Page 95 of Cursed Encounter
I don’t know what to say, but I can’t hate him.
“I knew about necromancy magic and how it’s frowned upon. I didn’t know what I was doing, I swear. I got so scared, I swore I’d never use my so-called gift again. I’d never wish for something to have life again, no matter what.” Tears leak down his already tear-stained cheeks. “I never even wished someone would get better when they were sick.”
“That’s a lot to deal with for a kid,” I say softly. “A lot to hold in for that many years.”
Naturals’ and crafters’ abilities are different. While Sandra could raise my father and control his body, he was still dead. I might not know a whole lot about natural weaving necromancers, but I do have an idea that they have the power to actually bring someone or something back from death. They are a lot more powerful.
Fabien bursts into tears, sobbing as his body uncurls. I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around him, even though it’s an awkward position.
“I know I’m not exactly like Sandra because I’m a natural and I have no control over my what abilities I was given, but I still feel dark and ugly like her.” He sobs harder. I try to pull some of his pain away, but then I stop. It feels wrong to do it without asking for permission first. Maybe, like me earlier, he needs to feel it, he needs to release it. “I didn’t ask for it, and I don’t want it. It’s not right. There are consequences for dragginga marked soul back, and I can’t be responsible for that. But I… I couldn’t let him go.”
He’s crying so hard that it takes me a moment to understand the last part.
But it hits me as the night flashes back in my mind. The reason he was so shaken. The reason he had to touch Andre.
He believes he brought Andre back. What if he did?
I focus on keeping my breathing steady because I don’t want to make the situation worse. I’m trying to work the whole thing out in my mind. I still don’t see him as a monster, and I understand the heavy burden he’s been carrying.
“What if it’s not necromancy,” I point out more than question because my brain is still trying to work it out.
“W-what?” he asks, pulling away from me and sitting up in the chair.
I stand and pace a few feet away.
“What if the bird wasn’t dead?” I ask. The light bulb goes off in my head.
“It wasn’t moving.”
“Right, but what if that’s because the bird was stunned or knocked out? What if it was still alive? What if you healed it instead of bringing it back from the dead?”
When I turn around to face him again, he’s blinking up at me with his mouth parted. It’s like the thought never occurred to him. My heart breaks for both little boy Fabien and the man he is now, holding it all in and living in fear of his abilities.
“What if Andre wasn’t dead when I touched him?!” There’s a rush of hope and excitement in his tone as he gets to his feet. “What if I healed him enough to keep him alive until they could save him?!”
I move in close as he gently grabs Andre’s hand.
“Leave me,” he says. There’s a confidence in his voice that I haven’t heard before.
“But—”
“Leave me, please,” he says, giving me a pleading look. “I can’t concentrate with your emotional interference.”
I can’t help it, I laugh.
“I like the way you said that.” He smiles at my teasing tone. It’s good to see. “Promise you’ll call Torrin or Donovan if you need me, okay?”
“I promise.” He turns his attention to Andre. There’s a small smile on his face, and his eyes are much brighter than I’ve seen them in the last twenty-four hours.
I have to trust him. Trust that he knows what he’s doing. With one last look at the two of them, I turn and head for the door.
“Hey,” he calls out right before the door shuts. I pop my head back in. “I’m glad you didn’t die.”
I send him a smile as I say, “Me too.”
And what a strange relief it is.
“See you soon,” he says, turning his attention back to the unconscious man in the bed.
