9. Lorin

Chapter nine

Lorin

N o matter how many times he looked into that mirror, the face never showed up again. And no matter how much attention he paid, there were no other signs of anyone else residing in the cabin other than himself and his familiar. Lorin was beyond confused.

He attended lunch with his grandmother without mentioning anything, but he knew she could tell something was on his mind. Thankfully she hadn't pried for a change, letting the conversation revolve around more neutral topics. It felt like getting to know her again. He appreciated the reprieve, even if he was aware it was temporary. She was nosy. She'd find a way to bring it up. And if he were being honest, Lorin was pretty sure he'd tell her.

Losing his mind was not out of the question, and he wanted that option ruled out first. He had enough on his plate even without an actual mental breakdown.

He was pushing the pedals on his bike as best as he could a day later, heading into town with Kit to check out the Magic Shop. According to his grandma it would be in town for a few days and Lorin had to take advantage of it while he could.

He agreed.

He remembered the quirky place from when he was younger, but he hadn't been allowed to explore too much in there at the time. His grandma had taken him with her a few times under strict instructions not to touch anything or wander away from her while inside.

And under no circumstances was he to go into the back room on his own.

She'd never specified why, but she'd sounded so serious and scary saying it that he hadn't questioned it. He'd stuck to her like glue when she'd brought him with, making sure he didn't even brush against anything while inside.

He wondered if those memories were part of why he was feeling uneasy now that he'd have to navigate the Magic Shop on his own.

He huffed and struggled all the way to the center of their town, glancing around to see if he could spot the swirly red sign of the Magic Shop. It never appeared in the same place, looking for available spots to settle when it visited. It made for an interesting experience, because the layout would be slightly different each time it appeared, depending on the space it had found for itself.

Something red flashed in the corner of his eye and he turned left, finding the familiar sign tucked at the entrance to the first little street leading away from the main town square. Lorin hopped off his bike and turned it toward the street, pushing it next to him with Kit half hanging from the basket.

He'd barely managed to get the fox to come with him. He had been spending as much time as he could in the magic room, and Lorin was getting slightly worried about him. Not to mention the fact that his behavior was making Lorin even more anxious about whatever the hell was going on with the invisible man he seemed to have in his cabin.

He put that on the list of things he wanted to try and find answers for at the Magic Shop. He didn't know where else to find them.

He rested his bike against the wall right under the bright red sign, and with a deep sigh, pushed the door open. He motioned for Kit to follow and the fox hopped out of the basket, weaving its way inside.

Lorin trailed after him, turning left and right to see if there was anyone else inside. He found it odd to see it empty when the town only had a few days to get what they needed, but he'd take the stroke of good luck the universe had decided to give him.

"Hello?" he called as he walked farther in, the narrow passages between the shelves looking like they'd cave in on themselves any moment.

The Magic Shop hadn't changed since the last time Lorin had seen it, despite the different floor plan. It was still crammed full of things, reaching up a lot higher than the outside space led you to believe was possible. There were library ladders scattered around in a few places and sections marked with hanging signs. The shop carried anything and everything you could think of as a magic user. From books, to tools, to clothes, to spell ingredients. The inventory was never-ending. And even if you didn't see something displayed, Lorin remembered so very clearly that it didn't mean they didn't have it. You just had to know how to ask for it.

"Ah." A voice came from down one of the passages, steps echoing along the wooden floor. "Young Lorin. Long time no see."

A figure emerged from the shadows—tall, thin, dressed in a white shirt, black vest, coat, and pants. A tall top hat was perched on his head and he thumped a cane on the floor with each step.

"You remember me?" Lorin asked, wondering how it was possible that the man looked as frozen in time as the shop. Like he'd been pulled out of the last memory Lorin had of him.

"Certain things are hard to forget," The Owner said with an eerie smile, walking closer. "You have bonded recently, I see."

"Yes." Lorin shifted closer to Kit without quite knowing why.

The Owner looked down at Kit with his fathomless eyes and hummed. "An arctic fox familiar. You certainly march to the beat of your own drum, don't you?"

Before Lorin could even think to respond, The Owner walked behind the counter at the front of the shop, drumming his fingers on the wooden surface.

"Looking for your calling, I assume?" he asked.

The way he already knew sent a small shiver down Lorin's spine. "Yes, I… My grandma suggested I need to dive in and explore until I can find what fits."

The Owner swept his gaze over Lorin and tilted his head, the top hat staying put like it was glued to his hair.

"I'm guessing neither her nor your mother's calling suits you. You don't seem to be the type."

"I don't?" Lorin asked, feeling like it was an insult despite the fact that it was the truth.

"No. I don't know where you'll find yourself, but I do believe it'll be very far from the rest of your family. Come this way."

He walked out from behind the counter and disappeared down an aisle. Lorin followed without having to be told to, allowing himself to be led through the maze until they reached a shelf filled with books.

The Owner plucked a thick leather-bound book from the middle of it. He pushed it into Lorin's chest and then let go, making Lorin scramble to get a hold of it before it tumbled to the floor.

"Start here," he said. "It's my favorite one."

And then he walked back toward the counter.

"Wait, I had a few more questions!" Lorin called after him.

"I find that the best way to solve mysteries is one at a time," The Owner called back before disappearing from sight, leaving Lorin to stand in the middle of a dusty passage with a gigantic book in his arms.

"Right," Lorin said, looking down to find Kit pawing at another book at the bottom shelf. "You like that one?"

Kit huffed.

"I guess I'll grab that one too," Lorin said, pulling Kit's choice off the shelf. "Not like I have any sort of direction here."

The book Kit had chosen was some sort of a thick tome on familiars and their benefits for witches, the history of them and the traditions surrounding bonding ceremonies. Based on the title, it appeared to be just a collection of very basic, rudimentary information. Coincidentally, Lorin really felt like he was starting from scratch with both the witch and the familiar thing, so maybe it wasn't a bad choice.

He hauled the two large books over to a small table in the back corner of the shop and settled into a creaky chair to read. At least this he could do. Reading was familiar.

Kit hopped up onto the table after him, weaving around the books before planting himself directly under Lorin's chin. The curve of his back was pressed against Lorin's chest and his amber eyes were focused on the books as if he was getting ready to read them too.

Lorin smiled, lifting a hand to scratch him behind his ear instead of moving him aside. He rested his chin on Kit's fluffy head and sighed. He was trying to figure out both their life paths here, so maybe Kit could sense that? A familiar was built to help its witch. Lorin didn't practice magic, so maybe the familiar was reacting in other ways?

Lorin had never heard of such a thing, but twelve years avoiding any mention of magic was a long time for things to change.

If Lorin could just work out what he was supposed to do, maybe Kit wouldn't be acting so weirdly. It made him wonder if Kit's form had anything to do with what it would end up being. Foxes were known for their cunning, their mischief. They were quick and they could be smart, but Lorin had no idea how that applied to anything Lorin was good at.

He sighed again, opening both books up and looking between them with a grimace, rubbing at the tingling marks on his fingers as he tried to figure out what to start with. Witch paths weren't always clearly set, but they usually lay in similar veins to one another. They could have the same medium—for example, water—but work with it in completely opposite ways, so there wasn't a guide to pick from that he could easily access.

Lorin's problem was that he wasn't good at anything.

He'd never had an affinity for herbs or plants, he'd killed even the simplest succulent in his city apartment, and rituals sent him to sleep, much to his grandma's continued consternation. Potion work turned out like most of his attempts at cooking—burned and barely recognizable. Heating things up was the height of his skill set. Crystals lay inert under his touch and the moon never sang to him. The elements treated him like any other normie on the street.

It didn't matter how many books he'd read as a kid, all through to adulthood. He knew the theory, but the application never worked. It had only solidified his decision to bail out of this life.

So flipping through the dusty tomes now felt like an exercise in futility.

Had anything ever called to him? His grandmother had certainly never mentioned anything, and he'd bet his left kidney that she would have held that over his head if she could have.

He flipped another page in the book The Owner had given him, scanning the intricately drawn runes on the page. He traced them with the tips of his nails, wishing he could make sense of them. Kit was nosing the book he'd chosen next to him, flipping the pages for him even though Lorin wasn't reading them. It was such a sweet gesture though that Lorin didn't have the heart to stop him.

Time passed like that. Lorin couldn't tell exactly how long from this deep into the shop. There wasn't any natural light that reached back here. What was curious, however, was that no other person entered the shop while he was there.

It was eerily empty. Just Lorin, Kit, and The Owner.

Eventually, Kit grew tired of being a page turner and curled up in his lap. He seemed a little sulky, and Lorin felt bad, giving him a few extra pets and deciding that he'd grab a treat for him on the way home.

Which should probably be around now. He didn't want to be caught out in bad weather before he could get back to the cabin.

He closed the books and was about to gather his things when a long, slender shape slinked into the chair opposite as if emerging from the shadows themselves.

Lorin screamed. He wasn't ashamed to admit it. Kit popped his head back up to see what was going on.

The Owner smiled, about a hundred white teeth on display. "Any luck?"

Lorin fought down his shiver. "No. Maybe I'll come back tomorrow—"

"Take it with you. On the house."

"Oh…uh…I couldn't—"

"It wasn't a suggestion," The Owner said.

Lorin was rendered speechless at the blunt forthrightness. "Thank you?"

The Owner said nothing in response to that, instead reaching into his pocket and laying a rectangular silk pouch on the table between them.

"Have you ever drawn cards?" The Owner asked suddenly.

Lorin sucked in a sharp breath, inching backward in his seat like the innocuous cards would jump out of the pouch and attack him. Lorin had always been fearful of his own fate. "No. Never."

"Just as I thought." The Owner tilted his head then. "Would you like to?"

Lorin clenched his jaw. "No."

"I don't offer the chance to just anybody, you know." The Owner smiled, leaning in. "Only a special few."

"No offense, but I've had about enough of my fate being dictated to me for one month," Lorin said, remembering the flower crown and looking down at the marks on his fingertips.

The end of a cane landed in his palm, and he jerked his head back up, startled. Kit gave a muffled growl.

The Owner was staring at him with a mysterious gaze that seemed to sink further and further inward, like a spiral. Lorin was afraid if he got sucked in he'd never find his way out. It was terrifying.

"A single card," he said, his voice a whisper.

Lorin swallowed, his mouth completely dry, heart hammering in his ears.

It was like the room had become suspended in time. Everything was dead stillness and unnerving silence. He clutched Kit closer on his lap, feeling him curl up tighter, his ears going flat like he'd sensed the oppressive power that had blanketed the room like a heavy cloak.

"Fine."

The Owner's smile got impossibly wider as he removed his cane and opened the silk pouch. He gestured to the revealed deck. The cards were beautiful, of course. Matte black background with intricate metallic artwork in all the colors of the rainbow.

And then they began to shuffle and move under the influence of The Owner's twitching fingers, like he was a puppeteer making them dance in front of him.

Lorin could taste the magic in the air, ancient and commanding.

"Your fate is in your own hands," The Owner said. "I make the cards move, but you choose your own paths to walk. The truth you seek is in your heart, but you must state your intention out loud, otherwise the cards will not speak."

Lorin felt his fingers tremble and Kit nosed worriedly at his stomach. He closed his eyes and pulled at all his uncertainties, having nothing else to lose. "I'm lost. I've always been lost. I don't know what road to choose."

"Reach out."

Lorin did, only opening his eyes once his fingertips touched the cool surface of the card. It hummed under the pads of his fingers. The rest of the cards melted away into the ether like they were nothing.

"Interesting," The Owner said, even though the card wasn't face up.

Lorin snatched his hand back, shaking his head, filled with sudden and inexplicable fear. "I don't want to see."

The Owner looked at him from beneath heavy, commanding brows. "Once a card is drawn, it cannot be undrawn."

Lorin had known that before he agreed, but he still trembled in his seat, watching The Owner's pointer finger slowly turn over, and with it, the card.

"The Hermit. Upright."

The anticlimax was enough to send Lorin's vision spinning. He'd been expecting an omen. Something to tell him that his fate was to be the same as his parents'.

"All the answers you seek are within yourself."

"How can they be when I don't know them?! I asked for guidance."

The Owner flicked the card up into his hand in one smooth movement before presenting him with it.

"Not every answer is easy to reach. You must first confront everything you're hiding from. Search your soul. Reflect. You're already in the right place. Stop seeking answers from others, they don't hold the key. Only you do. Then the path will open up."

He held the card out and Lorin took it with shaky hands.

The Owner smiled, then got up and left as silently as he'd appeared, leaving Lorin shell-shocked and no closer to understanding anything than before.

Kit

Lorin was asleep. The books he'd been given were lying on the floor next to the sofa. The familiar one was open to the last page Lorin had been reading before falling asleep.

He had given up on the other one hours ago, clearly getting frustrated as time passed and he got nowhere near figuring anything out. Kit empathized. From the glances he'd taken in the Magic Shop, there always seemed to be blank pages staring back at him. It seemed like the book The Owner had suggested contained very little information at all. But Kit also felt decidedly happy when Lorin switched his attention to the familiar-themed book.

He needed Lorin to start figuring things out. He needed him to realize Kit was more than just his fox familiar and find a way to help him.

He had bounced up the stairs a couple more times since the mirror incident, trying his hardest to figure out just how he'd shifted, but it was useless. He had no idea what he had done, or even if he'd done anything to begin with.

One moment he'd been there, and then he just wasn't again.

He hopped off the sofa, making sure not to wake Lorin up, and started pawing through the book again. The pages rustled in the silence of the night. Lorin snuffled in his sleep and Kit paused to make sure he settled back down before continuing.

There had to be something in this gigantic book about shifter familiars. There just had to be a way to give Lorin a hint, steer him in the right direction.

He flipped page after page, his fox shape making it harder to read. Words weren't as easy in this form. They seemed too long and scattered to make any sort of real sense. But Kit didn't need to read the book, he just needed to find the right chapter, the right passage to show Lorin.

He was halfway through the book before something got his attention. There was a photo of a man in mid-shift from eagle to human, landing next to a woman in a long dark green robe.

A witch, Kit was fairly certain.

And her shifter familiar.

There was no other explanation for the way she greeted the eagle in the photo. With open arms and a gentle look on her face. Her palm was extended toward him and the eagle's wings were visible on the inside of her fingers. Tattooed on her skin.

Kit perked up, hopping around as he stared at the eagle, his wings spread wide but feathers already making way for smooth skin. Face in a grotesque but magical midpoint between animal and man. Kit could almost sense the stretch in the bones, the itch in the muscles, the rush inside the head as more complex thoughts overpowered the simplicity of the animal ones.

He could recall how it felt to allow your entire being to transform into something else. Something bigger. More complicated.

He closed his eyes, his entire body tense as he tried to will himself to do it. To just go back to who he really was. To break the wall someone had built between his fox and the human he could be.

Echoes of it were there, he could tell. It wasn't an itch so much as a tingle. There was no real stretch, but there was something there. Small and barely noticeable. But something more than what he had managed to feel in years.

He pushed himself harder.

Until a scream broke his focus and he scrambled away from the book as fast as he could, body still small. Compact. Fox-like.