Despite Xal's prayers the previous night, the next day was even worse. Although there were no gangsters, someone did try to stab Kian, saying he took away his hardworking company. Thanks to his sharp eyes catching the knife glint, he easily managed to disarm him. At the house they visited that smelled like a dust storage, Xal got thrown over a table twice.
One moment he was standing, the next his back slammed against the wall, and air knocked from his lungs. Kian barely glanced his way, focused on a space, hands moving in patterns Xal couldn't follow as if he was playing with air. A cat threw itself on top of his shoulder as they were walking to the final client's house, left scratches, and a hell lot of other mishaps he couldn't even begin to explain.
By the end of the day, exhaustion had settled into Xal's bones like lead. His whole body felt heavy, his pulse thudded behind the temple, and the worst part was the uncertainty gnawing at his mind. He hadn't seen a single thing Kian claimed to be fighting.
Just a man waving his hands, muttering to thin air, sticking papers to walls like they were talismans that meant something. It made him doubt what he saw that day, but he still couldn't convince himself that Kian was lying.
It was around 11.30 PM when Xal got home, slightly limping. His mother was waiting, worry etched across her face as she took in his exhausted state.
"He went to a party, Mom, and he made me dance for hours. Rich people have weird requests, and jeez, the lights were too bright. And he is so ungrateful and such a brat with zero bedside manners." The lies came easier than the truth, that he'd spent the day watching Kian fight invisible bad things while he stood there, watching as the clock ticked by without a single clue about Khem.
"You know, if it is hard, you can quit. We can still maintain the bills for a few months without an issue. You can find something better, Xali. My heart hurts looking at you like this already."
Never in his career had he been this tired. He'd been shot at, fought off attackers, and even had taken a bullet meant for one of the clients. But this? This was different. The physical exhaustion he could handle. Manageable. But this uncertainty, this blindness, this not knowing whether he was following the wrong lead or losing his mind along the way. That was the thing draining him.
He argued between his discomfort and the desperate need to find Khem. Between what he couldn't see and what Kian insisted was there.
"Hmmm...yeah. I'm thinking of it too. I think I should quit. But a part of me tells me to keep this job, Mom. Or else I would've quit yesterday. Let's see tomorrow as well. I'll decide by the end of the day."
After washing up, he opened his laptop and searched.
Best psychics in the area.
Top-rated shamans.
Experienced mediums.
When he called, with a curated description without a direct hint, every one of them, he was met with zero leads. Most of them weren't even aware that a thing like this existed. His friends came back with similar disappointing results but promised to keep on looking. They found it weird that Xal, who never believed in ghosts, was asking this, but complied anyway.
Yeah…It doesn't have to be Kian. He works like an asshole with zero experience. There are a lot of veteran mediums here. They will have more information than Kian. I'll just continue to speak with them.
There should be someone other than Kian who could help him to find Khem.
The decision should have brought relief. Instead, something twisted uncomfortably in his chest.