Chapter Thirty-Two

I sank into the memories of my manifestation, doing my best over the course of Thanksgiving break to make sense of this madness, these vile actions, and the unadulterated hatred he held for me. Though I didn’t believe in fate, not the same way Milo and Finn always did, I considered it quite fortunate this horrible truth hit me during time away from work.

There was no way I could face my students knowing the malcontent my manifestation held. I couldn’t face Chanelle knowing what he—what I’d—allowed to happen to Jamie. I certainly couldn’t face Milo.

Oh, Milo.

In years past, I preferred quiet, isolated holiday breaks. A reprieve from the world and all the expectations of human interaction. But this year, I’d been hopeful, even secretly eager, to spend my first Thanksgiving with Milo since he and Finn dragged me to some food bank to make the holiday meaningful. They wanted the good PR that came with it, naturally, but their intentions were genuine.

However, in the aftermath of Peter Graham’s death, Enchanter Evergreen used this time to cement his image in the public and dissuade concern about the recent upheaval. He kept the details of the devil far from the press, from his thoughts, from me. But I’d seen more than him and had the horrors etched into my skull, scarring my mind. Milo wanted everyone to have a peaceful holiday, and I told him I wanted to be alone. In truth, I didn’t want to have a much-needed conversation. I didn’t know how to broach the topic or disclose what I’d done by extension.

For the days that passed, all I did was sit and dwell and make sense of the splotchy memories. They were thrown at me with such force that they landed in my bumbling brain, rearranged, fragmented, and in pure disarray. So, I sat in the quiet stillness of my home, deep in my own mind, ignoring those nearby and sorting out the chronicles of chaos I’d unleashed.

Charlie chirped, rubbing his head against my thigh and plopping onto my lap. This wasn’t his way of asking for affection. Nope. This was merely his way of reminding me he was here, the way he’d always do when I was glum. Even Carlie joined her brother, nestling close to my hip and not once complaining about her late meals or lack of snacks.

They truly were too kind to me. I wasn’t worthy of them, of anyone, or anything.

The holiday break had ended, and I hadn’t sorted through half the nonsense my manifestation had caused. It left my mind in shambles. I wished I could blame the break for that. Often, a few days off made returning to the monotony of work an excruciating ordeal, shaking away the jetlag of freedom and rolling back into endless routines.

My routines didn’t come easily, though. Milo continued working hard, picking up the slack of his acolytes who needed to recover. I didn’t push him when he reached out with rainchecks. In fact, I invited the opportunity to avoid him and forgo the impending conversation where I’d have to explain everything I’d caused. Inadvertently or not, the manifestation came from my mind, my magic, my will. He was vile. Cruel. Selfish. Obsessive. Everything I pretended to have control over, pretended to have outgrown, pretended to strive for improvement. He was proof that I was still awful.

“Mr. Frost.” Caleb strolled close to me as we approached my classroom. “Is it, um, well, would it be, um, okay if, um, I skipped—not skipped skipped—but like missed homeroom this morning for like a study session in the library where they’re holding a library study session.”

Looking at Caleb, every vision Milo had of him collided with my telepathy flashing by so quickly. The void vision rose to the top, the single most life-changing vision I’d held onto the day my magic synced perfectly with Milo, yet the others were there now, too. They’d always been there, it seemed.

I squinted, gleaning Caleb’s frantic little mind because the words felt like a lie, but I was honestly grateful for the distraction of my own thoughts, of the past visions.

“A library study session during school hours?” My expression shifted into a scowl, forcing Caleb’s hive of a mind to send the truth fluttering to his surface thoughts. “One they didn’t send an email about?”

“Well, it’s sort of an informal thing, so they didn’t wanna clog emails up.” He grimaced, then swallowed hard, burying the truth from escaping his lips but not his thoughts.

“ Gotcha. ”

Caleb clamped up, his shoulders raised, his eyes widened, and his mind revealed everything in apologetic bursts.

He planned on skipping morning homeroom in favor of some project Vik and Tia organized. Something involving a group casting. Caleb was instrumental in research components because of course he was, given his vast knowledge of branch magics.

He wasn’t the only one. A group of students were selected.

Katherine, Layla, and Melanie among them—though Caleb only saw relevancy in Katherine’s attendance given her branch magic. Each favored ditching instead of asking me for permission, something Caleb couldn’t rightfully do. His polite anxiety made it impossible to “ask for forgiveness, not permission,” as Katherine had encouraged.

“What are you all doing in the library?”

“Studying. Important project stuff.” Caleb shivered as a cold sweat of deceit grabbed ahold of him. “It’s a good cause, I swear. I’d never miss class intentionally, but this is really helpful. And we’re probably not doing anything new in class anyway. I mean, before break, you were totally lax—so the opposite of your style, but understandable given everything that’s happened. Which is awful, and I don’t mean to make light of it or why class structure shifted.”

Caleb avoided mentioning Jamie’s death, even in his thoughts, as he referenced around the topic. “But you didn’t even send an email before school today, which is weird because usually, before the end of a holiday or, like, even a three-day weekend, you send an email on what we should definitely be ready for when we return. But again, it completely makes sense. I just figured today would be a good day to miss since we wouldn’t cover anything, and then we’d also learn something. Not that you aren’t teaching. The reviews before break were fantastic and insightful, probably the best reviews I’ve ever had the chance to review—”

“Stop talking.”

“Yes, sir.” Caleb nodded profusely, like it’d somehow clear his mind, yet all it did was add to the growing headache his swirling thoughts caused.

“You’re really gonna have to work on that whole oversharing thing if you want to have a successful interview as an industry professional one day.”

“Of course. It’s at the top of my list because I understand the importance of a solid social presence to help alleviate and support a community is—” Caleb tightened his lips to stop talking as he realized he was once again on the verge of oversharing.

“Let’s go.” I unlocked my classroom door, allowing a few students inside. I blocked Caleb from entering.

He fidgeted while I turned to those in class. Looking at the students who’d arrived, I saw everything Milo’s magic had glimpsed of their potential futures. The mundane, the momentous, the mortifying. It all rumbled in my mind, threatening to crumble the very fabric of my being. I pushed all the visions aside, buried deep in the darkness of my subconscious, and fixated on their thoughts which helped alleviate the whirl of potential futures.

“I have to run to the library real quickly. Take this time to review”—I glared at Caleb, who averted his gaze—“or finish any missing work. Until I return, you’re in charge, Gael.”

“Hell yeah!” Gael jumped out of his seat, levitating until he stood on top of his desk.

Fuck. How was having Gael finally using his levitation root more exhausting than when he actively avoided it?

“This is a dick tatorship, and you will all obey the authority of my cock.”

“Cl-cl-CLUCK!”

“Not you, Gael.” I waved a hand, knocking him back into his seat with a thud, then turned my attention to Gael Martinez, who had a bubbly smile. “You’re in charge. Please make sure everyone stays in the classroom and doesn’t goof off—much.”

“On it.” Gael saluted me, then walked to the front of the classroom with a bit of swagger, already planning a brain game that mostly involved him drawing things on the whiteboard.

“Let’s go.” I dragged Caleb with me to the library, where I intended to learn the full extent of this project, for which so many felt the need to skip class.

Once we entered the library, Caleb’s stomach twisted in knots, threatening to make me queasy with his anxious unease. Katherine eyed him from a few tables she’d sequestered from the rest of the library while setting up concoctions for a handful of other students. Caleb scrunched his face, trying to think of how to explain where it all went wrong.

“Go ahead and join them,” I said, offering him a chance to tell Katherine why I’d joined despite the fact they sought to do this under the noses of their teachers. Whatever this was.

Truthfully, it couldn’t be that terrible since they were in the academy library, but the secrecy, even Caleb’s mind refusing to reveal exactly what they planned, made me too curious.

Amani handed the librarian a fake pass for her and Layla before making her way to the back, where Tia gestured for everyone to take their places.

I walked over to the reference desk and eyed Ms. Abounader as she typed away on her computer, not so much as double-checking the glamour on the scraps of paper Amani handed her.

“You realize those passes are fake.”

“Honey, I’ve been doing this for twenty-seven years, of course I know. Though, gotta say, Amani’s glamours are a lot better than her dad’s.” She didn’t look away from her computer, already searching class records on the students and concocting a list of books based on their interests—the limited amount she had—that she could casually influence them into giving a try. “Get outta my head, Dorian.”

I cleared my throat, a bit flustered. Ms. Abounader was one of the few remaining staff members from when I attended the academy, and she treated me more like a student than an educator most days.

“That’s because you’ve still got a lotta learning to do.”

I frowned. For a busybody old biddy with a simple augmentation branch that allowed her to extend her limbs to those hard-to-reach places, she had a way of always knowing what people were thinking.

“You don’t have to be psychic to know stuff.”

Ms. Abounader vexed and annoyed me in equal measure.

“They’re working.” She gestured to the students. “They’re not goofing off. They’re not being disruptive. Honestly, there’s a few I see in here quite often looking for a new book, and it’s nice to see them dragging a couple friends in, too.”

“You don’t even know what they’re doing in here,” I said, having gleaned that much from her thoughts.

“Go ask ‘em.” She shooed me away. “No one’s keeping you here.”

Reluctantly, I took Ms. Abounader’s advice and went to investigate.

“What exactly are you all doing?”

Vik hesitantly stepped forward, the role of leadership very much not what they wanted. It was essentially Katherine’s idea, yet she’d insisted Vik came up with everything when presenting it to the others in the group. Their branch didn’t even play a role, so Vik intended to pass the role of group leader off to someone else since Katherine wouldn’t accept it.

They figured Layla or Amani would be the best leaders to coordinate this project. After all, they both enjoyed being the center of attention and were good at bossing people around. Instead, the pair pretty much bullied Vik into getting off their ass and making it happen.

I tilted my head, realizing Layla and Amani didn’t do that precisely, but it certainly felt that way to Vik. The way folks reimagined their memories sometimes… It almost made me laugh.

“We’re creating a living memory,” Vik said.

I quirked a brow. Apparently, quite aggressively, with my stern, stone-like face that never faltered from peering through the souls of unfortunate bystanders. Seriously? That was what Vik thought from a single expression? Geez.

“It’s a combination of several different magics.” Vik kicked their foot into the floor, wishing they’d have copied a tunneling magic so they could burrow deep into the ground and disappear. “It’s a high-tier enchantment spell. A few enchantment spells. Katherine knows more.”

Katherine widened her eyes, waiting for Vik to continue before realizing they’d passed the mic to her. “Basically, it’s a mix of spell craft, invocation, potion craft, glamouring, and a warding totem. We thought we’d need some psychic energy too, but Caleb’s research says it’ll work without any.”

“What are you making?”

“A living memory.” Katherine gestured to Vik. “Weren’t you listening to them?”

“Of what, though?”

“Jamie,” Katherine said, the only one in this group capable of flatly saying his name without becoming consumed by emotion. She really was the most level-headed of her peers, of most adults, too. “When he and I created a hybrid spell, it infused a living signature of his magic and presence. With this combination spell, we’ll be able to create a snow globe effect on memories people hold of him.”

Tia signed, leaving Harrison to interpret since she’d ditched her interpreter for this library adventure. And honestly, I supposed it was better than how she usually ditched her interpreter to take a vape break with whoever she could drag alongside her.

“My magic will create a command over the parchment from Katherine’s grimoire and transfer that energy into the totems Layla bought.”

“They’re incredibly rare,” Caleb chimed in. “I found a few knockoff versions online that would’ve probably done the trick, but this set definitely makes all the difference.”

“It was nothing.” Layla shrugged off the praise, wanting to bury everything about this as deep in her mind as possible, but I caught the regret, the guilt, the laborious work involved in procuring these totems from her grandmother’s collection where they sat gathering dust like cheap trinkets hoarded and lorded at parties only a handful were worthy in attending.

In exchange, Layla agreed to spend winter break in The Hamptons, something she despised. It wouldn’t be a simple vacation with her grandmother but a difficult testament of resisting persuasion, manipulation, and obligation for Layla. One where Layla’s grandmother would encourage her to once again consider guild work in New York, Seattle, San Diego, or a dozen other handpicked cities where her grandmother held connections. It was important, after all, that the Smythe family balance their reach nationwide, and Layla’s older brothers already cemented their place in Chicago.

I didn’t have much sway in families that laid out futures for their children, but I could mull it over when helping Layla choose her internship next year. If I worked hard enough, I might find her a guild with an incredibly persuasive enchanter. Then it’d just be about making sure Layla rocked her internship. It wouldn’t be the first time I nudged a student toward their interests over their family obligations, and it helped so much more when a top-notch enchanter encouraged that student to join their guild after graduation.

“Christ,” Layla snarled, the roar in her thoughts pushing away my telepathy. “Are you seriously going to give a whole history lesson on the fucking totems?”

Caleb gulped. “I’m done.”

“ Thank fucking god. ” Amani rolled her eyes at Layla, and the pair smirked.

“Once Tia’s command is placed, the spells settle together in a nice combination, and then we’ll be able to activate the final component of enchantment symmetry with a simple potion.”

“Nothing simple about this.” Harrison pulled out a few vials filled with a deep purple liquid. “It took all Thanksgiving break to get it right. Well, mostly because my uncle kept mixing his holiday hammered beer brew into my cauldron, but it’s still a complex potion.”

“Wait.” I cocked my head. “How long have you all been putting this idea together?”

They all stared quietly, their thoughts revealing the time and dedication. Research, late nights, cross-analyzing spells, syncing all their casting frequencies, countless trials and errors, and so much more than any of them had learned from classes. Each one of them went above and beyond to put this together.

“What happens when the potion hits a totem?” I asked.

“Thanks to my glamours and Katherine’s spell housing Jamie’s magic, it allows the person holding a totem to relive a memory.”

“I would’ve preferred a psychic magic like retrocognition,” Caleb interjected, ready to offer an entire lecture behind retrocognition and how the magic allowed one to view the past, but I already knew that branch deeply, personally. He didn’t share once Amani and Layla glared. “It’s a really rare magic. Only five people in the state are even registered with the branch.”

Which wasn’t to say there weren’t more, another tidbit Caleb wanted to drop because only licensed witches had to offer their branches for public records. Unlicensed branches remained confidential government records.

“This is a lovely idea you’ve all come together to create,” I said. “Why not share this with me or your homeroom teacher?”

“Mrs. Whitehurst has enough going on,” Amani said, then waved a hand at me dismissively. “And you’re always hanging on her skirt every day. We didn’t want you giving it away.”

“Yeah,” Vik said, fighting the nervous squeak in their voice. “We made one for Mrs. Whitehurst, too. As a surprise. But it’s mostly for Jamie’s family. You know?”

“I do.” I nodded, truly impressed by the innovation and collaboration of these students.

Work was a beautiful distraction, so much so I was deeply saddened when the fast-paced classes came to an end and I had to go home. Each lecture, each activity, each question from a student kept my mind too busy and active to fixate on all the reasons I was a horrible person who’d ruined lives with my branch, with my manifestation.

I went to respond but lingered, watching the three dancing dots. He had more to say, and I didn’t know where to begin.

I grinned, skin buzzing at the simplest message. My spirits lifted, then sank back into insecurities, doubt, and the fact that once I told Milo the truth, the full extent of my part… I swallowed hard.

Fuck. Love. That made it sound like an easy-going, screw-your-brains-out kind of night when it wouldn’t be. Not with the revelation I’d had.

I tossed my phone, ignoring the buzz, and whatever happy response followed. Hopefully, that’d settle any eager anticipation that tugged at my heartstrings where Milo’s mind called out to me, excited to come over.

The hours passed, and I organized my thoughts, trying to find the best way to begin this conversation, yet when the knock at my door hit, my mind went blank. It didn’t help that Milo barged right inside, using the playful rhythmic knock as a cutesy formality.

“Feels like you’re a million miles away when I’m buried in work.” He strolled over, a swagger in his walk, and plopped onto the couch beside me. “We have a lot to discuss.”

“I should go first.”

“Guessing you glimpsed the devil’s resurrection or survival or a hundred other things I’ve been attempting to make sense of.”

“No. Yes.” I froze. Milo avoided me, too, not wanting me to learn the chimera had returned, had nefarious plans, and sought to blot out the perfect futures Enchanter Evergreen strived to make a reality. “I’m the reason the devil never died.”

Milo’s face fell, pensive and concerned, thoughts swirling into a thousand paranoid half-accurate assumptions that I’d lied about letting go of Finn, that it somehow unraveled all of this, how I must not love him if I kept something like this a secret.

“I do love you. And didn’t mean to withhold any of this.” I cleared my throat, fighting the crack of my gruff voice, turning pitchy as my eyes teared up. “It was my manifestation.”

“You made a manifestation? I thought—”

“I couldn’t?” I nodded. “So did I. Turns out that was because the last one I’d conjured hacked the strings connecting us and sort of did his own thing.”

“What does that mean?”

I explained it all, everything that I knew, that I’d made sense of. Even with everything hurled back into my mind from the day the manifestation walked away from me to the night he perished, I still struggled to organize the memories mixed with hateful thoughts, torturous encounters, trauma, venom, visions, hopes, fears, desperations, and so much more.

I told Milo everything. How my manifestation stole away the wisp connected to Finn’s being, containing the chimera, skirting Milo’s visions, attempting to control Theodore Whitlock, failing, falling prey to the demon he couldn’t ever control, the party, Jamie’s death, the attack on his acolytes, and the final act where Finn convinced him, convinced me, to finally do the right thing and put an end to the devil who sought a perfect host.

Milo sat quietly, patiently listening, even simmering his thoughts that held a hundred questions I couldn’t rightfully answer.

“You keep saying you did this.”

“I did. It was my magic, my personality—and damn if that manifestation didn’t hate how much we were the same.”

“You always said your manifestations are extensions of yourself.”

Most manifestations I created over the years were empty reflections of myself with no thought or will, merely a second sight of my being. But some of the stronger ones carried more quirks, more individuality. I’d never thought much of it, never suspected one could transform into something as terrible as this.

“But this manifestation was made of raw emotion mixed into magic.”

“They are mostly reflections…were.” Not that I’d ever make a manifestation again after all this. “The problem is it’s my raw emotion, my magic, because they’re me.”

“They’re pieces of you; they aren’t you. You’re more than your impulsive desire and self-loathing, which, from everything you’ve said, it sounds like this manifestation was a powerful combination of those two elements.”

Milo scooted closer, unable to handle the distance between us, and truthfully, I wanted to collapse into his embrace and let the world fall away as he consoled me. But I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t deserve him.

“My magic killed a kid.”

“No. A demon killed a kid. Your magic—not you, but your magic—made an error. Failed. Fucked up royally, but that’s not on you.” Milo placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it until the grip pulled me away from my thoughts. “You didn’t see anything he did because he broke away, meaning he was a thought run wild on his own. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“Someone has to.”

“God knows you are the best when it comes to laying blame at your feet, but I need you to realize this wasn’t you.” Milo rubbed his hand up and down my arm. “I thought about killing Theodore Whitlock after what he did to you. I thought about killing Peter Graham all those years ago, snapping his neck, and watching the potential dangers he posed fade away. Does that make me a murderer for having the thought?”

I didn’t respond because it wasn’t the same. No, we weren’t our thoughts; I learned that long ago after every mind surrounding my teenage brain bombarded my telepathy with a billion hypotheticals. But not everyone had to worry about their faintest fantasies or impulsive ideas springing to life and causing carnage like I did. They didn’t have to worry about some manifestation they’d breathed life into then tearing loose and destroying the lives of everyone around them.

“Am I responsible for the lives they took?”

“What?” I choked on the word, my sight glossy from tears welling in my eyes, but Milo had the most sincere expression, no humor, no anger, no doubt as he asked.

“Am I responsible for the deaths Theodore continues to cause? Am I responsible for Jamie Novak’s death?”

“No.” My throat burned, and tears rolled down my face. “Never. You can’t stop everything. Can’t predict everything.”

“But I did know the dangers Theodore, Peter, and a hundred others held and still hold. I know full well the potential harm they can cause. Not these deaths, but the potential remains. I chose to keep my conscience unburdened by bloodshed. Does that make me guilty? Culpable? Responsible? My magic saw a solution and showed me a possibility to snuff them out. Am I bad for not taking it?”

I fell forward into Milo’s chest, burying my face and sobbing.

“You’re not responsible, Dorian.” He stroked my hair. “You’re not to blame. You’re not every bad result of your magic. This is a lesson I’ve seen you teach kids a thousand times over.”

He meant in his visions. He had so many involving me. In the classroom. At home. With him. Alone. The happiest future for the two of us, something so bright and beautiful I still couldn’t glimpse it amongst all the other visions flooding my mind simultaneously, but it existed. It could exist.

“I need you to realize this wasn’t you.” Milo squeezed me tighter as I trembled in his arms. “I need you to stop blaming yourself. I need you.”

The words hit hard, harder than every burden I blamed myself for, harder than every desire to isolate myself, every desire to run away because I wrought Hell upon those around me.

“I love you, Dorian.”

Milo held me all night, ignoring his phone and reminders of late-night cases, and sat with me as I struggled to get past what I—what my manifestation—had done.