His fingers traced the flame along the edge of the page. “And it came when you called it.”
“Oh, yeah, in a big way. I can’t even remember a lot of what happened. But I’m not sure how much that had to do with me channeling the Darkness and how much was a result of whatever is going on with Inigo.” I shifted uncomfortably on the stool as fuzzy memories of Inigo and I together stirred in my mind.
“So, no actual control, but it comes when you need it?”
I thought about it. “Yeah, sounds right. I mean, I haven’t really tried to make it come during the day or when I’m not in a fight so I don’t know if it works when it’s not night time or when I’m not, you know, in mortal danger.”
“Probably best you don’t.” A little puff of dust danced in the air as he shut the book. “At least until we have a better idea what it is we’re dealing with. Or rather, what it is you are dealing with. If it’s anything like the Elemental Magic, then the more you use it, the more dangerous it becomes. Only … ” He hesitated, obviously wanting to say more, but not sure how.
“Only?”
He sighed, “There is no record of Elemental Mages attempting to channel any other power beyond the four physical elements. I suppose if one could channel air, one could also channel light, but there is no mention of anyone trying.”
He shook his head and started pacing back and forth and muttering to himself, the change in his pocket making a chinking sound as he walked. “But Darkness isn’t Light. Light is something. Darkness is not. It is the absence of light, not a thing in itself. How could one channel such a thing? Surely not. No, it can’t be Elemental Magic, something similar maybe?”
“Earth to Eddie!” I waved a hand in front of his face. “Still here.”
“My apologies, Morgan.” He stopped pacing and tapped a finger on the cover of the Book. “I have no idea what’s going on. I’m sorry. I wish I could be more helpful but this is so far beyond anything I’ve read about that I just don’t know.”
“No biggie.” I shrugged, hopping off the stool. My turn to pace. “We’ll figure it out somehow, right?”
His smile was a bit wobbly. He didn’t seem entirely convinced. “Of course. Of course. I will keep researching. Perhaps you should question the Sunwalker. Maybe it has something to do with him? Or possibly the amulet you mentioned. Though I don’t see how … ” he trailed off for a moment, lost in thought again, then shook himself. “In the meantime, let’s find out about your friend. I’m interested to see just what powers he might possess. What was his name?”
“Inigo. Inigo Jones.” I already knew Jack had no idea what my ability to channel the Darkness meant, but I didn’t mention it to Eddie. It was just one more mystery in a long line of them.
“Ah, yes. How interesting. I’ve heard of people naming their children after celebrities, but an architect?”
I must have looked baffled because he mumbled something about sixteenth century London and architecture. I swear, sometimes I was surrounded by craziness.
Eddie, intent on the Book, ignored me and flipped open the cover. He closed his eyes for a moment and then spoke Inigo’s name. We both watched as the pages riffled through of their own accord and then stopped about a third of the way through. We stared at the page, equally gob smacked.
“Uh, Eddie, that page is blank,” I said, stating the obvious.
“Yes it is. How odd.”
“Is it supposed to be blank?” The empty page seemed to taunt me.
He flipped the page over and revealed what looked to be some sort of recipe involving bat guano and tree sap. “The Book has a mind of its own.” He flipped back to the blank page.
Total non-answer. “So it’s done this before?”
He thought for a moment. “Yes. Once or twice I’ve asked it for something and it simply refused to answer for some reason known only to it.”
Great. A sentient book, just what I needed. “So it doesn’t know anything? Or maybe it does know what’s up with Inigo and just doesn’t want to tell us?”
“Most likely the later,” he nodded. “When it doesn’t have the information I need, it usually just flips all the way to the back cover and stops. I would imagine that a blank page means it knows, but isn’t telling.”
Even better a sentient book with attitude. Wonderful.
He closed the book and turned to me. “I’m sorry, Morgan. I wish I could have been of more help.” He looked crestfallen.
I reached out and squeezed his arm. “Eddie, you have helped. More than you know. I really needed someone to talk to who wouldn’t think I’m crazy.” I flashed a grin. “Much.”