If you’re reading this it means I have passed from this world to the next and that you found good people to spend the next stretch of your life with. Or, you were a nosy little shit and found this letter way before it’s time. In that case put this back or so help me I will rat you out to Eloise.”
Wendy cackles at the description the letter paints in her mind, bending over clutching her sides. Jackson glares down at her, grumbling at thereaction. “Do you need a moment, Ms. Aasifa?”
“No, no, Mr. Nocturne, pleasedogo on.” Jackson shakes his head and scoffs. He continues to read the letter hoping the insults were over.
“In all seriousness, I hope the people you chose treat you well and do you good, the thought of you alone always broke my heart. I need you to remember, you were one of my closest friends. I love you in this life and the next. Within the box are two things that will hopefully shine some light on the odd terms of my will. One is a grimoire, old and rare. It contains spells and rituals I used in my fortune telling along with others that I hope serve their purpose. Astromancy is a rare and niche school of magic, it won’t do you any good, but I know you’ll figure out exactly what to do with it. The other is my wand, you may keep it for sentimental reasons or find use for it. Follow your heart, Jackie. I can only hope the stars have aligned as I have predicted and you are exactly where you need to be. May you find happiness in your life.
Love always,
Brenda Lee.”
Jackson’s voice cracks ever so slightly at the last line, his eyes glossing. He feels a warmth envelope him, Wendy wrapping her arms around him in a kind embrace. He wipes his eyes, refusing to let tears spill and sniffs to clear his mind. “Wendy, this is highly inappropriate workplace conduct. As flattered as I am, I’m afraid I cannot accept your charms.” He says jokingly, which only causes Wendy’s grip to tighten.
Her face is buried into his side and all he hears is a disapproving grunt. Jackson pats her gently on her head, grateful for her compassion. “I’m fine, Wendy, just a little sentimental.”
Wendy releases him from her hold, righting herself and wiping her own eyes with the back of her hand. “Is there anything else I can get you, Jackson?”
Smiling at her softly, Jackson shakes his head. “No, thank you though. I will finish up here and hand my father the papers he requested. Then I’ll be off.” Wendy gives a small nod before excusing herself from Jackson’s office.
Jackson places his hand near the box and feels the fade of the protectioncharm, as though it was waiting for him. He opens the box and finds a small case made for a wand and an old grimoire, lying on velvet lining. Its pages worn on the edges, the binding frayed and fading in places. He recognizes the power radiating off it. Unlike the grimoire Hakeem had used to teach him and Eddie, this tome held power that surely needed more than a flick of the wrist and wave of a wand.
He recalls the decades he spent with Brenda, all the times she would be flipping through the grimoire’s pages, even adding her own notes. The tome was a part of her as was her own magic.
He shifts his attention to the wand case, made of the same wood of the larger box and adorned with similar carvings. He carefully picks it up and slides the top off, placing it back in the larger box. The wand lay in the same red velvet that the grimoire sits on. It’s made of twisted dark cedar and clear quartz. The grip is of old leather, indents of Brenda’s fingers still evident in the material. He goes to caress the wand, pulling his hand back as memories of similar conduits breaking and rotting in his hand in recent years. He won’t risk losing this piece of his friend to his cruel touch. He places the wand back into its case, returning it to the large box and closing the lid.
Jackson finishes his work and carries the papers to his father’s office. Joseph Underbush’s office is easily four times larger than Jackson’s, extravagant being the only appropriate word to describe it. Two long leather couches on either side, floor to ceiling windows lining the back. A large desk of black marble and glass, every surface filled with either awards or gifts from clients and friends. Bottles of expensive spirits, sports memorabilia and trophies he earned during his youth filled the space. It made it his own.
On Joseph’s desk are pictures of Jackson during his childhood; his signature scowl ever present on chubby baby cheeks, and a painting of Annabella. Modern magic and technologies meant she showed up in film, Joseph just felt his beloved was captured more elegantly on canvas, in the delicate stroke of brushes. Joseph sits behind his desk, clacking away at his computer at whatever work floated his way. The elven man wears a finetailored black suit and tie combination, along with an uncharacteristically cold expression.
Jackson knocks on the door twice to grab his father’s attention.
“Enter,” replies Joseph before looking up, expression brightening the moment he lays eyes upon his son. “Jackie! How are ya, my boy? I swear even working in the same building I hardly get to see you.” Joseph stands and makes his way around his desk towards Jackson in a couple long strides, arms spread wide.
Jackson accepts the hug, his father giving him a squeeze before patting his back as he releases the hug. “We keep busy, don’t we, father?” The corner of Jackson’s lips curl up as he hands his father the paperwork he requested.
Joseph gives them a quick scan before giving a satisfied nod. With a snap of his fingers the papers are packed into a manila envelope and fly out an open window. Joseph is adept with wind magic. Jackson wondered if that’s part of the reason he and Wendy got along so well.
“If that’s all I should head out, me and the guys need to do a grocery run and it’s easier when I drive.” Jackson jerks his thumb to the door behind him, as he begins walking backwards slowly. “I’ll see you later, father.”
Before Jackson could move another step Joseph laces his arm through the crook of Jackson’s arm and pulls him to one of the couches. “Spare your old man a second of your time. Come sit for a spell, catch up, set the world to right.”
“Alright alright, just stop tugging.” Jackson can’t help but giggle at his father’s enthusiasm.
Jackson lounges on the couch, legs crossed and arms stretched over the top. His father pours himself some brown liquor into a short crystal glass. He offers one to Jackson who reminds him that he was driving home shortly. “Right, right, sorry. Not like this stuff affects you much but good to be safe, smart lad.” Joseph goes to grab ice from the bucket next to the drinks station and sighs deeply. “Fucking hell, I swear this was just full. Hang on, I’ll ask Wendy to grab some as we talk.”
Jackson holds up his hand and beckons his father to come closer. “If Imay, father, let me help with that. Allow me to show you what I’ve been working on.” Joseph shoots up an eyebrow but shrugs as he settles himself next to his son. Jackson turns his focus to the glass of whiskey in his father’s hand and curls his fingers inward.Draw the heat out, let the magic flow slowly and let it do its thing.Hakeem’s lessons echo through his mind.
“Barid”
Small tendrils of shadow seep from his hand, wrapping around the glass.
Joseph’s eyes widen, lines forming on the dark skin of his forehead. The glass in his hand chills, frost coating the sides. It doesn’t burn in his hand but as he took a sip from the glass he found the liquid perfectly chilled. He had spent years watching his son struggle with powers, resentment growing towards his own magic. Now he watched pride fill Jackson’s eyes, the same forest green as his own. “Well,” Joseph takes another sip from his glass, “that’s certainly convenient.” He chuckles as he pats Jackson’s shoulder. He hadn’t seen his son happy to use his magic in decades.
Jackson and Joseph talk for a little while longer before Jackson excuses himself. They discuss how Jackson’s classes were going and about his lessons with Hakeem. Three weeks with his new roommates and he could feel the bond growing between him and the boys. Hakeem is kind, patient and talented. Eddie is a warm, comforting presence, grounding almost. He’s from the same world as Jackson, he understands the annoyances of keeping up appearances for high society. Joseph sees the way his son’s face softens and lightens when he speaks of the two men. He’s glad Jackson had found good people, even if it was just to fulfill the terms of a will. They hug good-bye as Joseph returns to his work and Jackson leaves for home.
* * *
As Jackson gathers his things and the box from his office his phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes the phone out and notices a message in the apartment group chat.
