~ Chapter Thirteen ~
R egan’s work week seemed to drag. There was plenty for him to do, keeping him busy, but he looked forward to Friday night and spending time with Lutin and, hopefully, the Twins.
He really wanted to get back to his training.
Yes, he yearned for the ability to touch the elements but he also missed the Twins and spending time with them.
He grew curious if they grew any older, what would they be like? How would they have changed?
Despite being cut off from the elements, Regan still noted all the various magical auras, and at least now, thanks to his reading, he knew what many of them were.
Unfortunately, no one at his work was part of the magic community.
But down the street from his home lived a family of Gnomes and working at the bakery near his house were a couple of Fairies.
At least he assumed that’s what they were, based on what he saw.
Most of the beings he saw tended to be human-presenting creatures.
He hadn’t seen anything like unicorns, or centaurs, or werewolves, who were all supposed to be plentiful in the area.
In the evenings, after work, he would read through Max’s books, trying to glean as much knowledge as possible. There was so much to learn and he knew he couldn’t master magic by reading, which made him miss working with the Twins even more.
He managed to do some research on Trolls.
From what he read, Trolls were not to be messed with and when angry or threatened, Trolls were a force to be reckoned with.
He noted they also held grudges. Not the cute funny trolls from the movie, then.
Despite all the warnings about Trolls, they also understood the world; over the years, they learned, changed, and adapted to humans and the world as a whole.
Their magic was basic but powerful. And many Trolls lived amongst people and had productive lives.
This seemed to be the case of many magical creatures.
And more importantly, there was a large population of Trolls on the West Coast.
Regan read that the more humans learned and adapted, the other magical creatures had to do the same.
Some didn’t and unfortunately died off. The thought of losing these beings and creatures saddened him.
The books he had didn’t say how many magical beings had come to be extinct, which was unfortunate.
He would need to check at the cabin and see if there were more books on the subject.
I wonder if there are dragons?
He chuckled at the image of him riding a dragon through San Jose as people cheered him on. “That would be a sight.”
As Regan crammed his backpack full with clothing for the weekend, he ensured he had everything he needed.
Checking his phone, he figured most of the Friday traffic would have cleared up and it wouldn’t get dark until after 8 p.m. or so, which made him happy.
“I have plenty of time to get to the cabin.”
Setting the alarm and locking the house, Regan made his way to his Jeep, catching a sweet floral yet spicy scent in the air. He inhaled deeper. Hyacinths must be blooming. He smiled at the thought, tossing his backpack into the backseat of his car and then getting in.
Absently, he checked his phone hoping to see a message from Lutin, but unfortunately nothing.
He wasn’t surprised—only slightly disappointed.
Lutin didn’t appear to be interested much in technology and he couldn’t ever remember seeing him with a cell phone.
Regan wondered if that was common of magical beings or a personal choice on Lutin’s part.
He’d seen online a lot of younger people were turning their noses up at technology, instead more interested in real connections and being around their peers.
Somehow, he doubted that was the case for most people given how popular all the different forms of social media were. There are so many to get lost in.
He turned up the Jeep’s radio and sang along to the music as he headed to the cabin and his wonderful weekend away.
By the time he pulled into the driveway of the cabin, the sun had been well and fully into its descent for the night.
Soft wisps of fog and clouds had started creeping their way amongst the trees and mountains.
“It’s going to be a chilly night,” he grumbled since he forgot his coat at home.
He thought there might be one here he could use, but still. Annoying.
Collecting his backpack, he made his way to the cabin door, figuring he’d want to get a fire going to warm the house.
He’d probably need to check what was stocked in the kitchen as well.
He didn’t think to bring any food, but the store wasn’t far.
He peeked around the driveway and up toward Lutin’s pathway.
He had hoped Lutin would be here to greet him, but maybe he wanted to give him some time to get settled.
He didn’t remember telling Lutin what time he would get here today, so he might not come by until the morning.
Either way, he figured once he got settled, he might walk over to Lutin’s cottage and say hello.
Let him know he was here, and see if he wanted to come over.
Dropping his backpack in the bedroom and forgoing getting a fire started, Regan found a jacket, pulling the article of clothing on and deciding he couldn’t wait to see Lutin.
With the coat zipped up, he headed over to Lutin’s home.
Ge reached the clearing and noted there were no lights, and no sign of life, the only noise coming from the small stream Regan always heard.
“Weird,” he grumbled and moved to the front of the cottage and knocked on the door. “Lutin, you home?”
As he turned, a swish of air caught his ears, an explosion of pain burst from his head, and then darkness.
The throbbing in his head and neck were vying for attention as mumbling found its way to Regan’s ears.
He shifted and tried to raise a hand to his neck but nothing worked—he was bound up.
He went to speak but again nothing. The rancid taste of dirt and sweat filled his mouth as he struggled to speak.
He moaned and grumbled, slowly opening his eyes.
He was no longer in Lutin’s grove, and he struggled to figure out where he was.
Despite the dim surroundings, he made out four basic walls, a high ceiling of metal or perhaps tin, at least one door, and what appeared to be two large garage doors.
Assaulting his nose were the smells of gas, earth, and machinery.
Where am I?
A gruff voice pulled his attention. On a chair sat Lutin bound, bloody, and bruised. Two giant men—beasts—creatures stood near him. One of the creatures struck his face with a crack. “How many more are coming?” the guy growled.
“No one,” Lutin forced the words out along with a mouthful of blood. A greenish glow from around his wrists and legs shifted along with his appendages.
Magic bindings? Regan watched, helpless to do anything. They were using magic to keep Lutin down. Bastards!
“You lie,” the man yelled as he turned and pointed to Regan. The guy had jagged teeth, large nose, big pointed ears, and a hard-solid forehead, but instead of a beard he was clean shaven with a dark buzz cut. The beast was huge.
That’s a troll.
Regan struggled and tried to shout. He caught sight of the aura—the troll was similar to the images in the book, but different at the same time. The guy was in dark jeans and a plaid shirt with a leather sleeveless jacket covered in zippers over the top. He looked more like a biker than a troll.
“He showed up looking for you. Who else is coming? Blaise?” The other man—troll grumbled as the Biker Troll watched them.
“I haven’t seen Blaise or talked to him.”
“And we’re supposed to believe you, after the trouble you caused us last week?
” the Leader Troll continued. His words were calm and his movements had purpose.
He was big like the Biker Troll, and had similar features.
However, his dark hair had been slicked back and instead of a beard he had dark stubble seemingly accenting his hard facial angles.
He donned a button-front blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans and a belt.
Overall, he came across as much more put together.
Regan noted his ears appeared to not be as large as the other troll’s, but they had more of a point.
He reached over and lifted Lutin’s chin. “Such a pretty Fae. We’d hate to have to change that. Now tell us, where’s Blaise and who else is going to show up looking for you?”
“I don’t know where Blaise is,” Lutin repeated.
“You’ve said.” The Troll leader dropped Lutin’s face and walked over to Regan. Before he could move or do anything, he grunted under the weight of the leader Troll kicking him—not hard, but hard enough to make a point.
“Who’s this, then?” The Leader Troll grabbed Regan by the hair and held up his face. There was a sour scent that escaped the troll’s mouth, as if he’d been eating raw onions. “He’s not a Fae.”
“Neighbor,” Lutin grumbled. “A fucking nosy neighbor that comes up on the weekends. I watch his cabin during the week. Make sure nothing happens to the place.” The words were a struggle for Lutin to say as he barely glanced at Regan.
He’s trying to keep me safe.
“Hmm.” The Leader Troll dropped Regan’s head. “He smells of magic, but not magic. He’s not a Witch either.”
“He’s human. The scent might be the charmed graphite hooped earrings. You know how humans end up with magical items and don’t even know it. Or walking down my path leaves that scent. I’m surprised you guys didn’t notice.”
“Lies” The Biker Troll pulled Lutin’s head up by the antlers. “Do we have to break off more of your pretty-pretty antlers?” the troll threatened before striking Lutin again, almost causing him to topple from his chair.
Regan tried to yell and fight back, but again he found his bindings digging into him and he couldn’t work past the gag.
“Don’t kill him,” the Leader Troll said. “We need him, if we’re going to find Blaise.” He kicked Regan again for good measure. “Any more nosy neighbors coming to check on you, Lutin?”
“No,” Lutin spit out the word with more blood.
His tattoos had all but faded again and he looked worse now than he did on Monday.
There were definitely more antlers broken off.
They were going to kill him, if he didn’t do something.
But what? He tried to reach for his elements but nothing came to him.
The Twins were still blocking him and he didn’t know how to reach them.
“Let him go and I’ll contact Blaise,” Lutin moaned out finally.
“But you said you didn’t know where Blaise was,” the Biker troll mocked, getting ready to strike Lutin again.
“Martin, enough,” The Leader Troll said. “If you kill him, he can’t help us.”
“Fine.” Martin stopped and moved to the side of Lutin’s chair. “But he better not lie to us again or all bets are off, Drew. I don’t care what you say.”
“I’m not lying.” Lutin continued to struggle to no avail. “Let my neighbor go and I’ll help you find Blaise. There’re only so many places he can be.”
“You should’ve minded your own business, Mr. Neighbor,” Drew, the Leader Troll, grunted. “Tell you what, Lutin, we’ll keep your neighbor company while you contact Blaise and bring him to us. That way we’re sure there won’t be any tricks.”
Lutin peeked at Regan and closed his eyes slowly.
What choice did they have? These guys weren’t dumb Trolls under a bridge that you could trick; clearly, they had brains and the Biker Troll, Martin, must have had some military training considering how he handled himself.
As for Drew, Regan doubted he could have any authority over Martin if he wasn’t equally as tough or tougher.
Regan needed to try to get them free. It didn’t matter if Volrent and Corcess were upset with him or not, they had to help. They had to be reached.
Regan closed his eyes and, in his mind, he began calling out to the Twins.
He shouted their names. He pleaded to reach them.
He demanded that they acknowledge him. He pleaded for help and told them they could be mad at him later, but now they needed help.
He and Lutin were in danger and if they did nothing, their deaths would be their faults.
He promised everything and anything he could think of to the Twins.
With each of his requests, his voice in his mind grew louder and more desperate.
Frustrated with the lack of response from the Twins, he knew they were ignoring him and there was no point in trying to reach them.
Regan opened his eyes. Instead of seeing Lutin and the Trolls, Regan stood in a grassy field, the bright sun beaming down on him and warming his face.
There was no pain in his head or neck and the rancid taste in his mouth was gone.
A slight breeze cooled his cheeks and tickled his nose with scents of pine and earthy notes, reminding him of damp soil.
This was the field he trained on with the Twins.
“What’s happening?” No longer gagged, the words called from him.
He wasn’t bound either as he stepped forward, shouting, “Volrent! Corcess! Where are you? I’m sorry for everyone. Please. I need you!”