Chapter Seventeen
I lay in my bed, ignoring the buzz of my phone. Someone undoubtedly checking in on my absence or complaining that I’d called out last minute without leaving lesson plans. I didn’t care. Couldn’t. My mind spun in a million directions, each leading me to answers I hated.
I fucked everything up.
I failed at everything.
I was selfish. Worthless. Shortsighted.
My telepathy didn’t latch onto Milo, either from the exhaustion of sitting in my bed awake well into the mid-morning or because my magic knew he’d only be thinking the same thing I already knew. I couldn’t do anything right.
A part of me lingered on the satisfaction of ending that demon.
Executing it for what had happened to Finn.
For what could’ve happened to Milo. Vanquishing demons was good.
Justified. If it’d been a warlock, would I have done the same?
Would I have hesitated? Would I have cared if the law of the world was on my side or against my actions?
I didn’t know. I did know Enchanter Evergreen had likely returned to work, ready to solve a case from scratch and save as many lives as possible.
He cared about everyone’s futures. And me? Did I care about anyone or anything?
Charlie and Carlie clawed at my door. One desperate for affection, the other desperate for food.
I was so worthless and selfish; I couldn’t even care for my cats.
I lay in bed, ignoring them and the rest of the world, desperate for an escape into isolation.
They meowed. Faintly. Carlie’s heavy feet trotted further away.
Charlie cooed, his purr mixed with a meow for attention in full effect.
“Hey, hey, little buddy.” Milo’s voice echoed in the other room. “Daddy got you a new toy. Don’t tell your dad, though. I know he has a fun limit.”
He was here? My heart lurched into my throat. Why?
“Yes, yes, Madame of All Things Wonderful, I’ve got those treats I promised. Just don’t leave any evidence.”
Carlie’s loud crunches made it evident she wouldn’t leave a spec of the treats behind.
Hopefully, Milo knew how to slip a few along to Charlie unnoticed because Carlie was especially selfish with treats.
I slipped off my bed, pausing at the door.
Charlie chirped. A chirp he only made when eating and getting pets.
His special pitchy chirp. Milo knew to slip him snacks because Carlie hadn’t hissed once, clearly distracted by her own meal.
The cabinets clicked, and Milo rinsed their food bowls.
I returned to my bed and closed my eyes.
He must’ve figured I’d gone to work. That was what brought him here.
Maybe he’d had a vision about me starving my cats and was kind enough to care.
Care. I’d repeated it a thousand times since I killed the gorgon and said I didn’t care, so now the word held no meaning.
I lacked an understanding of it. Care. Care.
Care. Foul and strange as it rumbled in my thoughts and hung on the tip of my tongue.
Milo’s feet thudded across the carpet down the hallway leading to my bedroom. I flung the blanket over my head like a foolish teenager expecting him to believe I’d left body-shaped pillows beneath my blanket.
“Wakey, wakey, eggs and no bakey.” Milo ripped the blanket off the bed. “Sorry, they were out. But I got you some sweet sausage.”
I kept my eyes firmly shut. Afraid to face him.
“That better not be a euphemism.” The aroma of meaty maple filled my bedroom. I loved maple sausage.
“Damn, it would’ve been so great if it was.”
I opened my eyes. Milo had a huge smile, Charlie in one hand and a bag of greasy fast food in the other.
“Told you he was warming up to me.” Milo nuzzled Charlie, who immediately leapt off and ran away, cry meowing.
It was a betrayal meow he’d give when either he or I prioritized someone over each other.
Charlie was quite possessive, so usually, that meow was reserved for me and my betrayals of work, Milo, or literally saying hello to the vet.
“I’d say you still have a long way to go.” Me too, given how I’d fucked up so much. I didn’t say that part, though. Couldn’t.
“Were you actually asleep or pretending?”
“Huh?”
“The glimpse I caught, I couldn’t tell, but I knew you were here.”
“And that I would fail to feed my cats?”
“You were awake.” Milo sighed. “Please don’t take away Charlie’s new toys.”
“Toys?” I frowned. “I thought you bought him one.”
“He has so few. ”
“That’s because he destroys them all. He’s got to learn to make them last and value—”
“He’s impulsive,” Milo interjected, plopping onto my bed and setting the fast-food bag on the floor. “Aren’t we all?”
I froze. Damn. He’d steered casual conversation about the cats directly into how much I’d fucked up his case. Ugh. Clairvoyants. Stalling for time, I levitated the bag onto the nightstand. Also, food—bagged or not—was easy prey for Carlie to steal.
“I’m…” I took a deep breath. “I…”
“Fifty-fifty, FYI.” Milo scooted closer.
“Huh?”
“Fifty-fifty on you starting this conversation with I’m sorry or I love you. I’ve seen a lot of versions, so let’s go off script and have me start.” Milo pressed a hand on top of the blanket, delicately rubbing my thigh beneath.
“How many conversations do you actually have off script?” I fought back a little laugh because Milo really did plan everything in his life, even the things he didn’t plan for.
“One in five. Okay. One in seven.”
I stared, expression unshifting.
“All right, one-ish in ten.” Milo smirked. “What can I say? I math badly.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t blame your actions. I sort of saw it, maybe. It’s hard to get a clear picture when demons are involved.”
“You should blame me. Every friend and family of the next victims should blame me. I am selfish.”
“You’re not. Selfish people don’t acknowledge it, and when they do, it’s usually for leverage.
I know you too well to think you’d ever use self-loathing words to strike a chord for empathy.
You do it because you can’t sort your feelings into words, and the best way you can express yourself is to blame yourself. ”
“Christ, maybe you’re a manifestation, and that’s the whole reason I haven’t been able to summon one.”
Milo chuckled, running his fingers back and forth along my leg.
“I can’t blame you, though. I did the same thing twelve years ago.” Milo quivered; the joy in his eyes and thoughts vanished. “I’ve been carrying that failure for twelve years, and last night, I almost fixed it.”
“What?”
“I didn’t know or think this case involved the same demons. Didn’t want to believe it, anyway. I’d encountered enough slinking around Chicago to give up hoping I’d fix my impulsiveness. But something about this case stirred potentials. They were—”
“Too hazy,” I interjected. That much I already knew, but the rest remained new to me.
“Exactly. Demonic energy is the worst.” Milo half-grinned, mostly to fight off a frown. “First time around, when I found that gorgon and saw…saw…”
It was Milo who struggled to say the name, so opposite of our dynamic. I’d always struggled to mention Finn in conversation over the years up until recently. Tears pooled in the corners of Milo’s eyes.
“You saw Finn’s body and acted.”
“Yes. I attacked the gorgon, blaming him for every horrible thing Finn had endured.” Milo’s shoulders shuddered. “I wanted to hate him, make him culpable.”
“He was.”
“To an extent. In the last moments, I’d seen void visions, snippets revealing another. It didn’t matter, though. I was so angry and wanted so badly to satiate it then that I banished the gorgon right then and there.”
I tensed. His words were incomprehensible.
“Another demon? Then? ”
“It makes sense. Gorgons can’t open warp portals to new places. Still, the first time around, I acted in haste, desperate for vengeance, and when the connections linking the gorgon to another source faded, I pushed that regret and impulse away. I couldn’t face it.”
I wrapped my fingers around Milo’s as they began trembling. Without words, without thoughts, I compiled all the rage and fear and sorrow and regret wrapped in the moment Milo held for when he’d banished the gorgon twelve years ago.
“I understand.”
“Then you understand why I can’t blame your actions last night. I can’t expect you to act right, logical, long term, when I couldn’t.”
“But you are now.”
“I am because I failed before. Failed so many lives killing a demon that turns out can’t die. How many others have resurrected themselves? Is it a new ability from demons? Is it a branch at play? A higher-tier demon no one has encountered? I don’t know. Probably never will, but I want to try.”
“Milo, you can’t carry the world—”
“It didn’t bring Finn back. Didn’t change his fate. My actions then didn’t stop any real horrors from continuing in this world.”
Milo held onto every life lost in the city, the state, the nation, and the world.
Hating himself for every failed move he’d made when predicting outcomes.
That single impulsive banishment weighed on him every single day he worked toward fixing the world, one he kept carefully tucked behind the white wall of strings that lay just past the wall of screens in his mind’s core.
It also acted as a driving force, motivating him to always thoroughly root through visions, searching each and every single one so he didn’t accidentally screw up.
“What are you going to do now?”
Milo shrugged. “The best I can. And I want you to do the same.”
I nodded .
“Focus on work, Dorian. Help your students be successful. Maybe I find a new lead; maybe I don’t. Maybe the demon or demons stay or return or whatever; maybe they move on.” He shrugged again. “I just don’t want this to be our story. I don’t want to hurt you or fail you or blame you.”
“I don’t think any of that.” I scooted closer to Milo, unable to bear the distance between us any longer. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that.” He kissed me softly, gentle and without tongue, but his mind spoke a thousand words, instantaneously explaining I never needed to apologize to him because he’d love me no matter what.
He moved further on the bed and lay down. I wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him as our minds synced. For hours we laid together, silencing the entire world.
My nose rested against the back of his head while we remained in this embrace, simply enjoying the touch and company of one another.
As the sun faded, our appetites returned. Milo craved something other than the cold fast food sitting on the nightstand.
I slid my fingers delicately up his stomach, carefully unbuttoning his shirt.
Milo rolled over, nuzzling his face into my neck and kissing me. Quickly, he lifted my shirt over my head and then positioned me beneath him.
Given his primal arousal, I expected him to take me this instant, but he slowed his eager thoughts, stirring with more passionate desires.
Slowly, he undressed himself, and I followed suit, taking off my pants. Milo ran his fingers along my bare hips; the lightest touch of telekinesis coursed along my skin, creating the sensation of a dozen hands caressing me, holding me, positioning me .
Once he’d grabbed the lube and prepared himself, he lay on top of me, wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me tightly into his embrace.
Our eyes remained locked as he entered me; he took slow, deliberate thrusts the entire time—edging himself to the peak of satisfaction and then pausing as my erection throbbed against his stomach.
Milo kissed me each time he took a steady stroke, pacing himself as he made love to me.