Chapter Nine
Work was oddly silent, with my telepathy all but muted.
It hadn’t extended at my command, yet occasionally, it’d stretch far and thin like putty tugged too much, ready to break or collapse.
Milo’s mind buzzed like a staticky microphone off and on through the day, fading away before the words made concrete sense.
Exhaustion weighed heavier thanks to the erratic change in my magic.
Usually, a pinpointed precise connection to a single mind alleviated the bombardment of several dozen voices.
Milo ignored my texts even after I’d arrived home.
Another insufferable thing I had to endure.
He playfully avoided conversation in favor of work because he was unaware my telepathy had reached beyond its capabilities, eavesdropping.
Between his entertained dodging and the subtle tug linking our minds, an intense headache drummed along my skull.
I could call him out, bluntly explain I knew exactly what he was doing while I lay face down on the couch, my head buried in pillows.
But this was momentous. No, that made it sound positive.
This was awful and needed a delicate, carefully phrased conversation in person.
Also, I wasn’t entirely sure what Enchanter Evergreen was doing.
What Milo was doing. All I knew for certain was he had a demon case Enchanter Campbell quite literally slapped onto his desk.
Once I settled, nearly falling asleep, the link between us amplified and sent my mind hovering alongside Milo as a silent specter while he flew across the city.
I couldn’t make much sense of what he was doing, glimpsing flashes of his travels throughout the day as he ran through a mental checklist of places he’d gone, ensuring he hadn’t forgotten something.
Perhaps he was handling smaller cases or searching for leads; it was impossible to know since I couldn’t filter out where my thoughts began or his ended.
This was why manifestations were a necessity when delving so deeply into someone’s thoughts.
They allowed me a powerful connection but a psychic valve I could close.
This wasn’t delving deep, though. Every time I glimpsed at Milo’s actions, I was nothing more than a phantom hovering over his shoulder, catching snippets of his surface thoughts, glancing the colors of emotion radiating when powerful, and observing the silent hum of his visions when he sorted potential possibilities.
Actually, this was very reminiscent of how my telepathy acted during my near-death last semester when it locked onto Caleb, Tara, and Kenzo during their battle against the warlocks.
Resisting or severing the tether linking our minds didn’t work.
The continuous loop made it impossible to create something tangible, like a manifestation, to serve as a psychic block or assistant.
Unable to discern anything but the call to Milo’s thoughts, I obeyed, melting into his mind until each breath we took synchronized.
Milo enveloped me.
Milo secured a basket he’d bought in the passenger seat of his Mercedes like he was fastening a toddler in its car seat.
Okay—perhaps an exaggeration since he’d probably put it in the backseat on that account, but he checked the buckle three times over, shifting the bottle of wine so the neck sat snuggly under the belt strap.
The contents inside the basket were impossible to read, given he’d covered them in frilly gift tissue papers, yet they filled him with glee.
All he wanted now was to wrap up his evening and finally visit me.
I clutched a couch cushion, fumbling for the phone in my pocket, curious if he’d responded to any of my messages. It was easier following him, waiting for this job to reveal itself, and for him to arrive on his own afterward.
Milo hopped in the neon orange sports car.
A true eyesore that only made him that much more noticeable, but he rarely took the time to enjoy the simple ride in his baby because as fast as this car went, Enchanter Evergreen flew faster and was less confined by traffic flow.
Personally, as Milo zipped down roads, weaving between drivers and cutting corners to race against every yellow light he crossed, I considered his confidence in his flight speed a bit boastful.
It hadn’t taken long for him to reach the heart of downtown, where the best bars and clubs didn’t care it was a Monday.
People crowded along the sidewalks, and Milo nabbed a parking space a block away from his destination.
Chicago PD followed their thin leads for the latest victim. Everything seemed random and senseless, as none of those targeted had any similar connections. That was what drew Milo to this place, one he hoped would lead to something more concrete or a vision.
Gwendolyn’s Guns however, Milo had always considered the Gardners a lesser evil and one he’d gladly indulge.
Milo tolerated this club because all crime couldn’t be stopped.
It was a part of human nature he understood.
Either by impulse or necessity, there’d always be some layer of skirting the rules.
And Milo didn’t think every rule should exist since many were implemented to oppress those with strong magics and weak resources.
A sentiment I understood. After all, most of the enchantments sold under the table were to folks trying to survive, but there were definitely some used to commit heinous atrocities both local and global.
Granted, the same could be said for enchantments legally purchased and handed out to the wrong hands with the right license.
All arguments for another time. What I wanted to argue about was him walking right into a den of witches and warlocks who all knew him.
“Given the warlock fiasco a few months back, I thought perhaps you’d have sought my council sooner.” Cassidy grabbed her martini glass off the counter.
“I knew you weren’t involved.” Milo’s eyes fluttered playfully—not lost in visions—which was nice to see even from a distance.
“Don’t have to be involved to have a close ear to the ground.” Cassidy sipped her drink, leaving the faintest red on the rim. “I could’ve helped you find that hack of a doctor, if people insist on calling her one, and that spoiled rich boy summoning demons because of daddy issues.”
Theodore Whitlock and his associates were still echoes of conversation months after their failed warlock incursion.