After going home, Norman cleaned up and put on his best set of clothing. Not the ridiculous outfit Charise liked him in but what he would normally wear to job interviews to look less like a bum. He hoped it was enough to make an impression on the older woman. He grabbed his shades and headed out for what he prayed was an eventful evening.

　　Norman arrived and quickly found his way to the alley behind the building. It wasn`t as well-lit as the street but there were still lights back here and he didn`t see anyone hanging about. Not that he expected to but with the number of people crammed downtown, you never knew. Norman checked his phone, he was a bit early but that was good. He wouldn`t want to keep such a lovely woman waiting.

　　He paced around the back alley of the restaurant, his nerves getting the best of him as he waited. Norman wasn`t what you would call handsome but he did well enough with the ladies. The trick he found out was to project confidence, it was also probably why his relationships never really lasted. Once women realized he wasn`t the charismatic and confident man he pretended to be, they usually lost interest.

　　Charise had been his longest relationship and Norman chalked that up to them breaking up and getting back together every few months. It was easy to forget someone`s bad side when they ghosted you for a month. Or in more romantic terms, absence makes the heart grow fonder and such. At least that was probably why Charise kept taking him back. For Norman, it was the sex, plus while Charise was crazy, she was crazy hot and fun to be around. At least that was what Norman used to think. Now he just thought she was crazy.

　　Not wanting to appear impatient, he waited and waited. Frowning, he finally checked his phone. It was already ten-thirty and there was no sign of Mabel. The caf� was closed but Norman could still hear noises from inside. They were probably still cleaning up. He hoped he hadn`t misread the context of the note, that would be embarrassing. Norman was about to bail when the back door finally opened.

　　He instantly put on his game face and glanced toward the door, only he didn`t see Mabel, instead, he saw two men. One he recognized as Mabel`s teenage son, the other was probably an acquaintance of his. Both were dressed in dirty aprons from their work in the kitchen.

　　Norman cursed quietly under his breath and turned to leave.

　　"I fucking told you he would fall for it," Mabel`s son said, slapping his friend on the chest as the two stepped into the alley.

　　"Huh, guess you were right," the second grunted in reply.

　　It didn`t take a genius to realize he had been set up. Norman only made it a few steps before a group of three more men blocked off the way he had entered the alley, trapping him between them and the men from the caf�.

　　"I thought I made it clear the last time you tried perving on my mom that you weren`t welcome around here anymore." The teenager was angry, and rightfully so.

　　What the teenager said was true, but Norman hadn`t seen the boy in the restaurant so thought he would be fine to have a meal. Norman`s perception was shit, or he had just been distracted by Mabel`s lusciously swaying hips. That was probably what set her son off. Norman hadn`t even hit on her. The kid must have seen him when he came in earlier and planted the note under his bill to set up this late-night visit. And Norman being the gullible shit he was, fell for it.

　　"Look, man, I`m gonna just go and you won`t see me again." Norman tried to placate the angry youth while he thought of a way out of this situation. Perhaps he could sprint past the two men. He was taller and had longer legs but Norman wasn`t much of a runner.

　　"No, I already warned you once, that lesson didn`t seem to take. I even warned my mother about you, but she`s too damn nice for her own good. Since you seem to forget far too easily, I`m going to have to make sure this memory sticks the next time you think of coming into the restaurant." Mabel`s son punched his fist into his other hand as he and his buddy stalked forward.

　　Not waiting for the teens to close the distance, Norman sprinted for the opening on the side of the alley opposite the caf�`s back entrance, surprising the two younger boys. The two raced to try and cut him off but Norman was quicker. He barely managed to avoid their reaching hands. Still, it had been too close, he felt them pull at his clothing but he managed to jerk it out of their tentative grips as he ran for all he was worth.

　　Norman smiled in relief as his legs pumped faster and faster allowing him to pull away from the two shorter boys. Norman wasn`t an athlete but his long stride was allowing him to quickly outdistance his pursuers. He was almost to the end of the alley and the main street when a dark shadow fell over him. Something latched onto his arm and nearly jerked it out of its socket, forcefully spinning him around.

　　Norman got a brief glance at a blond-haired man with a patchy beard before he was socked in the gut. The blow lifted Norman off the ground and forced the air from his lungs.

　　Norman coughed wetly as the man released his arm, allowing Norman to fall painfully to the cold wet concrete of the alley as he tried to suck in air.

　　"Thanks for the help, Brighton," Mabel`s son said as he ran up to where Norman groaned painfully on the ground.

　　"You got my money?" the gruff man replied.

　　"Well worth every cent," the teen responded.

　　Norman looked up as the boy slapped a wad of cash into the man`s hand before the teen turned toward him with a cruel smile.

　　***

　　Norman lay on his broken couch in the living room, again. At least this time he had an excuse that wasn`t self-medication related. He was just too sore and bruised to make it to his bedroom. Everything hurt, even breathing, and when he did breathe it came out all raspy from his mouth or as a painful whistle through his nose when he managed to force it past the tissue paper he had stuck up there to stop the bleeding.

　　The man that Mabel`s son had paid to catch Norman hadn`t done anything other than punch him once, thankfully. If he had, Norman would probably be in a much worse condition. From the strength of the blow, Norman could guess the boy was a classer of some sort. Thankfully not the roided-out-looking ones from the Guild, but still able to pack a punch.

　　Getting beat up sucked, but it wasn`t his first time. Norman could deal with some bruises. While the teen boy had been upset, he hadn`t done anything to Norman that would get him into too much trouble. It was something Norman had to be grudgingly thankful for.

　　The cool ice pack over his eyes helped the swelling on his face but not much. He still looked like a raccoon from when the kid punched him in both eyes.

　　With a painful groan, Norman twisted sideways and spit out a bit of blood into a cup he had handy. The shitty thing about this whole situation was Norman had a way to alleviate most of the damage. He just couldn`t bring himself to drink one of his own potions.

　　As that was off the table, he would need to suck it up and heal normally. He just needed to stay as still as possible to lessen the suffering he felt. Had the teenager gone any further, Norman might have been forced to imbibe one of the potions anyway.

　　The boy`s actions were still a bit much, considering Norman had only gone into Mabel`s for some food. If he had known ogling the kid`s mom would have earned him a beating, Norman wouldn`t have done it.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it`s taken without the author`s consent. Report it.

　　Norman wasn`t a bad guy. He was just& Norman. He made mistakes and did dumb stuff just like any other person. Well, maybe a bit more than a normal person. But that didn`t mean he was a bad guy. But the way some people reacted toward him made him feel that way sometimes.

　　Heck, the reason Norman wanted an army of undead as his beck and call was so he could live an easygoing life. Not to become some sort of evil overlord. The thought of dealing with that much responsibility made him cringe.

　　And he certainly didn`t hate anyone enough to sic a horde of undead on them. Although using that power to scare some of the physical classers might be funny.

　　He just wanted to live an easy life where the people around him couldn`t leave him. So what if they were mindless undead? And he figured using undead was the best way to do that. No risk of a slave revolt, no weird mind magic fuckery like that Jedi kid. Just unwanted corpses reanimated to do his bidding. Was that so bad?

　　How was that any different than these physical classers taking over the city because they had the strength to do it?

　　It wasn`t! And Norman was sick of playing by everyone else`s rules. Those rules hadn`t gotten him anywhere in life.

　　He was going to seek whatever power he could. If people didn`t like it they could take a hike. He didn`t need their shitty close-minded attitudes in his life.

　　Once he had the power he would return and exact his revenge& yeah, that wasn`t going to happen. Norman didn`t care about revenge, he just wanted to get to the level of power where people wouldn`t mess with him anymore. He realized this was a far-off goal, one that required that he solve the elf blood issue first and foremost.

　　Norman came back to the Guild as a possible way to acquire the blood. But he dismissed that idea again. He simply didn`t trust them.

　　If Norman had the spells to protect himself he would have considered getting it himself. But if he had those sorts of spells he wouldn`t need the blood in the first place. There was another issue to consider. Without the ability to protect himself, he couldn`t risk people finding out he had started making progress on his magic. At best someone would steal his method, at worst he would wind up a corpse himself.

　　Perhaps he would wait until Toby returned and bring up the issue with him. He didn`t want to tell Toby that he needed elf blood. Not until he was certain it was a long-term solution to his magic issue. But Toby knew people. Perhaps Toby could get him in contact with someone who could supply him with an unusual substance without asking too many questions.

　　***

　　The next few days went by slowly as Norman recovered from his injuries. Anna had tried coming by a few times but Norman remained silent as she banged into the locked front door. Eventually, she went away, allowing Norman to recover in peace.

　　It wasn`t that he minded the company. He just didn`t want to explain to anyone how he ended up in his current condition. Especially not Anna.

　　After a day or so of healing, he was able to hobble around without too much effort. Eating anything other than soft foods was still out of the question. Chewing was just too painful with his swollen face. He lucked out and found some long ago expired muscle relaxers after digging through the medicine cabinet in the upstairs bathroom. They helped with the pain so they must still be good.

　　After downing two of the pills he was a drooling mess but it was still better than dealing with the constant ache of his abused body.

　　He tried playing some video games to pass the time. But he just couldn`t get into them. It was a mixture of a lack of interest and his inability to focus while injured. He would rather be spending his time working on his magic but he couldn`t concentrate long enough with the pills working their way through his system. So instead he just laid down on the couch and tried to rest.

　　Eating, trying to play video games, and passing out on the couch became the norm for him as he slowly healed over the next few days.

　　***

　　Norman was awoken by the sound of squealing tires outside his house. It wasn`t something he would have noticed if he weren`t still in his living room recovering. Norman tried to blink away his lethargy as he fumbled for his phone. Squinting at the bright light, he noticed it was only a few hours past midnight.

　　"Who`s making all that racket this early in the morning?"

　　Norman didn`t feel like getting up to go look. Besides it was too dark outside to see clearly anyway. The only thing Norman could see was the light reflecting off his ceiling and wall as it passed through the thick curtains on his front windows.

　　When the lights didn`t go away and Norman heard car doors open, he got a bad feeling in his gut. This feeling only grew worse as he heard the sounds of heavy footsteps pounding up his stairs. Norman did what any sane person would do and started to panic.

　　Fear will do a lot to spur you into motion. Norman threw himself off the couch despite his body`s protesting. His first thought was that the people who kicked his ass had come back to finish what they started. His second thought was that the Guild figured out the special ingredient he used in his potions. Neither case made Norman want to stick around and find out.

　　Norman`s hurried hobbling had him halfway to the kitchen before the entire house shook. His front door burst inward, shattering against the wall.

　　A large man with a beer belly, more tattoos than Norman could count, a thick black beard, and shaved head strolled in like he owned the place.

　　Norman froze like a deer in headlights, not knowing who this person was. It was clear, however, there would be no getting away from him or the two even larger men that stepped in behind him. They had all the clear signs of physical classers, rippling muscles, bulging veins, and a self-assured attitude. All three also had guns. Not that they would need them to kill Norman.

　　"You Norman?" the bald, tattooed man asked pointedly.

　　Norman nodded reluctantly seeing no other choice. Lying to these men was likely to get him killed faster.

　　The man snapped his fingers and the two hulking men stopped checking the room for threats. Both men rushed back outside. When they returned it was with a body. One that was leaving a trail of blood across the carpet.

　　Dammit, the carpet had enough stains on it.

　　The tattooed man walked past Norman and into the kitchen. There he grabbed the kitchen table like it weighed nothing. The bald man upended the table, spilling all the dirty dishes and random items pilled atop it onto the floor. Then he set it back down and the two larger men plopped the dead man onto the table causing it to groan under the weight of the corpse.

　　The tattooed man then turned towards Norman. "I heard you can read the minds of dead things."

　　It wasn`t a question but a statement.

　　Fuck! "Uh&"

　　The man stared at Norman.

　　"It- It`s not mind reading. I, uh- I can see the last minute of their life."

　　"I don`t care about semantics kid. That`ll work, get to it," he gestured to the corpse that was leaking blood across the table.

　　Norman stared dumbfounded.

　　"Is there a problem?" The man`s hand moved to rest on his holstered gun.

　　"N- No& I- I mean, er yes. I`m missing a component for the spell."

　　"&"

　　Norman gulped as the man silently stared at him. "I- I need elf blood. Jorik blood," Norman corrected, not sure if the man knew of the derogatory name for the blue-skinned aliens.

　　"I know what an elf is." The man gestured for one of the hulking men to come over and whispered into his ear.

　　Norman couldn`t hear what had been said but the man nodded and stepped outside where Norman heard him talking to someone on the phone.

　　The entire time the bald tattooed man just stared silently at Norman while the last man finished checking the house before heading back outside. The silence was oppressive, making Norman supremely uncomfortable until it was broken by a dripping sound. Norman turned toward the noise and saw blood dripping off the edge of the table and onto the dirty kitchen floor.

　　It brought up flashbacks of working at the morgue and Norman winced.

　　Eventually, the man that left to make the phone call returned. "He wants to know how much."

　　"Tell him to bring it all and get rid of the rest."

　　The tall man relayed this into the phone. "He said he can be here in twenty minutes."

　　The bald man nodded. "Go outside and keep an eye out."

　　Norman thought the last few minutes of silence were bad&this was worse. It was the most uncomfortable twenty minutes of Norman`s life. And he had been to a Jehovah`s Witness party one time. Like everything strange that happened to Norman, he had ended up there while trying to score.

　　The noise of footsteps on the front porch clued Norman into the arrival of someone new. The new man stepped through the broken doorway. He had greasy hair that may have been brown or black but Norman couldn`t tell. It was slicked back in a way that accentuated the man`s widow`s peak. The choice in hairstyle might have made him look like an evil villain if it wasn`t for the coke-bottle glasses, sickly pale complexion, and a slender frame that bordered on anorexia. The man`s thin frame made Norman look downright bulky in comparison.

　　What really drew Norman`s eyes though were the two liter jugs of blue fluid he was carrying. When he saw that, his eyes grew big.

　　The man nodded quickly at the tattooed man and shoved the bottles into Norman`s arms before turning around and walking back out without so much as a word.

　　"Get to it." The man`s voice was hard.

　　"I- yes&I gotta prepare the blood first, it um& might take a bit," Norman managed to squeak out. Seeing the man`s frown Norman turned and quickly headed into the kitchen.

　　He didn`t know if the blood could be used in its liquid state and he didn`t want to risk it not working seeing as this man didn`t seem like the type of person you pissed off. Norman already knew he only had one chance to perform the spell on a body. There was no wiggle room for failure here.

　　Norman took a spoonful of the strange-smelling blood and drizzled it onto a baking sheet. The fastest way Norman knew to dry it was to stick it in the oven. He spread it thinly on the sheet and cranked the oven to the hottest setting it had and waited.