Trickster Trink

"You can call me Willow." Salem gave me a warm smile and a lingering stare, making me blush. He was incredibly handsome now that I got to look him over more clearly. He was slightly taller than me with sandy blonde-ish brown hair that framed fiery amber eyes that observed me like a treasure he had to guard.

"So you're taking me to this Trickster?" I asked, trying to move the situation along. His focus lessened on me and returned to the task of the day.

"The Trickster it's a pawn shop a couple of blocks away. We'll walk there from here." I shook my head in affirmation which he took as a cue to turn on his heels and head toward the front door. Making our way out of the building, I couldn't help but reminisce about the night before I even checked the spot where Jeremy burned, wondering if there would be a singe mark left behind and found nothing the claw marks in the ceiling where the beast hung were also gone as if it all had been a dream this made questions multiply in my mind as we walked.

"So magic can do anything?" That was the most critical question I had, obviously having my father on my mind and finding him as soon as possible.

"It can get rid of evidence... If you're talking about the proof of the Wilda that attacked you." Salem walked next to me so he could see any questions I had. He was very soft-spoken and considerate, and aware of me as we walked, matching my pace.

"Could it find someone?" For some reason, I felt embarrassed like a naive child, yet also like asking for gifts from Santa again with that spark of hope we used to all have in magic.

"Uhh, well, of course, it could, but a lot goes into magic like that..." The answer was soft but loaded with the subtext that even magic has its limits. It wasn't as discouraging as it sounded, and he was trying his best to be kind and not crush or buff my hopes which I appreciated.

"I was hoping I could use it to find my dad." He shifted quietly, waiting for me to answer any of the questions he thought rude to ask.

"Three years ago, he disappeared while we were walking to the bus stop... There was no evidence he was even walking next to me, and they found me more than four blocks away." Salem's face held empathy for my story. He was very puppyish and attentive, like an elegant butler who, while refined, lacked a good poker face.

"So why were you hanging with my grandma?" I asked teasingly, hoping to catch him off guard. He took a moment, seemingly searching for the correct string of words to describe what he had to say.

"I... I'm not sure what I am..." He stopped on the sidewalk to give me an authentic look that somewhat made my heart drop to my stomach.

"My father is... He was a Wilda, and those are everywhere, while my mother, I'm not sure what she was." I tried to follow the best I could until I remembered that he had referred to Jeremy as Wilda earlier. The realization must have shown on my face because Salem wouldn't make eye contact with me anymore.

"I understand if that makes you uncomfortable..." I shook my head no, maybe a little too enthusiastically, trying to convey as much honesty as possible this made him smile, which I returned.

"Right, the man I'm taking you to meet is helping me, and he assigned me to help your grandmother with her work because it could help me find out what she was." Assigned? I thought to myself.

"Like a job?" He shook his head in affirmation, showing subtle enthusiasm to talk about it.

"Yes, I and a few others work for him, helping and protecting the magic folk in this city." That was the most significant realization today this city must be full of magical creatures and mythical beings. Being secure in this city began to slip away as my surroundings began to feel more alien.

"No need to worry, the clothes you're wearing have magic sowed through them, not to mention the runes we're carrying. Most things will want to avoid us." My brain highlighted most things in red, but I took a deep breath and moved on.

"You said you were a Wilda? Is that like a werewolf?" I asked, trying to be as polite as possible.

"Oh, sorry... A WildaBeast is a less popular version of the famous werewolf. We're more coyote-like than wolf-like, with two protruding horns on our foreheads." The memory of Jeremy's transformation materialized in my mind. The gangly nature of his body was more coyote-like than the average werewolf, and he did sport two snaggled and twisted horns.

"How that other one looked was wrong... He started consuming his kind for power. That thins the body as if it's trying to destroy itself while giving the individual an endless hunger." He must have read my face. I was delighted that wasn't what they all looked like but felt guilty for assuming it might be.

"Well, thank you for helping my grandma and me even if it was your assignment... And watching over me, I guess." I tried my best to separate the appreciation and embarrassment and was failing. He gave a reassuring smile to help ease me.

"No problem, it was a peaceful three days compared to what she normally has me do." He said gleefully.

"Three whole days!?" I signed with extreme confusion as I realized that I assumed it had only been a night.

"Oh, I thought your grandmother would have told you... You slept for three days straight. Your body had to deal with whatever he gave you and what you were taking." I did feel great, and the world felt clearer. The haze that came and gone felt distant, and there was electricity in the air that would come and go.