13. Lorin

Chapter thirteen

Lorin

" S o you don't have a ghost, you have a shifter," his grandma said, her beady eyes scrutinizing Kit in a new light.

"Apparently," Lorin said, still reeling over the information himself.

He'd ridden straight home after the library to read and actually ate and drank a gallon of coffee like a normal functioning person until he heard the rumble of his grandma's car parking outside. The house door had swung open for her without needing to be touched, the threshold shaking with welcome.

She was a sight for sore eyes, literally. If anyone had firsthand information on shifters, it was her.

They'd settled in the living room, her raven flying up to watch from the rafters.

"And you didn't notice?"

Lorin scowled. "You didn't either!"

She scowled back, matching him. "He was only in my house for two days. You've been living with him and he's your familiar. Do you need me to do everything for you?"

Lorin pouted a little, like he was a five-year-old getting scolded for backchatting. "Why are you here then? Can you help me or not?"

His grandma sighed long and loud as she sank further into the chair, tapping her cane with her spindly nails as she thought.

"I've never heard of a shifter being unable to shift. Your father never had any issues," she said. "Shifting is as natural as breathing to them."

"The Owner hadn't heard of it either."

She frowned harder at that, looking back at Kit before murmuring, "Most curious."

Kit huffed in answer—a long, tired sigh.

"Your father used to get all pent up when he hadn't shifted for a while. I can't imagine how your Kit must be feeling. Or how long this has been an issue," she said.

"That's what I'm worried about. Do you think it's damaged him? The vet said he's fine and he didn't look injured when I saw him…" He flushed, thinking back to seeing Kit as a human. Naked. He knew Kit didn't mind being naked in front of him. Knew it was all natural and accepted in their community. But Kit was…different. He was something more to Lorin. He was his, and the thought made the experience feel like something larger than just seeing a naked body.

"Why are you blushing, boy?" she said, poking him with her cane. "You've seen a naked body countless times before. The moon festival—"

"I'm not blushing about anything." Lorin pushed the stick away, fighting his reaction. "I was pointing out that he didn't seem injured to me."

"It's impossible to know," she said. "Magical health problems are not always visible. And we can't examine him in this form to know if there's anything wrong with his shifted self. They're two different things. You have to do them separately."

Lorin worried his lip, looking over at Kit, who was paying total attention to their conversation, looking hyperfocused. Lorin supposed he would be too if they were discussing what was wrong with him.

"I have to wonder," his grandma mused, breaking Lorin from his thoughts, "why was he at that ceremony?"

Lorin frowned. He hadn't even considered that. "Do you think he was looking for help?"

He turned to Kit, who looked back at him with an intelligent gaze. He felt something twist in his stomach. Had they bonded when Kit was only looking for someone to help him out of his predicament? Had he somehow forced him—

"Stop spiraling," his grandma snapped. "Remember the basic lessons I taught you. Bonds go two ways. In fact, bonds are more than that for shifters. He views you as his mate."

" What ?!" Lorin spluttered, eyes bugging.

His grandma smirked. "Congratulations."

Kit yipped, shuffling over and licking over his neck as if to happily confirm that. Lorin could only numbly stare at her under the ministrations.

"He might have been searching for help, there's no way to know until he tells us, but there is no doubt about the connection you share, so let's put that aside and concentrate on the more pressing issues. Like working out why my grandson-in-law can't shift."

"He's not your grandson-in-law!" Lorin screeched, absolutely mortified.

Kit put a paw over Lorin's mouth like he was refuting that statement entirely.

His grandma cackled evilly. "What do you think mate means?"

Lorin had no idea! Well, actually, he did. His parents' relationship and his very existence on this earth was a direct answer to that very equation. But Lorin had no idea what that meant for him and Kit.

Kit who was a fox.

Kit who was also a very pretty human.

Kit who was still licking his neck like he was marking territory.

Stars and moon above.

"Can we get back on track?" he squeaked out, pushing Kit away from his mouth and neck before he spontaneously combusted.

His grandma took pity on him. "Where have you gotten to with the problem so far?"

"The Owner said he'd look into it for me, then pointed me in the direction of the library, where I checked out a book. I've been making some notes."

"Well, you were always good at reading."

"One of the only things I was good at," Lorin muttered. "But that doesn't help if I don't understand or know what I'm looking for."

"No one facing a new problem ever does. The magic is in the discovery."

"This is the ‘handle it on your own, kid' tone. I do not like that tone," Lorin said.

"Lorin." His grandma sighed. "How many times do I have to remind you? You're a witch."

"You're a better one."

"Get to my age and then we'll compare," she said, heaving herself out of her seat.

"Grandma," Lorin pleaded, following her up and grasping her weathered hand. It was the first time in so long that he'd reached for her, and it made his throat tighten. He'd missed it. "I get the whole learning curve and independence thing, but if it's hurting him…"

His grandma cut her eyes to Kit and then squeezed his hand back once. "I'll be putting some feelers out in the shifter community. I still have a few contacts with some of your father's pack. I'll see if anyone has heard of this before."

The relief Lorin felt was indescribable. "Thank you."

His grandma shook her head at the gratitude. She grabbed his chin with her rough fingers. "Believe in yourself, Lorin. I always have."

With those earthshaking words, she let go of him and hobbled out of the cabin, her raven flying after her.

Lorin let out a shaky breath.

She was rarely quick to compliment him, so when it happened Lorin knew it to be special. She said she believed in him. Now. When he was at the biggest crossroads in his entire life and clearly had very little idea of what he was doing. She said she believed in him when he felt nothing but lost and confused.

She said those weighty words to someone who was quite literally stumbling in the dark. But his grandmother didn't lie. It was one of the hard, harsh rules she had. Honesty before anything else. No matter how painful or uncomfortable it might be.

So if she believed, he had to as well.

"Okay," he said to Kit, who was still glued to his side. The mate talk was still swimming in Lorin's head.

So many things made more sense now that he had that information, but he didn't think he had the time to dwell on it at that moment. He needed Kit to be human before they could actually talk about it.

So he shuffled back to the book and his notes, side-eyeing Kit, who was huffing and puffing next to him, glaring at the pages as if they'd personally offended him.

"I know it's slow-going, but I'm doing my best," Lorin said.

Kit looked down at the book, then up at him, then down at the book again. His face had no real expression on it, but Lorin felt judged anyway.

With those eyes glued to him, he went back to reading, realizing that despite not actually finding anything of value, he was still enjoying the process of learning new things. He still liked all of the new information he was finding.

And despite not knowing why, he felt like this book would give him something. At some point.

Hours ticked by, the day eaten up by the creeping night. Lorin had to remind himself to eat, only because Kit was there and it wasn't fair to starve him on top of everything else. He had a momentary crisis about what to feed him now, abruptly horrified that it hadn't occurred to him earlier in the day when he'd set the bowl of food out without thinking. Kit was actually half human—did he want to eat raw, smelly, dead fish? Kit happily snatched the decision away from him with sharp teeth, answering the question for him.

They settled back in after that, Kit leaving occasionally to go outside and run off some energy.

Lorin could feel he was restless. It was vibrating from him and along their shared connection. It made Lorin even more determined to work this out, but with a rocky past with witchcraft and no real information on where to start looking, it was a slow process.

Lorin reluctantly turned in to sleep that night with words scrawled behind his eyelids, his mind turning over question after question with no answers in sight. Kit's light form beside him was a living, breathing reminder of what was at stake.

It was easy to admit how much Kit meant to him now, after such a short time. He'd wormed his way into his heart between one beat and the next. What if there was more wrong than him just not being able to shift? What if, somewhere down the line, Kit just gave out from only being able to live as half of himself?

It haunted him, in this house full of memories that felt too close to home.

He only managed a light, fitful doze before he was up with the rising sun, reading and pacing and fretting again. He felt crazed and consumed by it.

If only he had a direction.

It seemed like he couldn't see the forest for the trees right now though. No one had contacted him with any further information and he needed some clarity.

He sighed to himself, looking up at the disappearing moon making way for the reappearing sun.

If only Kit could speak to him without playing charades. If only there were an easy way to contact the human half of him. But mind spells were tricky and dangerous. They had all been told horror stories as kids, tales to make sure they were warned off even thinking about trying them. It was easy to cast your mind and lose it altogether. Spells like that weren't distributed among the common masses. Only the most well-trained attempted it, and even then, sparingly.

So Lorin could only guess at what Kit would be trying to tell him if he asked him in this form, which also created its own problem. One wrong move on Lorin's part, the wrong intention or understanding of what Kit was trying to convey could cause irrevocable damage or harm to both of them.

Intentions needed to be clear.

That was Witchcraft 101.

If only there was a way for them to speak.

His brain couldn't leave the idea alone, even though it had caution tape wrapped all around it. Lorin looked back at his books with narrowed eyes.

He'd been jumping two steps ahead to try and find the solution immediately. The cause and effect. But maybe he just needed to concentrate on a way to contact Kit without it being dangerous. If Kit could convey some real information to him without any room for doubt, Lorin might be able to figure this out faster.

They had a solid connection linking them together, grounding them, and Kit's mind was very obviously not just fox thoughts. If he could maybe follow along that link and communicate…

He sank on the floor, pulling his books closer. Kit slept on in front of him, unaware. Lorin turned the pages with a clearer goal in mind, lit up with possibilities, scanning the spells…

And then he found it. Tucked right at the back.

A meditation of sorts, a wandering of mind that skirted the edges of danger.

It was called Seeking.

Lorin had never heard of it before, but as he read, he realized witches in the past had created it for finding their familiars. Before the times of potentials, it had called to their other halves. It gave the witch a glimpse into the familiar's mind. A chance to see what they saw for a brief moment, to identify where in the world they could be and if they were compatible.

It was recorded that it wasn't often successful. Sustaining the spell was too taxing across such distances, and many a witch's mind didn't make it back. It drove many more insane.

It was slightly horrifying, and explained why he had never heard of it before, but it was here…in a book readily available to him or anyone who wanted to check it out. It couldn't be so bad.

Maybe Lorin could adjust the spell's intention?

It was almost crazy to consider, but Lorin was hooked on the spell. After all, he already knew his familiar. He had the connection in place. There was no long road to travel, just an already lit and paved path.

How could he get lost?

Surely if he could just enter Kit's mind for a minute, Kit could show him the answers he sought? It would be a matter of moments.

Heart pounding and mind overtaken by the idea, he took the book with him to his mother's magic room, gathering the ingredients he needed with single-minded intent. Kit's safety and well-being were paramount. Nothing could happen to him.

He brought everything he needed with him, slipping outside into the snow and chill.

The ritual could only be done outside, under the clear gaze of the moon that was slowly fading.

He didn't have a lot of time left.

He stood for a moment, doubt and logic finally raising their heads. He'd barely come into his power. He'd certainly never cast a spell of this magnitude before. Did he really want a partly forbidden and mostly dangerous one to be his first?

A glance back at Kit's innocent form through the glass door steeled his resolve.

He was sick of being afraid and hesitating. He was a witch, just like his grandma had told him. So he could act like one for the good of his familiar, because not figuring it out was worse. He didn't want to end up like his father if something happened to Kit. He already cared so much for him. The depth of it was scary to fully examine.

He made his way to the old wooden washtub, happy to see it was as he'd suspected—full of rainwater that had frozen over. Without a naturally flowing stream or lake like the book suggested, this was the next best thing for pure, untouched water, something the book said helped the mind flow freely. It couldn't be warmed or tampered with, and only the ingredients of the spell could be present.

Which was lovely in the onset of winter.

He broke the surface anyway, turning the ice to chunks before he consulted his book for the ingredients again, his breath puffing in front of his face in clouds. He wasn't confident by any means, but it was like another person had overtaken him, guiding his hand as he measured out what he needed, praying to the moon above that he was doing it right.

A heavy sprinkling of salt to ward off anything evil that wanted to break through to him while his mind was wandering. Lavender for clarity. Mugwort to enhance dreams and divination and ease the path.

He lit the silver candles next, at the points of a star around the base of the tub, calling down the moon to help his psychism. He could feel the magic building with each added ingredient as he kept his intention at the forefront of his mind, binding it into every action.

The forest had stilled around him to witness.

All that was left was to climb in and say the words.

"I know I should call you, Grandma, so you can tell me I'm a reckless idiot, but you wanted me to try things on my own, so really, this is on you," he muttered to himself as he disrobed completely as the book said to. "Oh my moon and stars, it's so fucking cold I'm going to die."

He hopped from one bare foot to the other, dreading climbing into that ice bath.

He'd come this far though.

He sucked in a swift breath, forcing himself over the side and in in one quick movement. It stole all the air in his lungs immediately as the water came up to his shoulders. He couldn't even scream, sharp fingers clutching the sides of the wooden tub like they had frozen completely and would snap off.

Shaking, with his eyes closed, he began to mutter the incantation through chattering teeth.

" Water and moon, I beseech you,

Offer my mind clarity.

Water and moon, I beseech you,

Guide me safely along my path.

Water and moon, I beseech you,

I seek, I seek, I seek. "

Stubbornness drove him to take as deep a breath as he could manage through his spasming body before submerging himself fully in the icy depths.

It was like taking a dive in the arctic.

He tried to ignore his body's fight to pull back out, locking himself in place as his fingers finally left the edges of the tub and slithered in after him.

Focus inward, Lorin.

Clear your mind and find the connection.

It was easy to locate. Lorin often found himself stroking at the bond, like he was testing its strength. He'd lied to himself at first that he was checking to see if it could be broken, when in reality he was holding on to it like a child, hoping it never left now it had settled.

He was so scared of Kit disappearing.

He followed that feeling, that resolve, finding the road in his mind that he had chased Kit down when they first met. He walked along the dirt path with bare feet, searching the trees around him for a sign.

"Where are you, Kit?"

Other paths began to appear in his periphery, tempting him. The pull toward them was strong, and he began to forget just what he was doing.

Maybe if he just went that way…

A yip pulled him back to the path, sounding confused and scared.

Lorin frowned, his heart pounding. Vaguely he could feel his lungs protesting, but it was a distant thought and feeling.

Another yip, louder this time, and Lorin began to run.

"Kit!" he called out. "Kit!"

The road stretched on, no end in sight, no sign of his familiar. Fog began to slide in from the edges of his vision, blurring the paths and overtaking everything.

"Kit? Where are you?"

He began to struggle, feeling his body weaken, the connection shaking and blurring around him.

No.

He hadn't found Kit yet.

He fell to his knees on the path, feeling his surroundings pressing down on him. The weight of the trees was sitting on his chest. The fog obscured his vision.

"Kit…" he gasped.

He couldn't draw breath. He didn't know the way back.

He felt so lost.

But just as the world collapsed inward, color fading to blackness, a shape bounded into him at lightning speed, right into his chest. It knocked him backward, a vision flashing before his eyes like a movie as he tumbled back into his own body and broke the surface of the icy water, coughing and gasping for air.

He hung over the side of the tub as the real world faded back into Technicolor, the vision before him fading into the sight of Kit, fully human, standing before him.

Kit

He hadn't thought he'd ever see those moments again. While the visuals he had as a fox were blurry and abstract at best, he knew. Every inch of him knew what had happened to him all those years ago.

He was aware of the fear and the uncertainty that had accompanied it. He could recall the horror of realizing he was stuck. He could hear the taunting and the laughter and the victorious cheering as his body shrank down to his fox form against his will.

A deep, hidden, human part of him could recall it if he tried.

Which was why he rarely did. He didn't want those images in front of his eyes. He didn't want to look back and see them chasing after him, hot on his heels. Close enough to touch him, hurt him again.

But then Lorin had done whatever it was he was doing, the reckless, thoughtless, impulsive little witch, and Kit was right back there.

All the way at the start of it all.

The moment his mind had found Lorin's, something had ignited. Like someone had pressed an on switch on his mind and a flurry of images had burst through.

They weren't in order, at least, he didn't think so. He'd tried battling them, storing them back behind the wall he'd built around them, but it was useless. He couldn't escape them. Something Lorin was doing was calling them to the surface, and Kit had no choice but to watch them like a horror movie.

A skulk of foxes, tumbling around in the snow. Two large ones and six pups, rowdy and mischievous, nipping at each other, chasing each other around and yipping when they won the game only they knew the rules to.

A cozy den, warm and inviting. Smelling of freshly made stew and a table filled with family as their human forms talked over each other, laughing and teasing while they ate.

A crash in the night that had sent them rushing out of their beds, scared and confused. Their bodies ready to fight but minds telling them there would be no winning. They had to run. They had no time. Their den was compromised, taken away from them by force by someone they didn't know, someone they hadn't even seen coming.

But they could smell danger in the crisp air around them.

Voices.

Countless, loud and unfamiliar, echoing around the walls that no longer meant safety for any of them. A patter of paws on wooden floors, leading Kit and his brothers and sisters out the back door away from the voices. Away from the threat.

A stumble in the dark. Just a split second of fear-laden paws tangling. And then arms around him. Cold and rough.

Yanking him back as he screamed after his family.

Stuffing him into something where he no longer saw anything. He wanted his parents to come back for him. He also wanted them to just keep running, to leave him and get to safety. He could take whatever was happening, if he just knew his family was safe.

Then the waiting. For what felt like hours before the unknown people came back. Empty-handed if their anger was anything to go by. Even directed at Kit, it calmed him down. They hadn't caught them. His family was safe. His skulk had managed to escape.

He could deal with whatever they wanted from him now.

He'd closed his eyes and let darkness swallow him.

The rest of the memories were even hazier, flashes like photographs in his head.

A small, dusty room with no windows.

A flurry of people coming and going, their faces blurred and unrecognizable.

So many questions he didn't have answers to.

He was hungry.

He had no idea how much time had passed.

And then a clearing. A beautifully cold night with a clear sky and the moon hanging low, nearly touching the tips of the trees.

The scent of herbs and the crackle of power carried on the wind.

An itch under his skin, familiar but unwelcome at that moment. He didn't want to shift into his fox form. He needed his human side to figure out what was going on and where he was, what he could do.

A pull in the pit of his stomach.

Falling to his knees as voices around him rose. Like a prayer. A chant.

No.

A spell.

Hurled at him. Sticking to his skin. Prodding beneath it. Circling his bones and settling in his veins. Forcing itself inside him and pulling at the parts he wanted to keep hidden.

Faces looking at him, arms lifted into the air. White dresses billowing around bodies.

Eyes dark and menacing as they stared at him.

His human side losing the battle, the fox taking over.

Then a blur again. An empty space he couldn't fill.

Daylight. Woods around him, dewy and cold. His paws pounding the ground as he ran. Footsteps following after him for hours until he finally lost them. But by then he'd lost himself too.

He didn't know where he was or where he was going.

Time passed in strange little bursts. He felt like he'd lost mere minutes, but the seasons had changed in the meantime.

And he was alone.

He found his way back to his den, but his family weren't there, their scent completely erased from what was once a home to Kit.

He remembered the desperation and the ache of emptiness inside him.

And then the search.

Relentless, endless, hopeless.

And then Lorin.

Finally, blessedly, Lorin.