Page 18

The time had finally arrived. I’d kept a manifestation of myself latched to Milo all week since my telepathy definitely wouldn’t relent during such a stressful ordeal. But rationally, I knew the entirety of the plan. I understood potential pitfalls. I agreed to stay out of it. And I was. Mostly. Splitting my psyche and sending a manifestation kept the rest of my head out of Enchanter Evergreen’s big case. I wouldn’t actually have to share the events of how today worked out until after work, after the preliminary round of the Spring Showcase.

Even disconnected from myself, the slightest tug of psychic energy held us together, and the anxiety poured from my other half. Being in the know, seeing Milo calm and coolly collected when everything was moments from shattering, kept me less concerned.

He stood outside the Metropolitan Detainment Center with Gladiatrix and Enchanter Diaz, his thoughts stirring to how Enchanter Wadsworth had remained posted in the deepest floors of the jail, stationed outside the solitary cell that contained The True Witch.

Milo checked his phone, then adjusted his tie. “It’s about that time.”

“Finally.” Gladiatrix put on a gold helmet—the type gladiator warriors donned in battle, proving even she deemed this a dangerous mission—then hovered toward the entrance of the MDC, golden cape fluttering behind her with a certain majestic zeal.

That feeling definitely came from Milo, not me. He stared in awe, wondering if the cape ever got in her way during combat.

“You think I could pull off a cape?” Milo turned to Diaz.

“One hundred percent.” Diaz focused on stretching, leaning low to the ground and putting his legs out one at a time as he pressed down on his thighs. “Shouldn’t The Inevitable Future be a bigger trendsetter? Suits are cool but so…meh.”

Diaz shrugged, then stretched his arms high, flexing his bare biceps. The fabric of his gold and black corset vest moved up ever so, revealing his abdomen muscles.

“Hmmm.” Milo studied the curve of Diaz’s back, the way the corset accentuated everything else. “ I do have the ass to totally rock those. And the wonders it’d do for my posture. ”

He daydreamed how he’d look in different colors and materials, then bubbled with images of me once again in a ridiculous corset before his mind settled and returned to the mission at hand.

I noticed the Global Guild emblem stitched onto the back of Diaz’s corset vest on his shoulder blades with the strings of his outfit pulling their symbol together, similar to Gladiatrix’s cape that flaunted the GGs. Even Milo wore their logo in the form of a gold pin placed on his jacket pocket over his heart.

“I should be heading on in.” Milo paused, taking in Enchanter Diaz as he stood tall and finished stretching. “You sure you’re good out here?”

“A little late to change the plan.” Diaz winked.

“It’s never too late to change things up. Or down. Or sideways. Or no ways.”

“You’re stalling, Enchanter Evergreen,” Diaz said with his southern twang, smiling and confident about the plan to come. “Go kick some ass and save your city. I’ll hold the line here.”

Milo made his way inside, entering the MDC, where I couldn’t follow with all their warding protections. Their enchantment protocol had increased tenfold since my Doppler had slinked through the halls while hiding inside the head of a correctional officer.

Unable to join Enchanter Evergreen, I floated aimlessly around the building and kept close to Diaz as Milo’s voice echoed in the enchanter’s head, replaying the plan, and preparing for a fight.

Within a matter of minutes, a woman approached Diaz, walking on the empty street of a back road that led to the parking lot of the MDC. Her white tunic hung on her slim body. Diaz studied the golden crown of leaves that held the long brown strands of her hair in place. He studied the symbols tattooed over the arms of her tan skin, her bare feet, eyeing the subtle fluctuation of protective magics cast from each enchanted letter.

“Gotta ask about the getup. The whole ancient Greek vibes is a hot look, but are y’all really trying to pass off as the Sisters of Fate?” Diaz asked with a bravado that matched Milo’s in every way. “Or is it more of a way to bring it back into fashion? Because I’m always on board with living your truth.”

“We’re The Sisters Three, goddesses of fate, prophets of destiny,” she spoke with a light lilt, her stance steady but her aura shifting in bizarre ways.

When she said we , did she mean herself and The True Witch? If so, where was the third sister? I’d shared my dreams, my knowledge of The Sisters of Fate with Milo, which he used to construct his plan, a plan I still didn’t fully grasp. But he believed in Diaz holding the line here and now while bigger threats attacked the facility itself.

“We’ve weaved the history of the world,” she said, her voice deep and raspy.

Her aura moved in overlapping waves like multiple people dancing in place, swimming, floating on her psychic energy alone. Her silhouettes were all white, no emotion to her being, no emotion in a single piece of her soul.

“We see all things fate has in store for you, Enchanter Emiliano Diaz,” she said in a harsh voice, piercing and stern, with malice hanging from the edge of her tongue. Even so, her aura painted no feeling. She might’ve cloaked her emotions, her energy. Such a powerful psychic, veiling her presence while simultaneously oozing her energy everywhere.

“So you ladies decided to fight lil ole me?” Enchanter Diaz shot her a smile. “I’m honored three members of the Celestial Coven considered me a challenge.”

“Three? Me?” the light lilt voice asked. “We are The Sisters Three,” said the raspy voice. “We are one pillar of the Celestial Coven, not three,” added the stern voice.

“Okay. Weird, but works for me.” Diaz shrugged. “The wife said no group play without her, anyway. Glad I can keep my word.”

“You jest because you’re a fool,” the stern voice spat.

“I joke because life is short.”

“Truly,” the light-lilt voice said. “Yours reaching the end of its thread now,” the raspy voice said with menacing certainty.

I kept close to Diaz, not so close I’d be noticed, but enough to register his guarded thoughts, the intel Milo shared from his understanding of the visions unfolding. I’d asked for details of what he’d do, not specifics on every component. The Sisters Three acted as one being housed in the same body, witches with a magic mirroring my own trio: retrocognition to glean the past, telepathy to oversee the present, and clairvoyance to perceive the future.

These witches used their power in tandem in a way Milo, Finn, and I never had. They fused their psychic energy into one of their bodies when going into combat. They guised themselves as the Sisters of Fate. They pretended to be deities, all to add some fervor of mystique to the Celestial Coven. That was why my magic sent me those memories, those dreams of Finn’s project about the legends of old. Some part of my magic must’ve felt their psychic presence, their looming power protecting The True Witch, guarding her fate from Milo’s viewing. But they’d failed to shield everything from Milo; he’d formed a plan despite what they’d hidden.

Three witches who tracked, plotted, and guarded every step of their coven’s agenda. Their magic was so strong it veiled The True Witch over time and distance. That shouldn’t have been possible. Their branches were so powerful, it blocked Milo from properly reading The True Witch, prevented me from hearing her thoughts. Then again, I was sort of the poster child of bizarre psychic magic strength.

“Knowing your fate changes nothing,” the voice with a light lilt said, stealing me from my rumination and reminding me of the danger that lurked before Diaz. “No, no, no. Fate has decreed we three will slay thee,” added the raspy voice before their two voices spoke in unison. “Cherish the knowledge your feeble clairvoyant ally shared; we hope it allowed you the opportunity to live out these last days in peace.”

“Ladies, you’re talking like you got this in the bag.” Diaz channeled his magic, body buzzing with telekinesis. “But I assure you, I’m more than a pretty face.”

“But of course,” whispered the voice with a light lilt. “You’re also a failure,” the raspy voice said. “A fraud,” screamed the harsh voice.

The psychic energy pulsated in waves, rippling across the street and barely contained by the protective wards of the MDC facility. Even my teeth chattered, a ghostly sensation for certain as a mere manifestation, yet the near collision with their three magics entwined hurt.

They weren’t even aiming for me, and the touch held a subtle scalding sensation.

Diaz’s eyes had gone wide, his mouth had fallen open, his knees trembled, and his shoulders hunched. Inside his head, they painted a million images of failure. From cases he’d floundered, to tests he’d tanked, to dinners he’d forgotten, to celebrations of his kids he’d missed, to every conceivable regret he kept housed in his mind.

The Sisters Three tore up all the floorboards of his inner core and plastered his shame everywhere, nailing it to the walls and leaving the memories soaked in bloody regret.

The worst hellish failure to be splashed across Diaz’s surface thoughts, carved into every crevice of his active mind, was that of a tiny bear. Not some horror that might happen when facing off against The Sisters Three, but a truth Diaz had endured. They used the past against him. Regrets. All of them. At once.

Fuck. Everything he’d ever done wrong in his entire life hit him continuously with new realizations of how he could’ve done it right. The Sisters Three came in with whispers on how to fix his errors, how better men wouldn’t have made them, how he had no hope against them, how everyone in his life would be better off. Then they grabbed his greatest shame and slammed it down onto his thoughts, crushing him with guilt.

A scrawny boy of no more than twelve lay beside a dying bear, bloody and bruised and grateful her human survived the terror of a demon. These were thoughts Diaz knew, things his familiar had spoken with her dying breaths. There were years of therapy, acceptance, grief, all the right steps someone like myself would never make, but Diaz had. In this moment, however, he forgot all of them. He forgot how his familiar sacrificed herself when a young witch in a small town far from any guilds was cornered by a demon. He forgot the promise he made her as the life left her body. He forgot how overjoyed he was the day his familiar found him again.

Why? Because the witches hit him with his second biggest regret, the failure that hounded him to harness his magic better every day, the failure that loomed in every awkward conversation he had with Priscilla, the failure that reminded him no matter how great he tried to be—he’d failed the best person in his life twice.

His familiar had found him once again, years later when he’d already graduated from an academy, proven his branch didn’t define him, landed at a second-rate guild, but proud of his role as an acolyte in a small town that couldn’t afford professional services—services Enchanter Diaz ensured every tiny town between the transit cities of Texas could now afford thanks to his station, his influence, his power.

But that didn’t resonate with him. The only thing Diaz saw in this moment, beyond the body of his first familiar, was that of his second. A cub who’d found him during his time as an acolyte. A small creature ready for action, and Diaz believed now that he was ready for combat, surely nothing would happen to his partner.

It did, though. Blood and pain and an agonizing cry that still woke Diaz in the middle of the night after damn near twenty years. Diaz wheezed, choking on the nightmares of his own past. Both of his familiars dead at his feet, covered in blood—the first a grouchy old bear who’d found her partner late in life regretting the bond took so long to obtain, the second a precious cub who believed in fish that tasted of cotton candy and sweet dreams—neither were Priscilla because while witches never lost their familiar bond, the magic and essence that connected them to the bestial branch, the animal partner returned as someone new.

Priscilla didn’t possess the memories of her former life—her former lives. She didn’t have the same personality. All she had was a connection to Emiliano Diaz, a bond of magic and friendship.

Whether she’d found him after living a full, rich life like Diaz’s first familiar or as a young cub confused by this daunting world, familiars had a unique link to their witch partners in how they synced to their lifespan, the human longevity—despite how short it felt most days. It reduced the likelihood of their loss as most animals had much shorter life expectancies than humans. Not with familiars. They could live as long as their witch, sometimes even outlive them, which was always a sad state of affairs.

Familiars who lost their witch didn’t gain a new bond mate; their witches didn’t reincarnate like the animals. They simply left a vacuum of magic with their familiar friend, who’d spend the rest of their days waiting to be reunited with their other half.

But as much as Diaz feared the chasm his death would cause, the life of his children he’d miss out on, the wife he’d leave alone, the world he’d no longer protect, he quaked at the horrors of failing or abandoning his familiar who he worried for with every breath. Priscilla was the other half of his soul, his magic, his mind and personality. It was something I couldn’t grasp.

Despite hearing his fears, his thoughts, I couldn’t connect on that level, the degree where someone was you while also themself. Yes, I’d known love, and so had Diaz, but the way he cared for his familiar like a parent, a friend, a child all at once—it was the same bond Gael held for King Clucks.

It was the same connection I rolled my eyes at for every bestial familiar witch I’d taught, met, or interacted with. It transcended the love of a pet, no matter how strong the bond. And yes, I often believed I loved Charlie and Carlie to the same degree, yet something in those bestial thoughts continued, proving the bond remained stronger. This was your best friend, who you shared every secret with, the parent who offered advice, the child you rooted for. Familiar bonds were unique in their own right in a way that simply transcended thought.

“We can also unravel the fates of your future.” The Sisters Three weaved their hands round and round. Each woman danced with a white emotionless aura between the strings of the body they shared. “See now what will befall you, were you to be foolish enough to oppose us.”

Bloody images of Priscilla flashed before Diaz’s eyes. His broken body slumped over cracked armor, shattered wards, pieces of a blade. Each breath was excruciating, inhaling the possible future that these wicked witches intended on bringing about, holding a future of death in his lungs as a past of horror looped through his memories. The witches bombarded Diaz with every wrong choice he’d ever made, every misstep that led him to this exact moment where he’d die at their hands.

A bear’s silhouette tore through the bloody collage stapled onto the surface of Diaz’s mind. With a low growl and a swift slash of her large claws, Priscilla linked her thoughts with her human partner, proving no psychic could shatter the connection between a witch and their familiar.

Diaz snapped to attention; his mind released from the glimpses of potential futures The Sisters Three sent in waves. If it was even futures. Clearly one of them was a telepath, she could’ve merely painted illusions in thoughts, tinkering with fears and tilting Diaz’s perception of reality. They couldn’t reveal the future so casually, so callously, right?

It didn’t matter what they did, because Enchanter Diaz was now aware of the trickery and immune thanks to the aid of his familiar’s borrowed thoughts, clear thoughts, thoughts of an animal that couldn’t be perceived by the best psychics.

Unsheathing his weapon, Diaz kept the tip of the sharp blade trained on The Sisters Three with one hand while circulating telekinesis with his other hand. Glyphs glowed. Their protective magics worked to push away psychic energy, knocking even me several yards away to hover in silence as his thoughts vanished. A few of the protective symbols snapped and crackled before the light of their magic faded.

“You paint quite the tale.” Diaz shifted his stance, readying his blade. “But I’ve seen your future already. A friend told me every possibility, including the ones you three are ignoring.”

Milo. Enchanter Evergreen had prepared every member of the Global Guild, possibly every guild of Chicago, of the events about to unfold. Well, knowing Milo, he’d only shared the pieces of the puzzle they needed to solve the problem.

“Oh? Oh? Oh?” The Sisters Three danced in their body, each caressing their thighs and waist with the aura energy of their hands. They weren’t flaunting or flirting, for this action could only be seen by me—who the three of them were unaware of—but instead, they radiated psychic energy, coating their shared body with more of their magic.

Weird. It was as if their body didn’t have a trace of psychic magic itself. They seemed wedged into this body; their white auras held strings tangled and hooked into the form they wielded. It was as if they’d possessed a person much like a demon would. No. Not only demons. I had horrible memories shared from my Doppler’s days of controlling the minds of others so he could slink through the city while cloaked from detection. Perhaps these three did the same thing. They could be somewhere else, safe and sound, while their minds forced their way into some poor, unwilling host body.

“I’ve seen the future where I drop you to your knees, shackled and bound and sharing a cell with your friend, The True Witch.”

“Shackled and bound,” the lighter lilt said with a wiggle of their body’s hips. “Likes it rough,” the raspy voice said, slapping her butt. “Bound,” the stern voice said, moving her finger back and forth disapprovingly. “No, no, no. We The Sisters Three are divine. Divinity cannot be bound, cannot be stopped. We do not predict potentials; we speak of prophecy. Our words are law.”

The body stilled, auras of the other two sisters hunched their shoulders, hanging high above their own body in an ominous and foreboding manner. Then in unison they screeched, “Law. Law. Law. You defy the law!” The stern sister’s image reeled her sister’s white auras back down into their shared body and then said, “You defy us.”

Magic buzzed, piercing and powerful, and ready to obliterate Enchanter Diaz in one fatal blow. I felt it in their presence, painting the reality of potential, declaring the future they sought. Clairvoyance didn’t feel like this, did it? No. Nothing this foul had ever poured from Milo. Their merger, their branches, their vile minds conjured this horror.

Priscilla roared so loudly it quieted the psychic whistle in the air. The huge bear lunged from above, barreling headfirst in full plate armor. Every glyph coating Priscilla’s gear radiated strength, transforming her nosedive of concentrated telekinesis into a fucking explosion.

The Sisters Three had an expression of perplexed shock, naturally unaware of the bear’s surprise attack, but they pivoted, moving ever so slightly as the tackle of more than a thousand pounds of pure, unmatched muscle crashed into the street.

It created a huge wave of destruction from the propulsion, the weight, the force of telekinesis all thrust into the street. It shattered concrete, burrowed deep into the sewers of the city. Pieces of asphalt flew in every direction.

“Yeehaw, motherfuckers!” Diaz leapt between the debris, bouncing from one piece to the next while he sliced through the air. The chaos didn’t deter him for a second; he’d accounted for it, anticipated it. Maybe. I couldn’t know for certain, with his blade’s glyphs keeping my telepathy at bay.

The Sisters Three barely evaded the strike of his sword, each slash pushed them back, body and auras. The blade didn’t need to hit them to hurt. The glyphs repelled their psychic energy, knocking their footing off, sending a searing pain through their body. I’d been hit by wards meant to dampen psychic branches; it was like your brain was the opposite pole of a magnet being held in place by your skull but desperately trying to claw its way out to escape the magnetic repulsion.

The Sisters Three and Diaz moved so quickly that I struggled to track them through the wreckage. Their levitation and telekinesis propelled them every which way, zipping across this battlefield. Every piece of rock and gravel slowly froze midair, floating in place at the will of Priscilla, who unleashed a ferocious roar that sent every speck of the broken ground propelling toward The Sisters Three like meteors.

The collision created an explosion of dust. It quickly funneled upward, directed by the gentle guidance of telekinesis, revealing The Sisters Three remained unscathed by the strike. Dammit .

“You think we didn’t foresee such a turn of events?” the lighter lilt asked. “Arrogant, Witchboy. Cowboy. Bearboy,” the raspy voice added with a scoff. “We know everything,” said the stern voice.

“Even this?” Diaz stood confidently while Priscilla continued clearing away the smoky dust, revealing more witches levitating around them, surrounding and securing the scene.

They wore the same Global Guild uniformed jackets as the medical staff, emblems of gold pinned to their chest displaying their station. These were not elite members of the coveted guild like Enchanter Diaz, like the ranks Milo had recently joined. But these witches were as skilled as any enchanter and worked as support for the Global Guild.

When Milo put this plan in order, he arranged for Chicago to authorize the arrival of over a hundred support witches from the Global Guild. A private military couldn’t simply roll in and offer aid; bureaucracy wouldn’t allow it. Hell, Milo had to file seemingly endless forms just to gain approval for his casting in California under the discretion of the Global Guild.

The entire force of witches brought in didn’t stand here, surrounding The Sisters Three, which meant the remaining forces must already be positioned inside.

A low rumble came from the MDC, followed by a violent shutter of silence. Then an explosion of magic from inside that impregnable facility. Suddenly, every ward carved onto the walls securing the Metropolitan Detainment Center cracked, their radiance of protective magic fizzled away instantaneously and suddenly the minds of thousands of inmates within raged.