Hunted|Haunted - Chapter 7 - Discussion or Concussion

After fixing himself up, Toma immediately switched his attention to the newcomer.

— Good morning, sir! Have you seen this witchen man? – he said, holding out a crumpled Polaroid of uncle Harvey holding a big fish. Though the fish probably only looked big next to uncle Harvey.
— For gods' sake, Toma, didn't the last 3 minutes teach you anything?
— That people will give me money once reminded they're being mean?
— Okay, and maybe anything else?
— I forgot I was supposed to learn. So, his name is Harvey-Aisek Tragač, and-

Plush coyote gave the guy a look full of exhaustion and second-hand embarrassment. At least, that's what Never felt he was doing. The guy probably just saw a toy moving its head to stare into his soul with its pitch black button eyes.

You are so much like your parents, assuming good in everyone and forgetting to be afraid in the face of danger. If only you thought before doing, like them... Then again, it's not like Neven didn't eat a medusa lizard on a dare at his age. Did his fingertips ever stop feeling a little powdery?

— Maybe at least thank him for saving your skin?
— Oh, yeah, thank you, sir, for saving my skin!
— Um… sure, whatever. — The guy, who was staring from beneath the hood of his jacket at Neven, looked at Toma again. His thoughts seemed to be somewhere else, as he muttered half-incredulously, half-confused. — Is it a new trend to carry ghosts around, or is it a new norm I didn’t know anything about?
— What's a trend?
— So that's what you decided to inquire about?
— You are very boring today, Coyote.
— You. Ran. Away. ON A TRAIN.
— What else was I supposed to run away on? Mum doesn't allow me to have a broom yet
“And that was a great idea on her part”, – Neven thought. He'd dramatically sighed, if he had lungs.
— I assume you can hear me, then. Morning.

The guy just stared at them, absent-mindedly taking the backpack he was carrying back on. His hands were twitching slightly, but he seemed to pay it no mind. Only after he took the backpack on, finally the reality seemed to catch up with him, because he narrowed his eyes in suspicion and general “what the fuck” expression.

— What in the bloody Nine Hells is going on?
— This would’ve been way less confusing had you only heard Toma speak. I am dead, yes, possessing the toy consensually. Toma over here is looking for this man. Have you seen him or not?
— Well… — The guy came closer, bending slightly to take a better look at the photo. Paused, tilting his head. Then slowly said. — Can’t say I remember everyone I see on a daily basis… But your guy looks familiar. — The guy looked back at Toma and smirked, but his smile was lopsided. And his voice gained the tone that indicated that “your guy” was known pretty well and that this dude was surprised that a kid was looking for him. — Why? Is he some sort of long-lost relative?
— I mean, he's not lost, he is-
— Toma, that's not what he asked.
— Oh. He is a friend of my dad, and might know how to find him. He's a Tragač, he's very good at that.

Neven was never any more religious than was necessary to use artefacts requiring belief, but he prayed this would lead to nothing, and Imeje would show up just about now. Hopping on a runaway train, because Harvey happened to send a postcard from here, was crazy on its own, since Toma apparently couldn't comprehend how mail worked. But asking just every passerby to help put him in amounts of danger too high for most adults.

— Your dad has some nasty friends, kid. — The guy straightened, fixing his backpack. Then said, looking at both Toma and Neven – although it seemed he consciously tried to ignore Neven’s presence. — Dunno where you came from, but word of advice – go back there. Whatever happened to… your dad, probably not worth it. If your dad’s alive, and this guy really is a friend of your dad, he’ll probably find him pretty soon.
— B-but, my dad-

Toma seemed a little too close to tearing up to let him continue the negotiation. Neven decided to step in, in all his postmortem-awarded lieutenant glory.

— First. Toma, would you kindly? – which was a command to back off and let the adults talk. — Second, Harvey is an exiled Tragač, and has been since he was in his thirties. You can check that for yourself, not one Tragač will call him a relative. Beats me why he still bears the name. Third, while I agree with your opinion on Toma's father's friends, and what Toma should do now, look into his eyes and guess how many times I tried to make him reconsider. Fourth. You know something I want. And I will get it out of you, one way or another, but I feel rather generous, so I'll let you pick – pound of crown or pound of lead?

Now the guy turned his attention fully to Neven. And there was fear and calculation in equal measure in his dark, barely visible eyes.

— And what is it that you want from a poor little me? — He finally asked, his tone sharper and more sarcastic. — Aren’t you busy helping the kid out of the goodness of your heart?
— I am made of wool, you think I've got a heart? And this innocent little precious cub cursed me, that I will die for dead if I refuse to help. You think anyone picks the life of a toy willingly…? Anyway, you either know how to find Harvey, or any other Tragač, doesn't matter which one.
— But I thought-
— A rooster also thought and ended up in a soup. You seem a nice fellow, and I have assets. What I had in paper probably doesn't matter any more, heard the king's changed, but I guess gold still has weight, if you're interested in that.
— I so didn’t sign up for this… — The guy sighed heavily, slightly shaking his head in what was very clearly a gesture of exasperation. Then shrugged. — But, if you’re not all talk and buying, I’m sold. Not that I’m any kind of mage, but some people in this gods-forsaken country should know what to do with you, — He then looked at Toma and probably smiled – the corner of his lips twitched slightly. — and probably find your dad as a bonus.
— Ha, if you knew anything about systematic conjuring, you'd know the Tragač are all bark no bite, as a bloodhound should be. Here's your advance payment – Neven held out his plush hand, holding a couple of old, gold coins. — You can call me Coyote, and you already know the kid's name.
— Huh. — The guy took the coins, inspected both of them attentively, weighed one in his hand, then bit it, testing the bend. Satisfied with the inspection and in a better disposition than a second before, he nodded, finally introducing himself. — Name’s Nexialist, or “Nex” for short.
— What's nex-
— What's “Toma”
…
— Okay, I got it.

Nex sighed heavily once more, slightly rolling his eyes and pocketing the coins. Then turned around, motioning for Toma to follow.

— Let’s go. I have a place where we can discuss it all without any eavesdroppers.