Page 49 of Zero Happily Ever Afters

The visions sort of bounced around in the background of my thoughts, but I focused on the sound of Milo’s voice, the goals I had for work, the nearby dreams of neighbors. It was as if the visions were merely annoying pop-up ads in my brain. If I could ignore the ads in everyday life, I could certainly ignore the advertisements of potential possibilities.

I snorted at my own warped sense of exhausted humor. “I think maybe I’m too tired for this conversation, too.”

When I wasn’t so tired, I’d tell him about the memory I relived, the one with Finn and the Sisters of Fate. He enjoyed hearing about my memories of us, three guys looking ahead to the future.

Milo and I stayed on the phone, quietly breathing into it and enjoying the silence until we drifted off to sleep.

Because of him, the visions didn’t haunt my slumber. Because of him, I fell into a dream memory of our first official date after we’d gotten back together. Because of him, I spent every second of the night wishing for a lifetime of memories we could share.

Chapter Thirteen

As we moved into mid-March, I managed to hold out in Milo’s absence. Yes, my telepathy remained stretched out to reach him as he traveled the country in pursuit of this elusive True Witch, but here in Chicago I had only myself to rely on when curbing the effects of the visions that’d sprung loose. It turned out, keeping busy with work helped distract me from the continuous crackle and flicker of visions looping throughout my mind.

I sent my telepathy in every possible direction, keeping it spread thin in so many ways that it should’ve left me so exhausted and overwhelmed I couldn’t function. In actuality, it kept my head clear and fresh. The act of having a manifestation hovering close to Milo while also navigating the hallways of Gemini Academy as I stood inside my classroom going over a history lesson before assigning a unit test.

Here I was, bouncing in every direction, which seemed to keep me too active for the visions to bombard my waking mind. Hopefully, I could keep up this pace until Milo returned to the city.

It didn’t take long to drift into Chanelle’s classroom. I often found myself drawn to her, making observations of her class structure, her dynamic with students, and how, despite the grief and guilt that gnawed at the edges of her thoughts, she never letit change her. Sorrow struck a chord in her heart like the keys of a piano playing nonstop, yet she smiled through it. Chanelle remained so positive, so joyful during her interactions, I almost confused it for genuine. Well, it was. Chanelle wasn’t hollowed out with phony happiness, but she held this enthusiasm for life that superseded any depression.

Most of the time, she was fine, but when she worked with Jamie’s coven, the worst of her sadness blossomed. Dark blue waves trickled along the sunshine yellow of her aura, but just like the sun would dry up all the water, her happiness worked to erase all the sorrow.

“And how is the spell coming along?” Chanelle signed.

Mostly correct, according to Tia, who had watched Chanelle’s sign language progress over their two years together. Thankfully, her interpreter was still there to clarify anything missed in translation. Apparently, Chanelle’s gestures were occasionally too enthusiastic.

“Going well,” Tia’s interpreter said. “Right now, we’re trying to find a way to mimic the copycats.”

Tia signed a spell, conjuring shadows from the edges of the classroom and pulling them toward her through a cosmic magic she’d read in Katherine’s grimoire.

While Tia used language-based spells, signing to summon magic, and Katherine read from previously written and stored spells, the two girls found a very similar overlap in theirparticular enchantments. So much so, they shared their knowledge freely, expanding each other’s library of casting.

The cosmic magic helped Tia steal darkness from nearby, which she then molded into the form of a shadow cat silhouette.

“Almost there,” Vik said. “It’s kind of funny, creating a spell to copy a copycat.”

The shadow cat trotted toward Vik’s three shadow cats, joining them as they scurried across the classroom, climbing walls and slipping through cracks before reappearing elsewhere in the classroom.

When Vik’s shadow cats summoned a ball of fire, the three of them batted it around, similar to Charlie and Carlie when playing in the house. The fire held no threat as Vik fixed their telekinesis on the element in case their cats got a bit too wild.

Tia sent her cat forward, attempting to join in with the shadow cats since her own attempt at mimicking the fire didn’t work. The fireball hit Tia’s cat and lit the shadowy fella ablaze.

Tia snapped her fingers, diminishing her spell and letting out a frustrated grunt.

“See,” Tia’s interpreter said. “I can copy every aspect of the shadow cats except for the actual mimicry of other magics. That involves some secondary provision I can’t comprehend.”

“You and me both,” Vik mumbled, their surface thoughts revealing their shadow cats displayed a fire element magic because when Vik tried to copy water magic, it proved toodifficult to mimic. Both were of the primal branch, but Vik found each magic held unique properties, and they weren’t skilled enough to memorize or master all the magics of the world.

I winced when making a slightly deeper dive into Vik’s thoughts. As expected, they still lingered on Jamie Novak’s death, on how they never mastered his whirlpool branch magic. The training effect with the water casting came from Vik’s desire to continue pursuing the lessons they’d never mastered with Jamie, with their coven mate, with someone they never got to call a friend. And now they never would.

Chanelle took a seat at the table, ready to review what worked and what didn’t and discuss some research she’d done on both of their magics. Vik had the more complex magic, an arcane branch that few possessed and even fewer had documented. A lot of Chanelle’s advice would have to be trial and error, which concerned her since she knew Vik had an anxious personality and dwindled when hitting the wall of failure. Not that any of us really took failing in stride.

Tia on the other hand presented her own difficulties since everything Chanelle looked up about invocation came with vocal trainings, harmonizing one’s frequency with the melody of their voice, and really all things spoken. That wouldn’t help Tia in the least, which meant Chanelle spent a lot of late nights brainstorming ideas to try with Tia.

As Chanelle worked closely with two of Jamie’s coven mates, I drifted around the classroom toward the final member of his coven, the one I knew the least about since I didn’t have Emmanuel in any classes.

He sat at a table with several classmates, dealing cards as they eyed each other up before another round of poker.

I rolled my eyes. Only Chanelle would turn a card game of gambling into a classroom training project—and actually allow them to bet money, even if it was her ridiculous Chanelle bucks. Though, admittedly everyone kept attentive, shoulders squared, magic finely channeled, and minds whirling in suspicion for their peers.

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