Page 10

Two weeks had passed since Milo had left for the case, and I missed him, but I had plenty to keep my mind occupied as we moved into the month of March. Once the scouts had left Gemini Academy, the real work kicked in where I had to wrangle my homeroom students together long enough to complete every last-minute project. They’d need to impress guilds with their research essays and magic skillset presentations expressing what made them unique and valuable to the ever-growing industry.

It didn’t help that some of my students were high on their success from the results of the Will-o’-the-Wisp tag event. I rolled my eyes and braced for the incoming headache as I stood in the hallway between classes.

Gael had a swagger in his step as he strolled down the hallway with a screeching rooster in front of him. Nearly every student scrambled to escape King Clucks’ wrath and pressed themselves against the lockers to clear a path. In his mind, Gael truly walked a red carpet as an audience of eager bystanders stood in awe. The warped reality of his cockiness floated far past his imagination and practically painted a sparkle of camera flashes and cheering fans down the entire hallway.

“That’s right, baby. I’m a top”—Gael held a long pause, lowering his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose—“ten contender. Top ten contender, babes.”

“Which is sort of last place among the best,” Layla said, cutting by him and the rooster unfazed while repressing every ounce of venomous jealousy she had for falling short by a few places. “Sort of puts you at the bottom if you think about it.”

“Makes sense to me.” Melanie nodded. “Gael being a bottom and all.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with being on the bottom.” Gael stuck out his pierced tongue and made a face at both girls. “It’s a place of power if you know what you’re doing.”

Gael proceeded to shimmy and dance into the classroom, with King Clucks tapping his claws against the floor in a similar movement. Was the damn bird dancing?

“And I do know what I’m doing because I’m in the top ten—”

“Ba-ba-bawk!”

“Bitches!” Gael smacked his butt and slid over to his seat, kicking his legs back and forth as he sat on the top part of his desk instead of the chair.

Ugh. Gael’s success would be the most unbearable experience of my life. How was having him treat his casting and competition seriously more exhausting than when he simply goofed off? He’d likely ride this wave, gloating until the end of the year.

It didn’t take long for the halls to crowd back up and I spotted Caleb and Katherine making their way toward the classroom, him holding a stack of books while training with his weighted blocks and her clutching her grimoire tightly to her chest as she playfully shoulder bumped her boyfriend.

“We need to celebrate,” Katherine said. “You destroyed that competition. Right now, I bet every single scout is composing a reason and recommendation to their enchanters on why you’re going to be a fan-fucking-tastic intern.”

Caleb grimaced, fighting an awkward expression where his face twisted anxiously. He wanted to believe that, wanted Katherine’s hopes for his success to hold some reality, wanted to see his dedication finally pay off. But this had been a marathon of endurance his entire life and he feared the end of this semester led to a finish line he wasn’t ready to cross.

Oh, Caleb. I wanted to tell him this was merely another marker in the endless race. He’d be pacing himself for more laps, obstacles, and competition for the rest of his life as an industry witch.

“Smile.” Katherine gave Caleb a very stern face, one where he straightened his shoulders and followed her lead. While she didn’t boss him around often, Katherine refused to let Caleb bury his head during his achievements. “You got second place out of 599 people. Everyone sees you as a champion, a threat, an icon. You came so close to outscoring Kenzo. Two points.”

“A real Cinderfella story.” Kenzo brushed past Caleb, mocking tone in his voice. “And like Cinderfella, you’ve got your know-it-all fairy godmother sprinkling fake bullshit in your face.”

“You know, those two points,” Katherine said with a strained smile. “Basically a tie. Which means your branch isn’t half as special as you pretend. Or your roots are lacking. Or both.”

Kenzo scoffed. “Well, there’s that 105-point head start Branchless had. Not much of a tie.”

“I wish I had an excuse for my shortcomings at the ready every single time someone pointed them out.” Katherine locked her eyes on Kenzo, who’d stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked away.

“No. He’s right.” Caleb sulked. “I need to do better if I want to stand out.”

I pulled Kenzo aside as Caleb and Katherine walked into the classroom.

“Can you maybe not be a little jerk who picks a fight at every opportunity?” I asked. “Maybe just try it for the day.”

Kenzo stared absentmindedly, his thoughts quieting, then locked his eyes with mine. “Sure. And maybe you can you try not being a whiny eavesdropping head case, right?”

My face fell flat with shock, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. I had no words.

Kenzo nodded to himself affirmingly. “Looks like we’ve both got things to work on. Maybe we focus on our own business for the day.”

Goddamn. And with that, he walked right into the classroom.

I used the last minute of passing time to collect myself. Once the bell rang and everyone had taken a proper seat at their desks, I dove right into today’s lesson.

“That demonstration was impressive, and there’s a lot of positives I wanna discuss.” I stared at their eager expressions, indulging before I popped the bubble of their joy because, quite frankly, we didn’t have time to celebrate today. I’d pencil something in for Friday. “But that’ll come later.”

A collective sigh came from the whiners in my homeroom.

“Today, we’re working on interviews because you’ll be expected to demonstrate that very important skill soon. Much like the game where we had to impress the scouts, you’ll be doing something quite similar with interested guild witches.”

“Wait…” Caleb gripped his shaky knee and held back a flurry of confused, anxious questions bouncing through his head. “Interested guild witches? Like enchanters?”

“Enchanters, acolytes, scouts, specialists—hell, Mrs. Whitehurst might even wrangle a few guild masters.” I took a sip of my coffee, letting that reality sink into their heads. “This is one of several mini-events second-year students are expected to take part in as we lead up to the showcase itself.”

“What questions will be asked?” Caleb had a pencil already pressed to his notebook so he could jot down my response.

“These questions will be similar to what any witch applying to a guild would receive,” I explained. “Some of these questions will also be the kind enchanters are expected to handle during a public interview, which makes sense because you’ll be interviewed in the auditorium—”

“What?” Caleb clammed up, his vocalized terror louder than most of the surface thoughts asking the same question. “We’re being interviewed in front of everyone?”

“Yup.”

“Like everyone at the school?” Caleb’s face burned bright red.

“No, absolutely not.”

“Oh, good.” Caleb sighed with relief.

“It’ll just be all the second-year students, their homeroom teachers, admin, and, of course, the attending guild witches.”

Caleb’s entire mind went blank. If it were possible, I thought his head might explode. He simply sat silently.

“And a panel of your peers will be deciding your score.” Third-year students who got roped into as part of their internship duties, which meant they’d be extra harsh on those presenting because no one liked to be voluntold for a task.

“Why didn’t we prepare for this sooner?” Caleb asked, a mix of anxious anger and some judgment he hurled toward me.

I scowled. I ensured my students had every opportunity to work on the necessary skills they’d need to be successful, finding ways to tie nearly every assignment to a real-world expectation. “Why do you think we have biweekly presentations in here?”

“Because bi pride is the best pride.” Gael nodded approvingly as his rooster crowed.

“What?” I quirked a brow. “No. That has nothing to do with…anything.”

“Wow. Biphobic much?” He leaned over to King Clucks. “I swear, the gays really are the worst about it.”

“Excuse me?” I cocked my head. “I’m not… No. You…”

King Clucks twisted his head in the same swift motion of surprise as me, red comb jiggling and a fierce squint in his gaze. And I swore, for half a second—even knowing it was entirely impossible—I heard that damn bird’s thoughts snap back at my comment with, “ Did he stutter? ”

“So judgy. Such a shame.” Gael shook his head disapprovingly and ready to drag out this tedious argument for the rest of class.

I took a deep breath because this wasn’t an argument. It was a ploy. A tactic. A game meant to kill time. Ignoring the prepped comments skirting around Gael’s surface thoughts, I continued preparing my homeroom coven. He had no reason to fuel a classroom debate aside from the fact that he was bored. Far too many times had I found myself dragged into a heated discussion with Gael about utter nonsense only to find out he never really cared about said topic to begin with and merely craved the attention. Gael Rios-Vega was a true agent of chaos and mischief.

“I need you all to focus because I’d like to get through a few of these mock interviews today.”

“More like mockery,” Jennifer thought, adjusting her septum piercing.

“Oooooh.” Gael performed a drumroll on his desk. “I’ll go first. I can handle any interview anytime anyway anywhere anyhow.”

“Sure. Why not?” I shrugged, believing maybe once the reality of how difficult it was to handle serious topics, he’d simmer down some.

“And I know everyone’s curious, but please don’t ask how big my cock is.” Gael raised a hand over his face as if his rooster couldn’t see or hear his still-loud hushed voice. “King Clucks is carrying a bit of holiday weight.”

While his familiar flapped in protest and pecked Gael, I sighed, realizing I’d never shake a little fear into him no matter how serious I told him this was. And then suddenly, an idea hit.

“Since this is a practice,” I said. “Peer interviewers would be most appropriate.”

“ Huh? ” “ Seriously? ” “ He’s just lazy. ”

“ Might as well make us grade each other with gold stars, too. ”

“Yes. It’ll allow each of you to get into the mindset of what the interview process is like from both sides,” I continued, ignoring their irritating thoughts because inspiration had struck in the form of another annoyed mind sitting nearby.

With a touch of telekinesis, I distributed the flashcards I’d made a wide selection of questions from and dropped them onto everyone’s desks. “You can use these as prompts for your interviews, but you’re more than welcome to ask any questions you deem appropriate.”

As students flipped through the flashcards, I wrote down interviewer and interviewee pairings off the cuff doing my best to keep it fair since this was completely improvised and honestly, I’d only been thinking about the person who’d interview Gael.

“Jennifer, you’ll be interviewing Gael.”

She glared. “ You realize fuckboy energy is incredibly wearing on the psyche, right? ”

I nodded as if I weren’t linked to Jennifer’s mind. “ Oh, I realize. I also want you to know you have complete permission to emotionally eviscerate him. ”

“ Really? ” Jennifer tilted her head, summoning empathic energy that coiled around the classroom.

“ I can think of no one better to give him a little reality check on the difficulty of coasting in the guild industry. ”

Jennifer snatched up the prompt cards and began writing a list of her own questions, smiling the entire time.

“Someone’s excited to chit-chat with lil ole me.” Gael batted his lashes playfully.

“Just excited by the taste of your tears for when I break you.”

Gael gulped, utterly stunned by the sheer delight and contempt in Jennifer’s voice.

“Bawk bawk.” King Clucks cocked his head with wide eyes giving a very ‘you’re fucked’ expression.

I took a seat at my desk while students prepared for today’s practice interviews.

The classroom was an utter disaster. Yes, no one was talking, but no one was learning either. It was just one of those rooms where time ceased, died, was potentially murdered by Mrs. Valson’s bland personality. Ughhhhhh.

I sat at the back of the room, glowering at my first-year history teacher and wishing I could be dreaming about something fun. Sure, this memory had Milo and Finn, which I adored, but I could be dreaming about our first date. I could be reliving our first night together. Our first kiss. Our first kink. Instead, I sat in the worst fucking history class of my life during student presentations.

Anxiety wafted around the classroom from nervous students, but all I focused on at the time was Milo. Sure, at fifteen, I pretended I didn’t care, but I took the time to scribble in my notebook about random bullshit to distract Milo from his dread. It gnawed at me, the way he was convinced everyone was going to fixate on how unprepared he was for his speech.

He hated public speaking his first year at Gemini. It took him ages to finally get over the fear that consumed him every time he found himself pulled into an interview. Planned. Spontaneous. It didn’t matter; the idea of picking one wrong word terrified him. It came down to his clairvoyance, the development of his branch, and how little control he had over it at fifteen. Back then, Milo saw every potential failure but rarely the possible successes. Completely opposite Milo and myself was Finn, who’d volunteered to present his project first.

Finn looked truly dashing, standing at the front of the classroom. Unlike me in my wrinkled academy outfit or Milo, who intentionally wore baggy shirts and blazers with an oversized hoodie to top it off, Finn fit his uniform perfectly. His muscular build already put him on the radar of a few second- and third-years.

There was this annoyingly enigmatic charm he had in front of a crowd. A trait he passed along to Milo. Thankfully, not yet, so we both glommed to each other in the back, hiding from Mrs. Valson’s evil eye that “randomly” picked the next presenter.

“For my project, I chose the Sisters of Fate.” Finn snapped his fingers, an act to draw attention and show off his telekinesis that he used to click to the slide in his presentation of the divine goddesses. “They represent psychic supremacy. I know, we’re rockstars. But seriously, they’re like totally psychic royalty, basically the brass ring of casting. Lots of cultures even revered them as goddesses by one name or another.”

He twirled his fingers this time, going to the next slide, which showed various names and images of the Sisters of Fate in different regions, religions, and eras. “Of course, they were different covens of witches over the generations, but the reverence remained. Why? Because they possessed the best psychic combination.”

Even dating back to our first year at Gemini Academy, Finn used every opportunity to present reasons why he, Milo, and me would make a perfect trio. He did so well, it impressed Cerberus Guild to bring us on as a grouped internship, then hired us as acolytes immediately following our graduation.

“What is the best psychic combination, you ask?” Finn smiled at the class, then pointed to the back of the room where Milo and I hid. “Clairvoyance from the fantastic Milo Evergreen, best known as The Inevitable Future. Telepathy from the majestic Dorian Frost, most commonly referred to as The Ubiquitous Present. And of course, the most grand and important member of all—myself. Finn Summers, best remembered as The All-Knowing Past.”

Finn paused for applause. Whether because he was an annoying showman or because our classmates were morons, some of them actually gave Finn the round of applause he craved. I couldn’t recall which, but I remembered how it warmed my chest, seeing his smile and feeling his happiness for the display.

“We’re basically this generation’s Sisters of Fate. Only we’re brothers of fate. Well, not brothers.” Finn winked at Milo, then turned his coy smile toward me and bit his bottom lip. “ Definitely don’t picture either of you as my brothers. ”

My face heated, likely as red as Milo’s had become before he hid beneath his hoodie.

“The most fascinating part of the Sisters of Fate is their affiliation with the Celestial Coven, which is sort of the witchy Illuminati. Only they were real,” Finn said, moving right back into his presentation like he hadn’t just flirted with us in front of everyone. Possibly. We were still sorting those feelings out. “This isn’t like conspiracy theory stuff either, but it’s definitely not in any of our textbooks. Then again, the amount of relevant historic information they keep out of classroom textbooks is problematic for a number of reasons.”

Finn took a breath, inhaling the history he’d etched into the meticulous flashcards he’d written for his project, focusing on the points of his presentation but drawn to the joys of hidden, forgotten parts of history.

“Okay, so basically, the Celestial Coven is an ancient secret society of witches that orchestrated things from the shadows—a shadow government, ooh, aah, ooh la la—influencing events and pushing magical beliefs in certain directions. Of course, then there was the fall of magic.” Finn’s mind blossomed with wonder. “A much longer story that still has so much mystery. Where did it go? Why did it disappear? Why return after nearly a thousand years of silence? How did magic suddenly erupt back into the world? All very important questions.”

Finn eyed Mrs. Valson, who had the driest, dullest face that Finn perceived as boredom. He wasn’t wrong. She was a half-second away from knocking Finn’s presentation down a whole letter grade because of his tangent.

“But I digress,” Finn said, returning to his discussion on the Sisters of Fate and their supposed connection to this Celestial Coven.

As I sank deep into this memory, I couldn’t help but wonder why my subconscious had sent me here, to these memories, to this project. Did I miss Milo more than I realized? Despite already establishing a link far across the country. Was this karmic hell because I’d started making my students practice their public speaking interviews? Maybe I missed Finn. Our carefree, drama-free, romance-free days. No. That wasn’t it. I would take even our worst date nights or awkward threesomes over this first semester of pining and confusion.

I had half a mind to sink back into my subconscious and yell at those damn personas who were clearly poking me with memories to nudge me this way or that way or whatever.

“I wouldn’t say we’re the ones trying to tell you anything,” a familiar voice whispered.

The shadows of my subconscious danced near the edges of this memory, and one of my personas politely waited for an invitation to crash my dream. The strings of this dream that held me in place snapped loose, no longer keeping me captive to the script of this memory but releasing me to interact with my guest.

“How’d you get up here?” I asked as Nico stepped through the shadows, careful not to disturb anything as if he could actually affect a memory.

“You never know. It’s good to be cautious.” Nico’s casual admission was his way of reminding me that my personas were linked to my thoughts, meaning I couldn’t exactly hide anything from a magical extension of me. “And to answer your question, you brought me here, summoned me. Well, you summoned someone you trusted from the subconscious to answer your question about this dream and why we’re showing it to you.”

“And you’re the only persona I trust.” I nodded because as much as I wanted to trust the others weren’t like the Doppler, his actions warranted my hesitation.

“More like the one you distrust the least.” Nico shrugged. “You’ve always called on me. Well, as a child at least, you’d call on me for the things you didn’t understand, explaining them in ways you sort of already kind of knew but weren’t ready to comprehend. I mean, you basically made me as a buffer to organize the chaos of the world.”

“Fair.”

“Just an fyi—your subconscious isn’t the root of the dream memories.”

“It’s definitely not my active consciousness,” I said with a bit of annoyance. “I’m not trying to spend my life reliving my worst failures.”

“This wasn’t a failure. I’m pretty sure you got a C on your project.” Nico pointed to the continuing dream as more students presented one by one.

“You know what I mean.”

We both stared at each other silently as my memory vibrated, and I held my breath until the lurking horror passed, until the gnawing memory stopped attempting to drag my mind back to the night I’d first failed Finn. The night he was stolen from my life. The night he was taken and tortured and killed. The night I fell into despair and nearly gave up on ever accepting happiness again.

“When you fall into those memories, it isn’t the subconscious pushing you toward events. Sure, sometimes you’re processing things, but this sort of event. The ones that come out of nowhere and just keep sticking, keep replaying. That’s your magic showing you something.”

“My magic?”

“Remember when your magic connected you to Finn? To the piece he’d tucked away inside your mind?”

The piece that helped me sort the void vision. The piece of Finn that helped guide me out of my guilt and toward acceptance. The piece that allowed me to let go of the past and find a future with Milo.

“Why would my magic make me keep random dreams with Finn?”

“This dream doesn’t seem random.” Nico pointed to Finn’s highly detailed color-coded flashcards. “A project about ancient magics, on powerful psychics. Plus, your second dream about the Sisters of Fate. Seems pretty important to me.”

I squinted, reminded Nico had this irritating way of telling me the obvious in a friendly “you’ll figure this out” way.

“Your magic notices things on a different decibel level, hears things you would never hear, but magic can’t communicate. Not like us, not in the way a persona can. Well, your personas. Not sure anyone else’s personas act outside the range of your typical NPC.”

“NPC?”

“OhMyGod, did you seriously stop gaming? You were so good.”

I tsked. I wasn’t. I sucked. Didn’t understand anything about video games. I only tried because my father liked them. Of course, after that deadbeat left, after Nico left—or I made him leave—I stopped playing games altogether.

“Point is,” Nico said with a soft smile, the kind that delicately broached a difficult subject change as I’d done what I always did as a kid—I tumbled deep into my overthinking, self-loathing thoughts. Nico had this gentle way of steering me from them. “Your personas, myself included, thank you very much to all the people of the academy”—he took a bow and blew kisses to no one in particular—“we have a bit more animation. We’re rockstars, thanks in great part to the magic you’ve shared. Or the magic you store in the subconscious.”

I didn’t even realize I did that.

“But I think maybe it’s time you took that magic back.” Nico got quiet.

His thoughts stirred curiously on what would happen to him, to the many personas buried deep in the subconscious. Would they fade away? Would they lose their charm? Would things stay the same, minus the extra touch of magic in the shadows? He didn’t know. All Nico knew was this choice likely led to the best outcome for me. “And I’ve always had your best interest at heart.”

“Because I made you to be my friend.”

“No.” Nico shook his head. “You made me as a buffer for the big scary world that tried to burrow into your magical brain. I became your friend because you’re an awesome person, Dorian.”

I turned my head. “Whatever.”

I felt six years old again, lost and alone, unable to understand the complexities of the world, but grateful for a friend who explained it all.

A sharp snap caught my attention. I recognized that sound, that crack before the crumble. It wouldn’t happen immediately, but this was the first step in those visions breaking loose inside my head. The ones Milo had helped organize, helped push down so they didn’t overwhelm me.

“What are you gonna do about the visions?”

“Same thing I always do.” I sighed, the strong exhale dragging me from my sleepless slumber, where I stared at my dark ceiling, ignoring the dreamy thoughts of noisy neighbors. “I’ll ignore it for now. If they come loose, I’ll figure it out.”

Part of me wondered if Nico heard my answer. The fact was, I needed to relax because I certainly couldn’t pester Milo. He was too far and too busy. And I didn’t have time to sulk about my own shortcomings. I’d decided to ignore the vexing headache my telepathy brought at every turn.

An obsessive link to the love of my life. Check. Personas who think they know me better than I know me. Check. Evil persona hijacking my manifestation ability. Check. Several thousand visions I couldn’t contain from one tiny kiss. Check.

None of it mattered right now. I had work. I had students whose futures depended on my commitment. I resolved to focus on what I could control while training my telepathy to the best of my ability without allowing it to consume my every waking worried thought.

I organized practice packets at my desk between classes, preparing for the onslaught of aggravation I was about to endure.

Gael pouted, stepping into the classroom and staring at the agenda written across the board. “Testing, again?”

Shockingly, Gael had become my least exhausting student this week.

“Ba-ba-ba.”

“Ridiculous is right,” Gael muttered. “What happened to the importance of interviews? What happened to practicing for them?”

“We’ll be returning to the mock interviews soon.” Much to my dismay since Gael had walked through Jennifer’s questions unscathed. It turned out she couldn’t provoke or twist his anxiety because Gael held no shame. Not a trace ounce for her to manipulate on an emotional level. In fact, he’d left her more rattled from their last demonstration.

“Now we’re dropping everything for a dumb test that doesn’t even matter.”

I glared. It did matter. But it was dumb. And it was absurd that admin waited until the last minute to inform us that the Federally Accelerated Practicum testing dates had been changed. The state moved the important test up an entire month, which meant altering lesson plans to account for it. I didn’t care for the standardized bullshit, but this covered every subject, from the history of magic to how STEM subjects tied into casting to foundations of language and spell work. It was also the only test accredited by nearly every career field.

Guilds took the score into account. Colleges accepted this test as a substitute for the SAT or ACT. Even the military used these scores alongside their ASVAB.

The last of my homeroom coven shuffled inside as the bell rang.

“I hope you’re all ready for the Federally Accelerated Practicum practice test,” I said, burying their surface thoughts and ignoring the snickering. I hated this fucking test. I hated the name. I hated how much curriculum time it cut into to ensure students had enough opportunity to practice for the exhausting trick questions of the test.

And they were trick questions, poorly phrased and meant to confuse those who might infer two possible answers. I’d taken the test every single year since I became a teacher just so I could have an idea of what my students faced. My score jumped from top percentile to lowest failure to all over the map in the middle that it basically proved the morons elected to determine educational comprehension didn’t know the first goddamn thing about it.

“I am so ready to fap,” Gael shouted, the spikes across his arms and legs swelled with excitement momentarily.

I sighed. That was the other reason I hated this test and all the class time I spent ensuring students practiced for it. The jokes never ended.

“You say that now, but you better treat these practice faps seriously,” Jamius said with a snicker.

“Oh, definitely,” a copy cut in really quick, twinkle of mischief on his face. “You don’t wanna under-deliver when the real fapping begins.”

“I’m honestly tired of all the fapping practice,” Carter said, nudging Gael, who merely rolled his eyes and trudged to his seat with his familiar. “I just wanna fap now and relax.”

“How are you not excited to fap?” Melanie asked Gael. “Isn’t it like your favorite thing?”

“It’s too easy.” Gael groaned, having tired himself of the jokes after the first day I’d announced the upcoming FAP test. “Humor requires a level of sophistication mixed with crude undertones.”

Oh, how I hated this test name and the person in charge who didn’t realize the importance of giving the name an update to avoid all the fapping jokes. I’d honestly heard every single one of them over the years.

“The FAP test is so in your face,” Gael continued, gesturing crudely with a jerking motion, and then sighed. “There’s no challenge.”

“Aaah.” Gael tapped his forehead between the spikes in a knowing way, like he’d solved a mystery. “So, you don’t like it when people fap in your face? Here I thought—”

“We both know you’re the only Gael here who likes getting fapped in the face.” Gael made a twisted expression of entertained judgment as his rooster crowed.

Gael’s spikes shrank, and his cheeks burned brightly.

“That’s what you get for joking about the test like a twelve-year-old,” Kenzo said curtly, tossing a practice packet onto Gael’s desk.

Kenzo had additional reviewing materials outside of the ones I provided in class. Somehow, he’d convinced Gael’s parents to acquire them for him. The memory was fuzzy, but Kenzo held it with pride, the way he’d bonded over the importance of academics, the way he’d impressed Gael’s family, the way they found his rigorous study habits astounding—basically giving him a stamp of approval to drag Gael anywhere anytime to ensure he treated his coursework half as seriously as Kenzo. The memory fizzled away as swiftly as it’d appeared, and Kenzo scoffed as his boyfriend sheepishly hid his face behind the pages.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Caleb looked up from his papers, completely unaware of the passing jokes. He showed off his practice tests, delighted by his scores and eager others had additional packets in preparation for the official FAP test, too. “I’m fapping right now.”

“Sweetie, no.” Katherine leaned close and whispered into Caleb’s ear, making his smile crumble away as his face fell into dismayed horror and turned as red as Gael’s.

I smacked a hand over my forehead, hiding the exasperation Caleb’s comment provoked. The room roared with laughter, everyone aware Caleb had no idea why fapping was funny and how much pride he took in his practice FAP tests.

“Enough,” I snapped. “You’re not little kids. Some of you are almost adults. It’s time to act like it.”

The fact was, almost everyone here was seventeen years old, with a few waiting on their summer birthdays to hit that marker.

“In just over a year, you’ll be graduating from Gemini Academy. You’ll be diving headfirst into the real world. Guild life. College. Workforce. Military. Your parents’ basement. Lots of options. So, you will treat the FAP with maturity. You will not laugh about fapping. You will not make fapping gestures. You will not make any more fapping puns in this class.” I flicked a hand and shook several empty desks before a single giggle escaped the lips of a student. “The next person who so much as smiles over the idea of fapping will take their test upside down.”

I lifted every empty desk into the air and slammed them against the ceiling.

“ Cool. ” Caleb eyed the desks, mind whirling with calculations. “ Bet the level of endurance that’d help improve… Hmm. Would it affect my overall score, though? This is just a practice, so maybe I could extrapolate the— ”

“ Caleb. ” I scowled until he sank into the desk chair and quieted his mind.

Each class was spent reviewing one subject of the FAP test or taking a practice exam on that section. Since it ate up the bulk of instruction time and no one had an ounce of concentration left over anyway, I usually allowed everyone to relax and unwind for the last fifteen minutes of class.

Katherine abandoned her grimoire at her desk and stood beside Tara’s seat.

“Yes?” Tara looked up to Katherine, straining to offer a polite half-smile.

“Do you have a date for the unveiling event?”

“Huh?” Tara’s blue eyes widened.

“Not like a date date. Obviously, you’re not looking for an actual date. Not that you need to look for any type of date. Or that you’d need to look if you were interested in a date. Everyone would be lining up for a date. I’m sure they’re already lining up, which is probably annoying. Not that you find dates annoying, just that everyone wants to be on a Whitlock’s arm.” Katherine scrunched her face, believing every thought that twisted into her head led to another bumbling comment. It didn’t.

Her thoughts merely moved faster than her realization and her mouth moved nearly as quickly when spouting out her next comment. I stifled a snicker. The epitome of think before you speak.

“Okay. Factory reset on this convo,” Katherine said with a giggle, clearing her mind of the millions of pressing thoughts that weaved around every subject in her busy head. “The unveiling between Harris Enchant Tech and Whitlock Industries. It’s coming up. I thought if you didn’t have a date, we could go together. Caleb’s got work, and it’s not that I mind going stag, just seemed like it’d be fun for us… And you’re not a second choice. Caleb was never a choice. I mean, he’s obviously a choice. He’s my first choice. For everything. Except this. Because his work schedule has been keeping him busy this season. Not the winter season, but the…”

Event season. Galas. Balls. Parties of all kinds for only the best of the best at Gemini Academy. Even with so many of our students connected to the guild industry through family, only about a third of them held the privilege of attending seasonal events.

Naturally, Tara held an invitation to everything on Chicago’s social calendar; it seemed the Whitlocks had weathered their storm as pariahs and now found themselves leading the pack once again. Katherine’s family found themselves thrust into the world of elite prestige thanks to the technological enchantment advancements their company had created, not only finding new and inventive ways to harness tech and magic but for streamlining accessibility and affordability. Basically, the Harris family had gone from average unknowns to brushing shoulders with the top one percent of the state.

“So, the unveiling? Yay or nay?” Katherine asked with a tight grin.

Tara had barely registered the comment, her mind lost in the ocean of thought, enduring the storm that’d recently come to haunt her.

Theodore’s impending trial.

My muscles tightened, and pin prickles of anxiety traveled down the back of my neck.

I’d done my best to put Theodore Whitlock out of my mind. His trial was supposed to start months ago, but then there was an incident—an incident my rogue persona indirectly caused. Theodore slaughtered several correctional officers in the MDC, threatened the integrity of their warding system, and nearly escaped. But then he simply surrendered and accepted solitary confinement while the state determined how to move forward with his charges and with his trial.

The Doppler had caused shifts in potential futures, by holding onto Finn, by allowing the chimera another foothold into this world, by causing Peter Graham’s possession, and by sending off a message for Theodore Whitlock.

This had shaken loose possibilities in Theodore’s future, helped push him back onto the path of destruction, but Milo wouldn’t discuss it. Mostly, he claimed it was too improbable, too unlikely, as it’d require the perfect alignment of the stars while rolling a Nat 20 and getting the big-ticket lotto scratch off right when being struck by lightning. Aside from that obnoxious metaphor, Milo didn’t elaborate on the subject. All he said was working with the Global Guild would ensure that if that glimmer of horror found a way to wreak havoc on the city again, Enchanter Evergreen would have the backing of the most powerful witches in the nation at his side.

I didn’t press the topic with Milo. I wanted to keep Theodore out of my mind. My chest ached, realizing how desperately Tara sought the same thing but couldn’t cut the final threads of love in her heart, love for a brother who understood the pain of being a Whitlock, love for the boy who consoled her every time their father berated her, love for the man who’d convinced her that being worthless was okay. That stung.

“That’s gonna be a nay, darling.” Gael slung an arm over Tara’s shoulder, reeling her away from the ocean of sorrow in a way only he ever did. “We’ve already put a deposit on the hottest bird vest, and obviously, King Clucks has to show it off to the entire world.”

The rooster bawked at Katherine. Images of bird attire flashed in Gael’s mind, revealing the duo had tried so many matching suits on that a literal dress-up montage played in his mind. He even had a musical backdrop in his thoughts as he reminisced on the outing, finally settling on an emerald-green vest since it’d pair well with the lime dress that some up-and-coming designer had gifted to Tara.

With Milo out of the city, I hadn’t stayed in the loop on nearly as many events, but seeing how Tobias Whitlock positioned himself with Harris Enchant Tech as a way to buy back his public favor left a sour taste in my mouth. Then again, that might’ve come from Tara, who held equal irritation for how her father had manipulated the masses once again, a true Whitlock.

I had so much here at home keeping me occupied between my students, school events, classroom instruction, and the dreams of my past that I didn’t have time to dwell on Milo’s case. Though, I still hoped he was doing well. The natural pull of my magic didn’t distract me because the manifestation offered balance. Perhaps it was time I checked in on Milo, observed my other half.