Page 13

As we moved into mid-March, I managed to hold out in Milo’s absence. Yes, my telepathy remained stretched out to reach him as he traveled the country in pursuit of this elusive True Witch, but here in Chicago I had only myself to rely on when curbing the effects of the visions that’d sprung loose. It turned out, keeping busy with work helped distract me from the continuous crackle and flicker of visions looping throughout my mind.

I sent my telepathy in every possible direction, keeping it spread thin in so many ways that it should’ve left me so exhausted and overwhelmed I couldn’t function. In actuality, it kept my head clear and fresh. The act of having a manifestation hovering close to Milo while also navigating the hallways of Gemini Academy as I stood inside my classroom going over a history lesson before assigning a unit test.

Here I was, bouncing in every direction, which seemed to keep me too active for the visions to bombard my waking mind. Hopefully, I could keep up this pace until Milo returned to the city.

It didn’t take long to drift into Chanelle’s classroom. I often found myself drawn to her, making observations of her class structure, her dynamic with students, and how, despite the grief and guilt that gnawed at the edges of her thoughts, she never let it change her. Sorrow struck a chord in her heart like the keys of a piano playing nonstop, yet she smiled through it. Chanelle remained so positive, so joyful during her interactions, I almost confused it for genuine. Well, it was. Chanelle wasn’t hollowed out with phony happiness, but she held this enthusiasm for life that superseded any depression.

Most of the time, she was fine, but when she worked with Jamie’s coven, the worst of her sadness blossomed. Dark blue waves trickled along the sunshine yellow of her aura, but just like the sun would dry up all the water, her happiness worked to erase all the sorrow.

“And how is the spell coming along?” Chanelle signed.

Mostly correct, according to Tia, who had watched Chanelle’s sign language progress over their two years together. Thankfully, her interpreter was still there to clarify anything missed in translation. Apparently, Chanelle’s gestures were occasionally too enthusiastic.

“Going well,” Tia’s interpreter said. “Right now, we’re trying to find a way to mimic the copycats.”

Tia signed a spell, conjuring shadows from the edges of the classroom and pulling them toward her through a cosmic magic she’d read in Katherine’s grimoire.

While Tia used language-based spells, signing to summon magic, and Katherine read from previously written and stored spells, the two girls found a very similar overlap in their particular enchantments. So much so, they shared their knowledge freely, expanding each other’s library of casting.

The cosmic magic helped Tia steal darkness from nearby, which she then molded into the form of a shadow cat silhouette.

“Almost there,” Vik said. “It’s kind of funny, creating a spell to copy a copycat.”

The shadow cat trotted toward Vik’s three shadow cats, joining them as they scurried across the classroom, climbing walls and slipping through cracks before reappearing elsewhere in the classroom.

When Vik’s shadow cats summoned a ball of fire, the three of them batted it around, similar to Charlie and Carlie when playing in the house. The fire held no threat as Vik fixed their telekinesis on the element in case their cats got a bit too wild.

Tia sent her cat forward, attempting to join in with the shadow cats since her own attempt at mimicking the fire didn’t work. The fireball hit Tia’s cat and lit the shadowy fella ablaze.

Tia snapped her fingers, diminishing her spell and letting out a frustrated grunt.

“See,” Tia’s interpreter said. “I can copy every aspect of the shadow cats except for the actual mimicry of other magics. That involves some secondary provision I can’t comprehend.”

“You and me both,” Vik mumbled, their surface thoughts revealing their shadow cats displayed a fire element magic because when Vik tried to copy water magic, it proved too difficult to mimic. Both were of the primal branch, but Vik found each magic held unique properties, and they weren’t skilled enough to memorize or master all the magics of the world.

I winced when making a slightly deeper dive into Vik’s thoughts. As expected, they still lingered on Jamie Novak’s death, on how they never mastered his whirlpool branch magic. The training effect with the water casting came from Vik’s desire to continue pursuing the lessons they’d never mastered with Jamie, with their coven mate, with someone they never got to call a friend. And now they never would.

Chanelle took a seat at the table, ready to review what worked and what didn’t and discuss some research she’d done on both of their magics. Vik had the more complex magic, an arcane branch that few possessed and even fewer had documented. A lot of Chanelle’s advice would have to be trial and error, which concerned her since she knew Vik had an anxious personality and dwindled when hitting the wall of failure. Not that any of us really took failing in stride.

Tia on the other hand presented her own difficulties since everything Chanelle looked up about invocation came with vocal trainings, harmonizing one’s frequency with the melody of their voice, and really all things spoken. That wouldn’t help Tia in the least, which meant Chanelle spent a lot of late nights brainstorming ideas to try with Tia.

As Chanelle worked closely with two of Jamie’s coven mates, I drifted around the classroom toward the final member of his coven, the one I knew the least about since I didn’t have Emmanuel in any classes.

He sat at a table with several classmates, dealing cards as they eyed each other up before another round of poker.

I rolled my eyes. Only Chanelle would turn a card game of gambling into a classroom training project—and actually allow them to bet money, even if it was her ridiculous Chanelle bucks. Though, admittedly everyone kept attentive, shoulders squared, magic finely channeled, and minds whirling in suspicion for their peers.

Chanelle painted imagery with her words, conjuring the best sales pitch when tricking them into treating the game like a battle. In the minds of each teen, they waged a delicate war against an unsuspecting foe.

Emmanuel weighed the amount of luck he’d need to unleash to better his chances while still holding onto enough magic to last several rounds. I didn’t realize how finite his hexing magic was in a day.

Tiffany didn’t bother with her aloof tricks, something I’d seen her use on Gael and many others during her time at Gemini. As a tiny blonde with a cute face and high-pitched voice, she’d gotten used to being shrugged off as dim. Instead of proving them wrong, she had more fun playing the part. That wouldn’t work with her coven since she’d lulled each of them into a trap on more than one occasion.

So, in this match, she prioritized working with Duchess, her beaver familiar with whom she shared a telepathic link, one even my magic couldn’t glean both sides of the conversation. This helped the duo practice their strategizing, predictions, and plotting. A skill Chanelle wanted to further mold.

Much like how I didn’t have experience with Emmanuel, I didn’t know the next student at the table either. I’d never had her in any of my classes, but I thought maybe I’d seen her hanging around some of my students before. It was hard to recall. It was hard enough keeping track of the hundred-plus kids on my roster, let alone the nearly two thousand roaming the halls of Gemini Academy.

“You all realize I’ve seen every possible outcome to this little game.” Olivia pouted her lips, attempting to add a layer of mystique to her expression, a hint of secrecy, but immediate flashes of the ditzy girl who often tripped over her own feet while laughing at something on her phone appeared in Emmanuel and Tiffany’s surface thoughts.

It didn’t stop Olivia from continuing to have a cocky attitude as she held her cards close to her chest and performed a three-card spread with a separate tarot deck.

“Hmmmm.” She studied her cards, thoughts wrapped in predictions.

“I’ll take two.” Olivia tossed cards from her hand into the discard pile and grabbed two more after gauging the potential outcomes from her tarot spread.

Though she possessed the same branch magic as the great Enchanter Evergreen, they each accessed future images in very different ways. In order for Olivia to glimpse future outcomes, she required the tarot deck as a support tool. If she wanted to predict the future outcomes of others, then she needed them to come into contact with her cards, too.

“This round is mine, so bluff away. I’ve seen everything you have or will have or could have or might maybe get at some point.” Olivia squinted while attempting her most intimidating gaze.

She was quite possibly the only one at the table to actually believe her own bluff.

“Save the heart of the cards bullshit.” Emmanuel tossed three cards into the pile and grabbed new ones. “We all know lady luck is on my side.”

“If only she were lucky enough to find a better job since hanging on your hip has got to be a real drag.” Tiffany fanned herself dramatically, mockingly, and casually showing off two poor cards in her hand to draw attention away from her beaver’s careful snooping of Emmanuel’s hand.

While Emmanuel, Tiffany, Duchess, and Olivia eyed each other for signs of casting, they underestimated the biggest threat at their table.

Literally the biggest, too. Ryan towered over everyone at the table, big and broad and thick even sitting down, which might’ve helped keep him upright with so many extra limbs sticking out of his back.

He’d overwhelmed Gael Martinez with incredible strength during last year’s Spring Showcase, but I didn’t realize his biggest talent came in the form of stealthy subterfuge. Chanelle did, though, helping him hone his branch in ways even his peers didn’t suspect. Sure, every one of them kept an eye on Ryan’s many sprouted arms, suspecting he’d use an extra hand to pilfer from the deck of cards, but in actuality, he used his arms to manipulate the casting at the table.

He’d unleashed arms of every shape, from long and gangly to short and muscular, all the way to fat and all thumbs. Each arm moved suspiciously, drawing attention where his literal sleight of hand desired.

This allowed Ryan to brush a few stray hairs from Duchess, dropping them onto the tarot deck and altering Olivia’s perception of the future unbeknownst to her. She merely assumed Duchess held the biggest threat to her winning hands and made the unsuspecting beaver her target. After all, why else would the familiar appear in every reading Olivia performed on the card game?

Emmanuel spent so much time gauging the precise mathematical amount he’d require for each winning hand that he didn’t notice Ryan run his fingertips along Emmanuel’s ankle. That was all Ryan needed. Quick skin-to-skin contact while Emmanuel channeled his luck, inadvertently sending it toward Ryan in waves.

Thankfully, Chanelle made it a rule they explain how they used their magic to outperform each other after the game, otherwise poor Emmanuel would likely spend weeks befuddled by how terrible his math skills were in conjunction with how much magic he actually possessed and how much casting luck truly cost.

Amani watched a few rounds, making a mental note of Ryan’s skills but finding the challenge limited. Despite how much she enjoyed playing the game during her first year at the academy, most of Mrs. Whitehurst’s review game days left Amani bored. Her illusions were too precise for card games, tricking even her coven mates, who were the most aware of the psychic tells.

She easily won over everyone, especially without Jamie around. Her breathing hitched momentarily, recalling how soft he’d become during their second year and then how suddenly he was gone. It left a sour taste in her mouth, barbs cast too casually, and compliments never uttered because she didn’t have them at the time. Now, a thousand different things buzzed in her thoughts, but dwelling on Jamie was as exhausting as watching her classmates play poker was tedious.

Ignoring all of it, Amani returned to doom scrolling through her phone, watching videos, and messaging friends.

A message from Layla popped up, and Amani smirked.

Wait a second. I cocked my head, focusing my eyesight primarily on my classroom.

Motherfucker. Layla was in the middle of a test.

I twirled my fingers in Layla’s direction like casting a fishing reel made entirely of telekinesis, and then I snatched the phone from her lap and pulled it toward me. It snagged, halted by Layla’s telekinesis. She practically snarled, eyes a deep golden and filled with fury. Teeth bared and fanged. Claws extended and dug into her desk. She kept quiet, allowing most to remain undisturbed by the slight crunch of her nails.

“ Why are you looking around? ” I linked my thoughts to the few who glanced up from their desk. “ I didn’t realize you had finished your test. Wow. Must’ve aced it if you’re done that quickly. ”

And with that, they returned to their own business.

Layla and I competed with our telekinetic grip on her cell phone. Usually, I didn’t fight with kids about their technology. There were times when brain breaks were necessary, but I’d be damned before I allowed someone to blatantly disregard my test policies, especially when they had a state test coming up. This type of infraction would invalidate everyone’s score. The damn FAP test didn’t play.

“ It’s mine until the end of the day, ” I thought, keeping my eyes trained on Layla. “ Or you’re welcome to have it back now in pieces. ”

Our telekinesis pulled at the phone, each capable of adding more pressure, but that’d most certainly shatter the fragile glass.

“ Even you wouldn’t be that— ”

“ Have you met me? ” I glared.

Layla huffed, releasing her telekinesis and allowing me to take her phone while she broke a pencil and pouted. After a few minutes of quiet fury, she resumed her test, thinking profanities about me nearly as hostile as Kenzo during his first year. If I could survive his animosity, I could handle anything from anyone.