Page 49 of Florescentia

“Stubborn?” he suggested.

I shoved the book back into the shelf, and a book to my left flung itself out of place. I picked it up and went to put it back, his miniature doll-size shadow leaning like a bookend.

“Ambitious?” he prodded.

I shoved the book back into place.

“Greedy?” His voice came from above, a humanlike shadow lying across the very top of the bookshelves, his black form against the heavenly painted dome ceiling.

“Divine.” A tinge of sarcasm. “There has to be a reason I can see them.”

“The Peculiars?”

“I’m the only one, as far as I’m aware.”

He swung his feet, listening as I spoke, but offered no further input.

“People have tried the rituals before, but they never succeed. I believe it is because they can’t see the Peculiars. There must be some piece that I possess that they do not. Maybe somewhere in here is an answer as to an alternate way to get to the Otherside.”

“How special you are,” he mocked, “but sounds like the start to a great investigation. I look forward to your theories.”

“Do you know?” I glanced at him.

He lifted both of his hands, palms up.

“You do, don’t you?”

“You are just an enigma to me, as I am to you.” He slipped off the top of the bookcase, his body forming into a liquid before it collected onto the ground. The inky form sank into the sandy floor.

Between the books, nestled among the hardcovers, the pages, even among the sand, little Peculiars loitered. They reminded me of worms, the ones that flourished in the soil. They didn’t do much except eat. They harmed no one, and would rarely bother you unless you bothered them. With the general population unable to see them, the chance of them pestering anyone other than me was near zero. Even the larger ones were relatively controllable with the help of a ritual for containment.

“Why do you think you have these abilities?” the shadowy devil on my shoulder asked.

“Sheer luck,” I answered.

“Luck sure is a thing with you, isn’t it?”

“You have a lot of questions lately. I thought you were some omnipresent spirit.” I tried to shrug him from my shoulder.

“I don’t ask questions because I don’t know the answers”—he hung on to my ear again—“I ask because it’s interesting to hear your people’s theories. Inspiring, really. You’ve filled an entire library of your questions about the world and beyond. There is no wonder in knowing every niche of the universe. So forgive me if I experience that wonder through you.”

I heaved a deep sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

“Don’t ruin it.”

“What, pray tell, is the goal once you have these answers?”

“To revive my husband.”

I could feel the energy spike beside my face, like an electric current. He was bothered.

“Have you finally come to return some of your lends?” Maxim’s quip could be heard across the room, followed by the echo of the door.

My brother was holding a pile of books, alongside Calum.

“The gravity on that one is delicious,” the tiny beast purred as Calum smiled my way.