Page 8 of Two Who Live On

My homeroom coven read over their manuals and set up their Cast-8-Watch while I walked around the room, assisting those who needed it. Gael’s spikey knee clinked against his desk as the words jumbled. I paused a few desks away, next to Tara, who struggled with the frequency settings. Gael took a breath and steadied his shaky knee as he reread the words until he’d tackled the setup independently. He preferred not to draw attention to his dyslexia, and I did my best to respect his choices.

“It’s like the academy found the perfect way to track how shitty I am.”

I pointed to notes I’d added in the margins based on what Tara and I understood about her casting. There was still so much to unravel, and I hoped it helped in even the smallest way.

“Thanks.” Tara turned in her desk, facing away from me.

I sighed. Clearly, I was still mostly unhelpful.

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” Static popped on Kenzo’s watch as he attempted disrupting the tracking software. It figured he’d be the first to realize the connection to the academy’s added security measure.

“Having trouble linking your hex?” I shook my head, feigning concern. “I warned admin you might not be able to cast without breaking it. It’s unfortunate your precision is still floundering.”

“What?” Kenzo’s pale face burned bright red. “That’s not why I’m—”

“HA!” Gael and King Clucks chuckled in unison.

The way the rooster’s chest puffed when imitating his human partner’s laughter was such a bizarre sight, but it worked to settle Kenzo, who gave up messing with the device out of sheer spite and simply synced it to his magical frequency.

I spent the rest of homeroom helping them each lightly cast their roots so their watches would register their channeling flows without destroying my classroom.

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

After a full day of instruction, continuously casting small doses of magic, dodging every adult who wanted conversation—except for Chanelle, who bitterly ignored me as punishment for this morning—and flying home, all I wanted to do was pass out on the couch. Charlie had curled himself up into a perfect little orange ball of fluff. If I picked him up, he’d beg for attention, so I chose the lesser of two evils and sat on the chair opposite the couch. I didn’t want to sleep anyway. A nap would keep me up all night. I wanted to rest without movement or thinking or casting.

“Meow.” Carlie trotted into the living room, her call whiny and seeking sympathy for her equally exhausting day.

Ah, yes. How dare I consider relaxation when she only had dry food in a bowl and could quite literally starve to death. She rolled on the carpet, flashing her fluffy white gut because that was somehow supposed to show how vulnerable and underfed she was.

“I’m coming.” I walked into the kitchen.

Charlie perked up and raced behind me, weaving between my legs. I reached for cans while Carlie whined at my sluggish pace. Paper rustled, and Charlie chirped. I turned, and there he was, biting into a torn notebook page tucked beneath the fridge.

“What are you doing, cat?” I grabbed it from his mouth.

Had time between jobs so figured I’d feed the kitties! Think they’re warming up to me.

— Milo

I eyed Carlie. She’d quieted and started licking her paws like this page didn’t have her claw marks all over it. How many other times had Milo dropped by to feed the cats only for his note to conveniently end up batted under some hidden nook of the house?

“Thank you, Charlie.” I picked up my adorable tabby, who was in no way warming up to Milo because he was all mine, and glared at Carlie. “You’re crafty. Too crafty.”

I was half convinced she was more than a pet but some poor witch’s familiar who’d stuck around here because of how comfortable I’d made her lifestyle. Carlie slapped her bowl and scurried out of the kitchen to the back of the house. Well, not that comfortable a lifestyle.

I hugged Charlie tight and plopped onto the couch, petting him despite my sore arms. He purred and nuzzled my chin before kneading my shirt. Repositioning myself so I didn’t disturb Charlie, I stretched for the controller and turned on the television. I was too tired to read and sitting in silence just filled my head with the thoughts of my neighbors.

My phone buzzed as I flipped channels. Charlie purred louder like somehow that’d convince me the vibration in my pocket came fromhim and there was no need to stop petting him. I checked the alert, which was just a notification about a special report involving Enchanter Evergreen doing another news piece. I’d spent so much time Googling him, somehow my phone auto-set alerts based on my interests. Or Milo fucked with my phone. In either case, I didn’t know how to turn off the notifications.

I flipped to the news station where Milo’s face filled the television screen. The camera reeled back, displaying the crowd of guests lined at the entryway to Cerberus Guild. Not quite the tiny ceremony he alluded to this morning or every time I’d inquired.

“Quite the turnout Cerberus has brought to celebrate,” the reporter said.

“A bit preemptive, I’d say.” Milo fussed with his hair, shyly scratching the back of his head, yet grinned. This was his best “I’m-so-humbled Enchanter Evergreen” expression, which he rarely broke out. It wasn’t preemptive, it was overdue, and obviously Cerberus agreed given the party Milo kept downplaying.

“Early nominations are out,” the reporter said. “You’re finally on the list for the Global Ranking’s Ceremony, a feat few enchanters ever make and something many think you should’ve been considered for a lot sooner.”

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