“I saw. What was that?”
“An OG vision,” Milo said with a shudder. “Pretty sure it doesn’t exist anymore; you know some possibilities just aren’t possible. But it resurfaces occasionally.”
“I thought your branch didn’t kick in until middle school.”
“Mostly,” Milo said with a shrug. “Some triggered earlier. Well, you know. Your branch was weird during those early years, too.”
I thought back to my imaginary friend who’d basically been a manifestation of a persona meant to serve as a buffer for the exhausting noises of the world. Now, he mostly checked in on Ben when he needed, which thankfully had become less and less with each passing day.
“What was the vision of?”
“You saw it. Beats the hell out of me.”
“Hell being the operative word,” I said, gently rubbing my hand over Milo’s chest. “Did you get demonic vibes from it?”
I couldn’t put it in clearer words than that, couldn’t form much of a concrete explanation in my head, but the sensation held this eerie, demonic pulse. Maybe it had to do with how much of the vision remained veiled. Branch magic struggled against demons, and they often showed resistance to it. Many of Milo’s visions had been warped in the past due to demonic influence.
“Don’t know, don’t care.” Milo slid back under the covers and pulled me along. “It’s an expired vision. Don’t we have current problems to focus on?”
“That we do.” I scooted against Milo, playing the small spoon and letting him wrap me up in a hug. “Speaking of, you wouldn’t believe how incompetent Wadsworth’s divination team was. I have half a mind to say something.”
“You know he’d just blame it on the fact they’re”—Milo cleared his throat and made his voice surly—“phony psychics who don’t belong in the angry old American guild I founded. Back in my day, psychics weren’t even a branch. They were a twig.”
I chuckled. “Dammit. You’re right.”
“Always am. It’s my phony psychic gift.” Milo nuzzled my neck. “But I do want to hear all about your day. Don’t leave out one incompetent detail.”
I lay in Milo’s arms, wide awake and sharing my day with him into the late hours of the night.
Sincethe Celestial Coven wouldn’t be so quickly undone, I spent all my working hours disarming more hidden traps inside Winston Cobalt’s inner core. Eventually, I managed to find some not-so-useful memories on fragmented missions he’d taken part in, but only through blurry images, faded whispers, and eerie sensations crawling up my spine. This mind remained too jumbled, too bound for me to make full sense of it yet.
What I did manage to piece together was that it turned out the Celestial Coven incited warfare in nations through subtle nudging, pushing places onto the precipice of war when it benefited them. There were also memories of Winston’s childhood floating about, but knowing whether or not he had a tough life wouldn’t change what I needed to do.
I needed to break open his mind, shatter all the unnecessary pieces, and find intel on the Celestial Coven’s movements. So, I worked and tinkered and toiled away for hours and days at a time. All the while, to keep my mind sharp, I allowed my telepathy to wander the city. It trailed my former homeroom coven students, tracking their progress during their internships.
Yaritza, Jamius, and Melanie were the first minds I found myself drawn to. They were most displeased with the directiontheir internship had taken. While Enchanter Ortiz recovered, he prioritized his guild paperwork, which meant his interns spent their days locked away in his office sorting case files, running around to get signatures, and organizing a chaotic system that made Milo’s mess look half decent.
It put me at ease. They’d done impressive work, and now they could bask in the bureaucracy for a bit before returning to the field.
“What kind of actual garbage is this?” Gael’s voice rang so loudly, I found my telepathy drawn to his tantrum on the other side of the city.
King Clucks crowed with disapproval while Gael studied a weird ball connected to a chain and eyed his mentor, whose smile he found grating.
Enchanter Diaz towered over Gael, standing tall above all his interns at 6’6. Despite Gael’s attitude, Diaz didn’t let it shake his smile, though his bear, Priscilla, obviously didn’t care for the comment. She snarled, swatting a paw at the air.
Name: Emiliano Diaz
Branch: Bestial (Familiar)
“It’s called a meteor hammer,” Diaz said with his thick southern drawl. “They’re quite fascinating weapons. A personal favorite of mine.”
“Fine, let’s trade,” Gael insisted.
“Well, when you decide to pay the fees for a license to wield an enchanted weapon, you can pick it, but since I’m gracious enough to foot the bill for you three, perhaps you can be grateful.”
“Wow.” Gael stared slack-jawed for a moment. “Talk about emotional manipulation. Guilting me for something I never asked for. Expecting gratitude for a so-called gift. I see through your games.”
Gael’s tactless commentary continued even as the bear glared in his direction. In fact, King Clucks joined in with a puffed chest as if the tiny bird could do a thing against a thousand-pound beast.
