Page 24 of Two Who Live On

Unfortunately, that was an issue for another day. Right now, all I wanted to know about was this demon Enchanter Evergreen planned to track.

I reached out again, hopeful or desperate.

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Work was oddly silent, with my telepathy all but muted. It hadn’t extended at my command, yet occasionally, it’d stretch far and thin like putty tugged too much, ready to break or collapse. Milo’s mind buzzed like a staticky microphone off and on through the day, fading away before the words made concrete sense. Exhaustion weighed heavier thanks to the erratic change in my magic. Usually, a pinpointed precise connection to a single mind alleviated the bombardment of several dozen voices.

Milo ignored my texts even after I’d arrived home. Another insufferable thing I had to endure. He playfully avoided conversation in favor of work because he was unaware my telepathy had reached beyond its capabilities, eavesdropping. Between his entertained dodging and the subtle tug linking our minds, an intense headache drummed along my skull. I could call him out, bluntly explain I knewexactly what he was doing while I lay face down on the couch, my head buried in pillows.

But this was momentous. No, that made it sound positive. This was awful and needed a delicate, carefully phrased conversation in person. Also, I wasn’t entirely sure what Enchanter Evergreen was doing. What Milo was doing. All I knew for certain was he had a demon case Enchanter Campbell quite literally slapped onto his desk.

Once I settled, nearly falling asleep, the link between us amplified and sent my mind hovering alongside Milo as a silent specter while he flew across the city. I couldn’t make much sense of what he was doing, glimpsing flashes of his travels throughout the day as he ran through a mental checklist of places he’d gone, ensuring he hadn’t forgotten something. Perhaps he was handling smaller cases or searching for leads; it was impossible to know since I couldn’t filter out where my thoughts began or his ended.

This was why manifestations were a necessity when delving so deeply into someone’s thoughts. They allowed me a powerful connection but a psychic valve I could close. This wasn’t delving deep, though. Every time I glimpsed at Milo’s actions, I was nothing more than a phantom hovering over his shoulder, catching snippets of his surface thoughts, glancing the colors of emotion radiating when powerful, and observing the silent hum of his visions when he sorted potential possibilities. Actually, this was very reminiscent of how my telepathy acted during my near-death last semester when it locked onto Caleb, Tara, and Kenzo during their battle against the warlocks.

Resisting or severing the tether linking our minds didn’t work. The continuous loop made it impossible to create something tangible, like a manifestation, to serve as a psychic block or assistant. Unable to discern anything but the call to Milo’s thoughts, I obeyed, melting into his mind until each breath we took synchronized.

Milo enveloped me.

Milo secured a basket he’d bought in the passenger seat of his Mercedes like he was fastening a toddler in its car seat. Okay—perhaps an exaggeration since he’d probably put it in the backseat on that account, but he checked the buckle three times over, shifting the bottle of wine so the neck sat snuggly under the belt strap. The contents inside the basket were impossible to read, given he’d covered them in frilly gift tissue papers, yet they filled him with glee. All he wanted now was to wrap up his evening and finally visit me.

I clutched a couch cushion, fumbling for the phone in my pocket, curious if he’d responded to any of my messages. It was easier following him, waiting for this job to reveal itself, and for him to arrive on his own afterward.

Milo hopped in the neon orange sports car. A true eyesore that only made him that much more noticeable, but he rarely took the time to enjoy the simple ride in his baby because as fast as this car went, Enchanter Evergreen flew faster and was less confined by traffic flow. Personally, as Milo zipped down roads, weaving between drivers and cutting corners to race against every yellow light he crossed, I considered his confidence in his flight speed a bit boastful. It hadn’t taken long for him to reach the heart of downtown, where the best bars and clubs didn’t care it was a Monday. People crowded along the sidewalks, and Milo nabbed a parking space a block away from his destination.

Chicago PD followed their thin leads for the latest victim. Everything seemed random and senseless, as none of those targeted had any similar connections. That was what drew Milo to this place, one he hoped would lead to something more concrete or a vision.

Gwendolyn’s Guns & Gals flashed in bright neon lights.

Fuck. Of all the businesses he could’ve gone to for answers. I ground my teeth, an action that loosened our link when Milo entered through scrutinous security.

Gwendolyn’s Guns & Gals was a burlesque club founded in 1926. It was owned and operated by Gwendolyn Gardner,who ran a burlesque show by night and operated the biggest front for distributing illegal enchantments in the history of Chicago. She didn’t have actual guns, merely an augmentation to her biceps that made leveling a building as easy as one of her girls discreetly waving a fan.

The business left an unsavory taste in my mouth whenever I crossed by it, given how the operation preyed on anyone desperate enough to seek a magical solution they couldn’t otherwise obtain.

“How can you hate this place?” Finn asked, his voice pulling me into a memory, a dream.

He’d always loved the way the business went back and forth with authorities for decades until finally cementing its historical landmark status and very carefully navigating their illegal activities.

I fought the blissful dream, the beauty of his voice steering me to a favorable memory, and maintained my link to Milo, who strolled into the club, eyeing the seductive performers on stage and patrons eagerly enthralled either by the magic cast or the dancer behind feathers.

Approaching the VIP bar, Milo stepped past the security, not so much as a wave of approval or hesitation on his part. One muscular man with a light tan stepped between Milo and the bar. He folded his arms across his broad chest, scowling at Milo and towering over him as well.

“Gavin, ease up, and let my favorite little enchanter through.” Alone at the small, private bar sat Cassidy Gardner, the current owner.

Milo winked, inciting a snarled response from Gavin, who refused to move aside. Sipping her drink, Cassidy waved a delicatehand, casting a powerful yet precise collection of telekinetic bursts which knocked Gavin out of Milo’s path and kept the man from hitting anything in the club or falling to the floor, simply locked in a turret of continuous strikes until his calmed, broken temperament pleased Cassidy.

“Looking dapper as ever, Enchanter Evergreen.” Cassidy wore a forest green dress, tight-waisted and poofy at her hips. Her emerald heel clinked against the metal leg of her barstool.

She acted as one of the unofficial undercity warlocks. Unofficial because she was properly educated, licensed, and never convicted for any casting irregularities. It was amazing how the right legal team could throw out a landfill worth of illegal activity, and guild witches like Milo knew when and how to sit on the right intel.

“And you get lovelier each time I see you.” Milo kissed her rosy cheek, eyeing a golden bracelet on Cassidy’s wrist, one which held his gaze every time he visited.

A trinket compared to the other jewels she flaunted this evening, but a gift Milo had given her long before he was ever Enchanter Evergreen or The Inevitable Future.

Cassidy had attended Gemini back when we were students. Back then, Milo and Cassidy were pale comparisons of the boldness they each embodied now. I’d never given Cassidy a chance considering her family background and the legalized warlock profiteering that occasionally skirted her surface thoughts in class. I harbored no guilt for judging her connections or savviness to thrive in an exploitive business; however, Milo had always considered the Gardners a lesser evil and one he’d gladly indulge.

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