Morana

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I got dressed quickly and joined Alejo on the other side of the door. He didn't say anything as he led the way out of the hospital. I couldn't help but question myself as I followed him. Why was I trusting this stranger?

Fair, he hadn't said or done anything that suggested that he wanted to harm me. According to his words, he had helped me avoid the coven, and that it was a good thing. But it was just what he said. He could be lying through his teeth.

I guessed curiosity was a big contributing factor. I couldn't deny that his revelation that I was a witch didn't cause me to feel excited. It was what I had wanted to hear all my life. And that he seemed willing to explain more made it even better. He was my ticket to Narnia.

And he had proven that he wasn't talking rubbish or was insane. I mean, he had made clothes materialize out of thin air.

So I guessed I trusted him as much as I was curious about hearing more.

When we got out on the street, he quickly found us a cab. We rode in silence. I had a million questions I wanted to ask him. So many I didn't know where to start. Except I knew that asking them in a cab probably wasn't the best of ideas. So I spent the time trying to sort through the questions without managing at all.

He lived in an apartment on the opposite side of town compared to me, which meant he lived in a much fancier area. Not super fancy really, but it was all newly built and fresh. It was nice in its own way, but it all felt too clean and ordered for my taste.

His apartment had two bedrooms, though I could see through the open doors that one of them was basically empty. Like the building itself, the inside of the apartment was fresh. Bright and perfect, or well, more the built of the apartment was with white walls and large windows. But the interior, not so much.

"Sorry about the mess," Alejo said once the door was closed behind us. "I didn't really plan to have company today."

He hurried to a table that stood in the hallway that overflowed with open letters and papers and random rubbish. He gathered up the trash and I couldn't help but smile.

"Just leave it for now. I don't care," I told him. When he turned around with an eyebrow raised, I added, "Honestly, I don't." Which definitely was the case. If anything, too clean homes made me uncomfortable. I got afraid I'd mess something up and anger the one living there.

"Okay," he sighed. "The living room is best for talking."

He led the way and as soon as he entered, he rushed to his coffee table and collected dishes from it. I fought hard not to laugh.

"You want something to drink? Tea?" he asked when he had five plates in his arms.

"Sure," I answered with a grin.

He continued through a door on the other end of the living room. The kitchen, I assumed. I, however, stayed and looked around.

Everything looked completely ordinary. Couch and two armchairs. Coffee table. TV. A DVD collection. Music collection. Stereo. Posters in frames on the walls. A flower in the window. I couldn't say that I wasn't disappointed. I mean, it was the first time I visited a magical being's home, as far as I knew at least. But there was nothing that would have given me a clue it wasn't the average bachelor's apartment.

"Not what you expected?" Alejo chuckled as he came back with two cups of tea.

"I guess I assumed a warlock's home to be a bit more... interesting."

He laughed. "You just haven't found the right place to look. And oh, the terms warlock and wizard, isn't something we actually use."

"So what would you call yourself?" I asked and moved to sit down next to him as he made his way over to the couch.

"Witch. Independent of gender, we are witches. It's seen as mainly something to call a female by humans because there aren't many male witches."

"Really? Why's that?" I sat so that my whole body was turned to him, while he kept his body straight forward but his eyes on me.

"Why are leprechauns male? Why are banshees female? Who knows?" he shrugged.

"Leprechauns and banshees exist too?" I asked, feeling my jaw drop.

"Yep." I could hear the laughter in his voice, but I couldn't hide my surprise, enthusiasm, or burning questions.

"So that would make you unique then? I mean, if there aren't many male witches."

"That's... one way of putting it." The laughter disappeared from his face and his whole demeanor seemed to fall somewhat, as if he got sad. But that had to be my imagination. If anything, what I had said had been a compliment.

"What about Santa?" I asked next.

"Really? That's what you're most curious about?" He laughed again and that hint of sadness was completely gone. "He doesn't exist. Neither does the Easter Bunny or Tooth Fairy. Though there are faeries."

"Faeries like Tinkerbell or the Fairy Godmother?"

"Neither really. Both are very stereotypical portrayals of how faeries really are."

My head worked in overdrive and I couldn't make it go in a coherent line, which made my next question become a backtracking in our conversation.

"What did you mean about found the right place to look?"

He smiled and pointed at one of the framed posters. It wasn't something special, or it was eerie and foreboding if anything. A wilting tree under the night sky.

"Go ahead and touch that one," he said.

"Touch it?" I asked, while feeling my eyebrows working their way up my forehead.

"Just do it."

I sighed, but got up and went over to the poster. I shook my head slightly before I reached out and touched it. As soon as I'd done that, my jaw dropped again.