Trickster Trink

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.