Page 8 of Zero Happily Ever Afters

“I see how others are using their magics all the time.” Yaritza’s eyes fell to Kenzo’s gray static bouncing around the corners of the room and the weighted blocks hovering around Caleb. “And I’ve been finding my own ways to keep my branch active and on full display. So, if we’re doing something festive, I can definitely get behind that. Or in front of it. Or beside it. Really, whatever works best for the performance.”

“You’re not far off,” I said. “After all, being an industry professional is about so much more than battle skills. Those are important, but how you interact with the public, how you engage with peers, and the way you carry yourself during interviews are all extremely important factors.”

“I knew it!” Yaritza squealed, jumping in place as her star shower sprayed across the classroom, lighting everything ablaze. “I’m going to be amazing! Just you wait, Mr. Frost! I’m so ready to impress the enchanters this semester! I’m gonna rock every single interview and land all the internships!”

I stared at my flaming classroom, unable to hide the horror in my expression, the contempt, and the irritation that we were about five seconds away from a fire drill because this would definitely set off the sprinkler system in my classroom.

“Maybe you should work on your little rock show.” Melanie snapped her fingers, smothering every single pebble scattered across the room. “It’d be a shame if you set someone on fire.”

I crinkled my nose at the stench of soot or smoke or ash. It was strong, very strong if I smelled it, considering smoke rarely caught my attention.

Yaritza had a tight, uncomfortable grin to match Melanie’s, hoping she didn’t appear fazed.

“Then again, that’s one way to be remembered in an interview.” Melanie smiled wider.

Layla snickered, which only further fueled Melanie.

“Thank you so much for the assistance, Melanie,” I interjected because I didn’t need a back-and-forth of snide comments from those two. Not this early.

“Sure thing, Mr. Frosty.” Melanie winked, then ran her fingers through her red hair, missing the long locks but internally agreeing that Layla had a point. She always had a point. Melanie’s face was definitely made for a pixie cut. She’d learn to like it. She’d learn to love it like all the things Layla showed her.

Those two really needed their schedules switched around. It wouldn’t help. They’d still have homeroom together. And no one ever had their homeroom switched unless it was the most dire of circumstances. Still, the way Melanie sat at the altar of Layla, losing pieces of herself each and every day. I couldn’t even blameLayla for it. She had an alpha mentality and fed on beta energy like Melanie’s.

I sighed, appearing unenthused and angry according to the eyes watching me. “Back to the showcase. It’s coming up. Phase one. There’ll be lots of phases. Lots of events. They’re all important. No, you can’t goof off.” I turned and glared at Gael, who grabbed his chest in shock—even though he hadn’t been paying attention since texting at the start of class—and his familiar clucked to support Gael’s obnoxiousness. “There’ll be no do-overs this semester. Every day, each week, each event will be a moving piece to a larger score that will determine who picks you for an internship. Land the right internship, you might get a job offer after graduation next year. Land a shitty internship and enjoy paying for that casting license out of pocket for the rest of your life because you won’t get another chance at a guild.”

A few gulped, bit back a gasp, or merely fidgeted from my declaration. Everyone quietly straightened up, paying full attention to the words I spoke.

“Every student at Gemini Academy and every other academy in the city will be competing to catch the attention of enchanters. No. Every student across the state. Everyone wants to land a guild career, and if you want to stand out, then you need to treat every lesson this semester like your entire future depends on it because it very much does.”

Even my most reluctant students paid attention. Kenzo cracked his neck and pulled out a notebook. Gael handed his phone to King Clucks and held onto the edge of his desk so his hands wouldn’t wander. Layla put her hands on her lap and locked her eyes on me, enhancing her senses with branch magic to further her focus. Jamius dug deep into the well of his inner core, pulling from it every motivating thought he had, every speck of confidence, and all the memories of duplicates who excelled in classwork.

It was absolutely mesmerizing to see my students fully engaged—fearful, sure, but ready to take this next and final step with me leading the helm. I was so proud of them. Every single one of them. But I sure as fuck had zero intention of letting them know that. I rather enjoyed the fear as I went over this lesson. I hadn’t seen this group so docile since the first day when I dragged them to the auxiliary gym and watched them scramble over how to handle banishing wisps.

I couldn’t believe that in just a few short months, I’d have to say goodbye, send them off to internships, and hope for the best.

“Let’s discuss how each of you plans on standing out during the second-year showcase.”

Chapter Three

When work ended, I drove home, keeping my sensory root locked onto all the nearby wisps while also channeling my banishment root. No, I didn’t plan on casting either magic. There weren’t nearly enough wisps to form a fiend-leveled threat. Hell, the cluster of their white light barely created more than an irritating glint like the high beams of an asshole driver. But focusing on my roots did help temper the full force of my active telepathy, which still hunted for Milo in the sea of the city.

My students helped keep my mind and body too busy for my overactive branch to stir too much trouble, but my root casting would have to do the trick once I got home. That and my very needy cats, who immediately barreled toward the front door once I stepped inside.

Charlie meowed his hellos, lifting his front legs and digging his paws and claws into my slacks. I lifted him and pressed his head into the crook of my neck, where he cuddled and purred. It did little to drown out the loud cries of Carlie, famished and demanding her meal this instant. She rubbed against my legs, circling me like a shark and ready to bite me as hard as one, too, if her gentle nudges didn’t drive me toward the kitchen soon.

After contending with the two of them, I was able to finally unwind. Carlie was easy enough. Once she had her food, her fill,and a follow-up treat—because of Milo and his need to buy her love—she mellowed out and slept. Charlie, on the other hand, required a full hour of attention. Pets, brushing, encouragement to go eat and drink water, and lots of affectionate words. After he’d been basked in love, he abandoned me to go sleep on the bed.

“All right,” I said, cracking my neck and grabbing my book. “Time to master this telepathy bullshit once and for all.”

I couldn’t very well spend each day of this semester demanding my homeroom coven to properly control their branches, their magics, when I couldn’t. It was hypocritical, which didn’t bother me nearly as much as the fact it was also incredibly dangerous. I already had the misfortune of experiencing how dangerous it was. What my manifestation wrought onto the world would never happen again. Since the day his memories synced to mine, restoring a full understanding of the capabilities of my magic, I’d made it a priority to research telepathy.

Just as all twelve branches of magic are unique, every magic within a branch held a different skill. My telepathy differed from Milo’s clairvoyance, from Jennifer’s empathy, from Tara’s Banshee’s Wail, but it wasn’t simply how different psychic branches varied from each other, but how the same psychic magic reacted differently for each individual. My telepathy was similar to many of the case studies I read in the archives of research I dug through, but there were components of my branch that didn’t compare. Aspects I’d have to learn to control without guidance.

I read until my eyes blurred. Pages melted together in my head, knocking so much information around I thought it might very well make my head explode. Sinking back into the cushions of the couch, I got as comfortable as I could despite the fact the only part of me that ached came from within my skull.

Finn’s smile washed over my mind as I flipped through the pages of this worn text on The Mythos Behind the Psychic Wall. I didn’t care much about the research on the history of my magic, but I did enjoy the old lore. And it was the oldest of old lore.

Finn gave me this book, told the story to Milo and me, painted imagery I never could when recounting the legends behind the first three psychic witches in recorded history. They weren’t, most likely, but they survived the test of time.

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