There was something so soothing about the first inhale after a hard day, something so satisfying about exhaling all my worries, and watching them waft in the air.
The harsh cough that followed Wadsworth’s next deep inhale reeled me back in, reminding me why I let go of the habit. I didn’t care about polluting my lungs, rotting my body, but the people I cared most about certainly did. Milo and Ben wouldn’t want me smoking, and thus, I pushed the craving aside.
Taking in Wadsworth as a person, I realized that he was my life unfulfilled. He obsessed over tracking down The True Witch so much so that he pushed everyone in his life aside, buried his desires, and lost himself to this mission. I had to stop Amara, help save my students, but I couldn’t lose myself in the process.
It’d taken damn near a lifetime to finally accept happiness. I couldn’t sacrifice it all for a mission.
“Are you listening to a goddamn thing I’m saying, you stupid fucking telepath?”
I glowered in response, half-tempted to show him the full extent of my stupid telepathy.
“Yes,” I said with a huff. “You want me to facilitate a meeting with Caleb’s grandparents.”
“No, moron.” Wadsworth coughed, struggling to catch his breath, and I didn’t hold mine in hopes he’d find the air he so desperately needed. “I…I already arranged the meeting. You are to use your telepathy to gather any necessary information.”
“I doubt they know anything.”
“There’s only one way to find out.” Wadsworth took off into the air, demanding that I follow.
Despite his frail body and constant state of exhaustion, his casting remained top-tier, and he flew through the streets at incredible speed. I struggled to keep up.
When we arrived at Caleb’s home, I followed Wadsworth to the door, where he announced our arrival with a heavy knock.
The elderly Mrs. Huxley answered the door. She didn’t recognize me, either, because my appearance had changed since the last parent-teacher conference or simply because she never expected her grandson’s former homeroom teacher to knock on her door.
That, or perhaps she was simply lost in her worries. Mrs. Huxley’s mind was in a frazzled state, lost in her grief for Caleb’s disappearance, in her confusion as to why he was abducted, and not satisfied by the lack of clarification the Global Guild offered.
For the briefest of seconds, she let her spirits lift when she realized who Enchanter Wadsworth was.
“Did you find him?” she asked, a longing in her weary eyes.
“Apologies,” Wadsworth said, clearing his throat. “We haven’t, but I hoped perhaps you could speak with me, and we might learn more about Caleb and why this came about.”
“What could we possibly tell you?” A stern, agitated voice called out from behind Mrs. Huxley.
Her husband stomped to the door, practically barring our entrance. He’d transformed all his worries into rage, directing them at the incompetence of the Global Guild. I couldn’t rightfully argue against his anger. It was well placed. The Global Guild had failed. I had failed.
“Please,” Wadsworth insisted. “Every tiny detail makes a difference.”
That statement was meant to convince Caleb’s grandparents, but was directed toward me. As they led us inside, Wadsworth’s thoughts screamed at me to do my goddamn telepathic job and learn what I could from their minds.
It meant diving in deeper than normal. I wouldn’t have to traipse through their inner cores, but I would need to delve past their surface thoughts, rooting through the in-between spaces.That kind of snooping was occasionally noticed, so I’d need to be cautious.
The cramped house was cluttered with children’s toys and strewn about laundry. It made sitting in the living room very uncomfortable. Plus, it was clear they had pets. Cats, for certain, considering the palpable odor from the dirty litterbox.
Between their grief and general exhaustion, it seemed Caleb’s grandparents had fallen behind on their home. They were in desperate need of retirement, but were forced to continue working so they could support themselves and their grandson. By the looks of things, more than just their grandson.
Most of their thoughts were hazy, muddled, and buried in decades of fogged-over memories. Not at all unusual considering their age. Still, their minds weren’t guarded, and the fact that neither had any training with magic, it didn’t seem they noticed my heavy-footed entrance as I dove into their minds.
They didn’t know anything about Caleb’s secret adoption, about The True Witch, or the Celestial Coven—and I certainly didn’t want to be the one to inform them. All they knew was their daughter had a son, and she loved being a mother until the stress caught up to her.
Caleb’s grandmother recalled the way her daughter retreated into herself in the weeks leading up to her walking out. Perhaps Caleb’s mother struggled with the secret arrangement. Perhaps she expected more from Tobias Whitlock. Perhaps she simply became overwhelmed with motherhood.
It seemed all their children had these difficulties. Mr. and Mrs. Huxley had four children of their own. Caleb’s mother, who left him at their doorstep when he was four, ran as far from Chicago as she could get.
Last they heard, she was in California, but that was nine years ago. She’d only reached out for a deposit on a place. During the twenty-minute call, she never once asked about Caleb, and when she realized her parents couldn’t help her, the contact stopped altogether.
Christ. She was a real fucking prize. Tobias couldn’t have found a real home for Caleb? All those connections, and he left Caleb here.
