Page 3 of Me and My Christmas Familiar

“Thank you.” Lachlan stepped in, and the door closed behind him. The lanterns flickered and burst into life.

He smiled at the kitchen, sending out his feelings of gratitude to the space. He removed his hat and hung it from the hooks by the door. But the air in the bakery felt too cool to remove his robes just yet.

He placed some wood within the stove and filled the kettle. The stove lit as he set the kettle down. As he passed the window, he glanced out. Still dark. Still no sign of the cat. Waiting for the kettle to heat, he turned to the altar.

The black beeswax candle sparked into flame with a thought. He picked up the stick of cedar incense and placed the tip over the golden flame. It caught fire, and he gave it a wave before placing it in the incense holder filled with dirt. The smoke slithered into the air. He grabbed a pinch of the mix of salt, flour, and spices from a pouch on the counter and sprinkled it around the altar.

Lachlan placed his hands together, over his heart, and bowed his head. “My hearth, my home, my heart.” He focused on his intentions for the bakery for the day, to provide and nourish those who visited them and ate their food.

As a hearth and kitchen witch, this space was his family’s responsibility. And he took that responsibility seriously. And whilst his siblings all were hearth and kitchen witches, none had Lachlan’s affinity for this domain. It was why he rose first to prepare the bakery. Because when he did, everything that day ran smoother.

The kitchen adored him, and Lachlan adored the kitchen; that was where he felt most comfortable. Lachlan enjoyed preparing the bakery for the day. It gave him time to think and be at peace. And peace was a luxury with nine siblings who all worked and lived together. Except for Ordelia, his eldest sister. She lived with her husband and kids.

Turning away from the altar, he reached out his hand. The broom flew across the floor and into it. He hummed as he swept.

Not that the bakery needed sweeping. One of his siblings would have cleaned and closed the bakery the evening before. But sweeping was part of the ritual of preparing the bakery. As he swept, he dwelt on the feelings of safety and comfort that he wanted their patrons to experience that day.

The kettle whistled. He brewed himself a cup of tea made of peppermint, blackberry, and strawberry leaves. He glanced out the window.

Snowflakes drifted past. Still no kitty. He continued with his morning routine, focusing on the magic and the power that existed in these simple rituals. He set up the oven, then placed the cauldron on the stove, adding sprigs of pine, cinnamon sticks, orange slices, whole cloves, and aniseed to the water. He brought it to a simmer.

“Bless this space and all the work it does. We are grateful for your hard work.” He stirred the ingredients of the simmer pot clockwise, three times with his wooden spoon.

It was less than two weeks until December 1, the official start of the Christmas season. A very busy time for the family. Not only would they run the bakery, but they also ran a stall at the Christmas markets.

Normally, Lachlan finished reasonably early during the year. But Christmas would be different. The siblings would split their time working here and at the markets. Although, he tended to just work longer hours in the bakery. Since his powers were strongest within this space, he was best utilised here.

Walking to the window, he glanced out.

Lachlan grinned. The cat stood in the alley, staring up at him, waiting.

He headed for the back door and picked up the dried fish he’d bought the day before for this purpose. The back door swung open for him.

Lachlan did not need to worry about the stove or oven. They would look after themselves whilst he was away. His powers ensured pots didn’t boil over, bread never burned, and his cookies always came out perfect from the oven.

“Hello, kitty. You’re back,” Lachlan said.

The cat stared at him a moment. But unlike the first day, he came forward and paused a step away. Lachlan squatted and placed the smoked fish down. The cat set upon it, sharp teeth digging into the dried fish flesh as he tore it apart. His half tail swayed from side to side. The poor cat also missed half an ear and there were chunks of fur missing from his black pelt.

Lachlan’s lungs squeezed. What had this poor kitty suffered?

He wanted to pick the cat up, stroke him, coo over him, take him inside, place him by the warm oven, and feed him. But Lachlan doubted the cat would appreciate that. Lachlan would probably end up with a face full of scratches.

The cat kept his wary green gaze fixed on Lachlan as he ate. But maybe in time, the cat might grow to trust him. Maybe he could be Lachlan’s pet.

Or his familiar. A familiar, a companion that would strengthen his powers but, more importantly, would keep him company. Lachlan licked his lips. It would be so wonderful to have a companion, someone to share these mornings with.

It was a strange thing, to feel so lonely whilst being surrounded by so many. But sometimes he just felt forgotten in the chaos of his family. Lachlan, being more withdrawn and shyer than his siblings, tended to be lost amongst them.

Lachlan swallowed. Still, he knew his siblings loved him. He just got overlooked sometimes.

The cat’s green eyes stared at him. This cat didn’t overlook him. He came every day to see Lachlan.

Lachlan shook his head. But of course he did. Lachlan fed him.

Still, somehow Lachlan felt seen by the cat. This sad-looking cat, with no owner or anyone to care for him, who snuck around dark streets in the middle of the night.

“Have you been overlooked as well?” Lachlan paused. “I’d look after you if you let me. I’ll feed you and keep you safe and warm.”