Gremlin Night

would be the last thing you’d be saying.”
It laid a long finger hand against its brow. “How can you imply that a true trickster doesn’t serve mankind?”
“For one thing, it’s humankind, not just mankind.” I drew Tully’s wand. “Second, the law is the law, which you’re apparently ignorant of, but that’s no excuse.”
“You mistake me,” Mister Trickster said, and laughed again.
It was super creepy.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered in the direction of my cowering companion. “You’ll be okay.”
No answer. I glanced around. There was no one there. He was gone, taking his knowledge of what he’d seen here with him. That was a problem.
“This is no time for wands,” Mister Trickster said. He snapped his fingers and Tully’s wand flew from my fingers.
I snatched at the wand but my fingers just missed it.
The wand clattered on the sidewalk. I dove after it, but impossibly, it rolled away.
“Get back here!” I darted after it.
It rolled into the street. Headlights shone and a big panel van roared toward me. I threw up my hands to shield my eyes, staying out of the street. I’d lose that argument in a heartbeat. The van sped past. Wood snapped and my heart with it.
There was a flash of purple. The van drove off. I ran out into the street. The wand had splintered into a hundred pieces. Tully would kill me.
But that was impossible. Wands didn’t just snap. They were made by dryads working with artificers.
I smelled an illusion. I whirled back around and looked at the Trickster. Sure enough, it held Tully’s wand in its bony fingers.
“Give that back!” I said.
“Make me,” it replied, sounding suddenly like a five-year old. It twiddled the wand, stroked it, then brought it up to its lips. “Perhaps I discover that I enjoy the taste of wand.”
“You’ll break a tooth,” I said.
“Are you so sure?” It laughed again. That laugh was like fingernails on the proverbial blackboard. It opened its mouth, revealing rows of needle-like teeth.
The problem with illusions that really worked is that they twisted reality to the point where you didn’t know which way was up.
A chorus of hee-hees erupted from the bank. It sounded like a horde of gremlins. If it was, I was well and truly hosed. But again, that’s illusions for you. They tricked you. Just like gremlins and would-be tricksters.
I needed to put a stop to this. Pronto.
Which meant I had to use the verboten blood magic. Good thing Tully wasn’t around, or Dara Kind for that matter. She’d have a field day with this.
I fumbled around for my special item.
The trickster’s jaws snapped and the wand split in two. It laughed again. Showing me rows upon rows of knife-like teeth, all free of shards and splinters.
“You see, your fear was for nothing.” Its left hand held Tully’s wand. It looked intact.
Unless, of course, the wand still wasn’t there. I fought the urge to look around for it.
My fingers brushed against the barbed amulet pricking my index finger. Sloppy, Liz, I told myself, real sloppy.
“One last time,” I said. “Declare yourself!”
The trickster gave a “you-have-to-be kidding” look, its eyebrows arching and lips smirking. “I’ve already told you my name.”
“You’ve told me a made-up silly title,” I said. “Not your name.” There was a difference. Manifestations had true names, that sprung from their essence, which came from the collective subconscious.
“That is all you’ll get.”
“Pretty uppitty for a newbie manifestation,” I said. “What are you, level 1?”
It snickered, twiddled its fingers. “You have not begun to see my anger,” it said, face a sudden thundercloud.
“Touchy, too,” I said, and ran my left hand around the edges of my blood magic amulet. Agony convulsed my hand. I bit my lip to keep from crying out and continued my spell.
“I take your essence and bind it to me,” I said. I gestured with my right hand, while my left felt like it was on fire. “I take the source and sever you from it.”
I slashed the air before me with my fingers. A storm of yellow lighting shot from my fingers and into the trickster. It stood there for a long moment, dancing like a puppet.
“Your name!” I demanded.
“Rudy!” It said.
Rudy? Sometimes manifestations took their name from an individual. Sometimes, though, they lied.
I slashed again. “Tell me truly.” More golden lightning spun from my fingers and around the trickster, tightening around its scrawny neck.
The mocking sneer vanished, replaced by panic. It clutched at its throat.
A metaphorical attack was still real. That might seem crazy, but it’s true. A temporary supernatural like “Mister Trickster” didn’t breathe the air or feed like a permanent. They hadn’t become resident yet. But strangling them still had an effect, believe it or not.
I eased up. “Name.”
“Mister Trickster. Rudy.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Which is it?”
“Mister Trickster. Rudy.”
The golden lightning intensified. My hand hurt like Hades and I realized that my blood magic sacrifice still fueled the spell. The full force of the command spell convulsed Mister Trickster.
“The truth.” My voice sounded like thunder in my own ears. It would be localized, but within six feet of us, my words boomed. Beyond six feet it would be a whisper.
“Mister Trickster. Rudy.”
“Release him,” a little voice said. I jumped, losing my grip on the spell, and the lightning spun off into space and vanished.
“Begone,” the little voice commanded.
I jerked around, trying to see who was speaking. There was no one there, just a stray dog, like a large yellow-red Pomeranian.
I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. Mister Trickster ran, its long legs pumping, but as it did, it faded away. Tully’s wand lay on the sidewalk. I strode over and snatched at it. My fingers closed on the faintly thrumming wood. Real. I smiled.
“Now, isn’t that better,” the little voice said. “Time to go.”
I looked at the dog. It wasn’t actually a dog. It was a fox. Its tongue lolled, and it yawned.
“What makes you think that’s me?” the little voice asked, from behind me. I whirled around again.
Nothing