10. Lorin

Chapter ten

Lorin

H e was pretty sure he wasn't dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or just straight up going through a mental breakdown.

There was a man standing at the foot of the sofa Lorin was sleeping on. A very real, very naked man Lorin was pretty sure was the same one he had seen reflected in the mirror in his mother's magic room. Without the distortion from before, Lorin could see pale skin, amber eyes, and very light hair on a short, wiry-looking man.

He felt the scream rippling through his throat before he heard it, thundering against the walls and nearly deafening him. He scrambled to get off the sofa, the blankets acting like shackles as he tried to throw them off his body to get away.

It felt like hours, but in reality he had probably only blinked once or twice, because before he could even attempt to ask the man anything, or fight him, or react in any sort of way that wasn't mindless screaming, the man was gone.

The spot where he had stood was empty and Lorin's cabin was deserted again.

He looked around himself frantically, keeping his back toward the walls and away from any semblance of an open space. He didn't want to be exposed. Didn't want to be caught off guard.

Something brushed against his ankles and he jumped a foot in the air, screaming once again before he could stop himself. He looked down and found Kit scrambling to climb up his pajama pants, scratching at his ankles, pulling at the fabric with his claws, and chattering to Lorin at the speed of light.

"Kit!" Lorin sighed in relief, bending to scoop the fox up in his arms, burying his face in the soft fur. "Did you see who that was? Did you see where he came from?"

Kit squirmed in his arms with jerky, staccato movements that made it hard to hold on to him. He was still pawing at Lorin, his head turning in every direction imaginable as he vocalized something. He seemed to be distressed, and while Lorin felt the same way, he wanted to make Kit feel better.

"It's okay," he whispered into Kit's fur. "I got you. We're safe. We're okay."

It didn't help. Kit kicked his hind legs and nearly launched himself out of Lorin's arms.

"Hey—" Lorin crouched down to let go of him. "—easy there. You can't keep doing that. You'll hurt yourself."

He could hear the tremble in his own voice. His heart was still drumming against his ribs and he swore he could feel the echoes of it in his ears. His eyes were still darting everywhere, trying to make sense of what he had seen.

He walked over to the back door, the windows, the front door. Everything was closed and locked. No window broken, no lock picked. And yet Lorin had woken up to someone standing by his side as he slept.

He ran a hand through his hair, too wired to even attempt to go back to sleep. But it was the middle of the night, and he had no idea what he was supposed to be doing. He turned to look for Kit and found him pawing at the books by the sofa, both of them closed now.

Lorin was sure he had left one of them open before he fell asleep. Or was it just his mind telling him everything around him was suspicious and he should trust nothing and no one.

Kit was pushing against the book on familiars, insistently trying to get it closer to Lorin. Nudging it with his nose and paws until Lorin finally picked up on his intent.

"I don't think I can read now, Kit," Lorin said, still standing up and scanning the room around him. As if someone would emerge from the walls and come at him.

Kit pushed the book again, whining low in his throat.

"In the morning, fluffball," Lorin said, the cutesy nickname slipping out without him really registering it.

He walked over, sitting in the corner of the sofa, his back to the wall and legs bent in front of him as he curled himself into a ball. Kit wasn't letting up though. He pushed and pulled and clawed at the book until it was just beneath Lorin on the floor. He was clicking his teeth at Lorin, growling almost, looking at the book then back at Lorin as if urging him to just take it. Open it. Read what was in it.

Lorin sighed and bent over to take the book, pulling it into his lap and settling it on his knees. Kit hopped up on the sofa next to him and settled as close as he physically could without actually sitting on top of Lorin.

He nosed at the book, and with a last roll of his eyes, Lorin cracked it open. He wouldn't sleep anyway, he was too disturbed.

He kept thinking he was hearing steps behind him, feeling phantom fingers reaching out for him even if he knew there was nobody there. Thinking that a face would be in whatever reflective surface he looked at, staring back at him. He kept turning to look behind himself, both hoping and fearing he'd catch the man standing there once again.

None of that happened.

There was just the sound of his own breathing and Kit's insistent whining as he pawed at the book.

"Okay," Lorin said. "Okay, we're good. We can read this."

Kit settled for a split second, but when Lorin flipped to the first page he went crazy again. He hopped up from his sitting position, trying to get to the book, trying to turn the pages, trying to do something Lorin couldn't even begin to understand.

"Kit!" He caught the fox before he could tumble off the sofa in his attempts, pulling him closer to himself and away from the book. "What has gotten into you?"

Kit scrambled to get out of his hold, but Lorin had finally lost his patience.

"You need to settle down! I took the book, I am reading it, and I will read the whole thing, I promise. But you have to calm down now."

Kit whined, but the drive in him eased a little bit. The kicks got softer and the power behind his movements decreased. He seemed tired. He slumped against Lorin and let out another little whimper before quieting down completely. His little body went completely lax and Lorin watched him for a moment, relaxing his hold on him slightly, making it gentler, softer.

He stroked the soft fur, carding his fingers through it, mapping out the spots Kit seemed to like the best. The fox-shaped mark on his palm felt warm at the touch, the raging unease in Lorin's chest settling a little bit. He stroked rhythmically along Kit's muzzle and between his eyes until they closed, lulling Kit into slumber.

He extended one finger and touched the tip of one of Kit's ears, making it twitch wildly. Lorin smiled at the move but resisted doing it again.

He turned to the book again, settling in to read until daytime, his eyes feeling like they were filled with sand.

He was in for a long night.

The book was filled with information he thankfully already knew vaguely, pieces coming back to him as he read. Which was fortunate, because his brain was absolutely not up to taking in anything new.

The book talked about the history of familiars, the importance of them for witches, the different kinds of relationships witches could have with them, the meaning behind the animals witches bonded with and what they said about their character.

All interesting, but common knowledge. He had zero idea why Kit insisted on the book, but the fox was slightly odd anyway, so he just went with it, flipping the pages sluggishly, reading the same words five times before they actually registered in his mind.

He dozed off a few times, head lolling to the side, but Kit obviously sensed him nodding off every time, because he'd spring up and nip at Lorin's fingers, waking him up so he could keep reading. Apparently the fox was allowed to sleep, but the witch was not.

The sun had come up and settled high in the sky before Lorin decided he just couldn't do any more.

He brushed Kit's protests off and marked his page, standing up to make them something to eat for breakfast. And coffee. Lots of coffee.

The rest of the morning passed in a haze. He showered and cleaned the place up some more, taking the trash out into the chill air. It was definitely going to snow later. He shuffled around a little after that, pretended he was reading to appease Kit, typed and deleted texts to his grandmother about the strange man in his house several times. He also started and stopped emails to both his work and his landlord about his stay in Oak's Hollow several times before abandoning it. He didn't know how to finish them.

Time seemed to move frustratingly slowly when you were sleep-deprived and slightly scared of your own house.

Lunchtime found him swaying on his feet at his stove, cooking…something, his brain filled with fog.

"Knock, knock!"

Lorin spun around to see the flower wreath guy, Glenn, boldly entering the cabin like he belonged, a basket on each arm. He was bundled up to his nose, flakes of white sticking to his blue bobble hat and matching puffer jacket. Clumps of slush were falling off of his hiking boots and littering the floor.

Lorin was in shock. Until he wasn't.

"Did you receive an open invitation I didn't know about? Or is rudeness just hardwired into your DNA?" Lorin demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why are you in my house?"

"Just being neighborly, neighbor," Glenn said, voice chirpy and bright, setting the baskets down before taking his outerwear off and hanging it on the coat rack. "Did you know I live just up the path? Like…five miles. We're practically on each other's doorsteps!"

Lorin spluttered at the guy's insanity as Kit poked his head around the cabinet to see what was happening. "Excuse me! Who said you can stay? Put those back on."

"It would be inhospitable to throw us out into the elements. We got halfway before it started coming down on us," Glenn said breezily, finishing toeing his shoes off. Us? Lorin thought before he caught Glenn sniffing. "Is that lunch I smell?"

"For one!"

Kit butted his shin.

"One and a half," Lorin corrected himself.

"Wonderful!" Glenn said, rubbing his hands together. He picked up the baskets again and walked farther inside. "I brought jam."

Lorin was red in the face as he watched Glenn slide past him into the small kitchen without another word. Kit skittered out of the way of his feet, sticking close to Lorin and looking up at him in question.

Lorin didn't have an explanation. They had been thoroughly invaded by someone who was practically a stranger, first meeting or not. Lorin needed to reevaluate his strategy. He didn't want to be beset by ghosts and nosy, know-it-all witches all in one day.

Glenn set the basket on the counter and flipped the terrycloth back, revealing a hamper of all sorts of things, including the aforementioned jam. The other basket, he carefully set near one of the small heaters littered through the cabin, gently pulling back the fur throw. A tiny hummingbird head poked out of a nest of blankets.

"They're migratory creatures," Glenn said, petting the bird on the head with a single finger. "When the snow sets in he gets into a funk, bless him. Spends most of his time in the greenhouse sulking. It was lucky I bundled him up before we left!"

The fight in Lorin melted at the sight of the sad bird. To kick Glenn out into the cold was one thing, but he couldn't do it to that little face. It was manipulation at its finest, but Lorin wasn't immune to it even though he was aware it was happening.

Lorin sighed. "You can stay until the snow lets up."

"I'll be the little spoon."

"What?! You are not sleeping over!"

"But what if the snow doesn't let up?" Glenn blinked innocently. "Last year we had five straight days of it."

"Then that gives you plenty of time to build an igloo!"

Glenn patted his familiar. "But what about Forrest?"

"He can stay. You can go."

"Guess they don't teach house manners out in the city," Glenn said, turning to peruse the meager offerings Lorin had for lunch.

"I like my privacy. Not everyone wants people to come barging into their house every hour of the day."

"Then why was the door unlocked?"

Lorin paused with his mouth hanging open, ready to deny it. Why had he left it unlocked after taking out the trash? Was it a force of habit from being back here, where everyone was welcome wherever at any time? Or had he been secretly hoping someone would drop by?

"I forgot," he said. It sounded like a lie.

Glenn hummed like he'd heard it too. He began to pull things out of his basket, opening them up before looking through Lorin's drawers.

"What are you doing now?" Lorin demanded.

"Saving both of us from food poisoning."

"It's from a can!"

Glenn looked over his shoulder. "That isn't any better."

Kit hopped up onto the counter and skulked along. He paused at Forrest in his nest, the bird going still at Kit's approach. Lorin tensed too, not knowing what could happen. He forgot sometimes that Kit was still an animal that had instincts, familiar or not.

Kit simply tilted his ears and head to the side like a puppy before continuing on to rummage through the other basket of things like that was more interesting by far. Lorin let out a breath, slightly confused but more than happy Kit hadn't pounced on an easy meal.

Glenn let Kit paw through his things without commenting or shooing him away, concentrating on whatever the hell he was doing. Lorin felt like a spectator in his own life and just sank down onto the chair to watch, resigned.

"So…clearly cooking wasn't your city job. What did you do before coming back?" Glenn opened the conversation.

"I work…worked…in a company. As an assistant in a finance firm," Lorin said, correcting himself midway through before running a hand over his face.

The unfinished email was in his drafts, addressed to HR.

Sorry. No longer available to work. Am witch.

Stars and moon above.

"Did you quit?"

"No," Lorin said. "But I plan to."

Glenn licked a spoon clean of jam shamelessly before waving it around in a jaunty manner. "How come? Don't like it anymore?"

"Did you bash your head on the walk over? Or did the temperature freeze your brain cells? Of course I'm going to quit! I found a familiar. Cemented my power," Lorin exclaimed.

"And?" Glenn asked, throwing him a nonplussed look at his dramatics.

"What do you mean AND?"

"Plenty of people work typical jobs and balance witchcraft. These aren't the medieval times," Glenn deadpanned.

Lorin stared at him in consternation for a long moment as the words sank in. He'd been so focused on the witch thing. On one life overtaking the other and preventing that at all costs. It had always been a fight. A separation.

He hadn't even thought that they could coexist.

"What?" Glenn asked playfully. "Didn't think of that while you were throwing your mini tantrum?"

"Everyone in my family, everyone in this town, makes witchcraft their whole life," Lorin said, not feeling comfortable getting into the other reasons. He didn't need to spill his guts out on the table. "I never thought of it in any other way, I guess."

Glenn shrugged. "For some it still is, but not every calling is marketable. You can't make your living off it like we used to be able to, despite what the elders like to push. Your grandma is one of them. They want to keep it all alive, but the times have moved on in some cases. There's nothing wrong with that. You could take your familiar back to the city with you. Pick up where you left off."

Lorin frowned and looked down at the table.

It seemed like he had more to think about than he'd first thought.

"I guess you're right, but I didn't put witch on my resume. No one knows," Lorin admitted, putting his elbow on the table and resting his cheek on his knuckles. "I don't think I could continue working there even if I wanted to."

"But it doesn't rule out anything else," Glenn said cheerily, banging a few bowls as he did…whatever he was doing. "Maybe you can find something that matches up with your calling. That's the real moneymaker."

"Yeah, well, when I know what that is, maybe I can consider it," Lorin grumbled.

Glenn was finally surprised by something. He looked over his shoulder. "No inkling at all?"

Lorin shook his head. "I've been a terrible witch my whole life, so unless that is my calling…"

Glenn smirked, his green eyes lighting up with mirth. "Would certainly be a new one."

Lorin sighed, watching as Glenn began plating various things up and bringing them to the table. There were scones and cream and the already half-eaten jam that was supposed to be a gift. The soup had been discarded entirely and instead Glenn had put together a colorful salad that looked like it had flowers in it.

"Are those dandelions?" Lorin asked.

Glenn nodded proudly. "Picked them this morning from my personal stock. All of it is fresh from the greenhouse and the scones are homemade. The jam I made from my last crop of strawberries earlier in the year."

"So it's not just the flower crowns you make and force on people? Your calling is growing things?" Lorin guessed.

Glenn laughed heartily as he walked back to the kitchen to prepare the familiars some food. "The green thumb and cooking are skills I practiced and honed by myself. Helps me make money like I was saying before. My real calling is flowers and their meanings, imbuing them with intention to help those that call to me. Like you."

Lorin scowled at the memory.

Glenn laughed some more as he washed his hands, the suds rolling over the dark depictions of flowers and abstract shapes on his fingers. "Don't pout. I was right about the foxtail, wasn't I? I knew there was something about it."

He dried his hands and gave Kit a quick scratch behind the ears.

Kit allowed it before he leaped off the counter and onto one of the chairs at the table, sitting like a human would and staring at Glenn expectantly.

"Do you feed him at the table?" Glenn asked with a brow raised.

"No." Lorin frowned. "He's never done that before. Kit, down!"

Kit stared at him before putting his paws on the table, really sitting up and waiting like he could grab a knife and fork in his paws.

"First familiar I've ever seen seat himself, I must say," Glenn said, setting a small pot of liquid in front of Forrest before grabbing a bowl of salmon for Kit.

Glenn placed it in front of him with a flourish. "Your order, good sir."

"Don't humor him. He already just does whatever he wants."

"He exaggerates when he's grumpy," Glenn said to Kit.

"I do not!" Lorin seethed. "Just look at him!"

Kit lolled his tongue out in a vulpine grin and Glenn snickered. "He's just playful. He's a fox, after all. It's in their nature."

"Sure." Lorin stabbed his fork into his salad.

He tried a bite of it dubiously and hated to admit that it was really, really good. Super fresh and weirdly balanced with a hit of something citrus. Better than canned soup by a mile.

"So tell me, is your bad mood tied to those bags under your eyes?" Glenn asked casually.

"Aside from the fact that you just waltzed into my house and I don't even really know you?"

Glenn laughed, crunching a mouthful of fresh salad leaves. "Fair."

"My house is haunted and it kept me up all night."

"I know a witch for that," Glenn said, chewing like a rabbit with a dandelion end sticking out the side of his mouth as he looked around the place. "Though it doesn't seem that haunted, and I've never noticed anything strange when walking past the old place since I moved to town four years ago."

"It's a weird naked man."

Kit abruptly pushed Lorin's fork from his hand with a well-timed swipe.

"Kit!" Lorin exclaimed.

It looked like the fox was glaring at him.

Glenn snickered. "Clearly Kit doesn't agree with you. Maybe he thinks the ghost is cute."

Kit hopped up on the table to pad across and give a startled Glenn's cheek a lick.

Lorin felt an answering rush of envy and jealousy bubble and pop like noxious acid inside him. "Kit. Back to your seat."

Kit gave a sassy wave of his bushy tail before sauntering back at his own sweet pace.

Glenn kept his laugh behind his hand. "He certainly has a strong personality."

Lorin quirked his mouth in a wry twist. "Tell me about it."

"I'll make some calls about your ghost, see what they can do," Glenn said.

"I'd appreciate it," Lorin said. "Thanks."

"What are neighbors for if not to burst into your home uninvited and help you with your hauntings?" Glenn winked.

They finished lunch with some small talk, Glenn talking and talking and talking, never seeming to run out of words even when Lorin didn't have any to offer back. He was an easy presence, if a little overwhelming, but Lorin had been so isolated that he found it wasn't terrible to chat to someone who wasn't his grandma. Glenn filled him in on some town gossip and talked about flowers endlessly like they were poetry.

It was…nice.

Lorin couldn't remember the last time he'd sat and just chatted to someone unrelated to him.

Except Kit.

His gaze moved to the familiar, taking in his intelligent eyes flicking between them like he was following the conversation himself.

Lorin could whisper any and every thought to the familiar, had bared his rawest soul to him and spoken aloud words he'd never voiced before. Kit was comfort. Something about him opened Lorin up like no one had ever been able to before.

But he was only his familiar, and while they were intrinsically interconnected, he was still just an animal, so he felt like it was a little sad to admit that the closest person to him other than his grandma wasn't actually a person at all.

Glenn helped clear up the dishes, checking on Forrest often to see how he was doing. It was as Lorin was drying the plates that he noticed the snow had stopped falling outside.

The blanket of white had muffled the world a little, but it wasn't too thick just yet.

"Snow's stopped," Lorin said, turning.

He found Glenn by the chair, flipping through the book The Owner had given him. Snooping again. Lorin rolled his eyes.

"This is a nice journal," Glenn said, flipping a few more pages absently before admiring the cover.

"It's a book," Lorin said.

"Sure it is. Are you manifesting or something?" Glenn asked with a smile. "Visualizing the words on the page."

Lorin frowned, not understanding a word of what he had just said. "Um…no?"

Glenn put the book back down. "Whatever works for you, man. We should probably get out of your hair before the snow starts again, otherwise we really will be spooning."

He walked to the coat rack to grab his things, putting them on as Lorin padded over to the book. He flipped through, scanning over all the complicated lines of text and depictions he didn't understand. What the hell was Glenn talking about?

Glenn picked Forrest's basket nest up, wrapping him tightly as he headed back to the front door. "The other basket is for you to keep. There's some seeds I left you for planting next year. Some foxtail and foxglove. Also a sprinkling of that delphinium for some extra encouragement. Though it looks like you're doing all right."

He winked and opened the door, the rush of freezing air stealing the warmth from the cabin immediately. He left as quickly as he'd arrived, and Lorin watched him go, shaking his head.

What a weird day.

Kit

Lorin was the slowest reader known to humankind.

Once the nice-smelling human had left their cabin, Kit had insisted Lorin continue reading the familiar book and was very pleased when it only took a few nudges and claw swipes to make him comply.

But then it took Lorin a million years just to get through one page. He read and then went back, then spaced out, staring into nothing for minutes before Kit could manage to draw his attention to the book again. He tried with kisses, cajoling, whining.

It was taking forever, and at the pace he was moving he'd get to the part of the book Kit wanted him to see in about a century.

So Kit paced. He wound his way around Lorin's legs, behind his back, under his arms. He made himself as visible and present as he could, taking any opportunity he could to try and swipe at the pages and make Lorin skip ahead just a little bit.

Each time he managed it though, Lorin would just flip the page back and continue reading from where he left off.

It was infuriating.

Kit was pretty sure he'd vibrate right out of his skin. And even then, Lorin might get to the part Kit wanted him to see and just…not realize.

He had no contingency for if that happened.

He could only sit around and watch it unfold, until Lorin had the nerve to close the book and reach for the other one The Owner picked out for him. Before Lorin could open it, Kit hopped onto the cover and slammed it closed. Lorin shooed him away and tried again, but Kit repeated the hop, refusing to let Lorin waste time on that book when they had more pressing matters to attend to.

But Lorin wouldn't budge. He actually had the gall to scoop Kit up and put him down on the floor, before turning back to his stupid book.

Kit took offense to that, wandering off and pacing around in agitation and anticipation as Lorin flipped his way through that other book. He walked the path from one wall to the other, thinking about going up to the magic room again and seeing if anything up there triggered the shift.

But he hadn't been in there last night.

There'd been no mirror and no magical ingredients around, and he'd still, for a split second, come back as his human self.

He tried recreating last night. That tingle in his bones and the stretch of his muscles. He tried getting to that same headspace again to see if he could shift in front of Lorin to make him understand. But nothing was happening.

He was too in his own head. Too desperate for it, it seemed. Because the two times he had managed it had been almost involuntary. Like someone else's power had pushed it out of him. Like he had very little control of it.

He paced back to see where Lorin had gotten to with reading and found him slumped on the sofa, fast asleep. He whined at the sight, trying to paw at Lorin's nails to wake him up, but the sleepless night had clearly caught up with him and he was dead to the world. No amount of effort from Kit would wake him up. And really, Kit didn't want him to get sick because of him.

Kit flopped to the floor by Lorin's feet, disappointed and tired of trying for hours to get someone to figure him out.

He closed his eyes and rolled on the floor, for all intents and purposes throwing a pretty spectacular tantrum.

His foot caught on something hard and he hissed in pain, looking down to assess the injury, only to be met with a very human-looking foot and a very red big toe on said foot.

Kit jumped up, uncoordinated as he overdid it and nearly catapulted himself headfirst into the coffee table. He caught himself with palms on the smooth wood.

Palms!

He had palms.

He turned to Lorin, opening his mouth to call his name, but all that came out was a scratchy-sounding little whine that felt like razor blades. He coughed and gasped, his vocal cords refusing to shape words. Like he had forgotten how. Like the years of misuse had frozen them.

His throat burned with the effort, but there was nothing happening no matter how hard he tried.

Desperate, he reached for Lorin, shaking him with arms that lacked muscle definition in human form. Lorin frowned in his sleep and swatted him away, but his eyes remained closed and he turned his head to the other side.

Kit tried calling out his name again, shaking him again. He pushed the book off his lap to the floor and yelped when it landed on the already injured toe.

He looked down and found his foot shrinking back into a paw, the fur tufting out of pale skin and nails extending into sharp little claws again.

No!

No no no! Not yet!!

He looked around frantically as the shift slowly took over his body, climbing steadily up, the animal trapping the human.

He spotted a pencil on the coffee table and scrambled for it, falling to his knees as the shift reached his spine.

His fingers wrapped around the pencil, stiff and uncoordinated. He attempted to turn and write in the book, but found it closed and pushed to the floor.

Cursing his impulsivity, he spun back to the coffee table, lifting the pencil up and putting it against the wood.

Hair sprouted from his shoulders, slipped down to his elbows.

He had to be fast. Had to come up with something Lorin would get.

He scratched the first two letters into the wooden surface before the pencil slipped from his grip on the third.

His front paws formed. The pencil clattered and rolled onto the floor.

He tried to speak once again. He managed a tiny yelp that, somehow, startled Lorin awake.

But it was too late.