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326Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOP5zfcY6A3
I often thought that the older the therapist was, the more mothballs they must've accumulated, for the scent would linger in my hair even after I left their office. I particularly disliked the offices that kept the lobby cold because it meant, more than likely, the doctors' office was colder. The squeak of weight change from the leather couch made me uncomfortable but was unavoidable as I squirmed from the cold seeping from the sofa through my clothes.
The room itself was remarkably brown, a lot of shelves adorned with animals frozen in varying poses above rows and rows of bookshelves bulging with thick hardbacks which had seen some neglect.
"Try and relax, Willow and lie back." I obeyed the request reluctantly, feeling the cold chase goosebumps across my shoulders and down my back. I now stared upward at an owl above me posed perfectly for liftoff, its glassy eyes locked on me below.
"Good, let's begin." The doctor from his desk set in motion a metronome that filled the silence with rhythmic ticks.
"I want you to try and match your breathing rhythm with that of the metronome." He sat silently, waiting for me to sync my breathing with the passing ticks. His eyes on me felt like the owls, cold and glassy. As I lay there, the metronome ticks seemed to grow louder until I could hear only the soft beat of my heart and the metronome.
"You're doing great now. Just relax." The lids of my eyes became heavy, followed by my limbs, and soon it felt as if I was sinking through the sofa cushions. After a moment of drifting through inky blackness, I sense my body connecting with a solid again. A soft chill danced over my body.
"Open your eyes, Willow." I opened my eyes to the sight of a fall canopy moonlight breaking through intertwining tree limbs and colorful leaves. I sat up and allowed the confusion to wear off, and took in my surroundings.
"Where are you, Willow?" A twinge of pain from the back of my head interrupted the question, and I reached to feel a knot growing on the back of my head that was sore to the touch.
"So you had fallen and hit your head, but were you alone?" A chill ran down my spine as the sensation of eyes on me grew. The sound of a twig snapping under pressure caught my attention. It came from in front of me behind a thick shadowed tree trunk. Slit pupils peaked at me with a yellowish glint of curiosity from behind. My breathing caught in my throat my fingertips went numb as adrenaline coursed through me. The creature seemed to begin priming for a pounce, but a rustle of fall leaves broke the chilling silence while drawing our attention. A nestling that didn't make it far wasn't quite dead. The lurking beast lept from the tree trunk onto the nestling. I could make out now with the pale moonlight that the beady eyes belonged to a hulking wolf that greedily devoured the struggling nestling.
"Then you ran?" Of course, I ran. I dug my hands into the cold earth, trapping chunks of it under my nails. I pumped my feet as hard as I could, racing past what seemed like an endless sea of trees until I was tripped by loose roots sending me flying horizontally to the ground, which soon I met with a bit of force. I tried to catch the breath that the earth had knocked from me. I could hear over the sound of my pounding heart the beast's feet quickly approaching. I roll to my back to witness the wolf pounce, the image of a bloody maw flying towards me before it all goes black.
I open my eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling from a memory disguised as a nightmare. Rule number five access each new situation. I create a mental checklist and start from the top. The last thing I remember was watching a werewolf disintegrate in my grandmother's living room at the hands of a young man who was frozen solid only moments before. I turn my head to see that same man sitting in a chair across the room, slowly nodding off. My body felt good after the sleepiness had worn off, so I sat up after growing tired of watching him fight to stay awake.
My movement caused enough commotion to wake him. Icy blue eyes shot open, examining the origin of the noises. His posture changed when his eyes adjusted to the waking image. He wouldn't look in my direction, which made me analyze myself. The heavy hoodie and pants I was wearing were gone, and I now just donned someone's baggy t-shirt and my undies. A pair of clean clothes sat on a desk on the other side of the room. The memory of cold drool piercing my clothes resurfaced, and I shuddered.
"I'll go inform your grandmother you're awake." His tone was kind, and his expression changed by empathy was soft. He disappears behind the door closing it softly behind him.
The physical exhaustion was gone, but the mental gymnastics had me winded. Ignoring the bit of thigh, I showed a stranger I made my way across the room to change she had left for me black stockings, jean shorts, a t-shirt that read "grandmas girl." spray-painted across the chest, an old patchy zip-up hoodie that had Little Rider stitched into the back, a pair of fingerless gloves, and a long crimson scarf that took three wraps to situate around my neck at first it seemed like it would never fit. Still, as if shifting to match me better, it shrank. Knocks come from the door behind me. As I finish dressing, my grandmother enters the room.
"You like your clothes?" Her voice was soft and loving as always when we spoke.
"Yes, thank you." I signed back, giving a warm smile of appreciation. She looked me over for a bit running her hands over the old hoodie and tugging at the scarf to help further situate it.
"Good, that's good. The hoody is mine, ya know? It's gonna get real cold these next couple of weeks, so make sure to keep wearing it." She ran her hands over the scarf again, giving it a good once over.
"Everything alright?" I asked, curious to learn more about the morphing scarf.
"No, it's nothing at all, dear. The scarf seems to really fit you, is all." I couldn't help but catch the skeptical tone and wanted to gain anything from her.
"It didn't seem to at first." I watched for her reaction to what I said, but nothing showed on her face.
"Then that means it likes you then, dear. It was your grandfathers' scarf, and he really adored watching over you." A flicker of sadness broke the poker face before it was back in pristine condition.
"Look, I'm no good at this... The short and long of it is you have now fallen face-first into a world that my daughter's worthless excuse of a husband tried to shield you from for so many years." And there was the switch I was waiting on when it came to my father. There wasn't a single lousy opinion she wouldn't share.
"And because you insist on finding your worthless father, and your mother is busy rampaging across Europe, someone will have to prepare you for this new world..." My grandmother bit her lower lip. An anxiousness I've never seen wormed its way onto her face before she composed herself and continued.
"You'll follow the boy today, and you'll meet that man... who could help better ease you into this." Frustration nested in her brow, a frustration I started to feel rise in myself.
"Why can't you help me?" I signed with as much attitude as I could manage.
"Because I need to go help your mother... She's convinced that she knows who made your father disappear, and she's probably making a list of enemies as we speak, trying to figure this out." Being informed, my mother and father knew about this layer of reality. Learning that they kept it from me made my head spin, and my only family member in town was pawning me off to some stranger, but then I remembered rule number ten adapt and move forward. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
"Anything I should know about this guy?" A moment of surprise from my grandmother at how quickly I accepted my circumstances.
"Listen to what he says, and I mean really hear it, not just obey..." She seemed to be searching her memories for anything that might be missing. The sincerity of the following words from her lips showed on her face.
"And any deal with him is as good as a deal with the Devil himself..." We were alerted by the noise of knocks from the door. The young man who helped us peaks his sandy blonde head into the room.
"All the runes are prepared for the walk, Miss A." She waves him away without looking, and he ducks back into the hallway.
"Runes?" I asked honestly, curious about this new realization that magic was real and my family could use it.
"Nothing to worry over. You should be just fine with what you're wearing, but the runes are just extra help." The answer was good enough to quiet the questions showing on my face, and as if realizing she was short on time, she became antsy, shifting from heel to heel.
"Okay, he'll escort you to the trickster and... I know you'll be okay." She looks me over one more time before stepping an arm's length away from me.
"I love you. Willow, trust in yourself." A static charge seemed to fill the room, making the hair on my arms stand.
"I love you too?" I couldn't help but feel like we were saying goodbye, and this would be the last time I'd see her for some time. She warmly smiled before grabbing a tiny silver bell charm on her bracelet. She rang it twice, and with a blink, she vanished for a moment. I was stunned, but more knocks at the door broke me from it. The door opened, and the young man, now wearing a heavy coat with a high collar, stood outside the threshold.
"Miss Ashe left, I see. Well, I'm not sure if she told you, but my name is Salem. It's nice to meet you, Rose." He makes a slight bow which I reply to with a tinier curtsey and uncontrollable giggle.
"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. He watched me for three straight days
After a few more steps, he paused in front of a shop slammed between apartment buildings. The shop sign read or was supposed to read Tricksters Trinkets in big white letters, but the et of the Trinkets were missing leaving the clean outlines of the letters behind. Three wood steps lead to an old yellow paint-chipped door that just had a single open and closed sign hanging on it.
"This is it, the Trickster Trinkets everything magical you desire inside, but once you enter, there will be nothing to hide..." The creepy little slogan aside, I couldn't help but be in awe a little. This run-down shack on the outside held all my magical desire within. I couldn't hide my skepticism from Salem, who couldn't help but laugh at my expression.
" I know, I know it doesn't seem like much, but once you're inside, you'll understand." I looked over the peeling door, its yellow hue weathered by time. Something whispered from behind, tugging at the corners of my psyche.
"Ask me, and you shall know." Echoed in my mind before I realized I had ascended the three steps, weariness gripped my chest as I shot a look at Salem, who watched intently.
"Did you hear that?" Salem shook his head no, his brow furrowing in curiosity. I look back at the door feeling the same tugging, before quickly looking away.
"Are you going to come with me?" I asked Salem while my face turned beet red from embarrassment.
"If that is what you wish..." He ascends two steps so that he is right behind me.
"But you have to open the door and enter..." The worry in my chest dropped to my gut. I swallowed hard and took another step toward the door.
"Trust yourself and trust in me." A familiar voice again echoed in my head, freezing my pace. The sound of Salem taking another step up charged my confidence to do the same.
"A gift for courage, a returning of strength." The voice grew louder, and my body seemed to move independently. Instantly I was at the door. The brass handle was dull and uninviting. I gripped it, expecting it to be cold but found it warm, almost hot enough to sear. Still, I turned it, pushing against the surprising heaviness of the thin wooden door. Behind the door was a small lobby dimly lit with an impossibly high ceiling. Across the room, a standing desk sat in front of a doorway with no door but black drapes to replace one. Salem and I enter and make it to the center of the lobby. The further we went, we could hear an argument unfurling behind the black drape door.
"I don't have the resources, nor the time to find that good-for-nothing louse, and I advise you to adopt the same perspective." A voice spits spitefully.
"I have the time. All I need from you is the resources, and I would think at the very least, you of all people would help me find your good-for-nothing, son." Anger and disdain twisted through the new voices' response.
"It appears Kairo and Joker are at it again.". Salem commented, making his way past me to the standing desk. He finds a reception bell to ring, trying to gain the attention of the men in the back. Over the bell ringing, the whisper I heard from the door came from my left. Looking to find the source, I could only see a full-body mirror with a velvet blanket covering its reflective surface.
"Your gift is near. I am here." My body moved on its own again. I approached the mirror, hand extended to grasp the red cloak. I felt the fabric in the palm of my hand, and electricity-like needles coursed through my arm, provoking me to toss it across the floor and examine my hand. The skin was unfazed, but I still rubbed the palm of my hand with my thumb.
"Finally, we meet." The voice was now precise in my head, less than a whisper as if the person was standing in front of me. I searched the immediate area to see if anyone had entered the room with us. I then looked to Salem to see if he had noticed the voice. He hadn't and continuously pressed the bell that I couldn't hear anymore. What was happening?
"A gift for courage, a strength returned." I turn my attention to the source and find the mirror's reflective surface. In its reflection was me but wasn't me. Instead of the clothing I wore from my grandmother, I now wore a red velvet robe. My normal black hair was now crimson, and my eyes seemed to glow with a pearlescence. The image entranced me. She smiled at me softly, and her lips moved once more, sharing something that I missed and summoning a torrent of wind that flung the yellow door open with such strength it threatened its hinges. Sound returned as I heard Salem exclaim several curses while bracing himself against the wind. He watched as I stood unfazed, staring blankly into my reflection.
"Willow!!!" He yelled over the wind, but I could not reply. I stared at my counterpart's lips as they murmured. Salem tried fighting the gale force to reach me, but it proved useless as the wind held him against the desk. Electricity started at my toes and worked its way up my body. The wind grew more forceful as the energy built into my body.
Something was coming...
A snap of fingers from behind the desk brought the spectacle to an end, and I regained control of my body. I crumple to my knees. Salem rushes to my side, incredibly concerned with what took place.
"What happened?" I asked while Salem helped me back to my feet. Once he did, he backed away from me, slowly glancing at the stranger.
"What? Did I grow horns or something?" I said quickly, touching my forehead and not finding new horns.
"Willow, you're speaking..." The stranger cocked his hepmad at me as I finally comprehended. I looked towards the mirror that now reflected jet-black darkness.
"I'm speaking. I can speak..." I said as the tears rolled down my cheeks. The words, a gift for courage and strength returned, entered my mind. Salem, less hesitant, crossed the room and held me as I wept.
~End of Chapter 2
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