Chapter 30 #2
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.
I swallowed hard at that, averting my gaze from the somber eyes staring back at me as Wadsworth remained calm and procedural. Caleb’s grandparents were good people, they just didn’t know much, aspire to much, or have much to offer. Still, they did their best to support Caleb’s dreams.
They were just extremely worn down by time and obligations.
The mess in the house was contributed to by three other children currently at school. Apparently, Caleb helped around the house, from cleaning and cooking to babysitting. Working too—I remembered Caleb often took odd jobs to help cover bills and medications his grandparents needed.
As for their other three children, they were no help.
It seemed Caleb’s cousins were left with the grandparents after their mother was incarcerated, and from what I gathered, any father figures shared a similar fate or simply didn’t exist in the kids’ lives.
Caleb’s uncle only ever came around when he needed money or something to steal.
And his one aunt who’d clawed her way out of the South Side had moved to the suburbs just outside the city and completely wrote off her family.
Not that I could blame her, but I did pity the grandkids suffering from drama they never had a hand in.
I’d always known Caleb worked harder than most students, but I had no idea just how many things he juggled outside of his academics and magic training.
Work, chores, children, elderly grandparents, deadbeat relatives, a shitty neighborhood, and a thousand other things he’d taken on from a young age and never complained about.
“We’re not going to find any leads here.” I shot Wadsworth a look, ensuring he paid attention to the thoughts I sent his way.
While I hadn’t come any closer to finding Caleb or Tara, I wouldn’t be deterred. I would do whatever it took to make sure they got a chance to live outside the dark shadow of The True Witch’s fanatical obsession.
An angry depression whispered to me from afar.
The spike of annoyance was a familiar wavelength, but the sadness clawing at every waking thought didn’t resonate with what I’d experienced.
Layla’s mind, even in her worst state, never lacked confidence.
She’d grown attached to Campbell in her short time as her intern, and watching the guild master die, knowing there was nothing she could do to prevent it—that struck Layla with more force than any attack.
“I’m leaving a tray out here for you,” Vik called from the other side of Layla’s door.
They’d stopped by a lot to check in on Layla, which she found utterly aggravating. In fact, Vik’s little stops were the only time Layla dragged herself from depressed self-pity and into a mild state of aggravation.
Layla growled, indicating Vik need not cling to the door. Reluctantly, they left their cousin alone, fully intending to stop by later to check in. It seemed Layla’s parents were out of the country, and as the only child in her family still living at home, that meant she had no one during this time.
No one except Vik.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
Layla listened to the patter of Vik’s steps become faint as they departed, but a familiar smell drew her attention. Levitating outside Layla’s window was Amani. She held a bag with Layla’s favorite snack and a tray container with two lattes.
Grudgingly, Layla dragged herself out of bed and opened the window. While several snide quips popped into her head, Layla merely blinked an annoyed response. Amani didn’t speak. She simply handed her best friend the bag and climbed inside.
The pair sat on Layla’s bed and ate their egg bites and blueberry bread in silence. Layla took a few sips of her drink, but didn’t want the sad haze she’d felt all day to wash away, so she set the latte aside.
“I’m fine.” Layla climbed under her covers and turned away from Amani.
“I know.” Amani lay on top of the blanket but scooted closer to her friend. “Maybe I’m not.”
Delicately, Amani placed a hand on Layla’s shoulder, gently squeezing as her friend fought back tears. Layla rested a clawed hand on Amani’s and let herself become enveloped by her sadness.
My mind wandered to the outskirts of the Whitlock Estate, drawn to the person ignoring his sadness in favor of chaos.
The barred gates weren’t a bother for Gael or King Clucks as they levitated over the stone wall.
Without delay, Gael went to a PIN pad station and typed in a passcode, clearly disarming any alarm protocols from triggering.
All the employees patrolling these grounds might be gone or dead, but the border of the home was still lined with wards and enchantments meant to defend the property or alert authorities.
I was a bit perplexed that Tara had trusted Gael with literal security details, but I suppose I never fully understood their friendship.
Gael didn’t walk with the same swagger, his thoughts didn’t carry curious mischief, and he didn’t chat with his familiar during the trek to the mansion. Once inside, they bypassed the home alarms and lingered in the entryway.
The police had secured the house after the attack, and authorities had removed the corpses, but left behind many bloodstains.
Fear spiked through Gael, wondering if any of this belonged to Tara. Had she been harmed before she was taken? Had she fought? Had she been afraid? Had she been alone?
Gael’s eyes watered, thoughts clouded with concerns. King Clucks flapped his wings, hopping onto Gael’s shoulder, and soothing the worries away as best a bird could.
The pair took their time through the mansion, navigating the massive floor plan with ease. Gael had a memory in nearly every room, from studying to playing games to dragging Tara around her own estate in demand of a silly tour.
Making his way upstairs, Gael approached Tara’s bedroom and lingered in the doorway. He half-expected her to pop out, smile on her face, sunlight in her blue eyes, but there was no trace of Tara here. Not entirely, anyway.
Gael’s presence became clear as he strode to the other side of the bedroom and retrieved a small glass terrarium that housed Tara’s cocooned familiar. So much had happened, and I forgot about her new branch, about her familiar going through a silent growth spurt.
After he grabbed the tank, Gael departed with haste, unable to bear another second in Tara’s home without her.
As difficult as it was, the somber minds of my students kept me grounded in the days that passed.
So many people were lost in their grief, devastated by the destruction, and I found solace in keeping a watchful eye over those I cared about.
It also helped pass the hours as Milo slept, recovering after his fateful battle against the top ten enchanters in the world.