Norman massaged his brow with a heavy sigh. “Take your time, Amy. I know you’re disoriented. Try again.”

He waited. The sounds returned. This time, they forced themselves into something vaguely approximating a voice.

“̴͍̐N̷̤̦͖͖͎̟̑͋̕ń̶̟̿̀̓́n̸̫̣̤̘̼͔̈̎̃ ̸̆̓̈͜…̸͚͉̺̝̈̊ ̸̼̏̾́̅N̶̡̯̅̿̉͘͘͝u̸̹̤̝͈̭̯̇͆̿̊̓h̵̰͍̘͖̤̍̐͝ ̷̖̋̆̓̍…̶̛͔͇̊̂͒͐̃ ̴̙̱͇̐̀͘Noơ̸̘̻̐oǫ̶̖̀̽͐o̴̰̻͐̐ŕ̷̝̟̀̐ř̷͚̩̺̇̃r̶͕͓̤͐́m̷̗̱̣͒a̴̪͊͆ń̷̗͠n̶̥̗̑̀̈́n̵͚͈̗͑̒̄?̴̤̫̼̌̀”̸̫̂Amy intoned.

“Yeah. I’m here,” he softly declared.

Her pauses were long. She sounded almost drowsy, out of sorts, like she’d woken up from a deep sleep and could barely think. It was to be expected from someone who’d just had her mind sucked right out of her.

“… Ẏ̵̤̒̅̓͆̕ǫ̶̟̙́́͘͘͝o ……… you̶̡̪̮̝̒̃̓ ̸̞͓̣̞̎̀̄know̴̟̖͂̍̂ ̶̳͉̯͉̈́̓̅w̴͒̽ͅhat hǎ̸̦ppen̶͓͗͆̉e̸̗͓͎̍̄ḑ̷͈̭̺̏̃̓?̷̼͋̀” she ventured.

He heard something on her end. A small electrical discharge, it sounded like. She probably didn’t know how to avoid making them yet. It was like sticking a toddler at the helm of a battle ship.

Norman nodded. “Yes. I know what happened.”

This time, he could practically feel the thoughts behind her pause. She didn’t understand why he was co calm. With no easy answer, her mind was stuck in a groggy loop. It was like jumping someone with algebra first thing in the morning.

“You’re alive. That’s why I’m not running around like a chicken without a head,” Norman chuckled.

He heard something like a one-note huff laugh. More thoughtful silence followed.

“… ̶̫̲́̎̚͠Am̵͕͍̅͂͘͘ I real̴̯̉a-̶͕͛̋̀ ̵̡͗reá̶̗͔̝̊̈́lly̴̢͛ ̸̨̗̘̯̈́aliv̴̛̜̻̝̽̅̚e?” asked Amy.

“Well, we’re talking, aren’t we?” Norman reasoned simply. “How do you feel?”

“̴̝͛Strang̸̤̍e̵̡̕ ̵̻͊…̴̪̊ ̴̱͝noṭ̶̋ ̵͓̌r̷̙͗igh̴̠́t,̶̤̋”̴̭̓ Amy replied. “̵͈̕Fuz̴͍̉zy ̵̆ͅ…̸̭̍ ̶͚̊mind̸̛̥.̵̱͂ ̸͔͛ ̶̼̈́Ĩ̶̪ ̷̛͉d̶̰̓on’̸͜͠t ̴͇́…̴̩̑.̷̱͋.̴͔͒ ̷͓̓ ̵͇̔My ̷͔̄body ̵̢̉…̵̫̂ ̵̹̕d̵̼͝oes ̷̜͐n̸̞̓ot ̸̩͝f̶̲̂eel ̷͔̒l̴͋ͅike ̵̺̂my ̷͙̉b̷̧̌ody.̷͈̌ ̷̼̈́ ̴̜͋Toő̵̡ ̶̥͝big̸̠̚ ̸̢̀.. ̶̭͆too ̶̲̓…̷̣̿ ̴̩͋ever̶̞̈y̸̯͗wherĕ̶͔ ̵̦̀.̶͙̔.̴̺͑.̶̦͐ ̶̭̄ ̷͈͌I ̵͕͘don’̷̞͝t ̵̗̂…̵̰͒ ̵͖̈́feel ̶̗̀l̵̝͑ike̵̒ͅ ̶̜̀me̵͓͂.̷̙̌ ̴͕͐ ̴̼͝I’̸̳̌m ̵̨̉…̷̭̈́ ̸̜̈́H̴͓͋ungr̸̥̉r̸̲̉r̵̮͆rrý̷̝.̵̹͊”̴̡̃

“Where are you?” asked Norman.

“̶͖̎…̴̤͆ ̷̳̊I’̷̳̾m ̵͚̀so ̶̱̑sor̶͔̈r̵̡͌y ̷̼̊…̶̥̓”̸̮́ Amy apologised.

It sounded like she was beginning to spiral.

“Amy, it’s not your fault,” Norman assured.

“̸̗̌No.̵͇̾ ̶̭̋ ̵̢̄It ̷̟̓is ̶̝̑…̷̪͝ ̵̪̑I ̵̦́got̷̫̒ ̷̼̆…̷̖͗ ̷̧̈́caught̴̞̓ ̵̦̊like̸̫̽ ̵̡̚a ̵̮̀fool.”̵̼̈́ She throbbed a bitter approximation of a laugh. “̶̤̚D̵̨̒on’̴̦̀t ̴̝͛look̵̯̄ ̵͈͛for ̷̪͆me.̷͈̂ ̶̳̕ ̶̼͗I'm ̵̛̝…̷̲͝ ̴̫̓ḏ̶̐a̷͚̐n̴͈̾g̸̩̐e̴̢͘r̵̨̈ǫ̵͑u̶͎̇s̷̖̍sss̴̠̈.̵̣̽ ̶̲̌ ̶̞̽I ̸̜̄lo-̶̨̍ ̵͓̓…̷͕́ ̴͚͘I ̴̬͝…̷̞̌ ̶̖͂good̸̨̈́b̷̛̰ye,̷͉̇ ̴̋ͅmy ̵̰̚dear ̸̧̏friend.̶͍͊”̴͛͜

The phone went dead.

Norman paced in circles, rocking on his heels. His eyes flicked about in thought. Then he bolted for the fridge, pulled out two bottles, then snatched a map from a drawer, sprawling it across a table.

He tossed a bottle backwards. “Hey, Wade.”

He heard the large man snatch the bottle out of the air. “‘Ey, Norman. How’d you know I was here?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Was listening for you,” Norman hastily explained. “Heard your footsteps. No, I haven’t bugged you. No, I’m not actively monitoring you on some obscure surveillance system.”

“‘Actively’ being the key word,” Wade noted.

“Yep. Also, I won’t fight you,” Norman added.

Wade blubbered. “H-how did you kno-? … Whose that handsome fella?”

“‘Johnny Boy’,” Norman clarified. “Some guy from a nightmare. Messed with Amy, so I made a dummy in his likeness. Not sure if he’s a nyctal or not. Yes, I know those moves are illegal in MMA. No, I don’t care.”

Norman hadn’t even looked back. Reading the room was one thing, but how was he answering all the questions Wade hadn’t even asked yet?

“… I still wanna fight you,” Wade asserted.

He found himself lying on his back. A fast takedown, too fast. Since when had Norman even gotten there?

Norman stood over him. “My fighting style is not meant for humans, and I’m too keyed up to tone it down. Right now, I need that edge.”

Norman helped up Wade as though the guy weighed little more than a five-year-old. He returned to the map.

Wade side-eyed him. “You plannin’ a war or somethin’?”

Norman raised a metallic orb over the map. “‘Or something’.”

Luminous, concentric circles spun upon the sphere.

Wade’s eyes glued to the object. His eyelids peeled back as it rapt his attention.

“What is that?” he asked.

“A family heirloom,” Norman replied.

“What’s it do?”

“It lights up and looks pretty,” Norman clarified unhelpfully.

Wade almost rolled his eyes. “I highly doubt that … that …”

Those circles. He couldn’t look away. They drew in his mind hook line and sinker. He … h e . . .

Wade shook his head. Where was he again? A strange ball was in Norman’s hands. Those spinning lights called to him.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Family heirloom. It lights up and looks pretty,” Norman explained again.

“I highly doubt-”

VWWMMMMMM!

The ball hummed. Its light flared. Wade’s mind went blank. Norman stared into the spinning circles, eyes watering as he forced his mind to stay the course.

Then it was over.

He jotted several marks onto the map. Okay. Now what? ‘Several’ wasn’t very specific. He glanced at the orb. Another go could narrow things down, but somehow he got the impression that twitching on the ground foaming at the mouth wouldn’t be a productive use of his afternoon. One usage was enough for the day.

Norman sighed, massaging his temple. “Alright, Friend. I’m gonna need a little help.”

He waited. Anxious thoughts swirled through his mind with no solution in sight. This would not do. Norman scrolled through his phone and selected a song. The calming string instrument soothed his soul.

Wade was dimly aware of wetness dripping down his cheeks and chin. He wiped them away. Tears? Saliva? How long had he been standing here? Something big had happened, but what?

… Why was there a harp playing in the background?

He noticed Norman standing above the map, eyes closed. In one hand, he held a metallic orb. The other hand hovered over the map, grasping a pencil. Wade wondered about that orb, but he sensed that Norman wouldn’t appreciate any interruptions.

Slowly but surely, Norman’s pencil hand began to move. It settled on one of the marks on the map and drew an ‘X’.

Norman opened his eyes, heaving a breath of relief. “Thanks.”

His eyes snapped to another spot on the map. He stared at it long and hard, then scribbled down another ‘X’ atop it.

“What?” Norman grunted.

He hands on his hips, he glanced between the two Xes over and over.

Wade stepped in and scrutinised them. The first one looked a little way north of Amy’s place. The second one …

“Isn’t that the crazy chef’s eatery?” asked Wade.

Norman raised an eyebrow. “What crazy chef?”

“He cooks nyctals,” Wade scoffed.

Norman’s face lit up. “Really? Perfect!”

He tucked away the orb and marched for the front door.

“Whatcha got there?” asked Wade.

“Nevermind that,” Norman dismissed. “I’m gonna need to borrow your pickup truck.”

“You gonna sweeten the deal?” asked Wade.

“$1000,” Norman replied without a beat. “If your truck gets totaled, I’ll buy it for the retail price plus 50%.”

Wade hesitated. “Tempting, but that’s not what I want.”

Norman was not amused. “You still wanna fight me?”

“Maybe not,” Wade admitted. “But I wanna see what you can do. Somethin’ tells me I’ll find out if I tag along.”

Norman searched his eyes.

That piercing focus … Wade got the chilling feeling that Norman was looking straight through him, that nothing could be hidden from him. Before Norman, he felt naked. On second thought, that word didn’t cut it. He felt dissected. Layers and layers of psychological flesh seemed to peel back.

Norman blinked.

The intensity ebbed away. Wade began to breathe again. Whatever Norman was looking for, he had found it.

Norman nodded. “Alright. Let’s go. Don’t die on me, okay? You’re gonna want one of these.”

He rummaged through a chest and retrieved a massive flashlight. It looked like a near-perfect bludgeoning weapon. Upon closer inspection, it might have been a stun baton: the most monstrous one Wade had ever seen.

Wade pointed down at it. “What dis?”

Norman grinned. “Your very first smitelight. It’s on the house.”