Page 72 of Zero Happily Ever Afters

“You chose to act of your own volition.” Theodore brushed his blood-stained hands through his shaggy blond hair. “Boldly, I must contest.”

He licked blood from his middle finger; a few droplets dribbled down his chin and soaked between the hairs of his stubble beard. He paraded his mayhem as a distraction, much like he spat his words at The True Witch to provoke her. The coven didn’t act. No, not at all. They had toreactbased on Theodore’s letter. Whether his psychopathy, narcissism, or hisWhitlock education, Theodore seemed to gauge every potential reaction his pawns would make.

The Celestial Coven were pawns, too, in Theodore’s mind. Their worthless pieces dangled from branches of his inner core, desperate for interaction, connection, luring a foolish psychic to their demise should they creep closer. Those pawns that hung represented their outlived use in the game he wished to continue playing. That much I glimpsed from a safe distance outside of his deadly thoughts.

Theodore turned to Darla and Ernesto. “They’ve got a hard-on for my branch. The Celestial Coven wants to control the world, and what better way than with an army of demons at their beck and call.”

“You will come with me, Theodore.”

“Hmmm. Let me think.” He tapped his chin, feigning a thoughtful expression. “That’s gonna be a no.”

“Theodore.” Amara slammed her staff onto the floor, a warning. “The plan is—”

“Foolish.” Theodore tsked. “The Inevitable Future knows your plan, your backups, your secrets, your whims, your contingencies. Hmmm. Yeah, no. You’re not clever enough to evade him.”

This was something Theodore had spent much of his time contemplating while behind bars, so much so it fed into a new philosophy of chaos he hoped to fan.

“Do not concern yourself with the psychic. I will—”

“I’m bored with you,” Theodore interrupted again, finding every time he did, it provoked a deeper crinkle in Amara’s creased brow, and that made him happier than every dead body at his feet.

“I will take you by force if I must.”

“Or…”

He dragged out the silence between him and The True Witch when suddenly the glyphs on her bone staff glowed, and the gems sparkled. I expected pain to follow, shock and surprise, which it did…but from Amara.

She released her weapon and flew back quickly, eyes trained on Darla and Ernesto but not the bloody, writhing body that lifted from among the crowd of inmates Lazarus had hacked down to reach Milo.

“You said her enchantments were gonna be challenging.” A man smirked, savoring the hunt and pursuit and carnage almost as much as his leader.

I remembered the skill of that warlock, the way he broke through Gemini Academy’s security in minutes, yet as smart as he professed himself, believed himself, he’d been taken down single-handedly by Caleb Huxley.

I recalled the brief encounters the Doppler had with him when infiltrating the MDC. Vincent stayed close to Theodore while incarcerated, but despite his brawny build, he didn’t serve as muscle. No, he worked as an ambassador, offering tattoos and favors of every kind to build Theodore’s numbers. Numbers for an escape attempt they now planned on putting into motion.

The room swirled as I glommed onto all four minds, each clicked into perfect symmetry. Theodore, Vincent, Ernesto, and Darla pieced their parts of the plan together. This entire possibility had crossed Theodore’s mind, preparing his closest and most trusted allies, his subordinates, his crew of chaos.

When Ernesto removed Milo, he’d always intended to target a pillar of the Celestial Coven. Theodore had warned of their difficulties.

I struggled as this memory continued unfolding. Each member of Theodore’s crew moved to see out his plan, their minds assessing their roles, their purpose, their chance at destruction if they succeeded. Even without communicating, they worked to execute the plan. A plan created on a whim.

It didn’t matter that they only had seconds to prepare for the situation, for the attack, their years of connection—of friendship as sordid as it was—offered them certainty. Darla, Ernesto, and Vincent held complete trust in each other, assurance in their skills, and expertise in their own magics.

Vincent had acquired the bone staff, and with the amplification in magic the weapon offered, he used it to link to every single inmate throughout the MDC that he’d tattooed, that he’d secretly inked with alchemic ingredients meant to make them pliable for Theodore’s needs.

Darla stalled for time, countering the arcane magic The True Witch unleashed. Despite the commotion from the second this underground facility broke into violence, at some point, Theodore had handed off his shiv to Vincent, who carved sigils necessary for Darla’s support tools and then passed it off to her.

She used the weapon seamlessly, sending torrents of magical water lashing back at Amara who now dealt with the effects of her Oceanic Collapse. Images of her drowning mind struck my telepathy.

I ground my teeth, ignoring her agony. Part of me hoped she stayed locked in that state of being forever, feeling the pain she’d unleashed upon tens of thousands, no doubt. Another part of me realized that since Theodore’s crew had successfully subdued The True Witch in minutes, it meant the city—the world—would have to contend with these sadistic warlocks.

“Your turn, E.” Vincent handed the bone staff to the nervous warlock.

Ernesto swallowed hard. “I’ve never moved this much at once.”

“I believe in you.” Theodore wrapped an arm around Ernesto’s neck, hugging him as he stood close behind. “And if it’s too much for you, then we can kill you, take your branch, and stuff it in one of the empty gems up there.”

Ernesto quaked, eliciting a tremble of excitement from Theodore, who relished the easily provoked anxiety in his favorite friend. He clutched Ernesto tighter, savoring the delicious tension the two shared.

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