9. Damian

Chapter nine

Damian

I watched Owen scurry out of the deli and couldn't help the happy chuckle that escaped. The guy was so cute. I thought of what Molly had said the night before. Was he my type? I didn't know, really. I liked men who were shorter than me, thank goodness, because I hit six-four when I was still in high school. I was hardly ever not the tallest person around.

Besides, I don't think I'd ever gone out with someone like Owen. I pushed the thought aside. I wasn't one to focus on types. If I liked someone, I just went with it. I was very much like my dad in that way. When I'd come out to him all those years ago, he just shrugged. "If you like something, you like something. Makes no difference what I think."

I was hurt at the time, thinking he was belittling my sexuality. Of course, now I realize he was telling me he loved me no matter what and that it was my business who I liked.

I glanced down at the manilla envelope in front of me. I hadn't opened it in the office, mainly because the grumpy-looking lawyer had told me I wasn't supposed to. I hadn't thought to open it in front of Owen, but now, I wish I had.

I tore the seal and pulled out a strange parchment-type piece of paper. ‘ Touch the quill to the top of the page' were the only words on the paper.

I looked inside the envelope and found a feather with a writing nib on the end like the one witches or wizards used in fantasy movies. I searched for ink, but finding none, I shrugged. "Might as well try it out," I said, not believing I'd be able to write with it.

The second I touched the quill to the paper, though, it began writing on its own. I jumped back, startled, and tried to stop it before I made a spectacle of myself. Several people glanced my way and gave me a strange look. Then I realized they were reacting at me and not at the quill.

When I calmed down, no one was actually staring at the strange feather quill writing away on the parchment. "So fucking weird," I whispered so no one could hear.

I tried to read the words, but with no luck. They didn't seem to be written in a language I recognized. I mean, it wasn't even an alphabet. It looked more like scratches and dashes. Almost like the ancient languages we studied in grade school. One of my teachers had been a massive fan of the Rick Riordan books, so he'd shown us ancient Greek writing, Egyptian hieroglyphics, and writing from the Middle East .

I watched with fascination as the quill wrote and wrote. Still, no one looked my way, so I sipped my soda and waited for the thing to stop.

Finally, after a very long time, it did, and the quill just fell over like it died or something. I reached with my right hand and picked up the paper to decipher the writing. Finally, I just gave up and slipped the quill back into the envelope. I picked the paper up in both hands to slip it into the envelope too, when my ring began to glow, and the words on the parchment began to transform.

Since ancient times, one individual, each generation, has been called to represent the legacy of the wizard. You have been called to fill this role. The quill and parchment are your lifeline, and you can use them to call upon the wizard who came before you. That wizard will help guide you through this lifetime.

My name was Elias Ericson, and I was born at the end of the First Great War. Upon my calling, I was forced to survive with nothing but the quill and parchment to guide me. No wizard may use their gifts to enhance their own prosperity. That's the first and most important law to understand.

If you try to use your gifts for personal gain, you will lose your power and put the entire universe at risk.

Fighting the dark forces who will inevitably come for you is difficult when your basic needs aren't met. Therefore, as your predecessor, I have striven to ensure you are better prepared to function in your new calling.

By now, you will have received the assets I have gifted to you. Before I begin to train you, understand that you will have plenty of money to function without having to work outside your calling. If my instincts are correct, that will be important as the dark will fall upon you harder than ever during my time.

There is transportation in the garage for you to use as well as the home. You should not need material things during your lifetime of service.

Besides struggling with financial concerns, I suffered great loneliness during my service as the Legacy Wizard. I do not wish that upon you. I have also planted the seeds of companionship for you. However, no one, not even a wizard as powerful as we, has the power to force someone to love another.

You will have to earn that love on your own, but hopefully, if my manipulations have been well placed, you will stumble upon a suitable mate to help you walk the often dangerous and treacherous journey ahead.

Legacy wizardry is primarily instinctual. You will learn to listen to and follow those instincts with your entire focus if you hope to survive. I will train you as much as possible, but ultimately, your inner thoughts will help you the most.

I will leave you with one final thought, the home I have given you is indeed special. I purchased it because it was already filled with the souls of those who had passed and wished to remain in service. You have nothing to fear from these individuals. Although, you should be warned their bark is often worse than their bite.

If they accept you, they will serve you as loyally as they have me.

Your style will inevitably differ from mine, and the home is enchanted to meet your needs. Of course, I couldn't do it myself, but since I have enchanted the house for you, my successor, I've taken the luxury of ensuring that your needs will be met.

For now, you should spend as much time in your new home as possible. Getting to know your servants and understanding that having clear boundaries will help ensure you have the space you need to hone your craft.

The room on top, in the attic, is further enchanted. You can use the space to train, learn, and recuperate. Only one spirit has access there, and his name is Orville. Please understand Orville is not the easiest spirit in your home to get along with, but he is the one you can trust with your life.

As your duties become more dire, you will need his help. So, please be patient with him.

Give yourself one full week in the home, get to know your servants, and allow Orville to introduce you to those willing to be known, and he will guide you. Place the quill back onto the parchment when you are ready to begin your instruction .

I've informed Orville to remind you of this instruction. I dare say that means he will be a bit more insistent than you may wish, but for your sake, you will need to train sooner rather than later, so forgive me for placing him in your way. Ultimately, you will appreciate the chance to begin your training early.

One can never know when the dark powers will attack. For some reason, each wizard is given a grace period. None before us have understood why. However, the grace period always ends sooner than we wish, and the first challenge of your powers is often the greatest.

Controlling the outcome decisively is the best course of keeping peace during your service.

I apologize, young wizard. I'm already going into teacher mode. Take your first week, enjoy your new home and your servants. The house is a fussy place with odd nuances, but it has served me well through my service. I can only hope it serves you as thoroughly.

Elias Ericson

I stared at the parchment long after I finished reading and then read it all again. Finally, the writing disappeared from the parchment, and I stored it back in the envelope with the quill.

The strange man in The Magic Shop had called me a wizard, but I hadn't understood what he'd meant. I didn't understand it now. I was supposed to be the wizard who replaced this Elias guy who'd recently died. And spirits as servants? I mean, having seen the picture, I had to assume that was real.

Even having a name, I wasn't sure I felt any better about facing him. The idea of ghosts living in my home with me, especially when I knew they were there and could see them? Damn, I'm not sure I can handle that.

Trust your instincts had been the instruction. Right now, my instincts told me to go back to the house and meet these… What were they? Ghosts? Meet my servants. And I probably needed to do that before I brought my friends over.

I picked the envelope up and walked toward the exit. I paused when a strange-looking man stood across the street, watching the front of the deli. I could feel him staring at me, seeing me even though I was still inside the building.

Finally, he turned away and walked toward the end of the street. I'm not sure why, but it felt like he was saying "until later" in a threatening way. Trust your instincts? Right now, my instincts told me that man was no good.

They also told me I wasn't in danger, at least not yet. I left the deli, climbed into my car, and headed toward the Queen Anne neighborhood and the mansion I'd toured yesterday with Owen.

I scanned the area where the weird man had walked, but there was no evidence of him now. At least that was good, right?

The regal house sat in the Victorian neighborhood, almost inviting as I drove up to it today. Unlike yesterday when it was misty, the sunshine made all the difference as it shone off the multicolored paint.

I thought of my dad's apartment and then of the mansion. Would I be able to leave all I'd ever had and move into a level of opulence I'd never considered or even wanted? Would I be a fool not to want it?

The memory of the man staring at me moments before convinced me I might need any protection I could find. If the house gave me that, I'd be a fool not to take it. That propelled me out of the car and through the front gate.

I'd forgotten to lock the front door when we left yesterday, but it was locked tight when I tried to open it. I would've wondered who'd been here, but now, thanks to the magical parchment and quill, I assumed the ghost servants had closed and locked it.

Jeez, when had I begun to think of ghosts as normal? That was weird.

The house was spooky. I mean, knowing there were ghosts made it worse, but even not knowing, the place felt like it had been designed to be haunted. Would the spirits accept me? That was the real question.

I turned the key and walked in, expecting to see ghosts rushing around, dusting and stuff. Luckily, that didn't happen, but I still felt like someone was watching me. "Um," I said, leaving the door open so I could bolt if needed. "I guess I'm supposed to get to know you. Elias gave me this place. He said Orville could help me get to know you. "

I heard movement above me, and a few moments later, I heard someone descending the stairs. I don't know how, but I could tell someone was standing in front of me. "Mr. Orville?" I asked.

Slowly, a figure began to take shape, like one of those strange lights popular during Halloween that made your window shades look like people were walking behind them.

"What is your name, sir?" the figure asked once he became solid enough to see.

"I'm…uh…I'm Damian Richards, and yours?" I asked.

"Orville is the name I go by now. You are the new Legacy Wizard, then?" he asked, walking around me as if assessing whether or not I was up to the task.

His behavior got my back up, and even though he was a freaking ghost, I still would've walked away or flipped the guy off had the parchment not told me this was typical.

"I suppose we will have to work with what we've got," he said and turned. "Come with me, and we'll try to make something of you."

I didn't move. I wouldn't allow someone to talk down to me—not even a ghost. Remembering the parchment said I needed boundaries, I stood rooted in place and waited for the ghost to turn around. "Listen," I said when he made eye contact, ignoring the shaking in my knees. "I realize you have been around a long time, and the parchment, Elias, said you can be trusted, but you will not be disrespectful to me, not if you wish me to work with you. Is that clear?" The ghost narrowed his eyes but nodded. "Good. Where would you like me to go?"

"I would like to introduce you to the rest of the staff, sir," he said, and I detected an air of respect that had been missing a moment earlier. Was that wishful thinking? Maybe, but at least I was standing up for myself.

Besides, if I were going to live here, and I wasn't sure I was going to, I wouldn't be talked down to—not by him or anyone else.