Luka #2
“Right, and then I got put into the boss position, so I don’t have to hold hands.
So now, I’m not going to hold your hand.
I’ve been doing that for the past two months of training.
Now it’s time for you to put that training to work,” he said.
“Come on, he should be waiting for us, or more specifically, you.”
Well, no time like the present. I nodded with a confidence I absolutely did not feel.
I had learned a long time ago that life moved at its own pace, whether you were ready or not, and usually, no one was ready.
Not that I was much better about handling things on my own.
Bouncing between things had been the story of my life since I was eight and thrown into the foster care system.
You got used to being bounced around a lot, and once I was an adult, it didn’t magically mean I learned to be stable.
Jumping between jobs and even majors in college had been the name of the game, and my friendships and relationships hadn’t been spared.
This job was supposed to be my chance to prove I could stick with something.
It was my chance to help other people and maybe help myself along the way.
I had always been better about sticking to things when it was for the sake of others, so all in all, this job seemed like the best way to accomplish those things.
So it was sink-or-swim time, whether I wanted it or not.
“Hmm,” Reggie said as we reached the Thought Room. “You have a different look about you.”
“Confident?” I wondered, a little hopeful.
“More like someone who’s accepted they’re going to be executed and decided they’re going to march to the chopping block with their head held high,” he said with a laugh, touching the pad with a key and sliding the door open. “Which is good enough to work.”
Reginald Wentworth, master of comfort and expert in soothing everybody.
I followed him into the Thought Room, which was just a stupid name for a room designed to let people feel private while they thought.
No devices were allowed because that ruined the point of coming here.
There was comfortable seating in a part of the room that looked out over the mountains in case you just wanted to sit.
There were notebooks, pencils, and pens to write down your thoughts.
There were small rooms like confession booths for people to lock out the world, or noise-cancelling headphones to wear.
I instantly recognized Rowan from yesterday, but would have spotted him quickly anyway because Jesus, the guy was tall.
I wasn’t sure, but he was at least six and a half feet, maybe more.
He wasn’t big in other ways. Not in ways I could see anyway, because I definitely wasn’t going to wonder about the size of anything else or if some things were proportionate to the rest of him.
Nor was I realizing that his ass was kind of—
I mentally cleared my throat and shoved the thoughts away as I watched him roll his broad shoulders before turning to face us.
He saw Reggie first, but I watched his attention snap to me.
I would swear I heard ‘target acquired,’ and I felt my breath catch as I waited for the inevitable missile salvo to be launched my way.
Oh yeah, he definitely remembered me. Great.
“Hello again, Rowan,” Reggie said, sounding delighted. “Have you been settling in alright?”
“As well as can be expected in a new environment,” Rowan said with a frown that seemed all too comfortable on his face.
“Well, considering you’re planning on being here for the next couple of months,” Reggie began, and I hoped the shock that I would be at this for two months didn’t show on my face, but it was hard to tell because Rowan was still watching me with that frown, “you will have plenty of time to get comfortable. Now, this is Luka.”
“Hi,” I said, fighting the urge to wipe my hands on my pants before shaking his hand.
God, he gripped my hand with perfect force.
Just enough to be firm and masculine but not like he was trying to crush my hand in some exaggerated display of strength.
Right, Reggie had said he was the business type, and that made a lot of sense now.
“I’m looking forward to the next couple of months. ”
I felt his hand flex before pulling away, but there was no other reaction. “You...are my Guide?”
“That I am,” I said with a laugh that sounded edgy even to my ears.
His shoulders straightened, his face twisting for a moment before he turned to Reggie. “I’m curious to know the selection process; you must be the head of it.”
I felt my face flush. Christ, okay, I was nervous and unsure, but he didn’t have to be an asshole. Or at least, not an obvious one. It wasn’t like I couldn’t miss the disgust that had flashed over his face. Off to a great start.
“I am indeed the pioneer and head of the process, and it has quite a success rate,” Reggie told him, unfazed by Rowan’s obvious attitude and disapproval.
Then again, that was Reggie for you. The closest I had ever seen him to being flustered was when Mr. Shepherd was involved, and even then, all he did was act a little quieter.
I had witnessed one of the guests actually start a fight, swinging at Reggie, and not for a moment did Reggie falter.
In no time flat, he had talked the man off the proverbial ledge and led him away, speaking to him quietly.
The next time I saw the guest, he was much calmer and far more genial.
It was easy to see how Reggie had been the first Guide and became the template for all Guides to come.
Not at all something daunting to try to live up to, not one bit.
Rowan didn’t seem to be won over by Reggie, but he offered no resistance. “So be it.”
Reggie beamed. “There we go, fake it till you make it.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“As we agreed, you don’t believe in the process. But sometimes, you have to fake accepting what we’re doing here, and eventually, you’ll actually accept it.”
“I see you don’t lack confidence.”
“Experience is the best teacher, but it can also create confidence or destroy it, you choose,” Reggie said, glancing at him knowingly. “And I chose a while back to help bring that sort of...sympathetic magic to this place, or try to.”
“I see,” Rowan said, and, in a flash of understanding, I ironically realized that he did not, in fact, see. He clearly didn’t like not being on top of things, but I didn’t know if that was true, let alone whether it was due to arrogance.
“Good, good, then I will let you two get to know one another,” Reggie said, putting his palms together and tapping his fingers in a weird little silent clap. “You two play nice and, as always, trust the process.”
We watched him leave, and Rowan waited until Reggie was out of the room before scoffing. “He can be quite insufferable.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, before realizing I probably should not have done that, and turned to him with a grin. “I mean, it can seem that way, but he hasn’t got where he is by being a pain for the sake of it. He’s very good at what he does. Always has been.”
“You admire him.”
“I do. Shouldn’t I?”
“It sounds more than that.”
I blinked and felt my face warm. “What? God no, nothing like that. Absolutely not.”
He snorted, looking like he didn’t believe me. “He’s an odd one. He likes to speak as if he knows what he’s doing, but he talks about things that make no sense and offers no explanation. I can’t say that’s the mark of a reliable leader.”
“If you’re referring to his sympathetic magic comment, he just meant that he treats this place like he would himself, sympathetically drawing energy toward all of us and the feel of this place,” I said with a shrug. “I don’t think he actually believes in magic....”
“And how would you know what he meant? Is that part of the training program?” Rowan asked, with a doubtful expression.
Jesus, was this an introductory conversation or an interrogation?
“I don’t pretend I know what he’s thinking, or anyone else for that matter,” I said with a chuckle. “But I cycled through a lot of different beliefs back in the day, and I mean a lot. Somewhere along the line, I stumbled onto what some call witchcraft, and others call Wicca.”
“Is there a difference? A measurable one, that is.”
Interesting phrasing. “I mean, yes and no. Depends on who you ask.”
“That answers nothing,” he said curtly.
“It answers,” I shot back, irritated by his stubbornness, but dialing it back and smiling.
“At the time, Wiccans would have refuted the idea of it being witchcraft because of a PR issue. Wiccans were focused on the more earth-centered aspects, the religious aspects, treating spells and rituals as comparable to mass or prayer.”
“More of a focus on the trappings of faith rather than direct spellcasting,” he guessed.
“Pretty much.”
“And nowadays?”
“Oh hell, I don’t know. I mean, I’m not sure, I don’t have that belief anymore.
Though there are plenty of self-proclaimed witches out there, mostly on TikTok.
I think it’s just a shifting of attitudes.
Back when I was Wicca, it was an attempt to tone down the ‘scarier’ aspects to garner acceptance.
And nowadays, it’s more or less the same, but the more vocal believers are adopting a more striking attitude.
Openly calling themselves witches to seem strong and not bend to conventional thought. ”
“Hmm,” Rowan grunted, eyeing me critically. “Do you think the modern approach is better?”
“I...” Okay, that wasn’t a question I expected, but I rolled with it. “I think those making a bold statement aren’t any more wrong or right than those who craved acceptance. At the end of the day, they’re all just people who want what most people want. Love.”
Rowan snorted. “So you’re a fence sitter.”
I stiffened, but kept my smile. “That’s one interpretation.”