~ Chapter Two ~ #2
“Food,” Lutin answered and made his way toward the kitchen. “The Jones’s never kept anything in the house. They’d typically message me so I could stock the house for them, but…” He didn’t say any more as he disappeared into the kitchen.
Regan followed, eager to learn more. “I didn’t know about this place till today.”
Lutin nodded as he unpacked the groceries.
“How’d you know what to get? I mean, this is all—I don’t…
” Regan stammered, unsure what to do with his hands as he watched Lutin move around the kitchen.
For his part, Lutin barely paid him any attention as he worked.
Regan hid behind one of the chairs, blocking Lutin from him.
The man moved with the grace of a dancer, his movements mesmerizing.
“Can you please stop?” Regan’s voice demanded.
Lutin froze and his green-eyed gaze narrowed on Regan. Studying him.
“Listen… sorry… but I found out today that Max left this place to me. It’s been two years and I never knew anything about this house, you or any of this, so I need a moment to understand.” His gaze bounced around the space, everywhere except Lutin. “I thought I’d find answers here… but…”
“Look. Regan, right?” Lutin asked, still not moving. “I’m here to do a job. To provide a service. That’s all. I’m not here to be your whipping boy.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“This”—Lutin waved a hand in front of him—“terrifying an old man… with a cane I might add. Now how you’re treating me. Nope.” He turned and headed to the front of the house.
“Wait one minute,” Regan called out, frowning. “Please.” His hands clenched together.
Lutin turned and an impish smile greeted Regan. “That’s more like it.” He crossed the kitchen and continued to unpack the groceries.
“What can you tell me? I’m… look, this is all a bit confusing.”
“I’m guessing you haven’t read the book yet?”
“The book?”
“Maxum’s purple book. You haven’t read the entries yet, have you?”
“Well, no.” Regan picked at the sleeves of his shirt, his shoulders dropping. “I wanted to check the house out, make sure the water and electricity were all working, then the rooms were chilly so I started a fire and then you showed up.”
“I gave you an hour and a half.” Lutin shook his head. “Not one… but an hour and a half.”
“What? You gave me?—”
“When you arrived. I figured you’d need some time and you still haven’t read a single word yet.” He motioned with his hands as if he was opening and closing a book. “You can read, can’t you?”
“Yes, I can read!” Regan’s voice cracked as he spoke.
“Boy, Maxum was right about you.” Lutin shook his head as he finished putting everything away.
“What does that mean? I haven’t been here for that long.” He pulled out his phone and saw the time. He’d been here two hours.
Well, shit. How is that possible? Where has the time gone?
Lutin crossed over to the couch in the living room and sat.
“Ugh, Elementals.” Lutin shook his head.
“Okay, look. I’m going to go. You have your food.
I did my part, and I don’t fancy repeating this again.
I suggest you read the book, then you can ask me all the questions you want, but for now, I don’t see the point in sticking around.
We’ll try again in a little while.” He snapped his fingers and vanished.
What am I afraid of?
Regan tapped the desk, pounding out a quick beat.
He opened the desk drawer, not finding anything of interest. “This is silly.” He pulled the book toward him and opened the cover.
The feeling of experiencing all this before sent a shudder down his back.
“Déjà vu.” He huffed as he flipped through the first couple of empty pages.
This wasn’t a book, but a journal. “Since when did Max keep a journal?” He flipped through the book, then landed on a page and began reading.
Thursday, December 2, 1999
I met the most insufferable contractor today at my parent’s house.
I would have given him a good zap if we didn’t need to have the back door replaced.
Stupid Sprites. I swear they do this just to piss us off, but dad says we need to keep the peace.
Anyway, my mom liked Mr. Construction of course, but he was so arrogant and annoying.
At least his work was good and he did have great brown eyes, but I didn’t care for the scruff on his face—yuck.
Regan laughed at the entry. He remembered that day, meeting Max and his mother.
Who would believe they’d have ended up together?
The job had been easy enough, but the damage to the door didn’t make any sense.
The hinges appeared to be fused together, maybe even melted.
The whole mess was crazy, but he wasn’t there to evaluate the damage.
He had been hired to replace the door and make sure everything worked again.
When he left, the door and the hinges were as good as new.
Regan turned a couple of pages.
Tuesday, December 14, 1999
Dad and I got back from a meeting with the Edmonton Coven and the NAMB.
What an absolute cluster… of course, neither group wants to deal with the other and requested Dad to mediate.
I don’t know how he deals with all their bullshit.
I know I was there to observe and to help mediate, but come on.
I haven’t seen so much nonsense since I went with him and mom to Ireland.
We were supposed to be there for vacation, but then the whole business at that haunted lighthouse.
At least it all got sorted and everyone’s happy for now. Makes dealing with that contractor last week seem like a piece of cake. Yum, cake. I know—I’m going to see if Lutin can whip one up, they make the best lemon and snizzal berry cake I’ve ever had.
Regan smiled. “Max had such a sweet tooth. But what’s a snizzal berry? Did he mean raspberry?”
Saturday, March 18, 2000
Who would’ve thought I’d be falling for Mr. Construction?
He’s so different than me, rough around the edges, hates being around people.
Definitely a bit standoffish, but he’s kind.
And I love how handy he is. Unfortunately, he has no clue about being an Elemental Witch.
His Elementals are still with him and they keep him safe, but they get antsy and cause a bit of mischief.
Probably cause they’re so young still. Poor guy.
Dad and Mom say I can’t say anything to him, he's too old, but I don’t think that’s true.
I’ve seen Elemental Witches whose powers have withered and faded, but somehow not him.
His little Elementals are so tiny and cute.
But I’ve never seen Electrical and Water Elementals wrapped up in one person.
I wish I could talk to him about his gifts.
I understand as a Hereditary I have obligations, but still.
Maybe if things continue between us. I’ve asked Lutin about my options and he’s his typical helpful self.
Infuriating bastard at times. At least he doesn’t reset our conversations when he gets annoyed.
Well, I’m off. I have to get ready to meet up with Regan tonight.
Regan read and reread the entries again, not understanding the words.
Elementals. Witches. Hereditary. “This is crazy. It’s a joke.
” He continued turning the pages, moving through the years.
Each year a new memory but with elements that he didn’t understand.
Comments about magic and witchcraft, reminders about the laws of the universe.
As he thumbed through the pages, he stopped.
Thursday, November 9, 2023
Regan has been an absolute moody bitch all week. He gets like this sometimes. He shuts down and won’t talk. At least he didn’t slam the door tonight. When he gets like this, I find it’s best to leave him be. Still, it makes for an uncomfortable time. I’d try to send soothing magic toward him, but…
Anyway, I know it’s his birthday in a couple of days and I have a surprise planned for him.
I plan on telling him all about magic and showing him the real world he lives in.
I know I’m not supposed to, but his Elementals are still with him, after all this time, and the little buggers still cause mischief whenever they can, or when Regan gets upset.
Note to self: with Regan’s mood the last couple of days, I need to ensure the wards are in place to keep the house—well, the electronics and the pipes—from getting damaged.
I’m probably going to have to strengthen the wards as well.
The plan is to take him to my family’s cabin in Boulder Creek and introduce him to Lutin, then surprise him with the condo in PV.
He’s going to love it. I know we go to Cabo, but PV has a lot to offer as well and I think he’ll love it.
Anyway, it’s going to be a big surprise all the way around.
I want to share this part of my life with him and I don’t care what the Witches’ Council says. Wish me luck.
The entry ended and Max stopped. “He was going to tell me…” He glanced around the room. “But…” He flipped through Max’s journal, trying to make sense of what he read. That didn’t happen. He raked a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”
He remembered the next night, and the whole week.
Work had been a nightmare—they had a new client who was…
a monster and all they did was bitch at him and he couldn’t say anything.
He took it, kept his head down and did his job, or tried to.
Then things came to a head on Friday when the client basically fired him.
Told him he ruined their electrical panel and fried their fancy computer set-up.
The client blamed him for the pipes in the bathroom bursting, but they weren’t working in the bathroom and he had no idea what caused the rupture.
“No.” Regan shook his head. “That’s… no.”
When he got home, instead of talking to Max, he sulked, banged around the house, shutting down, pushing everything including Max away.
When Max finally tried to talk to him, Regan blew up and started yelling, taking all his hurt and frustration out on him.
He was so harsh on him. That Friday night and the weekend were awful.
I was an ass. I didn’t even tell him why I was so mad. We didn’t do anything that weekend.
“If I…” He frowned at the journal again.
When he finally came around, Max seemed frustrated and sad, but not angry.
That was five months before Max died. Regan skimmed the remaining pages.
There weren’t many journal entries left and nothing more about Max telling him about magic or Elementals.
So many entries reflecting their lives together and even Max's life before they met. The things he wrote, so many of them were wonderful memories, but they couldn’t be real, could they?