Page 42 of Nearly Dead

The floor-to-ceiling shelves are filled with ancient tomes and family records.As a child I was told I wasn’t allowed to touch them or bad things would happen, as if their magical secrets would poison my human mind.That never stopped Conrad.

My eyes land on the old leather armchair by the fireplace, and a knot forms in my stomach.I can still see Conrad sprawled in that chair, a spell book braced on his stomach, his limbs draped lazily over the sides as if he owned the place.I’d usually find him there whenever I managed to sneak away from my tutors, his nose buried in some ancient text, trying to learn the secrets that the adults wouldn’t teach us.

He used to tap the book absently with his thumb while muttering about the unfairness of being born mortal.Even now I hear his voice.

“They should be teaching us what they’re teaching him,”he once grumbled, glancing at Anthony’s empty seat.“This is our world, too.It’s like they want us to be helpless.”

I hadn’t known how to answer him back then, so I just shrugged and listened, not sure how to make him feel better.Part of me wanted to argue that we couldn’t change what we were, but I knew that would only make him mad.

I close my eyes, fighting the urge to sit in the chair myself.The memory feels too raw, too close to the surface.I still remember his voice, low and determined.

“I’m never going to be helpless again.No one is going to hurt me.You watch.I’m going to do what I want when I want.”

He had said it so many times I should have believed him.Little did I know…

“Tamara?”Lorelai asks, shaking me from the memory.She appears worried, and I realize I’m frowning.

I glance back at the chair, half expecting to see my brother there, looking up with that defiant spark in his eyes.It’s strange how a place can feel haunted even when there’s no ghost.

At least, I hope there are no ghosts.

“I need a moment.”With a deep breath, I force myself to cross the room, tracing my fingers over the shelf in front of the forbidden books.Conrad had been relentless in his quest to understand magic, memorizing languages and glyphs.I should’ve been there, learning beside him, but I was too busy trying to be normal, to fit into a life that was never really mine.Those lessons would have come in handy now.

I try not to hear Lorelai’s heart beating.

I pull a dusty volume from the shelf and let it fall open in my hands.I trace the faded ink with my finger.The words swim on the page, jumbled and indecipherable.I’ll have to bleed onto the page to unlock it.

“Tell me about that night,” I say, not turning away from the shelf as I put the book back in its place.“Everything you remember about the goblins.”

Astrid seems to think it might help us understand why they’re coming after me now.

Lorelai’s bangle bracelets jingle as she sits.I glance back to see her fussing with her skirt.“It’s like I told you.They came when you were in your crib to steal your breath.”

“Tamara, take a seat,” Zephronis urges.

“I need more details,” I insist.“Why me specifically?Was it random, or was I targeted?And why did they run from a butterfly mobile?Did Leviathan send them?Who else attacked?”

Zephronis glides closer, his robes shimmering.“Your mother has agreed to share her memories directly.It will be more comprehensive than verbal recounting.But I need you to sit.”

I give in and sit in the armchair.It creaks under my weight.I tighten my grip on the armrests, the leather cool under my palms.I glance at Lorelai.“You’ve agreed to this?”

She shrugs, the gesture so casual it seems out of place in this serious conversation.“I’d do anything to help you, butterfly.Besides, I’ve done plenty of mind-melding in my day.This way is just more magical.”

Mind-melding?Great.My mother is an acid-tripping pothead.

I can’t say that I’m surprised.

I wonder if she’ll share.I could use some forgetting.

“I will create a bridge between your memories,” Zephronis explains.“You will experience your mother’s recollection as if you were there.It will be disorienting.”

I’ve been down this road before, reliving memories.I can’t say I’m a fan of the process.

“Will it hurt her?”I ask.

“No,” Lorelai answers before Zephronis can.“He’s already explained it all.It’s like a guided meditation, but with magic instead of visualization.”

I look between them, uncertain.“And you really think this will help?”

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