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“Only if you ask nicely. Or just ask. I’m flexible.” I grinned and he groaned.

“So, like… What’s your deal, then?” He gestured at me.

“Prisoner here.” I stood on that note. “Some gifts they deem too dangerous to be out and about.”

“So, I’m going to be—”

“Hopefully not. It’s rare. Zeke here can write things in books that come true. Sumna Scriba.” Isa gestured at me. “Last time he got an ink pen, he damn near caused society to collapse.”

“What’d you do?” Lex eyed me suspiciously.

“What’s the first thing anyone would do if they could rewrite history?” I beamed proudly.

“If you changed history, how would I know?” He lifted a brow. “Because I know what I’d do. I’d totally kill H—”

“He killed Hitler,” Isa confirmed and rolled her eyes.

“Really? Couldn’t have been sooner?” He gave me a shitty look, and I held up my hands.

“Hey! Changing the past that big could cause cataclysmic events. Besides, all I had was a newspaper on that day. And that was tough in the ’40s considering I wasn’t allowed in half the town. The spells on me stop me from getting a pen and ink, but I kinda bent the rules.”

“The spells used to be on his hands only.” She glared at me and I grinned.

“Used my feet.” I lifted one to wiggle at him, and he blinked.

“Wild… So, what am I?” He tucked his knees, expression haunted.

“No clue. Keep reading the books and once you can start diving, we’ll figure it out.” I offered him a hand as I approached.

He took it grudgingly, skepticism written plain on his face. I hoisted him to his feet and earned a wan smile. “So, the crab thing?”

“Animus. It’s when an inscriptor puts form and life into a book. Isa put her life essence into a book since inscriptors age like an average human.”

She sneered. “And when I’m tired of existing, they can file me away or destroy me if I ask. You two have to deal with it until a book takes you. That’s how most of your kind go.”

“Takes me?” Lex glanced up in alarm.

“You go into a book and just…don’t come out. You live there or forget your life outside. I’ve met a trapped archivist before, thought they were a character… It was sad.” I didn’t know what else to say because it had never been my duty to tell someone.

Usually someone found us, took us, and trained us. For him? He’d been sent blindly with promises of a good future. I supposed it was up to me until they sent someone.

“So, what? Do I stop reading?” He glared at me.

“The opposite. Keep reading and learn how. When you decide to stop reading is when you leave the book.” I’d been living in books for over a hundred years. And let me tell you, when gay romance novels got popular, my life improved significantly.

“Okay, so archivists can go into books. Inscriptors can manipulate books—” He frowned and glanced around. “What else is there?”

“Inscriptor, archivist, deus. People who use books to perform feats or perform feats with books. Archivists can go into books and are usually subdivided by their particular specialty. I, for example, have a gift that borders inscriptor and deus with archivist—a chronicler. A deus will normally never have an idea they are one. They write books that possess power. Most popular authors are one. Now, there’s glossia, people who can read any language. There’s doctrinus, those who can absorb knowledge from anything, and so forth. There’s a dozen or so types, but they’re so unique that we often have difficulty really assigning an exact specialty title at times. I know this one guy who can adopt the appearance of any character as the deus—author—perceived them. Technically he’s a requisitor, but it’s vague.”

He stared at me as if I’d gone too far too fast.

“Listen. Take some books you like, not from the library, and read them. Anyone coming in will leave the library card if they can’t find you, so if you’re not there or diving, they’ll just go about their business.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“And do fill out form G-1 to report your dives in detail so we can ascertain your designation.” Isa gave me a pointed look that I shied away from. I was terrible at my reports.

“Yeah. Fine. And I can’t tell anyone about this…”

“At your own discretion, mundanes tend to ignore the supernatural. Brains are hardwired to turn illogical circumstances into perfectly explainable things.” Isa hand waved him off. “So, they’ll likely just think you’re losing the butter off your biscuit.”