~ Chapter Three ~
A snort and cough rumbled through Regan’s consciousness, and with a start he woke up, head on the walnut desk.
Max’s book was open to a couple of weeks before his death.
It was the last page he read. Regan’s head throbbed.
He had one hell of a headache… or hangover.
He couldn’t be sure. Did he eat? He must have.
Images of conversations flashed around in his memory.
Conversations with Lutin, the guy in his late thirties he didn’t think he had met, but yet somehow seemed familiar.
Was the memory a fantasy of someone Regan thought was attractive, a dream he was becoming too familiar with?
“No.” Regan rubbed his blurred eyes, pulling up more… more what… dreams?
Lutin spent time in the kitchen putting something together to eat, but what was it?
The two of them spoke about Witches and Elementals and all kinds of fanciful things having no place in the real world.
Could the information have been from Max’s book?
He’s writing a book, a fantasy story. But that didn’t seem correct.
He bit his lower lip. The idea of witchcraft could only be something his mind, or Max’s imagination, could have conjured up.
He massaged the back of his neck, trying to clear his thoughts. A knock at the front door called his attention. Regan shook his head as he stood. He checked his phone. “Shit. I slept all night at the desk. My back and neck are gonna pay.”
The commotion at the front door grew louder.
“Coming,” he called out as he moved through the house. “Who the hell even knows I’m here?”
Probably that old coot from yesterday.
He stopped and peeked around the living room as another feeling of déjà vu rushed around his thoughts and his body.
“Be nice,” he heard Max say in his head.
He brushed the thoughts aside as he reached the front door.
He inhaled as deeply as his lungs would allow hoping to inhale Max’s warm earthy scent before opening the door.
I wish he was here to explain all this.
“Hello,” Standing before him a man in his late thirties with shoulder-length wispy blonde hair greeted him. His soft delicate features gave him a weak and fragile appearance. However, his bright green eyes and snarky grin on his lips told a different story.
I know him?
Regan froze and studied the man, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I help you?” There was something appealing about the guy in front of him, but he couldn’t quite figure out what.
“I’m Lutin.” His lips and cheeks rose in a roguish grin. “I thought you might be ready to talk… this time.”
“Have we met?” Regan questioned, stepping aside. The words were slow to come out as this conversation reminded him of his dream. This was the guy—no wonder he found him so alluring. “Wait. You’re not carrying anything? Didn’t you have groceries?”
Lutin laughed as he made his way over to the sofa in the living room and patted the cushion next to him. “That was yesterday.”
Regan’s lips pulled in a tight frown as he scanned the cabin. He tried to make sense of what happened to him since yesterday. “But I… but we… I don’t…”
“Come sit down.” Lutin stroked the seat next to him. “I think this time you’re ready.”
Regan rubbed his face expecting to feel stubble, but his face was clean-shaven like he had freshly shaved and showered and his mouth tasted of mint— when did I brush my teeth and shave?
He paused as his headache continued to march louder and stronger through his head.
“I think I need something to drink. Maybe something to eat.” He made his way to the kitchen and stopped, glancing back at his guest. “But I haven’t been to the store. ”
“The groceries came yesterday.” Lutin raised his brows as he spoke. “Remember?”
“Right…” Regan’s voice trailed off as if not fully understanding but somehow he knew the guy was correct.
Lutin stood and moved from the sofa, his gait slow but filled with purpose. “I know it’s all a bit strange, but you’ll get there.” He passed Regan and crossed into the kitchen, pulling out some bread and butter as well as some cranberry juice from the cooler. “I believe you like egg salad, right?”
“Yeah.” Regan nodded. “How’d you know Max?” He crossing to the eating area, positioning the table between Lutin and him.
“In a minute.” Lutin hauled out a container from the refrigerator.
He moved around the kitchen as he prepared toast. Regan watched, stunned, as the guy moved with the grace of a dancer as he poured Regan a glass of juice.
“Drink this, it’ll help.” He placed the drink on the table where Regan now sat.
Regan picked up and sipped the juice. “Thanks.”
The toaster popped and Lutin walked over, and grabbed a plate from the cabinet. He spooned some egg salad on the toast, before placing the spoon in the sink with a clang. Then he picked up the plate and handed the dish over to Regan. “Eat that, then we’ll chat.”
Too dumbfounded and confused to fight or argue, Regan did as instructed.
He and Lutin sat at the small breakfast table in silence as he ate.
The midmorning light made the pine trees outside the windows glisten and sparkle, the dew acting as diamonds capturing the light.
A million rainbows danced all around. On the small patio in a beam of sunlight, the black cat with the white moon shape on its side lounged lazily, watching them.
Lutin looked out at the feline, his lips creeping up in a smile. “We have a visitor.”
“Your cat?” Regan asked, glancing between the cat and Lutin.
“Not mine, a visitor.” Lutin shrugged. “I suppose they’re here to ensure everything’s okay, but who knows… they’re a mystery. At one point I heard Max refer to it as Haunted Hearts , but…” He chuckled and focused back on Regan without saying more.
Once his plate and glass were empty, Regan’s head felt better, his headache subsiding and the cool drink and food providing his body the balm needed to revive him.
With a satisfied nod, he faced Lutin. “Regan’s letter said I needed to be nice to you but I don’t think…
I feel like we’ve done this before. I’ve had this feeling of déjà vu since yesterday.
And then what I read in Max’s journal about you, him, his family. .. all crazy.”
“I can work with crazy.” A smile raced across Lutin’s lips as he gave Regan the once-over.
Regan turned back toward the window and the cat, who was now gone.
“We’re doing better now than the last five times we’ve done this.” Lutin’s tone was conversational if not filled with hints of amusement. “I think this time it’ll stick—you seem ready now.”
“What do you mean?” Regan pulled his gaze from the outside to the man sitting across from him, focusing on his lips, unwilling to meet his gaze. “We’ve done this before?”
“Three times yesterday, and”—he peeked at the watch on his wrist—“twice this morning. But this time we made it through breakfast, so I’m hopeful.”
“Wait. What?” Regan scanned the room, looking for the cameras or someone ready to jump out at him, waiting for the punchline. “You… wait… I read about this… you used to do this to Max.”
“Only until he learned to stop me.” Lutin’s laughter filled the small kitchen as he rested his hands on the table.
“That was a fun day. He must’ve been about…
I don’t know, ten, maybe thirteen. Human ages are hard to pin down before adulthood.
Anyway, I tried to reset him, but he knocked me on my ass for a week.
” He beamed. “That little shit. I think I still have a bruise on my bum, or maybe my ego.”
“I don’t think I understand.” Regan frowned, staring at his empty glass. “I’m going crazy.”
“You want more juice?”
“Sure, but I’ll get it.” Regan needed to stand.
He needed a break from what he heard. How can any of this be real?
Is this all some crazy game or joke he’s not in on?
Why would Max send him to this place for some kind of prank?
No, there had to be something to all this magic talk, but magic wasn’t real.
Regan moved to the refrigerator and opened the door, seeing everything that he would have bought if he went to the store, but he didn’t go.
Someone… Lutin, or that old guy, must’ve stocked the kitchen.
He filled his glass with cranberry juice before putting everything away and returning to the table.
“You were saying,” Regan encouraged Lutin to continue.
He seems so earnest about what he’s saying. He doesn’t seem to be playing a role or acting. Still, this is madness. Maybe I’m going crazy.
Lutin nodded. “Well, I’ve known Max and his family for…” He smirked. “Let’s just say I’ve known them a long time and leave it at that.”
More mystery. More potential craziness. At least the guy doesn’t seem dangerous… I hope.
“Anyway, small interactions, like with you and me yesterday and this morning are easy. Especially in a place like this where we’re alone. I do a simple reset, but as for something bigger…”
Maybe he could save Max. I bet that’s why I’m here. Did Max set this all up and I needed to follow through? And he’s been waiting for two years. God, why did the lawyers take so long?
For the first time in a long time, he felt hope—there was a chance. “So, you could—” Regan started.
“No.” Lutin shook his head. “I would’ve done anything to stop what happened to Max that day…
but I couldn’t. My power doesn’t work like that.
Dead is dead. The universe is a fickle and unforgiving bitch when life and death are involved.
There are rules and limits to everything.
” He huffed out a chuckle. “Could you imagine the chaos?”