I slept for a few more hours, and Mom was right, Claude’s medicine was still working on me. The snake bite had already faded to a pale scar, and the bear claw marks looked like they were days old instead of just hours. By morning, the wounds were little more than scabs.

  “Great. You’re in good shape to continue training,” Mom said after checking my side. “Eat your breakfast and get ready.”

  I forced down some toast with butter, but I had to keep myself from overeating. Mom was dangling her car keys, which meant we were going somewhere new, and I get carsick way too easily.

  “Where are we training today?” I asked as we pulled out of the driveway. “Back to Marge’s arena?”

  She shook her head.

  “I made some calls while you were sleeping. We’ve got plenty of options lined up for the whole week.”

  “Oh… and nobody minded you calling them in the middle of the night?”

  “The darkest hours are when the paranormals are the most active,” Mom answered, lowering her voice like she was trying to sound mysterious and edgy.

  We still had some drive ahead, so I asked her a few things.

  “Why are you called 'Creepy' by the others? I mean, why an English word?” I asked.

  I didn't mention, but since I said the events took place in Hungary, you can guess that we were speaking in Hungarian, but Mom's nickname was an English word, which just sounded out of place.

  “On my first big match, one of the foreign guests referred to me as 'Creepy' because they got scared of me, and the local audience members who didn't speak English thought that it was my name, and they began calling me that. Later it turned into Creepy Carol.”

  “Ah, so that's why. And why are you only showing me all of this crazy stuff now? Why not earlier?”

  She kept her eyes on the road. “Honestly? I just wanted you to have a normal childhood. I grew up knowing about this stuff, and it scared me half to death. I couldn’t go to bed without checking the closet, under the bed, the attic, the basement… everything. It’s too much for a kid to handle. Once your powers showed up, I couldn’t keep it all hidden anymore, but at least I didn’t have to dump the creepy details on you when you were little.”

  I couldn’t really argue with that.

  “And how many kinds of paranormals are out there?”

  “Hmm, tough question. There are a lot, but finding solid data is nearly impossible since, well, it’s all supposed to be secret.”

  “Okay… and should I be worried about men in black knocking on our door?”

  “Only if they’re Jehovah’s Witnesses,” Mom chuckled at her own joke.

  “Mom…”

  “No, you don’t have to worry about government agents. They already know about the paranormal world.”

  “Wait, seriously?”

  “You’d be surprised how deep government ties run in paranormal affairs across the globe.”

  “If it’s so well-known, then why keep it a secret from everyone else?”

  “I’ll give you a history lesson later,” she said, easing the car to a stop. “Right now, focus on training. We’re here.”

  I looked out the window. We were parked in front of an art gallery.

  ***

  Mom knocked on the glass door. The sign said CLOSED, but I spotted a woman inside. She hurried over, unlocked the door, and let us in.

  “Come in. I’ve been expecting you two,” the woman said. She locked the door again behind us, then pulled down the shutters over the windows and glass front.

  “Thanks for accepting us on such short notice. Are you sure it’s not a problem to keep your gallery closed, Yoko?” Mom asked.

  “Not at all. I already had to close to reorganize things.”

  “Uh… hi,” I mumbled awkwardly.

  “Oh, hi. It was funny to see your match against Günter yesterday,” she said with a small smile.

  “You were there?”

  “Yes, I was my daughter’s guest,” Yoko replied.

  I tried to place who her daughter might be. She was Asian, probably Japanese. However, I couldn’t recall any Asian girls in the tournament lineup.

  “Is she here too?” Mom asked.

  “Yes,” Yoko nodded, turning toward the back. “Hana! Our guests are here!”

  “I’m here,” answered a younger girl as she hurried in. She looked like a younger copy of Yoko (around my age), same face, same features. But her appearance wasn’t familiar to me.

  “You can remove your disguise now, darling,” Yoko said, and then, without hesitation, she dug her fingers into her own cheek and peeled her entire face away in one pull, leaving behind a blank, featureless surface.

  Hana did the same. And I finally recognized her.

  She was the faceless girl.

  "So, where’s Max’s next opponent?" Mom asked after the greetings.

  "Opponent? You mean Mona?" Hana replied. If she’d still had a face, I’m pretty sure she’d be raising an eyebrow. Her voice went directly into my head, like a broadcast.

  "Who are you talking about?" I asked.

  "Hana means her." Yoko stopped beside a large painting hidden under a blanket. She pulled it away, revealing the portrait of an elegant woman in a black dress and white gloves, like a prop stolen from a gothic horror movie set.

  "Uh... you mean... the painting?" I pointed at the woman.

  "Of course she does," an irritated voice answered. My stomach dropped as I realized it came from the painting itself. The woman shifted her pose, now glaring down at me with arms crossed.

  "What the...?"

  "That’s a cursed painting," Yoko explained.

  "Excuse me? I have a name," the painted woman snapped.

  "Sorry, Mona," Yoko looked back at her. Well... her empty face was facing her at least. (No pun intended.) I don't know how she or Hana could speak or see in this state.

  Mona sounded French; her accent was the kind of dramatic, theatrical one where you know she could speak normally but insists on sounding exotic and mysterious.

  "During this training, you’ll learn how to dodge faster," Mom said, gesturing at the frame. "She’ll be your partner in this."

  "A painting? Seriously? How can a painting even..."

  Mona suddenly leaned forward. Her upper body slipped free of the canvas while her lower half stayed trapped in oil and frame, like she was leaning through a window. She raised her gloved fists in a perfect boxing stance.

  "Observe, petit homme," she purred, then unleashed a blistering combination of jabs and hooks into the air. Her speed was insane, professional, and terrifying. "My left hook is legendary."

  "She brags a lot," Yoko added, "but she’s not wrong. Hana trained her reflexes with Mona, too. It’s a brutal challenge for beginners."

  "And isn’t he too beginner? Yesterday was his first paranormal fight." Hana joined.

  "Yes," Mom admitted. Then she added with a smirk. "But a palm tree grows under strain."

  In Hungary, that proverb is the equivalent of “a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor.”

  I puffed myself up a little, still sore from last night but too cocky to admit it. "I just defeated a zombie bear, so I think I can handle a painting."

  “Can't wait to see that. Let’s move to my art room for the training. I don’t want anything to be damaged here,” Yoko said and led us to another room.

  “You don’t want to bring Mona?” I asked, since we left the painting behind.

  “She can follow us,” Hana replied.

  I looked around and realized what she meant. Mona began appearing in other paintings along the walls as we walked, her eyes tracking me.

  “This will be your battlefield,” Yoko announced as she opened the door.

  I had to stop for a moment and let the sight sink in. The entire room was painted: walls, pillars, floor, and even the ceiling. Every square millimeter was covered in a vast mural that tied everything together.

  The floor depicted Hell, with rivers of fire and grinning demons. The ceiling was Heaven, filled with legions of angels looking down at the sinners. The walls and pillars showed Earth in all its beauty: green forests, towering mountains, glittering beaches, winding rivers, teeming with animals.

  “Wow, that’s beautiful! You painted this whole place?”

  “Oh, you’ll make me blush,” Yoko chuckled. “It’s not that great, but thank you.”

  “Hey, once you two are done flirting, we can move on to the part where I make you kiss the ground,” Mona appeared on a pillar. She was human-sized now.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind us using this room?” I asked Yoko.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “Fight as much as you want. If something gets damaged, I can always paint over it,” she shrugged.

  “Are you ready, Max?” Mom asked.

  “Yeah, but… how am I supposed to fight her? She can reach out of the painted world, but I can’t reach in.”

  “You don’t have to beat her. The point of this training is to help you dodge. Once you can evade a series of her attacks perfectly, you’ll pass the test.”

  “How many attacks count as a ‘series’?” I asked.

  “Two digits, in a row.”

  “So… at least ten?”

  “Yes. And if you get hit even once, the count resets.”

  “Got it.” I nodded, stretched my arms, then stepped forward. It felt wrong to walk across such a beautifully painted floor, like I was about to scuff up a masterpiece.

  “I go and prepare the medkit,” Hana said. First, I thought she was just teasing, but she actually sounded serious. I soon found out why.

  ***

  I stopped in the middle of the room, trying to steady my breathing. Mona’s painted figure slithered across the murals around me like a shark circling its prey.

  “Ready to dance, little boy?” she asked, her voice rolling out of every wall at once.

  “Don’t overthink it, Max,” Mom said from the doorway. “Keep your eyes sharp. Trust your instincts.”

  “Yeah, yeah…” I nodded, flexing my fingers.

  Mona slipped into the Heaven mural above me. For a second, she vanished among the crowd of angels, then she punched downward. Her arm shot out of the ceiling like it had punched through glass, aiming straight at my head.

  I threw myself sideways, barely dodging.

  “Good reflex, but sloppy footwork,” Mona taunted. She pulled her arm back into the ceiling, disappearing into the painted world. I could sense that she was just testing me and didn't use her full power.

  I spun around, scanning the walls, my chest tightening.

  I saw her, but it was too late. Mona burst out from a mountain mural. She jabbed twice, quick and precise. I dodge one, but the second clipped my shoulder, spinning me half around.

  “Ugh!” The punch felt way too real. It felt like her hands were made of stone.

  “Stay calm, Max!” Mom advised from the side.

  I staggered back, raising my arms defensively. MI could hear my heart in my ear.

  The floor mural rippled. Mona’s upper body emerged from the fiery rivers of Hell.

  “Here comes the legend,” she said as if she were announcing the coming of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

  Her so-called left hook snapped forward like a whip.

  I saw it coming; my brain screamed to me to move, but my body was too slow. The punch caught me square on the temple.

  White light exploded behind my eyes.

  The last thing I heard before the blackness swallowed me was Mona laughing across Heaven, Earth, and Hell all at once.

  ***

  I woke up on the floor with my skull feeling like it just split open. I expected to see parts of my brain on the tile.

  “Is he alright? Should I call Claude?” I heard Hana.

  “Only my dignity got hurt,” I groaned, trying to play it off as I pushed myself upright.

  “You’re fine,” Mom said, completely unimpressed. “I’ll call Claude after training. Only the victorious deserve medical care.”

  I glanced at her. Couldn’t decide if she was being dead serious or just screwing with me. With her, it was always a coin toss.

  “Still alive?” Mona spoke from the walls, arrogantly. “I told you my left hook is legendary. So deadly, NATO classified it as a weapon of mass destruction.”

  She was unbearably cocky.

  I sighed and stepped back into the “ring,” bracing myself. This time I tried predicting her angles, but she was always one step ahead.

  She didn’t knock me out again, but she may as well have. My ribs felt like they were about to crack, and fresh bruises bloomed across my skin like abstract art. I did dodge two strikes, though, but I’m 99% sure she only let me, like a cat letting a mouse run a few feet before pouncing.

  It ended fast. Mona reappeared in a mural beside me and drove two lightning-quick punches into my stomach. I folded over like a lawn chair, barely keeping myself from decorating the painted floor with what was left of breakfast.

  “Alright, take a few minutes. Then continue,” Mom ordered coolly.

  I slid down against a painted pillar and sat on the tiles, one eye squeezed shut. My left eye had already swollen into a puffy, black balloon. So, I could only appreciate Yoko’s artwork in monocular vision.

  “You’re quick, but your reaction time still sucks,” Hana’s voice slipped into my head, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. She’d come up on my blind side, quiet as a ghost.

  “I know,” I had to admit. “It’s just… hard to see where she’s coming from, and harder to predict it.” It sounded like a lame excuse even as I said it.

  “That’s because it’s not something you see. You have to feel it.”

  “What, like a sixth sense?”

  “Actually, humans already have more than five senses,” she said, like a teacher correcting a student. “Balance, temperature, proprioception...” She caught herself and chuckled. “Sorry. Got carried away.”

  “So, what? You’re saying I should just awaken my spider-sense?”

  “No. What I mean is, you need to learn to trust your instincts. In paranormal martial arts, some opponents are absurdly fast. Too fast to dodge just by reading body language. Sometimes you have to let your inner fighter take the stage.”

  “Oh, so I should just meditate instead of fighting? Real helpful.”

  I probably sounded like a jerk to her. I regretted it later, but at the moment, I was too frustrated to care.

  “For us, fighting is meditating,” she said, unbothered by my sarcasm. “You’ll get there. It just takes experience, and yeah, getting beaten down is part of that. Sorry. Mona wrecked me plenty when I started.”

  Then Hana stood and walked into the center of the room.

  “Bring it on, Mona.”

  Mona immediately lashed out with a hook, but Hana moved fast; sliding, ducking, twisting just in time. Another fist came for her ribs, then her throat, then her gut. Mona threw a storm of blows, every one aimed to cripple. Hana slipped past all of them except the last, which caught her shoulder hard enough to bruise.

  “That’s enough.” Hana raised a hand. “I already dodged twelve.”

  “My next one would’ve flattened you,” Mona sneered, pulling back into the mural.

  “Sure,” Hana said as she walked back to me, not even looking at her.

  “That was… cool,” I admitted. “How long did it take you to learn that?”

  “I couldn’t say. I was already doing reflex training before Mom bought Mona. And everyone’s path is different, you can’t chart it with numbers.”

  “Great,” I groaned, letting my head thump against the pillar.

  “Break’s over,” Mom announced. She was walking back into the room with Yoko. “On your feet, Max.”

  I pushed myself back to my feet and started thinking about how I should use my abilities. It was useless. My tactile telekinesis was no help here; I’d have to grab Mona first for it to work, and I wasn’t nearly fast enough for that.

  So I stopped in the center of the room, closed my eyes, and tried to calm down. Empty head, steady breath. Maybe if I cleared my mind, I could sharpen whatever sense of danger Hana was talking about.

  The fist that slammed into my stomach strongly disagreed.

  I doubled over, wheezing, but forced myself not to panic. I focused on the room around me, desperate to feel something before the next hit.

  And then there it was... I guess. Hard to explain, just a flicker in my gut. Like my body knew before I did: the next strike was headed straight for the family jewels.

  I tried to move, but not fast enough. Mona’s fist jabbed me square in the lap. I saw stars explode behind my eyes.

  “Seriously, Mona?” Hana snapped.

  “I figured his reflexes would kick in when his crown jewels were on the line,” Mona answered. Even without seeing her face, I knew she was smiling. “Why don’t you give him a healing kiss?”

  “Hey, enough,” Yoko stepped in before Hana could respond. “It’s lunchtime. Maybe you’ll perform better once you’ve refueled.”

  I blinked at Hana’s wristwatch. Sure enough, hours had flown by. I hadn’t even noticed.

  “Yeah, I could eat,” Mom said, already striding out like nothing unusual had happened.

  “Here.” Yoko handed me a small pill. “It won’t heal you, but it’ll take the edge off.”

  I swallowed it immediately, chasing it with water from a nearby sink.

  I didn’t tell anyone, but when Mona’s hand had shot out of the mural, I could’ve sworn (for just a split second) it was moving in slow motion. Not enough to dodge, but enough to notice. Enough to make me wonder if something in me was starting to wake up.

  ***

  Yoko ordered pizza for us. I hadn’t planned to overeat, but as soon as the pill kicked in, my stomach felt like it was burning a hole straight through me. By the time I realized it, I was already halfway through my second slice.

  “Sorry for not cooking,” Yoko said awkwardly. She and Hana had both shifted back to their normal human faces so they could eat. “I usually only cook on Sundays.”

  “I don’t cook on Saturdays either,” Mom shrugged, grabbing a slice.

  “Feeling better now?” Yoko asked me.

  “Definitely. Guess I was more hungry than tired,” I said around a mouthful of pizza. My hands and legs still felt like lead, though.

  I reached for a big plastic cup filled with soda, but my wrist was too sore and shaky to lift it properly. Not unusual; sometimes, after a heavy training day, even small objects felt impossible to pick up. Normally, I just cheated with a little tactile telekinesis. So I started charging energy into my hand.

  “About that zombie bear you mentioned,” Hana asked, “where did you fight it?”

  Mom and I filled her in on the whole basement-necromancer-surprise-training fiasco.

  “Cool,” Hana said. and turned to Yoko, “Mom, why can’t you get me partners like that?”

  “I don’t have time for that. Plus, I don’t know many people who could help,” Yoko replied.

  “I can get you some special training partners too,” Mom offered. “Max doesn’t need to train alone.”

  “Oh, that’d be great!” Hana nodded eagerly.

  While they talked, I suddenly remembered the drink still in my hand. I lifted it, but my arm jerked forward like it was on fast-forward. The cup slammed into my face, soda exploding across my front.

  “Max,” Mom said, raising an eyebrow, “what was that?”

  Across the table, Hana tried to smother her giggle.

  “I… don’t know,” I admitted, blinking carbonation out of my eyes. “I just charged my hand to lift the cup, then Hana started asking questions, and… maybe I overcharged?”

  Mom sighed. “Be careful with that. Overcharging a body part with kinetic energy can cause tissue damage if you hold it too long.”

  I nodded, pretending to listen, but really, my mind was already racing. Overcharging my body parts. Maybe, just maybe, that could be the breakthrough I needed.

  ***

  The pain had eased, my stomach was full, and for the first time that day, I felt like I had a little confidence to spare.

  I stepped into the usual spot, readying myself.

  As expected, Mona's arm came from above (she loves attacking from the ceiling and the pillars), but this time, I was ready. I kicked off the ground and dodged before her fist could connect with my head.

  “Whoa, your senses are that sharp already?” Hana asked in surprise.

  “Unfortunately, no,” I admitted, landing a bit clumsily. “Still need a lot more training for that. I just figured out a way to move faster.”

  But it will stay my secret, sorry.

  Nah, just kidding. Of course, I'll tell you.

  It wasn’t anything crazy. I just did the same thing I’d tried with my hand earlier, only this time I pushed my telekinetic charge into my legs. Normally, I only use the ability to lift stuff, but technically, I can channel it through any body part to lift things. And yes, before you ask, I’ve experimented with all of them. Don’t judge me.

  Anyway, I loaded up my legs with energy, like I was about to lift something with them, and then released it all at once to leap away from Mona’s strike. I couldn’t predict exactly where she’d come from yet (my instincts weren’t there), but the boost gave me just enough speed to escape.

  Unfortunately, I got cocky, talking over to Hana instead of focusing, and Mona’s fist slammed into my ribs, knocking the wind right out of me.

  “Pay attention, Max,” Mom snapped.

  “Sorry,” I answered, forcing myself to focus.

  No, I didn’t suddenly start dodging all of Mona’s strikes like some kung-fu prodigy. She still kept hitting me. But that earlier success gave me just enough confidence to stop panicking and start thinking.

  With a clearer head, I began noticing patterns in her movements.

  Mona was strong, and her boxing technique was sharp, but her repertoire wasn’t endless. She favored her right hand, setting up those devastating left hooks she loved so much.

  It was nearly impossible to predict where she’d appear from, but I could at least narrow it down. Most of her strikes targeted my head and upper torso, so crouching became my default defense against her.

  And it worked... sort of. When she missed the first time, she instantly corrected, aiming for me again with success. After that, I learned to charge my legs while crouching, then spring away at the right moment.

  She caught up fast, of course she did; she could pop out of anywhere. So I tried a new rhythm: jumping off one leg, then recharging the other midair for the next dodge. The jumps were smaller, weaker, but enough to keep me just ahead of her fists.

  It wasn’t pretty. My lungs burned, my calves screamed, and Mona’s knuckles still hit me more often than not. But the rush of adrenaline and those tiny victories kept me moving, and I dodged more and more.

  Finally, something shifted. That strange sensation returned, Mona’s movement slowed, just for a split second. I saw the left hook coming, the one she’d been winding up for, and my instincts screamed at me to leap straight up.

  Good call. Otherwise, she would’ve nailed me in the balls again.

  Fury flashed across her face as she leaned halfway out of the mural. Out of sheer spite (and maybe righteous payback), I swung back.

  My fist connected.

  Mona tumbled into the painted world, splashing down in a crystal-clear pond surrounded by trees.

  If you’re wondering how I managed to punch her without shattering my hand on the wall, spoiler alert, I didn’t. Pain blazed through my knuckles, and I was pretty sure at least one bone had cracked. Totally worth it.

  “Good job,” Mom said with a curt nod. “You’ve gained better control of your kinetic powers. Too bad your reflexes are still lacking, but we still have a week to work on that.”

  “Wait… I actually did it?” I wheezed, still catching my breath. I was too busy dodging to keep count.

  “Yes. You avoided eleven consecutive strikes before you landed that punch.”

  “Finally,” I sighed, nearly collapsing in relief.

  “Um, maybe we should celebrate somewhere else,” Hana said, tapping my shoulder. She pointed toward the pond, where Mona was crawling out, dripping wet and absolutely seething.

  We retreated, and Yoko locked the training room door behind us.

  “She’ll stay in there until she calms down,” Yoko assured me.

  “That's why I hate her so much. When she wins, she’s unbearably smug. When she loses, she’s a sore loser,” Hana added. “And we can’t even sell her because of those new restrictions on paranormal artifacts.”

  I wonder what they were thinking when they bought a cursed painting to begin with.