Page 25

“That’s right, Trish, the Global Guild already called Enchanter Evergreen away again,” Guild Master Campbell said with a sweet, playful laughter. The type of giddy bullshit her PR team expressed would improve her numbers with audience polls since some still questioned her leadership at Cerberus Guild.

She was on the other side of the fucking city, and yet her aggravation for this sweetheart attitude she adopted despite finally sitting at the top reached out and squeezed my chest. It spread like heat, furious and ready to explode.

I wanted to explode, too. Then I grimaced at my thoughts—tacky considering what’d just happened to the academy. My telepathy reached far and wide, so I quelled my branch as I drove to Milo’s place. Listening to this station might’ve been a bad choice, but music grated my eardrums, and silence made the thoughts of strangers easier to absorb.

Guild Master Campbell continued her interview, addressing the great Enchanter Evergreen’s absence from the public eye as he worked on a new, secret case. There wasn’t a secret case. Unless privately recovering from an assault was the case. That was why I’d grabbed some extra clothes, a few creature comforts, some groceries, and headed back to Milo’s place.

I refused to let him recover alone, refused to leave him alone. In the days that followed the attack on the city, I’d spent them with Milo. And it was an attack on the city. Sure, the Celestial Coven and Theodore Whitlock only landed their strikes on the MDC and Gemini Academy, but it wasn’t for a lack of effort on their part. Part of me worried that any second, the pair would swoop in and finish what they’d started.

Squeezing the steering wheel firmly, I reminded myself there wasn’t a single place in Chicago they could creep through without my telepathy catching sight. Yes, I couldn’t keep exact insight of the millions of minds in the city, couldn’t hear them clearly, but the familiar ones, the ones I cared about, the ones I knew personally, the ones I hated, they rang louder among the crowd.

It actually helped zeroing in on someone like Campbell halfway across the city. Sure, my telepathy stretched everywhere, but stepping in close to a singular person was like dropping a psychic pin that steadied the erratic onslaught of thoughts buzzing throughout the city.

“It was truly an honor to lead the guild teams in this collaborative effort to restore order at the MDC,” Campbell said, pulling my attention back to her careful answers. “Honestly, it’s just further proof of the amazing talent and independence Chicago’s industry witches possess.”

After everything that’d happened, the way the events unfolded, the demand for answers was huge, and everyone clamored for a seat front and center to address the public. Of course, Campbell ensured she led the pack on assuaging fears.

“Well, with the assistance of the Global Guild,” Trisha said, in some not-so-subtle attempt to turn the discussion toward Gladiatrix and Enchanter Diaz, who were still in the city but out of the public eye, much like Milo.

“Yes, the Global Guild helped ,” Campbell said, pausing heavily on the word and adding doubt to the meaning for everyone listening—and it worked. Thoughts percolated in this questioning suspicion for how much Chicago actually required the Global Guild’s help . “But to think, the strongest organization in the world still wanted or needed us when resolving this mission. An investigation that affected the entire world, and we witches of Chicago brought it to an end.”

I rolled my eyes. Campbell was one more leading answer away from dropping the stats on fatalities. Admittedly, casualties remained fairly low at the MDC despite the devastation unleashed. And even though Gemini Academy had been attacked by demons, by warlocks, by corrupted enchantments that leveled the entirety of the school grounds, no one was killed except for the inmates Theodore had dragged there and sacrificed to fiends. And The Sisters Three, who I’d executed with my own hands.

Hands that shook as I drove. The high that came from casting absolute judgment had faded and been replaced by something else. It wasn’t guilt. It wasn’t good, though, either.

And while Campbell boasted about the tremendous success of how events played out at Gemini Academy, I thought about the single email the leadership board had issued. Cancelled until further notice, more news to come, hope that everyone took this time to peacefully recover.

There was a real need to recover too. Emotionally and physically. None of the staff and students had been killed, but plenty were injured. Still, what a miracle they’d lived. Everyone had lived. Milo had lived. I’d lived.

“How’s your evening, Mr. Frost?” One of the attendants at Milo’s building immediately went to work when I drove up, pulling me from dwelling thoughts.

It’d become a familiar routine of me grumbling some greeting, handing a valet my keys, nodding politely as I went inside, and then taking the elevator to the penthouse floor at the top.

“Howdy, Mister Dorian, sir.” Ben swung the door open the second the elevator dinged like he’d stood watch for my arrival. And he had, using a sentinel of security that kept his warding barrier on the front door every time I stepped out of the place.

“You can just call me Dorian.”

“Of course, Dorian.” Ben smiled, snickering to himself about silly, bubbly thoughts that didn’t make much sense with all their bright colors.

“Did you eat while I was out?” I eyed the chocolate smeared around the corner of his lips.

“No,” Ben replied, helping add his telekinesis to the bags I floated inside.

I wanted to comment about him using his magic unlicensed, the fines applicable, but he had enough weighing on his thoughts. Plus, his casting was flawless for such a small child. It was tragic, the way everything had clicked for him when The True Witch locked him in that ocean for so long, days, weeks, rotting in his mind. Now, he continued working to hone his root magics and his branch.

“What’d you do while I was out?” I asked, slowly trying to find a way to broach the topic of Ben’s need to shield the penthouse when I left.

Seeing Milo return from battle had given the kid the briefest relief before panic and sadness immediately replaced those feelings. Fear inflated in Ben’s mind when he saw the bruises on Milo’s body, the sling he wore for his dislocated shoulder, the medical enchantments he had bandaged over so many big bruises. It seemed we both believed Milo was impervious to harm until the assault on Gemini Academy, until The True Witch.

“I dunno.” Ben brushed a hand through his messy sky-blue hair, forever changed by the extreme casting of his ward branch.

“You know, I was talking to the security outside while having a smoke because the weather’s finally bearable, you know?”

“You should stop that.”

“Talking to security?”

“No,” Ben whined.

“Talking in run-on sentences?”

“Nooooo,” Ben whined louder, then frowned, then huffed, and finally rolled his eyes.

“Anyway,” I said with a half-smile, enjoying Ben’s aggravation because it’d pulled his thoughts away from fear. “They were going on and on about all these intricate wards they have over the building. Like I could not keep up with any of it. Apparently, there’s this multifaceted level of protection that not only shields the building but extends with extra barriers per room, then there’s this command that contacts local authorities—who you know just rush over, have you seen this place?—and there’s defense and attack protocols written into each of the wards, the enchantments, the I don’t even know. Just so much protection here in the building. Top-tiered security to keep everyone completely safe.”

“Sounds commlicated.” Ben pretended not to care, not to worry, but he wondered if the layers of protection were as sophisticated as the ones his daddy used to brag about. He wondered if they were as strong as his mommy’s metal armored warding over her body. He wondered if this penthouse even paled in comparison to the complex wards his town of Harmony Valley used. The same wards that didn’t stop The True Witch from sneaking into their home and killing everyone.

The idea of Milo dying flitted along Ben’s bubbled thoughts. The fear of seeing it pinched at his heart. It tugged at mine, too, making it stutter. The fear of dying, really dying, hit him like a boulder, devastating and inescapable.

“You don’t ever have to worry about that,” I blurted, unable to subtly shift the conversation, to guide it so Ben would open up naturally. All I wanted was to sweep away this terror that coiled around his every thought.

“Use your telemathy for that?” Ben stared with wide eyes.

“Yeah.” I chuckled. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I use my magic without asking, too.” Ben paused. “I like to put up a barrier sometimes. Before bedtime. When Milo isn’t here. When…when you’re not here.”

“You don’t ever have to worry about The True Witch,” I said. “I would never allow her to touch you again.”

I wouldn’t allow her to harm anyone I cared about. I’d track her down the second my magic had fully healed.

Ben’s thoughts stirred to the raccoon-eyed dragon guy that spit fire at the ocean and killed the water with flames.

“You know, my branch will always wash away the ocean.” I knelt so my eyes met Ben’s. “I know that arcane branch is scary, but my telepathy is badass.”

Ben smirked at the ‘whoopsie’ word, reminded of how his mommy would say more whoopsie words when his daddy was at work. Then he thought about how scared his parents looked when the ocean hit them first when all their eyes saw was water.

“But what if the ocean comes back when you’re not here?” Ben asked in a whisper. “You can’t always be here.”

How I wanted to lie and say I could be here whenever he needed me, but I didn’t know how things would change in the coming weeks. Soon, the administration would have an official decision on how to handle the loss of Gemini Academy; I was certain I’d end up working over the summer or online or something creative and exhausting to make up for the lost learning time. God, I couldn’t even think about that can of worms right now as it opened up a whole new set of headaches. My students… How were they handling this?

“You’re right,” I said, feeling defeated.

Not the same defeat I felt when The Sisters Three had attacked, not the aching desperation to fall into my subconscious and disappear, but I did struggle to meet Ben’s gaze. I didn’t have an answer that would erase his all-consuming fear, fear that’d evolved into terror, terror that would soon swell into dread, dread that’d eat away at the last embers of joy that burned in this kid’s heart.

Milo or Finn would know what to say. Even if they didn’t, they had this enthusiasm, this joy, that carried people through the worst of bad news and kept them afloat. I’d never been like that. I scoffed, wondering how many of my personas had that type of positivity.

My personas.

They were asleep for the most part, declaring they didn’t need or require the return of magic to the subconscious. They had their shadows, they rested as the universe intended, and they believed I was finally ready to handle the full force of my telepathy.

But there was one who would gladly accept a piece of my magic, who would offer kind words, who would help because I’d made him to be the best friend I never found as a young kid.

“I’m gonna do something strange.” I scrunched my face. “It’s a psychic thing.”

“Like something Mr. Milo would do?”

“No, sort of a telepathy psychic thing.”

“Oh.”

I gestured with a single raised finger. “Hold, please.”

Which was ridiculous since time stilled to a damn near halt once I nosedived through my inner core down into the shadows of my subconscious.

It’d changed since my last visit, no longer a land of solid, locked darkness, but more of a murky waterless sea. I floated, drifted, swam through the abyss. Without my magic lurking in this place, it’d become a lot like other subconscious minds.

This place was infinite, endless, but I snapped off a tiny fragment of magic, allowing the purple light to guide me in the dark. This wasn’t some simple piece of magic I’d tossed aside. No, I’d conjured it with a directive to find the one persona I knew could definitely help Benjamin.

Weaving around other slumbering personas, the light finally reached the small boy who helped shield me from a big scary world with a goofy smile and a silly story for any occasion.

“Dorian.” Nico’s face lit up as his eyes glowed purple from the restoration of magic I’d offered. “How can I help you?”

“Not me. Well, I mean sort of me because I don’t know what to say to someone else who is actually the person you’re gonna help. Maybe. Sort of. Whatever. It’s probably a bad idea.”

“Words are difficult to find sometimes.” Nico nodded in this annoyingly kind way. “Searching for the right words can be a lot of fun, though. It’s like a treasure hunt for happiness. If you find the right words, you can make someone’s day brighter.”

“Ugh.” I shook my head. “How’d you come from my brain?”

“Just lucky, I guess.” Nico led the way out of the abyss, and we leapt back into the world.

When we jumped out of my thoughts, time had barely passed.

“So,” I fumbled for the words. “I’d like to show you something if you’re okay with me using my branch.”

Ben stared silently, even his thoughts were whispers. Then he nodded. “Okay.”

“This is Nico.” I gestured to my persona who I’d linked to Benjamin’s mind. “He’s a persona of mine.”

Ben listened intently to the explanation behind personas, how they had a piece of my magic, how they were created with singular purpose, a purpose that differed depending on the emotions and traits they’d absorbed. I did my best to break it down for a little kid minds since his thoughts fluttered with confusion at my initial explanations.

“But I can’t do the raccoon-eyed dragon guy stuff,” Nico said, revealing he saw the image and wonder floating at the top of Ben’s surface thoughts. “Not that I don’t wish I could. How amazingly amazing would that be?”

“The most amazing,” Ben answered.

“But he is connected to me, meaning I can see through his eyes if I ever need to check in,” I said. “Nico and I are linked, and if he’s hanging out in your head, then we’re linked. Sort of.”

“Basically, if any scary witches show up, throwing oceans out, or anything bad, I can alert Dorian the second it happens,” Nico clarified.

“You can?”

“Totally. I’d send a message through the psychic link and BAM!” Nico made a big whooshing sound. “Dorian would show up breathing fire until the water or anything else bad just vanished. POOF!”

Nico put on a very dramatic reenactment of how he assumed I’d arrive to battle.

“And even though we’re linked, connected by magic, he’s still his own person-ish. Persona, yeah,” I explained or tried as I felt the muscles of my face contort into this perplexed expression. “His thoughts are mostly his own—along with the quirks—but I guess they’re sort of mine in this weird not but are kind of way.”

“Telemathy is confusing.”

“Oh, most definitely! The most confusing,” Nico said. “If there was a crown for confusing magics, Dorian would have a million and five crowns.”

“Wouldn’t I just have a really big crown?” I asked, rolling my eyes at his logic.

“No. A big crown wouldn’t fit. You just have a bunch of crowns,” Nico said with an exasperated sigh. “Because you’re a bunch of confusing.”

Whatever ridiculous logic Nico used seemed to work as a way to ease Ben, to distract him from his own fears.

“So, I’ll just be hanging out when you need me,” Nico said with a happy nod.

“Really?” Ben asked with excitement.

“For realio.” Nico smiled. “And when you’re ready to say goodbye, I’ll just head on out.”

Ben scrunched his face into a sour frown at that. He didn’t like to say goodbyes, something Nico registered right away, something I also caught since Ben had to say a lot of goodbyes recently. Farewells without actually saying goodbye to the people he loved most in this world.

Nico would help. He was a persona created to be the friend anyone needed, the guiding hand when the world was just too big.

I wasn’t sure how long Ben would be in my life, but if the thoughts I’d gleaned from Milo were any indication, he didn’t plan on sending the kid away or leaving him to deal with the future alone. Ben had lost everything he’d ever known, and Milo wanted to ensure that he found a few new joys on the shifting paths of potentials that’d presented themselves.

After spending the evening watching television with Ben, I read him like five damn stories before bed—because he refused to close his eyes after a story had ended and insisted on only being able to sleep if he dozed off mid-sentence to a new tale. It was a sucker’s deal that kept me reading for almost two hours. Thankfully, the kid finally passed out, and I joined Milo in his bedroom. My beautiful boyfriend had slept away the day, and now he slept away the evening.

The blankets were twisted and knotted and bundled around Milo’s muscular thighs. He’d completely stripped off the covers, which wasn’t surprising considering the sheen sweat on his brow as he snoozed. I continued playing with the thermostat, but it never seemed just right, not perfect for him while he recovered.

Milo rolled over partially. Even asleep, he moved cautiously because of the injuries that seized him if he lay the wrong way. Every time I saw the massive bruise that covered the left side of his face, I receded into myself, barely able to look. The busted lip, the scratch along his sharp jawline, the way his eye had nearly swollen closed. The only thing that kept it at bay was the tiny symbols stitched under his cheek and above his eyebrow. They were meant mostly to heal the detached retina but helped alleviate other damage.

I wished Milo would’ve stayed in the hospital, would’ve rested entirely, but he insisted on coming back to the penthouse. Which made sense, his concern about leaving Benjamin with acolytes for the week, leaving the kid unaware and frightened.

But right now, the only thing I worried about was Milo. I hadn’t moved fast enough. Theodore had done so much damage. That motherfucker had beaten Milo while he was locked in an unconscious state. He attacked him just to say he could. And I hadn’t stopped it soon enough.

Milo’s entire torso was black and blue with patches of greenish-yellow. The sigils worked to mend his broken ribs, which meant his poor body had to endure the bruising, the pain, while slowly healing in stages. Steps. Slow steps.

I wanted to kiss away the pain. I wanted to fix his body as quickly as I’d undone the damage in his head. Not all the damage. No, Milo dwelled deep in his thoughts and organized the visions that’d been tossed about carelessly. All I’d managed was to repair the broken inner core and the shattered memories.

Most nights, he slept so soundly that even his dreams were quiet, but sometimes, like tonight, he tinkered with the layers of his inner core, pretending to recover. He deluded himself into thinking I couldn’t tell. Even if my telepathy hadn’t grown a hundred-fold, I’d know.

“You know, if I wanted, I could drag you out of your inner core and make you go back to sleep,” I whispered as Milo lightly snored, playing innocent. Okay, not playing because his body was actually asleep while a piece of his conscious mind made mental repairs. “Let me fix this at the very least.”

I tugged the blanket out from the vise grip Milo’s thighs had and then delicately wrapped him back up in the covers.

Milo moaned, turning onto his side and cuddling with the closest pillow.

“That poor little pillow never stood a chance.” I shook my head at the death squeeze Milo used to crush the stuffed plush in his arms. The dislocation in his shoulder still ached, but not as much as the broken bones.

Carefully, I slipped into the bed and scooted in close behind Milo. I pressed my crotch against his butt, pushed my knees behind his legs, and positioned myself lower so my arms wrapped at his waist where the aches wouldn’t disturb him. There was less bruising at his waist than the rest of his torso. When we spooned like this, with my head pressed to the center of his back and our bodies touching, Milo slept so much better.

Maybe I slept better. I took comfort in helping Milo, being with Milo, even in small ways.

With my schedule more flexible in the wake of so much devastation, I used a lot of free time to quietly cuddle up to Milo. I offered him soft whispers while he worked. I gently awoke him when he needed to eat, to take his medicine, to bathe away the grime of sickness. I would stay here and tend to him forever if he required. I would do anything for Milo.

“I love you. I promise I will always protect you.” I kissed his back right in the center, and then I returned my head to rest against him. Against the warm, soft skin. “And yes, I know that’s your line, but I can occasionally pull off the heroic hero stuff.”

“I like it,” Milo said, groggy and sore and definitely in need of more rest. “We gotta get you a cape, make it official.”

“Rest, please.” I scooted up and kissed his shoulder gently as both still throbbed with burning pain.

“I’m fine.” Milo turned his head, giving me a weak smile. “Besides, I gotta start working on your heroic comeback. Emphasis on the cum.”

I snorted. “You’re insufferable.”

“We’ll start your campaign by bringing back the sexy stage name: The Ubiquitous Present.”

“Christ. You obviously have more head damage than I realized.”

Milo laughed, wincing and wheezing from the strain of his muscles moving from the joy that swelled inside him. I nuzzled the crook of his neck, kissing him. It offered the tiniest distraction from the pain, from the stress, from the surrealness of events that’d unfolded over the last few days.

We lay like this until I finally passed out, until all that remained was Milo and me until the sound of the entire world fell silent. Milo continued proving he was the world, my world.