by Keary Taylor
He let out a hard breath, turning his eyes to the glass walls. “I don’t know. Logically yes, there should be. Because I believe your lineage traces back to Scotland, mine to England. I don’t think all these witch hunts started completely with no basis in truth, knowing what we now do. So I think this roots back to all of those places I just told you about. So, yes, there should be others. But why does history have no accounts of magic, accusations, trials, since 1700?”
I looked back in my memory to what Nathaniel just said about the witch hunts. I thought through my own learning.
He wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t think of anything that sounded like more than superstition or fairy tales.
“You think they were all killed?” I asked. “That they went…extinct?”
Nathaniel shrugged his shoulders again and shook his head. “They can’t have gone extinct,” he said. His eyes slid back to me. “You and I are proof of that. But maybe magic was just…forgotten about? What if those who knew how to use it…things just got too dangerous. Or they were killed and were never able to teach their descendants. I think maybe it was just…lost.”
It seemed impossible. But the history of man is long, and many things have been forgotten over the centuries. Things change. Traditions die out. Entire libraries of knowledge and history are lost.
I closed the book and looked at it with reverence.
“I’m sure you’ve read the entire thing?” I asked.
“I nearly have it memorized by now,” Nathaniel answered.
I nodded. I was certain he did.
“It’s not just about levitation,” I said. “You didn’t just make the airplanes or the crane float. You folded it without touching it. You moved it all around the room. It’s about…telekinesis, isn’t it?”
A smirk formed on Nathaniel’s lips, and it did strange things to my lower stomach. “Well concluded, Margot.”
My heart beat faster and faster.
More. What if there were more books out there that could teach us how to do more?
It seemed impossible, but what I’d just done with the rose was impossible, and then I’d just done it.
“Show me something else,” I said, handing the book back to Nathaniel. “I…I need to see more. I need… I saw it with my eyes, I…felt it. But it doesn’t seem real.”
I’d seen Nathaniel smile more in the last hour than I had in the entire two weeks I’d known him. He pushed his chair back and stood. I climbed to my feet, folding my arms over my stomach, and watched as he turned around, facing the bookshelf. He stood there for a moment, considering.
And then he raised his hands up, his palms facing the bookcase.
I watched his eyes slide closed for a moment, and he took a steady breath in and let it out.
His eyes opened again.
And the books on the shelf moved.
They slid out off the shelves and then shifted left or right, up or down. It was like a beautiful dance of mechanics. Left and up. Down, down, and right. They rearranged and as I watched, I found the order to the chaos.
They slipped back onto the shelves once more, now perfectly rearranged in alphabetical order.
“That’s incredible,” I breathed out, a breathy laugh bubbling on my lips. “And what was their order before? Because I know a librarian can’t just put them haphazardly on the shelves.”
Another smile came to Nathaniel’s lips. “They were in order of favoritism and the year I read them.”
I smiled again, shaking my head.
“This is crazy,” I said, smiling. “Everything. The fact that a couple of college students found this. Your story. That real…” I shook my head again, because it really, truly felt insane, the words coming out of my mouth, “magic was found in a dusty section of a library. What…what are we supposed to do with it now?”
Our eyes locked and something stirred in my chest at the look in his eyes. “I think it means we study, Margot,” he said. There was excitement there. A little danger. There was adventure in them and maybe a tiny bit of fear. There was an invitation. “I think it means we look for the rest, because I know there has to be more like us. I think it means we do whatever we want with it. And I think that we should do it together.”
That caged, wild creature in my chest was let free then. It fluttered out into the rest of my body, filling up every space, sending my fingertips tingling, my toes on fire, the back of my neck burning.
“Okay,” I said, having no idea what the future would bring.
Hours passed by in an instant. By the time Nathaniel and I looked up and took a breath from pouring over the book, it was pitch-black outside. The clock hanging on the wall said it was nearly two AM.
“Shit,” I breathed, scrambling to my feet. We had been laying on the floor, both touching the book so we could read. “My dad has got to be freaking out. I can’t just not come home, not after everything he’s been through.”
“I’ll walk you home,” Nathaniel said, also climbing to his feet. He reached for a jacket hanging on a stand beside the door and draped it over my shoulders. I felt my face flush a little bit as I looked back at him and said thank you.
We stepped out into the dark, overgrown garden. The air was humid but the breeze blowing in from the ocean pushed the temperatures low. Our summer days were fading quick. A few stars peeked out from behind the clouds that had rolled in.
We made our way across the lawn of Alderidge in silence. I didn’t know what was on his mind, but mine was filled with everything. Possibilities, impossibility, history, the future.
But we walked side by side, our shoulders brushing every so often. And I knew it then, without a doubt, nothing was ever going to be the same. Not my future. Not the next day. And not the relationship between Nathaniel and I.
We walked through the gate and down the short road that led right to my front door.
A light glowed in the front window and I could see the shape of my father’s outline, his head bent, and I had no doubt he was reading a book.
I breathed out another curse.
I meant to say goodnight to Nathaniel then, but he walked right up the stairs with me, and everything about his body language told me he intended to come inside.
So, I twisted the door knob and pushed it open.
My father’s head whipped up immediately and he got to his feet when I walked through. He sucked in a breath, I had no doubt to lay into me, when his eyes shifted to Nathaniel as he walked in after me.
“I am so sorry, Professor Bell,” Nathaniel said without hesitating, but also without rushing. His voice was calm, composed. “Margot and I got to talking about books and we lost track of time. I apologize for worrying you. I never meant to keep her out so late.”
My dad blinked, his mouth closing. He didn’t know what to say.
I didn’t know what to say.
Nathaniel had spoken so calm and sincerely. I couldn’t have been mad at him, and I knew my dad wouldn’t be able to either, especially considering Nathaniel was one of his very favorite students.
“I appreciate you making sure she got home safely,” my father said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I can’t really get angry when my daughter was distracted by books and smart company. Just…be more attentive next time, maybe.”
Nathaniel gave a nod of his head. “I will, Professor.”
I looked back at Nathaniel and I knew my face was blushing slightly, which was going to give my father all the wrong impressions. But Nathaniel and I shared a secret now. A big one. A monumental one. I couldn’t not.
So, I handed his jacket back to him.
“Goodnight,” I said, locking eyes with him. And everything was there. All the weight, all the magic.
He nodded to me, as well. “Goodnight, Margot. Professor Bell.”
My dad nodded to him again, giving a little thin-lipped smile as Nathaniel stepped back outside and pulled the door closed behind him.
“I guess this means you got over your weird encounter with Nathanie
l Nightingale?” my dad asked after five beats of silence as we both listened to the sound of Nathaniel’s retreating footsteps.
I couldn’t help it. A little smile broke out on my lips and a chuckle bubbled over my lips. My eyes dropped to the worn wood floors for a moment. “It was just…a misunderstanding. We worked it out and are on the same page now.”
“And by same page, do you mean spending hours ‘talking about books?’” He actually made quotation marks in the air with his fingers.
I blushed, which wasn’t going to help my case. “No, we were actually talking about books the entire time.” I couldn’t help but smile though. “But…there might be something agreeable about spending time with Nathaniel. I might want to spend more time with him.”
There was a smirk on my father’s lips. I wasn’t surprised by it. We’d always been honest with each other. Open. He took a step forward and laid a hand on my shoulder. “If it were just about any other boy at Alderidge I might have a few more stern words here at two in the morning. But Nathaniel isn’t every other boy.”
I looked up into his eyes, and I saw that he meant it. He genuinely liked and trusted Nathaniel.
“So, all I will say is goodnight. And considering the late, or early hour, we might not get as early of a start on Boston. But it is past midnight, so,” he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead, “happy birthday, Margot.”
I smiled, realizing it really was my birthday now. I wrapped him in a quick hug, and then walked upstairs.
After brushing my teeth and changing into a nightgown, I lay back in bed. Through the dim moonlight that came in through the window, I looked over at my nightstand. There was a geode that lay there, with a few other random knickknacks. I’d gotten it on some trip, even though it wasn’t native to the area.
I picked it up and turned it over in my hands.
I let it lay flat on my palm.
I closed my eyes for a moment. I took a steady breath in through my nose and let it out through my lips.
I asked it to rise.
I felt it lift.
I opened my eyes, and there it was, as real as the bed I lay on, as real as the wooden floors beneath it, the geode had risen up into the air six inches. It turned over in the air, easy and gentle.
There was that tingle at the back of my head. It reached out to every end of my body. I felt alive and light and awake.
With control, I let the geode sink back onto my palm. I turned it over, looking for trick wires, knowing there were none.
How fitting, that the last normal day of my life had fallen on the last day of being eighteen. Nineteen was to bring on a whole new life for me.
Chapter Seven
Neither my father nor I woke up until after eleven. We didn’t make quick time of getting ready to depart, so we didn’t make it to the car to head north until just after twelve.
But we made our way toward the city. My father sang Happy Birthday to me at least four times. I’d laughed and joked with him and we’d both smiled the entire time.
Finding parking in Boston wasn’t easy, but we managed. We’d grabbed a quick bite to eat for lunch, and then we headed in the direction of all my favorite spots.
I had dreams of owning one of the brownstone homes in Back Bay someday. There was something fascinating and charming about the rows of homes, surrounded by trees and greenery. The bay was beautiful.
We strolled up Beacon Hill, ducking into several of the shops along Charles Street. When we found a row of hand-crafted leather-bound journals, my father had taken one glance at the look on my face and bought one, wishing me happy birthday.
We set off through the Boston Common, a park in the middle of the city. There were statues scattered throughout, highlighting the long history of this city. Several vendors had carts set up, and I smiled with thanks as my dad bought us both ice cream cones. We made our way to a bench, enjoying the beautiful sunshine that would soon disappear.
“Did you ever consider a position at Harvard?” I asked as I watched a group of young adults crossing the park, laughing and smiling. “Or MIT?”
My father crossed one ankle over the opposite knee. “While they’re both impressive,” he said, licking at a bead of ice cream that rolled down the cone, “I far more enjoyed the smaller atmosphere of Alderidge. And while I love Boston as much as you do, it’s not the easiest city to raise a family in.”
I supposed that could be true, but as I looked around, I saw a group of young boys practicing football. I saw two mothers pushing strollers, young babies in them.
You manage wherever you’re comfortable.
“What about Salem?” I asked, altering the trajectory of our conversation. “We have family history there. Did you and Mom ever consider living there?”
I sensed it the second her name came out of my lips. The air around us changed. My father’s back grew a little straighter.
“You really think she ever would have wanted to live in a town where her ancestor was killed for being a witch?” he asked. His voice was low, his words a little rough.
“Do you know what Mare was accused of doing?” I asked. My heart beat a little faster, talking about my family history, knowing that she was exactly what they killed her for.
Dad shrugged, and he seemed a little relieved to not be talking directly about my mother. “Who knows. There was a lot of hysteria going on at the time. Those young girls later admitted they made it all up. Poor Mare might have simply crossed someone’s sight at the wrong time.”
I gave a nod, even though I knew it wasn’t true.
I wondered if there was an account anywhere that would tell me exactly what each person was accused of.
I wondered what Mare was capable of. What did she get caught doing?
“So,” Dad asked, tossing the last of his cone into his mouth and chewing. He did that all the time, talked with his mouth full, and it had always driven Mom crazy. “Where to next?”
I bit into my own cone, sweeping my eyes around the park, at the towering, old city that surrounded us.
“The library,” I said, my heart instantly jumping with anticipation and excitement.
“The library it is, then,” Dad declared.
The Boston Public Library wasn’t a simple building. On a quick walk-through of the building, you actually wouldn’t see many books. Architecture and sculptures and murals, yes. You almost had to know where to find the books. There were many different rooms and sections to the library. Some of them were old, as you’d expect. But there were newer parts to the library, containing newer books.
I smiled every time I walked through the front doors. A big set of stairs rose up and overlooking them were two lions carved out of marble. It really was like the gateway to a different world.
I kept track of my father up until we got to the top of the stairs, where we picked our directions. He went one way, and I went another.
I’d worried about having to explain myself and why I wanted to simply open and touch books, but he was gone in an instant.
And besides, I was going into Latin. My obsession with books was a given.
I made my way through to the sections I had in mind. I admired the architecture as I went, the paintings, the numerous sculptures.
I loved how old Boston was. I loved its history and its stories.
I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to travel somewhere that had much older history. Boston was still a baby compared to some parts of the world. What would England reveal? Scotland? The Mesopotamian area?
I wanted to see them all, to learn their secrets.
The world’s secrets were much bigger than I’d ever anticipated, I’d just learned.
I went to the Gaelic section, hoping that I might have some luck with my own ancestors once again. With an employee keeping a watchful eye on me and everyone else in this room, I started at the beginning. One at a time, I pulled out a title. I opened it to the middle, set it on the shelf, and watched to see if the words changed.
A dozen books. Fifty. One hundred. Book by book, I looked through them, waiting to see if the words changed or made sense.
And then a sinking realization hit my stomach.
What if not every book that had something to teach Nathaniel and I was glamoured or hidden? What if they simply contained words?
There were billions of books in the world.
We might have to evaluate every single one, one at a time, to determine if they contained anything we could use.
My heart contracted. I sat at the table, my eyes looking at the spines.
The more I thought about it, the more the odds seemed completely impossible.
If magic really had been lost, how were we ever supposed to resurrect it? How could we ever find what we needed to bring it back?
“Is there something in particular I can help you find?” the librarian asked, coming to stand beside me. She looked down at me with concerned eyes.
“No, thank you,” I said, wishing she could. But how would I ever ask?
She simply gave a nod and went back to her little table against the wall.
I stood and walked out of the room. In the hallway, I turned, looking in every direction.
I didn’t know where to start. Here, in this library alone, there were somewhere around seventeen million books. This was the third largest library in the entire United States, only trailing the Library of Congress and the New York Public Library.
There were thousands of rare manuscripts here. Surely there had to be something of value within these walls.
But I could spend my entire life here searching. And I didn’t even live here in Boston.
Suddenly our library at Alderidge University seemed miniscule.
I raised my chin and took a deep breath.
We could only start with the resources at hand. Already, Nathaniel had discovered the book of telekinesis. We would tackle Alderidge’s books, and then we would branch out.