release, scanning those in the solitary confinement ward, assessing all the magic at play, and creating new plans with the possibilities that remained.

Enchanter Evergreen had made quick work of several inmates, dropping them before the daze of freedom had worn off. Milo recalculated his plans, his objectives, every necessary step to keep Theodore Whitlock detained.

Lazarus leapt between inmates, slicing those in his path down with his hands that he wielded like blades. Watching the memory unfold, I wanted to shout a warning to Milo, but I couldn’t. And I hadn’t in the memory, so I watched the collision of my mind from two split pieces, hoping it’d reveal everything was okay. But Lazarus had dropped Enchanter Wadsworth and his reinforcements. Milo was surrounded. Alone. Theodore had escaped the MDC and arrived at Gemini Academy.

In the seconds that ticked as this memory unraveled, I feared the worst. Milo… No. I’d have sensed it the instant something fatal struck. What happened to Finn would never happen to someone I loved again. Not ever.

Milo dodged Lazarus’ open-handed strike, assessing the precision of telekinesis at play. While Enchanter Evergreen didn’t have a strategy for all the mysterious members of the Celestial Coven and had no insight into their magics, he possessed a mastery in combat and analyzing a situation. It’d taken a few evaded blows for Milo to gain an understanding of his enemy’s techniques, branch, the sharp cut of telekinesis woven like surgical blades along Lazarus’ fingertips.

With a plan in his mind, Milo grabbed Lazarus under the bicep, moving his foot between Lazarus’ legs and preparing to shift the direction of this fight before it turned into something deadly.

A crystalized blue light sparkled, the floor beneath Milo and Lazarus rippled, and both of them fell through a portal that sealed shut as quickly as it’d appeared.

With the sudden snap of Milo’s mind vanishing, hurled far away, my magic panicked. It wanted to run and search for Milo. I wanted to run and search. But dread held me still in this underground facility.

“What was that?” Amara scowled at Theodore.

“We don’t wanna face off against The Inevitable Future. Not yet at least.” Theodore grinned. “E was simply being resourceful as always.”

Theodore turned his head to meet the inmate who slinked behind him. A pale, scrawny man who swam in his orange jumpsuit, carefully stepping over blood and bits on the floor. His hands shimmered with trace amounts of magical residue. I knew that warlock.

He was one of the warlocks from Theodore’s crew, those who helped him attack my students last year. This one fought against Kenzo’s coven.

“Return Lazarus.” Amara pointed her bone staff at Ernesto, who swallowed his trepidation, pretending to be brave when in the company of Theodore.

“No,” he said, forcing the word from his mouth so it didn’t slip out sheepish and silent.

Milo’s thoughts whispered from afar, perhaps outside the MDC building. Wherever he’d landed, he’d done so safely. Ernesto hadn’t sent Milo far and couldn’t until his magic returned in full swing. Part of me wanted to follow the tiny thread of Milo’s voice, but I needed to know what would happen between The True Witch and Theodore Whitlock.

“Now.” Amara clenched her jaw, biting back visible annoyance.

“Couldn’t if I wanted,” Ernesto said. “Not with him fighting with Evergreen. The two are practically entangled. Bring one, we bring both.”

“Leave the clairvoyant to me,” Amara said, tilting her staff lower and moving it underneath Ernesto’s chin.

“Or we don’t listen to you because we don’t know you,” the girlish giggle that followed Darla’s voice had a harrowing effect.

I froze, searching everywhere for her silent footsteps. Even intangible and invisible as I was, even as I merely observed my own memory, the idea of her slicing me apart with shallow cuts again left a sinking horror in my gut.

The foul way she pounced from out of nowhere when stalking her prey. Truly haunting. She’d fought Tara’s coven last year when attacking the academy. It’d taken everything Tara had to defeat the warlock. And fortunately, Gael and King Clucks helped, too.

Darla appeared beside The True Witch, menacing smile on her face and twisted fantasies of bubblegum pink insides that she wanted to pluck from this strange woman she’d never met.

“Who even are you?” Darla’s eyes darted from the bone staff to the vital spots every witch harnessed their root magics from, calculating which she’d break, severe, or counter.

But how?

Darla possessed a deadly branch but required support tools to access it. Last time, she wielded two daggers etched with enchantments that helped connect and store her hex magic. Those enchantments also helped her store her counter hex into the blades her warlock comrades wielded, much like the one Theodore struck me with that nearly killed me. But with no weapon in Darla’s grip, I wondered how she planned to strike. Hopefully, the Celestial Coven and Theodore’s crew would slaughter each other, and Milo’s fears of the worst wouldn’t come to pass. My fears of the worst.

“We are the coven that infiltrated the most secure facility in your city.” Amara stood tall, boasting. “We are the witches who broke the system in minutes, we are the ones who face the most capable organization, and—”

“Who the fuck asked you to do all of that?” Theodore stretched tall, savoring a deep inhale of the bloody mess that poured into the room.

“You.” Amara trained her eyes on Theodore. “You demanded—”

“Demanded?” He cackled at the absurdity. “No, no, no. I merely warned your coven of their choices. My early release or execution.”

Theodore believed with no uncertainty that his father, Tara’s father, Tobias Whitlock, would have the thorn that was his son extracted soon enough.

Theories of his demise danced along the edges of outstretched branches, conspiracies behind the plots his father had organized, and a gnawing belief he’d end up dead before his trial began. Where the proof of these paranoid thoughts lurked, I dared not search, for they dwelled further inside Theodore’s open mind.

“You chose to act of your own volition.” Theodore brushed his blood-stained hands through his shaggy blond hair. “Boldly, I must contest.”

He licked blood from his middle finger; a few droplets dribbled down his chin and soaked between the hairs of his stubble beard. He paraded his mayhem as a distraction, much like he spat his words at The True Witch to provoke her. The coven didn’t act. No, not at all. They had to react based on Theodore’s letter. Whether his psychopathy, narcissism, or his Whitlock education, Theodore seemed to gauge every potential reaction his pawns would make.

The Celestial Coven were pawns, too, in Theodore’s mind. Their worthless pieces dangled from branches of his inner core, desperate for interaction, connection, luring a foolish psychic to their demise should they creep closer. Those pawns that hung represented their outlived use in the game he wished to continue playing. That much I glimpsed from a safe distance outside of his deadly thoughts.

Theodore turned to Darla and Ernesto. “They’ve got a hard-on for my branch. The Celestial Coven wants to control the world, and what better way than with an army of demons at their beck and call.”

“You will come with me, Theodore.”

“Hmmm. Let me think.” He tapped his chin, feigning a thoughtful expression. “That’s gonna be a no.”

“Theodore.” Amara slammed her staff onto the floor, a warning. “The plan is—”

“Foolish.” Theodore tsked. “The Inevitable Future knows your plan, your backups, your secrets, your whims, your contingencies. Hmmm. Yeah, no. You’re not clever enough to evade him.”

This was something Theodore had spent much of his time contemplating while behind bars, so much so it fed into a new philosophy of chaos he hoped to fan.

“Do not concern yourself with the psychic. I will—”

“I’m bored with you,” Theodore interrupted again, finding every time he did, it provoked a deeper crinkle in Amara’s creased brow, and that made him happier than every dead body at his feet.

“I will take you by force if I must.”

“Or…”

He dragged out the silence between him and The True Witch when suddenly the glyphs on her bone staff glowed, and the gems sparkled. I expected pain to follow, shock and surprise, which it did…but from Amara.

She released her weapon and flew back quickly, eyes trained on Darla and Ernesto but not the bloody, writhing body that lifted from among the crowd of inmates Lazarus had hacked down to reach Milo.

“You said her enchantments were gonna be challenging.” A man smirked, savoring the hunt and pursuit and carnage almost as much as his leader.

I remembered the skill of that warlock, the way he broke through Gemini Academy’s security in minutes, yet as smart as he professed himself, believed himself, he’d been taken down single-handedly by Caleb Huxley.

I recalled the brief encounters the Doppler had with him when infiltrating the MDC. Vincent stayed close to Theodore while incarcerated, but despite his brawny build, he didn’t serve as muscle. No, he worked as an ambassador, offering tattoos and favors of every kind to build Theodore’s numbers. Numbers for an escape attempt they now planned on putting into motion.

The room swirled as I glommed onto all four minds, each clicked into perfect symmetry. Theodore, Vincent, Ernesto, and Darla pieced their parts of the plan together. This entire possibility had crossed Theodore’s mind, preparing his closest and most trusted allies, his subordinates, his crew of chaos.

When Ernesto removed Milo, he’d always intended to target a pillar of the Celestial Coven. Theodore had warned of their difficulties.

I struggled as this memory continued unfolding. Each member of Theodore’s crew moved to see out his plan, their minds assessing their roles, their purpose, their chance at destruction if they succeeded. Even without communicating, they worked to execute the plan. A plan created on a whim.

It didn’t matter that they only had seconds to prepare for the situation, for the attack, their years of connection—of friendship as sordid as it was—offered them certainty. Darla, Ernesto, and Vincent held complete trust in each other, assurance in their skills, and expertise in their own magics.

Vincent had acquired the bone staff, and with the amplification in magic the weapon offered, he used it to link to every single inmate throughout the MDC that he’d tattooed, that he’d secretly inked with alchemic ingredients meant to make them pliable for Theodore’s needs.

Darla stalled for time, countering the arcane magic The True Witch unleashed. Despite the commotion from the second this underground facility broke into violence, at some point, Theodore had handed off his shiv to Vincent, who carved sigils necessary for Darla’s support tools and then passed it off to her.

She used the weapon seamlessly, sending torrents of magical water lashing back at Amara who now dealt with the effects of her Oceanic Collapse. Images of her drowning mind struck my telepathy.

I ground my teeth, ignoring her agony. Part of me hoped she stayed locked in that state of being forever, feeling the pain she’d unleashed upon tens of thousands, no doubt. Another part of me realized that since Theodore’s crew had successfully subdued The True Witch in minutes, it meant the city—the world—would have to contend with these sadistic warlocks.

“Your turn, E.” Vincent handed the bone staff to the nervous warlock.

Ernesto swallowed hard. “I’ve never moved this much at once.”

“I believe in you.” Theodore wrapped an arm around Ernesto’s neck, hugging him as he stood close behind. “And if it’s too much for you, then we can kill you, take your branch, and stuff it in one of the empty gems up there.”

Ernesto quaked, eliciting a tremble of excitement from Theodore, who relished the easily provoked anxiety in his favorite friend. He clutched Ernesto tighter, savoring the delicious tension the two shared.

“Or maybe we could test the stones.” Vincent shrugged, aloof but trained to temper Theodore’s whims. “See if one already has a teleporting branch.”

“I don’t have time for trial-and-error bullshit on hundreds of gems.” Theodore chuckled. “Chaos is on a stringent schedule, Vinny.”

Calculated chaos. That was Theodore’s new life motto. One that would help him obtain his goal and achieve the impossible. Stay off The Inevitable Future’s radar. Destroy Whitlock Industries. Dodge the ire of the Celestial Coven and whatever backlash using them might cause. Eviscerate everyone in his path for the sheer pleasure of their agony. How he wanted to feel it. How he wanted to feel.

The new strategy allowed him to conceive every possible idea he could fathom, then abandon it for a new plan. One he’d be ready for since he considered every possibility despite the whim of the moment, which he hoped would make it harder to track. He literally prepared ways to be impulsive. Who did that?

As his warlocks worked, Theodore tilted his head, almost gazing at me. No. He was looking at me.

“ I told you that I never forget a psychic’s touch. ” He shuffled toward me, twisting his hateful thoughts into something softer, kinder, phony. “ The way our minds melded before I slashed your throat. Truly artistic. The way you pursued me, chased me in here, stalking my every footstep in the MDC of all places, and bringing a demon with you as a gift. A tribute. I never thanked you. ”

I floated backward, wanting to flee.

There was a wicked cautiousness, like he suspected me a deer he didn’t want to startle. “ As much as I like the touch of a telepath, the subtle embrace… ”

He paused, thinking, thinking deep in his mind in some futile effort to lure me somewhere I’d never step foot. Then he reached out and rubbed his hand along my ghostly torso. Even as an invisible apparition of magic that he couldn’t form physical contact with, Theodore sensed my presence.

“ I prefer when psychics delve into my thoughts. ” He bit his lip so hard it drew blood. “ I’d love for you to come inside me. Come, come as deep as you desire. ”

There was a smirk growing on his face, eager for me to share in the laugh of his crude joke. The playful expression fell away into this yearning gaze that seemed genuine. Maybe. I couldn’t know for certain, and I never would because Theodore Whitlock was not to be trusted. Ever. Not for a second.

My bloody image surfaced in Theodore’s mind. The faint agony on my face while I took shallow breaths. The anguish as I lay in a pool of my own blood. It tantalized Theodore. It stirred curiosity in him.

“ I’m glad you lived. ” He smiled, soft and boyish, almost embarrassed. “ I can’t wait to see you again. There’s so much I want to show you, show Tragic Tara, show the world. ”

Ideas leapt from one branch of his gnarled thoughts to the next, but his words offered me a lead on the calculated chaos he weaved. Theodore was going to attack the academy. He’d decided it the second the wards in the solitary chamber dropped. He painted the plan in blood at the roots of his tree, of his inner core where no psychic energy could penetrate without risking his murderous ire.

I had all the information I needed. While Ernesto, Vincent, and Darla tinkered with the bone staff to usher them out of the MDC and to Gemini Academy, I had to run and reunite with my other half, warn myself and everyone at the Spring Showcase.

I flew across the city, seeking my other half.

“It wasn’t enough time,” I whispered as the memory finished and Theodore stood proudly in front of the fifty-some-odd inmates he’d dragged through a portal to Gemini Academy.

Those who’d been tattooed by Vincent didn’t have time to react. They fell and writhed in pain as their ink glowed and subdued them.

The tanks surrounding the arena erupted, unleashing every single fiend prepared for the showcase.

“ The arrogance of the industry. ” Theodore threw his thoughts out, fishing for my telepathy. “ I planned on wisps, here at the schooling home of the future guild witches, or perhaps luring the wisps of the wild, the ones dancing around the city. ”

There was a cackle from Theodore. It almost outshined the horrified screams of torment from the inmates who were consumed by fiends. Their tattoos drew demonic energy toward them; it weakened their defenses and prepared Theodore to unleash Hell upon the world.

“ The delicious serendipity of the universe delivering me a bounty of fiends. ” Theodore roared with laughter. “ God really does believe in calculated chaos. ”