Volume 2

End

Focusing on his ceiling, Jack’s face went red. “You’re supposed to put that at the end of last chapter, you moronic chimp! What do you think you’re playing at, huh?”

Lydia, leaning on his desk, shrugged. “Perhaps he just forgot.”

“Don’t give me that,” said Jack, gaping at her, “he has plenty of time to edit these things! Get serious, Stephens!”

What Jack fails to realise is—

“Shut up!” He rubbed his forehead. “Once again, it’s a trainwreck before it’s even started…

***

The Supernormal

Volume 3

Comedy & Tragedy

Starring:

Your Imagination

***

Cheeks crimson and jaw clenched, Jack smashed a fist into his desk. “‘Your Imagination’ my hairy ass! This isn’t a movie, you blithering idiot; why not just do a recap instead?”

Last time, on The Supernormal—

“I wasn’t being serious!”

The final rays of dawn filtered through the window, shadows outside still dancing in the orange light. He had the heat on full, and it made him pleasantly groggy. Lydia had discarded her coat to reveal a pair of thick leggings and a woolly red jumper; he eyed her sideways with a sour expression, still wrapped in a fluffy green dressing gown.

“Don’t just skate over your own bullshit,” said Jack, glancing upward. “And what are you doing here so early?”

Her nose twitched. “It’s nearly nine.”

“The sun’s barely up.”

She harrumphed. “That’s no excuse for laziness.”

Sighing, he sipped his steaming coffee; the bitterness jolted him awake. “What do you want, Lydia?”

“I never asked you to lie for me.” With an expression he had yet to catalogue, she peered at him. It was the kind of look a parent gives a child who toddled out the kitchen with chocolate smeared on their face.

He hadn’t thought about it much in the moment; he didn’t want fractures between them.

It never occurred to him he might have been creating one.

“What’s the problem?” he said, leaning back. “In the end, it all got reversed to how it was before; your sin was basically erased.”

“It wasn’t though; it’s still in here.” Wrinkling her nose, she pointed at her chest.

“You keep your sins in your cleavage?”

“Why don’t you take a peek so I have an excuse to hit you?”

“I don’t recall you ever needing an excuse.”

Sucking her teeth, she glowered. “My point is that I did something wrong, and it doesn’t just magically go away. The people who came back didn’t forget dying. I imagine it’s carved into their nightmares.”

“But you know you did something wrong, and you want to be better. There’s no point you being punished for a mistake that ended up with no consequences.”

“How could you have known it would have no consequences?”

“It’s a comedy; everything goes back to normal in the end.”

“Don’t invoke tropes when I’m trying to have a serious discussion! You just don’t have a real answer, do you?”

Steepling his fingers, he gave her a heavy stare. “Honestly? At the time, I wasn’t really thinking. You seemed repentant enough.”

She exhaled. “I was. I am; I want to make up for what I did. But how am I supposed to do that if no-one actually knows what I’m making up for? Instead, they’ll look at me like I’m some sort of saviour, instead of a traitor.”

“So aspire to live up to that. It’ll be your repentance; spend every day living as someone who is you, but also isn’t. Become the mask you use to hide.”

“And you think you get to decide that?” She scowled.

“No,” he said. “I decide what I do, and you decide what you do. Sorry if I crossed a line, but in the end, we can all only do what we think is best, and atone when we get it wrong.”

“How can there be atonement without punishment?”

“Punishment is just the part telling people to reflect; you’re already past that stage.”

Clenching her fist, she entered a staring contest with her feet. “What if people figure it out? What happens then? Surely, lying just makes it worse.”

“Lizzie might get suspicious, but she won’t ask questions, and all Sam ever thinks about is God and smiting things.”

“No, I wasn’t worried about the priest. And you can justify all you want, but this feels wrong. I need to tell the truth, at least to Hannah.”

“Be my guest,” he said, downing the rest of his drink.

“How do you think she’ll take it?”

“I mean, it’s Hannah; she’s lovely.”

Nodding, Lydia smiled. “Yes, she rather is, isn’t she?”

“She’s also very judgy.”

She furrowed her brow. “What do you mean? Since when?”

He laughed derisively. “Yeah, you’re not here for all the nose-turned-up nagging: ‘Jack, why are you drinking at this time?’, ‘Jack, why do you gamble so much?’, ‘Jack, you should take the bin out before it overflows’.”

“Those all sound like normal complaints.”

“Point is, when she first came here she was full of admiration; now it’s more like having two of you.”

“Hmph. You should be so lucky.” She pursed her lips. “She won’t be happy with either of us, will she?”

As he opened his mouth to answer, the front door’s muffled clicking signalled its use.

“I’ll lie in my bed,” he said, standing. “That’s probably her now, so do what you’ve gotta do. I’m gonna get dressed.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

He disappeared into his bedroom, and Lydia’s breathing accelerated. Suddenly, no amount of air was enough for her ravenous lungs; it was like she was drowning.

Footsteps grew closer. It was easy, right? All she needed to do was tell the truth.

Hannah strode through the door, wearing a sleek black coat with an expansive hood.

With a shaky smile, Lydia said, “hi, Hannah.”

“Lydia!” Her sunny beam was infectious, filling Lydia with a warm sense of calm. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Well, the last few days have been rather hectic, haven’t they? I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m great. What about you? Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong, necessarily…” The girl was too perceptive. “Talking of the last few days, I was just wondering…”

Words. She needed words.

Hannah cocked her head. “What is it?”

“After I apologised, when you came down from the Tower, you gave me a look. I know I’m likely being stupid, but it still bothers me a little. What was that?”

Glancing away, Hannah frowned. “I thought you’d gone over to the dark side.” She favoured her with another smile. “I’m really sorry I doubted you.”

Something sliced through her chest. Her stomach roiled, and she fought not to retch; how could somebody be so maddeningly kind?

In her eyes, Lydia spotted a sparkle, as though she were standing before a real-life superhero.

She steeled herself. “And say—hypothetically, of course—that said doubt had, in fact, been correct: how would that make you feel?”

“Betrayed,” said Hannah, placing a finger to her chin. “Like all the good things I ever thought about you were a lie. I probably wouldn’t be able to forgive you.”

She swallowed. Why was her mouth so dry?

Hannah squinted. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

“I—” This was it. All she had to do was say it, and her conscience was clear.

But was that really fair? Could she really shatter another person’s reality, just to assuage her own guilt?

She felt ridiculous. Truth was supposed to set everybody free, after all.

“I just wanted to see how my friend thinks,” she said. “Is that so wrong?”

Hannah giggled. “No. So, where’s Jack?”

“Getting dressed.” What was she doing? In trying to dig some steps into the wall, she’d just made the hole deeper.

“Oh. Do you know if we have any work?”

“I don’t think so.”

Jack emerged from his bedroom in faded jeans and a paper-thin t-shirt. “Morning, kid. Docket’s clear today.”

She nodded. “Then do you mind if I take the day off? The Church is honouring me for my part in stopping Armageddon.”

“That’s wonderful,” said Lydia, reaching up to ruffle her hair.

Grinning, Hannah said, “yep! They’re making me a Grand Bloodletter.”

Jack blinked. “That sounds like the chairman of a murder cult.”

“It would have been Ultimate Bloodletter, but apparently letting a Christian deal the finishing blow knocked my score down.”

“Someone kept score?”

“I’m confused too, but hey, everyone admires me for a day; I can’t lose.” With a wave, she left.

Returning to his desk, Jack flicked his gaze to Lydia. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”

She curled her lip. “Shut up.”

“I’m not judging you,” he said, holding his hands up.

With a scowl, she sat on one of the sofas and folded her arms. No sooner had she done so than a knock reverberated.

Jack groaned, stomping over. “This better not be anything biblical.”

He exited, leaving the inner door open enough for her to hear the conversation downstairs. Somebody had lost their charge, and happened across Jack’s sign, whereupon they had decided to enlist his services.

She paled. That was a familiar voice.

When Jack re-entered the office, he had another man trailing him: he was tall and thin, with silky hair and a dress shirt he somehow made seem casual.

She had, by this point, become invisible. Upon choosing to become unseen, one has two options; the first is to create a forcefield around themself, killing any light before it reaches them. This indeed makes one invisible, but only in the sense a person wearing a bedsheet looks like a ghost—the lack of any reflection creates a human-shaped void in the vision of anybody with more than half an eyeball.

The second option requires constant concentration, but the trade-off is it actually works, insofar the majority of the body is unnoticeable: one must make light travel through them. However, there is a glaring issue with this; for the retinas to function, a person must allow light to impact their eyes, giving an observer the impression they had accidentally ingested LSD upon seeing the floating organs—all one could do is hope nobody questioned.

Gary locked his gaze with hers.

She stopped breathing.

He strolled over and poked her chest.

With an affronted gasp, she kicked him in the gut, doubling him over. Coughing, he dropped to his knees.

“Are you aware… there’s somebody invisible on your couch?”

Jack rubbed his forehead. “Unfortunately, yes.”

She undid her spell, glaring at Gary as he clutched his stomach.

“Lydia?” he said, squinting. “What are you doing in this shithole?” He faced Jack. “No offence, mate.”

“All taken. Who are you?”

Pushing himself to his feet, he grunted. “I’m Gary.”

“Not helpful.” He turned to Lydia. “Who’s he?”

“That’s Gary.”

He bristled. “I know!”

“He’s my cousin.”

“You have cousins?”

“Adopted cousins.”

Jack thought better of further questions, instead saying to Gary, “is this who you were looking for?”

Nodding, Gary faced her. “I don’t think your mother would approve, you know.”

“Hmph. She can mind her own business.”

“Show some respect,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Your mother’s a great woman.”

“She thinks people are furniture!” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Would you rather listen to her, who would undoubtedly throw you in the basement for your debauchery, or me, who allows it?”

Jack blanched. “There’s a basement?”

The colour drained from his face. “I am your servant, My Lady.”

“What the Hell’s in there?”

“So, what did you need?” said Lydia.

“You’re killing me here.”

“Yeah, that. Zara just called me, and we need you back. Jess is here.”

Pouting, Jack gave up on his quest for knowledge.

Her eyes shot wide, and she snapped to her feet. “What did you just say?”

“Exactly what you think I said.”

She hurried toward the door. “Then let’s go!”

“Wait one second,” said Jack, holding out his hand. “Base rate’s two hundred.”

Gary goggled at him. “But she was here the entire time!”

“In my office. So technically, I found her for you.”

“I found her myself.”

Growling, Lydia said, “pay the man and let’s go.”

***

They entered her apartment, where Jess sat on the sofa making small talk with her cousins.

She wore a pale green blouse and a skirt to her knees, her hair more lustrous than it had ever been, and her face full of colour.

Hearing the door, she noticed her and grinned. “Lydia!” She leapt over the sofa’s back, running at her sister and smothering her in an embrace. “I’m so happy to see you.” With gleaming eyes, she regarded her. “I hear you stopped Armageddon.”

Lydia squeezed; it was so warm. “I had some help.” She pulled away, adopting a stern expression. “Cousins, out!” Gary shrugged, and Zara made a face like an abandoned kitten, but they made for the door.

Kenneth continued watching television, munching on a sandwich.

Gripping his shoulders, Lydia put her face next to his ear. “That means you too, Kenneth.”

Before she could blink, he ran out.

“Jessie, you look… well.”

Chuckling, Jess retook her seat. “They don’t know what the cause is, but I suddenly started improving. Apparently it’s like a miracle; I even rode Pickles to town the other day! Mum finally said I could go and do something I wanted, so the first thing I thought of was seeing you.”

“Aw,” said Lydia, fluff spreading from her chest. “I love you too, Jessie.”

“So, I’m guessing it wasn’t the cousins who helped you? They seem a little…”

She shook her head with a smirk. “How did you know? I’ll introduce you to my friends sometime, but today, I have so much to show you.”

There it was again, shining in her irises: the adulation of a younger sibling.

“I can’t wait to see it,” said Jess.

Maybe Jack was right.

She had to be the person they saw her as.

***

Tipping his chair back, Jack sipped his beer. The taste of hops danced on his tongue. It was wonderful; he heard only rain pattering against his window, and the characteristic wheeze of his laptop.

“Finally,” he said, “some peace.”

The door burst open, a sopping wet Sam falling to all fours.

Jack’s mouth hung open. “What the f*ck are you doing?”

“I’m not a priest,” he said, panting. “I’m a Paladin.”

“You’re way too late for that, the chapter’s over!”