GraceFall [ONC 2024]

17

The psychic battle continues ...

Betty remembered this, but not like this. Her mother, holding her hand, leading her to a dark, rundown part of town. The kind of place that held the lowest of society, even here in small-town Iowa. At the time, it had seemed like another day out, but it held a far more sinister edge as she saw through the eyes of herself as a child. Her mother rapping upon a familiar door. A far-too familiar door, but not from back then. From a far more recent encounter. The door of Madame Misstery's shop.

Confusion plagued Betty. That shop wasn't in that small town, it was in the deprived area of Faraday City. How can the shop, looking exactly the same, squeaking, paint-peeling sign and everything, be here, in her hometown? After a few seconds, the door opened and there stood Madame Misstery, who looked down at Betty and smiled. The young Madame Misstery, all in black and so very tall as Betty looked up at her.

"Hello again, Betty." Madame Misstery cupped Betty's cheek. "For the first time."

Led into the normal, if dishevelled room beyond the door, Betty's mother accepted the offered seat, gathering Betty to her, her arms circling her, protecting her. Madame Misstery placed a ready-made cup of tea upon the table and folded herself into the chair opposite. Betty now remembered how her own little fingers had played with those of her mother, blissfully unaware of why they were there.

"It started a few months ago." Without any preamble, Betty's mother began to talk, her words tumbling from her mouth. "Little things, like knowing I was about to call her for dinner. Then it grew worse. She started to talk about things only Mike and myself had spoken about. About things that other people would obviously want to be kept secret. People have started to avoid her."

"I see." Madame Misstery didn't look at Betty's mother. Not once. The entire time her eyes remained locked upon the child Betty. "And then ...?"

"At the mall, the other day, she became lost. I was ... I ... I couldn't find her." Betty felt her mother's hand move, smoothing down her hair. "She was found in a field, almost a mile away, screaming that it was all too loud. That she couldn't stop it. The thoughts of everybody. They say you can help. They say you can cure her."

"Do 'they'?" Madame Misstery sat forward, looking deep into Betty's eyes. "She isn't ill. She can't be 'cured', or 'made better'. This is who she is. But, it's a little early for her. I can suppress it, for a time and, when she needs it the most, I shall unlock it. Then her real trial will begin."

"Will it stop the ... the episodes?" Her mother kissed Betty's hair. "Will she be normal?"

"Never. 'Normal' is a societal construct. But she will be free of the burden. For a while." Once again, Madame Misstery cupped Betty's cheek. No. She placed her hand on Betty's head. "One day, she will save the world. And, when she needs it, I will be there. For now, Betty, sleep, and awake."

-+-

In another mind ...

Phaross had never fought against a mind so powerful. Even now, this human probed and filtered through his mind as he attacked hers. A human! Even the most powerful minds of his own people had fallen before the might and skill of Zjahn Zjmit. He had never failed in a contest of wills and he would not fail now. He redoubled his efforts even as he felt his mind slip into another memory. Another time.

The gathering of people had bothered him. So many unsuppressed thoughts in such close proximity, and the one mote of silence among them by his side. He had felt the human awkwardness of the situation as the human woman had led him through the mingling crowd and he could hear the dismissive thoughts of them all.