Page 10 of Zero Happily Ever Afters

Campbell’s sullen scowl faded. Cerberus Guild vanished. Chicago’s buildings and busy streets fizzled away. Somehow, someway, my branch took the specific knowledge of Milo’s supposed location and propelled my mind far past the bounds of the city. My heart hitched, terrified as the world whipped by and my thoughts propelled further and further across the country. City lines crossed; state lines crossed. How the hell was this even possible?

Any second, I’d collapse. Break. Crumble to pieces. Still, with Milo in my mind, it came with the slightest tug of his thoughts. Too faint to hear. But he must’ve been close. That meant we had to be in California at this point or near it. As frightening as the idea that my magic carried my mind halfway across the country was, I didn’t feel like a balloon floating through the sky, aimless and toward doom. There was direction and purpose, and maybe, just maybe, if I latched to Milo’s mind, then everything would be fine.

This wasn’t nearly as bad as I anticipated. I mean, sure, my telepathy completely superseded the laws of physics, even by magical standards. But maybe the full extent of my branch didn’t wane by distance. This could be tied to the strengththat my deranged manifestation alluded to keeping from me. I’d searched memories for his recollections on what else my telepathy could do. Unfortunately, most of his memories were sordid, hateful thoughts for me, cruel conspiring, calculated manipulations, and callous beliefs.

I supposed, at the very least, this proved an unexpected learning opportunity for the limitations surrounding my branch or lack thereof.

I’d finally caught up to Milo, reached his mind, hovered over his shoulder, and heard his thoughts. It didn’t matter that I sat in my living room thousands of miles away. It didn’t matter that he walked through a crowded airport, bustling with people and noise. Everything except for Milo faded away.

The happiness along the surface hid the tiny glint of frustration that came with a long flight and a long evening ahead. The way he refused to feed the anger had this breathtaking effect on me, stilling my mind and soothing my magic that circled him as he trailed through the airport in search of the representatives meant to meet him for the upcoming mission.

And in this lull of calm illusions, the band that stretched thin, linking Milo and me, snapped. It hit so hard, every bone in my body rattled. My living room burst with a pulse of psychic magic. The walls cracked and crumbled. Or…maybe that was me. My skull. It throbbed and ached, but did it explode? It felt like that until I sank into the shadows of my mind. Deeper than the inner core, away from every single memory and down the tunnel of the subconscious, I traveled.

The endless darkness cooled my aching body. More like the lack of awareness that came with the subconscious disconnected me from my body, a body that lay broken and bruised after the ricochet of magic bouncing back at me from over a thousand miles like a rocket.

“This isn’t so bad.” I took a deep, shaky breath. “All I have to do is find my way back into my conscious core.”

From there, I’d be able to reel my telepathy back. I’d have to. I’d go to the hospital. Maybe get put on some damper meds until I figured out how to properly control my branch. If I lingered in the subconscious, I might never find my way out.

“Everything will be okay. This isn’t so bad,” I repeated to myself.

“Oh, honey,” a hauntingly familiar voice said. “It’s so much worse than you think.”

I knew that voice. It was mine. A lighter lilt, but that gruff undertone came from me. Only not me.

The person who spoke stepped from the shadows. Another version of me. My manifestation.

Chapter Four

He didn’t look like himself…well, not entirely. I’d seen all the images of how he portrayed himself when deceiving the last fragment of Finn’s being. My manifestation took on the guise of me in my early twenties, back when I worked for Cerberus Guild as Enchanter Frost.

No, my manifestation no longer reflected my youthful appearance but instead looked more like the me of now. Only he had on this ridiculous My Chemical Romance T-shirt that was two sizes too small, exposing my…his…urh…our pale stomach and hairy happy trail. The magenta lettering popped against the black shirt, matching the edges of his heavier makeup. Mostly black with hints of pink. The rest of his getup was very high school me in the body of a man on the verge of a midlife crisis, from the mesh sleeves to the Tripp pants that were so tight at the hips and wide at the bottom, he looked like a mermaid.

“A gothy mermaid. I like it.” He smiled, big and wide and filling his whole face.

I cringed in response, hating my smile more than anything and finding it an unnatural expression that didn’t fit my face.

“You know I’m not that manifestation,” he said, pressing his thoughts against mine to reveal how entangled we were, how similar. “I’m nothing like him.”

“You’re all the same.” I bared my teeth, forcing my way to my feet.

“We’re really not,” another voice rasped from the shadows. Deeper. Meaner. A hint of all the rage I swallowed most days.

Every ounce of the anger buried oozed from the darkness where this new manifestation festered. It sent a tremble through my body, not my body—no. I lacked a connection to my muscles. That fear etched through my psychic energy, and in turn, I cast my magic into the darkness, snooping and seeking sight of the dangers hidden from me.

“How many of you are there?”

“A few hundred, I think,” the gothic getup manifestation said. “We don’t really keep a census here. Some fizzle out, some evolve, most just linger like myself.”

“Linger?” I asked, wary of trusting the words from his mouth or thoughts revealed with ease.

“Not much else to do in the subconscious.”

“And what about when you leave?”

“We don’t.”

I squinted, delving deeper into his thoughts, what could be considered thoughts. He possessed this hollow form, shallow in depth, and no real place to hide his lies. Yet I knew for a fact how powerful a manifestation could be. I’d had one that tiptoed around me, unraveled itself from me, and carried on around the city, conspiring unconscionable things.

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