Page 77 of Two Who Live On

“I guess.” Caleb kept the weighted blocks afloat overhead, still practicing, still finetuning his roots. “It’s not like I controlled it. Sort of just happened.”

I cleared my throat, eyeing the two and their interlocked arms. They quickly separated. Caleb’s face burned bright red. Katherine giggled, then rolled her eyes at me before dragging Caleb into the classroom. Teens were the worst. Sure, they could date. Whatever. But I drew the line at affection. It always started innocently with hand holding or resting on a shoulder, and next thing you knew, they were trying to share the same desk chair—side-by-side or on a lap—getting handsy or making out in the hallway. Dealing with explicit teenage PDA was not how I wanted to spend my day. Ever. It was bad enough when they flirted by slapping each other or name calling or a thousand other hormonal factors they didn’t quite comprehend the intent behind.

Once the bell rang, I spent homeroom preparing my students for their upcoming final exams. The next six weeks would fly by, and then the end of May would be here, so I wanted them ready for all their classes.

“This is so unfair.” Gael pouted.

“Ba-bawk.”

“What’s unfair is that you all believe you can ride the blip of the Spring Showcase to shirk your responsibilities.” I glared, eyeing each and every one of my homeroom coven—including an angry Kenzo, a somber Tara, and an anxious Caleb. “The fact is, no one remembers a first-year showcase, few remember a second-year showcase, and no one will remember your rankings here and now.”

Katherine scowled. “But you said—”

“I said they’re important for the industry, and they are. But do not think for an instant you can rest on the luck our homeroom had at landing in the showcase or the well-deserved success of others. You each chose Gemini because the industry was your dream.” I hated crushing their aloof excitement but knew the truth behind what I said. None of them picked our academy out of family obligation except Tara, who’d since revised her opinion. They needed motivation and to remember not everything ended with a fucking golden star of achievement. “If you want to practice your branches, your roots, then do it on your own time. That’s why you have fledgling permits. The next six weeks, we’re prepping for exams in content some of you—no, most of you—need to thoroughly review.”

A collective sigh followed, and a pinch of guilt hit me. I would endure their sour thoughts and bitter, breathy comments because they needed to ready themselves for the years to come. The first year was supposed to be the easiest, yet they’d nearly been killed by warlocks their first semester.

I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let up just because of unfortunate circumstances. They deserved the best opportunities. There was little in the world I controlled. Not demons. Not outcomes. Not choices. But I could lay out the best strategies and study groups any fucking teacher at this academy could muster, ensuring my homeroom coven each prepared based on their specialized learning style.

I’d make certain they aced these exams if it killed them. Okay. Dramatic, but also, it felt invigorating to focus purely on academics and helping my students finish the year strong. Even if it broke them over the summer. They had the season torecover, after all.

I slipped out after classes to indulge in the first cigarette I’d had in hours. Each hasty inhale did little to settle my nerves, concerned that somewhere out there, Milo faced demon threats. Unknown threats. Sure, he managed obscurity well—better than most witches—but I couldn’t shake this dread.

“Fuck.” I slowly exhaled smoke as my telepathy leapt across the city, rocketing directly toward Milo’s mind. “I can’t even finish a cigarette.”

“So glad you could join me.” Milo opened his office door bringing in Acolyte Reed and Novak. “Have you each reviewed the documents I sent?”

Acolyte Novak had a ghostly complexion. Not from the lack of glamour that’d altered her features subtly during the investigation. No, this came from the hollowed out, broken expression plastered on her face. Whatever Milo had them read left her unsettled and frightened. I almost dropped my cigarette in response to her obvious pain. I remained close to Milo, taking a deep inhale, hopeful he’d reveal what he had planned.

No. I released a breath, quelling my telepathy. It hurt to restrain my mind from linking to his, but I couldn’t see, know, feel all his actions in the field without reacting. The only way I could function was by distancing myself from everything Milo—everything Enchanter Evergreen—did to keep the city safe. I wished I were better at compartmentalizing it all, yet whenever Milo was in the picture, my emotions took hold, and my rationality faded.

My phone buzzed.

I tossed my smoke and cut across the parking lot to reach the buses. Chanelle checked off students as they got on the bus for her after-school program.

“You’re late.” Chanelle glared, sending a shudder down my spine.

I cracked my neck, eyeing the wary student who invoked the frightened sensation. They feared her stern comment, not me.

“Not you, darling. You’re fine.” Chanelle turned back to me as the student hopped on the bus, and maybe a bit of the trepidation resonating was my own.

“I was on a parent call.” I averted my gaze, momentarily avoiding her stern stare.

“Damn liar,” Chanelle mouthed, not even indulging me in telepathic conversation. Since the Spring Showcase, she’d gone back into hyperfocus—more like her first few years of teaching, where she didn’t accept or tolerate slackers, which meant I was royally screwed.

Whether the way admin treated her, our conversation, the end of so many extra duties as we reached the end of the school year, or a thousand factors I didn’t account for, Chanelle wanted to end on a high note before summer. All the same, I joined her on the bus for another trip monitoring the students who’d volunteered to help banish demonic energy, a task that’d grown in high demand with so many demons dwelling in the shadows. Sadly, those threats remained in the shadows, stalking, and preying in the darkness of night while evading enchanter intervention. But I counted the blessings as we reached our destination, knowing Milo had a plan that would hopefully bring the horrors raining down on Chicago to an end soon enough. He always had a plan.

Kids grouped up and attempted to partner with second- and third-year students to avoid ending up stuck with teacher chaperones.

“Not happening.” I waved a hand at my homeroom coven, where Kenzo intended on pairing off with Gael for some solo volunteering, Katherine had dragged Caleb toward a group of upperclassmen, and Gael, along with King Clucks, partnered up with Tara, avoidingwannabes and whatever he considered irksome—completely ironic. “I’m rearranging you all.”

“The hell you are,” Kenzo growled. “This is our free time we’re offering, and we can spend it how we want.”

“Oh, so close…yet not at all,” I retorted. “This is your volunteered time through an academy-sanctioned program. If you want to do this on your own time, file the proper paperwork, apply to the city, gain approval, and help in your own small way. Otherwise, accept my judgment and silently protest.”

“Asshole.”

I linked my thoughts to his and replied, “Back at you,” before rearranging my homeroom students into groups that’d benefit them during this outing.

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