Chapter Eleven

Doppler

After Jasper’s royal fuck up, I had little choice but to seize the reins of his mind. A rather easy task once he’d fallen asleep, but not something I could maintain over the course of long periods. However, I wouldn’t need to guide his body after today, simply until I crossed paths with the witch who’d help align me with the future I sought to bring to fruition.

Even as the sun set, the summer heat clung to the air, making each inhale of humidity exhausting as I trudged downtown. Whether it came from Jasper’s lack of endurance or the resistance his body put up from my suggestive guidance, I found the feel of his sweaty skin disgusting. The more control I exerted, the more I synced to the sensations of his body. Each step was laborious and grueling. Unable to continue, I propped up against the cool glass of an ice cream shop, unconcerned by the annoyance the owners or patrons carried for my fat, sweaty back filling their view.

“What’re you doing?” Gael asked, voice shouting down the block.

I tensed, releasing my grasp on Jasper’s mind. Did Gael recognize my magical frequency? He wasn’t a psychic, but as a witch linked to a beast, he held a practical understanding of the particulars in the branch’s fingerprint. How’d he register Dorian’s unique casting signature so quickly? What was he doing here?

Jasper’s sleepy body slumped over, nearly falling face-first onto the pavement until I snapped to attention, stopping him. Turning my gaze, I searched for the loudmouth obsessed with his dick and joking about cock all day. Peering through Jasper’s groggy eyes, where his heavy eyelids fought to stay open at my bequest, my nerves settled.

As I should’ve expected, that clown wasn’t speaking to me. No. I wasn’t even on his radar as he chased some girl in a skirt who skipped overhead through levitation.

“Come on,” Gael pleaded. “Why do you gotta tease me?”

The girl spun around, her expression ditzy, her pose flirty, but her thoughts calculating. I recalled this one running circles around the simple-minded Gael last year, and Dorian’s observations of her had shown she’d improved after the Spring Showcase.

It wasn’t easy peering in on Dorian’s thoughts from afar, but he had no reason to suspect my presence, and unlike Milo, he wasn’t constantly searching for threats in the darkness of the unknown. It helped to check in from time to time, keeping tabs on the witch with enough magic to destroy a devil yet no will to control such a magnitude of power.

I silently observed Gael and Tiffany, taking deep breaths that didn’t assuage the ache of this body’s muscles or the annoyance Gael’s presence brought. How I wished Jasper were a smoker. But he never cared for the vice, yet I had a phantom craving for the calm a cigarette offered. Another offense brought on by Dorian Frost since he picked up the habit during his teenage years. Prick.

Gael followed close to Tiffany, who hovered a few feet above the pavement in front of the ice cream shop. While Jasper had no skill with his magics or a branch notable of mention, his real talent came from vanishing in a crowd. The man could disappear without a single soul noticing, which made him perfect for my previous needs. As his bland presence went unnoticed by Gael, I caught my wheezing breaths while faced with Dorian’s worst student.

“You could always join me.” Tiffany extended her hand.

Gael scrunched his face, searching for his familiar who’d stayed behind at their previous destination to finish some card game. A minor fortuitous turn of events since I found that rooster exasperating.

Gael’s core tightened, slowly allowing him to ascend off the ground, and I watched with wide eyes. His legs dangled, no trembling or uncertainty. More of a swimmer’s grace as he moved through the air, sunlight shining against his bronze skin once he moved from the shadows of the concrete. He floated close to Tiffany, more graceful than her, with a well-trained stance to distribute his weight. So much for lacking skill in his root magic. It seemed the only hesitation he held for levitation came from his foul bird.

Tiffany’s expression softened. She waved him over, pulling him with her telekinesis and ready to kiss him while they drifted through the air.

“No.” Gael descended. “King Clucks will be here any minute, and if he lost to that damn jackrabbit again, he’s already gonna be pissed off enough.”

“But you didn’t mind chancing your familiar’s wrath at the carnival last week.” Tiffany crossed her arms, glaring down at Gael. “With Jackie.”

“What?” Gael grimaced. “The Ferris wheel broke down. She was the real hero there, making sure we didn’t spend all night waiting for repairs. I was a total damsel in her arms.”

“Uh-huh. So I heard.”

“We went as friends. We are just friends,” Gael clarified, using the term ‘friend’ quite loosely, too, considering what flitted through his surface thoughts on all the things that corresponded between them before and after the carnival. “She’s hung up on her ex. You know we’re only hanging ‘cause it pisses off Layla.”

“And what about all the other friends you made over the summer?” Tiffany pouted.

“Don’t tell me you’re worried?” Gael posed, hands on his hips.

“Not worried, never worried. Just curious how many girls you spent the summer with. How many guys, too.” Tiffany widened her eyes, studying Gael’s expression shift from a sheepish grimace to a flirty grin where he stuck out his tongue, flashing his piercing. “Heard you played with the lacrosse captain’s stick.”

“Funny.” Gael’s bronze cheeks flushed a bit. “I didn’t join his team if that’s what you’re fishing for, but we did go for a few rides. He’s got a nice car.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What can I say? Those Aries Academy guys are quite compelling.” He snickered. “Always figured myself more of an automatic guy—turns out driving stick is pretty fun, too. Guess I’m comfy riding in anything, really.”

Tiffany rolled her eyes at the car metaphor, and I joined her since Gael’s boasting had a nauseating effect.

“Hey,” he said loudly, steering the conversation away from his curious exploits. “You didn’t see me say anything about all those Aries Academy boys you were going to parties with. You seemed quite popular, Tiff.”

The two played a mental game of tug-of-war, each debating how much of their hand to reveal on the amount of stalking they’d done of the other’s social accounts, how much they actually enjoyed the other, how much they wanted to take their hanging out to the next level. It was tragic and dull and not remotely useful information. Gael was a ball of smutty thoughts and pining emotions for Tiffany. Tiffany went from being calculating and crafty to starving for Gael’s attention. Pathetic.

“Come on, Tiff. You know you’re the only girl who makes my c—”

Tiffany descended, slapping a hand over Gael’s mouth. “If you make a dick joke, I’ll knee you in the nuts.”

“Fine.” He grinned. “Seriously, though. King Clucks is quite picky, but he loves hanging out with you and Duchess.”

“She’s become rather fond of King Clucks, too.” Tiffany twirled a finger through one of her long blonde locks, flaunting and flirting to draw Gael’s gaze, which followed the strand she played with. “She normally despises other familiars.”

“See. Our chemistry’s synced on a magical level.”

Gael offered nothing to a brighter future. He was a jester with half-decent casting, and even that came from his better half. The most frustrating part about this child was how he emulated himself off the worst parts of Milo. Yes, Enchanter Evergreen knew how to cut loose and have a good time, but he wasn’t all jokes. He was a professional, something Gael never grasped, and I doubted he ever would.

One of the few commendable things about Dorian was how he tolerated Gael’s thoughts. Everything inside this kid’s head was dirty jokes, porn, and terrible one-liners that seemed to work more often than not. When I finally took hold of Dorian’s body, my body, I’d have to continue the charade of education for a time. Long enough to cement my future with Milo and Finn. But if I had to endure the students in Dorian’s class, I’d have to set some of them on a better path. Gael’s antics wouldn’t be allowed anymore.

Dorian believed himself to be strict, but he wasn’t. At his core, he allowed children too much freedom of expression so they’d find their potential. He believed too much in his students and wasted years on their trivial futures.

Gael could keep his silly thoughts for today; he could waste his days flirting with girls and playing his games.

“Ba-ba-bawk!” The rooster flapped his wings, feet clicking on the pavement as he stormed toward us.

“Whoa, King Clucks, look at you!” Gael pointed to the stuffed bag floating behind the rooster. “Looks like you cleaned house.”

“Duchess of Damnation must be a good luck charm.” Tiffany turned her head, searching for her familiar.

“I’d say. Hey, where is—”

The rooster squinted at me and crowed, a loud, repetitive croak as he clicked his claws on the concrete. Suddenly, a beaver hovered toward me, grumbling and grunting, chewing on a stick. I straightened.

“Chill, King Clucks.” Gael smiled at me. “ He’s not that creepy. ”

“Sorry about that.” Tiffany grabbed her beaver. “Duchess is temperamental sometimes. She’s very friendly, though.”

The two young witches wondered why their familiars reacted so strongly, each concerned about the limitations of their waivers, and fledgling permits wouldn’t excuse an outburst if their pets cast magic on someone. That raised the hairs on my arms. Those beasts sensed something foul in my scent, in Jasper’s scent. I needn’t linger and draw awareness to a man I’d soon abandon to his simple life.

“Uh-huh.” I slouched, growing exhausted from these two and wanting to escape the walking cesspool of Jasper’s body.

I continued making my way to my destination, ignoring Gael complimenting the prize purse his rooster had won.

Trailing along the next few blocks, I arrived at the busiest street in downtown Chicago and stood outside Gwendolyn’s Guns & Gals. This place would definitely land me on Milo’s radar if the mere contemplation of seeking out Cassidy Gardner hadn’t already.

Not that my brilliant clairvoyant would know what to do with images of Jasper’s future mulling around in his mind. Or would he see me? See Dorian? That idea might perplex him more. All in all, there was no evading Milo’s magics forever.

Even knowing all I did about his visions, how they worked, the systems by which he organized and prioritized futures, I couldn’t account for everything that went through his mind. He played the flirt, the goofball, the smiling friend to everyone he met, but above all else, Enchanter Evergreen was a brilliant tactician. So, instead of skirting his visions, where I’d lack insight into the predictions he plotted, I decided to lean into things, controlling the narrative.

Cassidy remained the most well-connected criminal in a sea of filth that lined the shadows of Chicago. Why Milo bothered contemplating her future stumped me more so than it did Dorian himself. Supposed we had that much in common.

Still, she had the connections I sought, the illegal enchantments I required, and the perfect host body for the next phase in my plan.