“But if I continue to keep him alive, will he change? Will my powers corrupt him?”
“Of course, he will change. Change is the one inevitability in life. All things will change. Life, growth, death, they’re all changes. That doesn’t mean that change is a bad thing.”
“But willIcorrupt him? Will my powers destroy who he is or change him for the worst?” Oliver asked, hating the raw desperation in his voice. “I don’t want to turn him into a monster because I can’t let go.”
“Dr. Barlow, I cannot tell you what will happen with you and Felipe Galvan. The future is only so clear, even for the best of us, but you both have been thrust into a unique set of circumstances, one that is so symbiotic that you have done what centuries of others before you had only dreamed of. You are treading into unknown territory.”
“I never wanted to be,” Oliver gritted out.
“You should have thought about that when you reanimated him.”
“It was an accident!”
Turpin stepped back, his eyes probing Oliver’s form as if seeing him for the first time. “Curiouser and curiouser. Dr. Barlow, you are a man of science and a practitioner of powerful magic, so I don’t know if you believe in fate, but some moments are meant to happen. And when we hesitate, the universe shoves us into action. This may be one of those moments.”
Turpin opened his mouth to speak and froze as if focusing on something Oliver couldn’t perceive. The air around him shifted, and the hair rose on his arms in anticipation. With a shake of Turpin’s head, Oliver’s ears popped painfully at the sudden change in air pressure.
“Everything is still up in the air. You and Felipe Galvan have many choices to make, but you must choose soon.”
“I need information. I want to make an educated decision, but how can I be expected to do that when I know nothing about my powers and their repercussions?”
Sighing, Turpin walked toward the railing. He raised his hands like a conductor and whispered words under his breath so lowly Oliver couldn’t hear them. Something fluttered across the chasm. Half a dozen books and a scroll soared through the shadows before settling on the stone altar in the center of the balcony. Two of the books were barely more than pamphlets with covers while the others were thick and so old Oliver would hesitate to touch them.That’s it?he wanted to weep. Seven books on necromancy in a vast cavern that seemed stocked with every book imaginable. As Oliver took a step toward the altar, Turpin stood in his way.
“Necromancy is a controversial magic, as you well know, so many of the most useful books have been destroyed or are kept hidden in private collections. What is heremaybe useful to you, but it may also hinder you. You are accustomed to science, but you know that even science can be written with an ulterior motive in mind. The accounts within some of these books are exaggerations, falsehoods, or pure libel.”
“Then, why suggest I read them?”
“Because there may be some grain of truth buried in those texts regarding your abilities, and if it’s there, you deserve to know.”
Hopelessness settled over Oliver’s mind like a fog. Perhaps he hadn’t been wrong to avoid his powers all these years. If the design on the cover of the largest book was any indication, people thought his powers led to destruction and hellfire. When Turpin cleared his throat, Oliver tried to gather himself enough to thank him and return to the surface.
“How do you think Miss Jones learned about her power?” Turpin asked suddenly.
Blinking at him, Oliver shook his head. He had never thought to ask. Gwen had always had telekinesis.
“She didn’t learn to use telekinesis from reading about it but by doing and feeling. By trusting herself. Every necromancer is different, every person’s magic is different, and the circumstances in which it is used can be altered by the weather, the moon, their bodies, love, desperation, so many factors that can’t be quantified by a first- or second-hand account. These books are not the answer, Dr. Barlow. They may help you on your journey, but they don’t hold the answer you’re looking for. Do you understand?”
When Turpin’s blue-eyed gaze bored into Oliver’s, for a second, he thought he could glimpse the enormity behind it, like brushing against a leviathan in the dark.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. If you would like to stay and peruse the—”
“No, I— I think I want to go back.”
Turpin nodded, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “Very well. Should you want to read them in the future, just ask.”
***
Oliver barely rememberedthe journey back up the stone steps to the library proper or how his legs managed to carry him to the highest floor of the library after, but he found himself in the tower room with his head between his knees trying to suck in ragged breaths. It felt as if someone had scooped out his brain with a melon baller. That should have been expected when you think the place you call home was a little strange and it turned out to be the stuff of Gothic novels. At the knock on the trap door, Oliver raised his head hoping to see Felipe coming to fetch him only to find Gwen’s wide, bespectacled eyes staring back at him.
“So, how did it go?” she asked cautiously, lowering the door into place.
“I don’t even know. Have you ever been in the special collections?”
“No, but I heard it’s intense. Do you want me to rub your back to help you calm down?”
Oliver shook his head from between his knees. “Too wound.”
