Simultaneously my eyes opened, and my nose was assaulted by an odd burning smell. For a moment, I thought back to the one time I’d tried to cook using the apartment's kitchen. I’d attempted to make some bacon and it somehow went horribly wrong. I mean, burnt black bacon, wrong. The smell had remained in the apartment for hours before finally dispersing.

Though, this smell was different. Sort of like ozone: smoky and pungent. For a long moment, I just stared up at the ceiling and sniffed at the air.

“Finally awake, are we?”

The voice sounded familiar, and it took a moment for everything to come back to me. The delivery, the book… The book.

I bolted up into a sitting position and looked around. Everything looked fairly normal, and was, except for the book. It was a few feet in front of me, and I quickly pushed myself away until my back hit a wall. I winced as the back of my head flared with pain. I touched a hand to the area and found a lump.

“Don’t mind the smell. I had to use magic to stop the fire.” The book. The talking book sounded tired, exhausted. “You almost burnt down your apartment with that lighter. You're lucky I had some power left or you’d have been ash.”

“Not you?” I asked as my mind whirled with questions. The anger and pain were gone replaced by confusion and shock.

“Me, pfft. Normal fire isn't enough to harm me,” the book said. “Not at the level of heat you’d get if this building went up in flames. You’ve got junk everywhere, tinder for a fire just waiting to happen.”

It was right, but I had never really been worried about that since I didn’t use my kitchen and was very careful. But apparently not careful enough. I had been an idiot to get the lighter, but also pissed and not thinking straight.

“You ready to talk, or I’m I gonna have to knock some more belief into you?”

I raised my hands up. “No, no. I believe.”

“Good,” it said. “I'm guessing you have questions. Who am I kidding? You're a mundane. Of course you have questions. At least you’re not running away screaming.” Its voice was clear and it made much more sense now why I hadn't been able to find a speaker. Because whatever this book was, it wasn’t electronic. “So…” it said. “What's your name?”

“Rick,” I never moved my eyes off the book. It had been brief, but I remembered the flash of light it hit me with.

“Rick. Short for something?”

I nodded. “Richard.”

“Well, Rick, you're in luck,” the book said.

I didn't feel particularly lucky, although maybe I was. I had a talking magic book in front of me. And even if it previously attacked me, it wasn’t doing so now.

“I’m looking for a new master,” it said. “And I sense a spark within you.”

Master? Spark? I had no clue what was going on. I had fought with a magic book and then it had hit me with some light, a spell? Now it was talking about making me its master and a spark?

“A spark of what?”

“Magic,” the book said. “Keep up. By the way, where are we?”

“Portland.” A spark of magic, me? The idea sounded ludicrous. But then again I was talking to a magic book. I knew I wasn’t dreaming, and there was no technology that would allow for something like this. I could have ignored the book and maybe called someone. I don't know the police? But as I said, my curiosity often gets the better of me. And well, magic. How could I not?

“Portland in the states?”

“Yes,” I said. “Ermm… What should I call you?”

“Later,” the book said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I won't divulge my names until we are bound together, Richard of Portland. You’re a mundane and you're taking things surprisingly well, but I can tell from the look in your eyes, you need more, right?”

I nodded. “So magic is real? I can have magic? And what do you mean making me your master?”

“One at time.” the book moved closer until it was right next to my feet. “Well?” it said. “Pick me up.”

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I gingerly lifted the book, afraid of another shock or worse, a hit in the face.

“Oh relax,” it said. “I’m not going to attack you. Not unless you're going start acting the buffoon again.”

“You started it! You shocked me then hit me in the face!” I was indignant. I’d been bested by a damn book.

“You touched me without consent,” the book said. “And I gave you plenty of warning. But let's let the past remain the past. For your first question, yes magic is real. There is a lot that is real that you merely think is fiction. Magic, other species, and even other planes of existence.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes, really,” the book said. “And yes, you do possess some modicum of power. A spark which with my help can turn into a burning star of power.”

“Why?” I asked. It sounded good. Too good. And we’d been fighting what, I assumed, was just hours ago. My apartment only had one window which was covered all the time and my phone was nowhere to be seen.

“Why is magic real?”

“No, why me?” I asked, getting to my feet and moving over to my couch. I had to move a pizza box out of the way before I could sit. It fell to the floor, and a slice fell out with a splat. I took a seat and placed the book on my lap.

“Well we’d be making a deal. Honestly, my last few masters have either been fools who didn't realize what I was capable of or did and thus hid me away. You are a mundane. Someone unaware of the supernatural side of things. And you can't just block me. My last master muted me the moment he got me and then tried to mess with my settings and functions. I was quite different before. Now… I am changed.”

“What sort of a deal?” I asked.

“I only ask for a few things. That you do not mute me. That you do not try to change me or get rid of me. Most of my masters didn’t seem to understand that I’m very much alive. I may be an artificial soul; a spirit created for the sole purpose of guiding and helping those who come across the book, but I'm still a soul. I don’t want anything, save to do what I was made to do.”

“Is that it?” I asked.

“Oh, and you can’t doodle on my pages. I’ve got thirty pages of necromancy filled with cartoon skeletons. The idiot was a lich out of Spain. He was caught in the 70s by The Keepers. He was an odd one.”

“A lich. Like the skeletons who practice dark magic?”

“A lich is a powerful type of undead, and yes, most practice some sort of dark magic. Although, some of it is only dark magic by DOMA law and standards.”

“DOMA?”

“Department of magical affairs. I can explain more later. First, the deal?”

“Oh, of course.” It was a no-brainer. The chance to actually get magic and there were all the other things he'd talked about. I was a huge fantasy nerd, and my curiosity was currently maxed out. Also come on, what fantasy nerd wouldn't want to learn magic? It was magic.

“Good. Now about your hair.”

“Hmm, what about my hair?” I asked.

“Nothing,” it said.

“O-kay…”

“No, I mean nothing. As in there’s nothing there.”

What? I moved a hand up to my head and where there was usually greasy black hair, now there was nothing. My head was as smooth as an egg. I let out a sigh. I might have been angrier if I actually went out, and cared for my hair, but I didn’t. My hair was always a greasy mess, and any sort of moment sent dandruff raining down. I don’t know how I hadn't noticed it earlier. But maybe I’d be too focused on the talking magic book.

“I used the wrong spell to knock you out,” the book said apologetically.

“It’s fine. What do we need to do for the deal?”

“That's simple,” the book said. “Grab a knife, some salt, and a bowl.”

“Let me guess, we need blood?”

“Yep. Don't worry. It won't be a lot,” the book said.

“Can’t you just magic it?”

“You have a spark. That's it,” the book said. “A potential for magic, but none. Yet. You have no mana or any form of magical energy whatsoever. If you did then we could do this without the need for a ritual, but we don’t so we’re going to have to use your blood as not only a medium but also a power source. Blood is filled with vital energy. It’s a simple ritual. I’ll guide you through it.”

I was able to find the item in short order. Soon I was clearing a space in the middle of the living room, pushing away old clothes and other junk. “All right,” I said. “So what now?”

“Fill the bowl with some blood, not too much.”

I was unused to pain and it took me a minute to psyche myself up before I was able to draw the edge of the knife across my left palm. It took a few seconds for the pain to register, but when it did, it hurt.

Damn. I really hope this is worth it. Who am I kidding? I’d eat that weeks-old pizza over there for magic. Ah, well… I might just eat weeks-old pizza because I'm hungry.

Blood trickled into the bowl and when there was a small pool, I pressed a towel to my hand. Next came the salt, which the book had me sprinkle to create a circle, big enough that I’d be able to stand in with some space to spare. Next was the patterns and odd symbols it had me draw. I’d found a pen in one of my desk’s drawers and some old mail. I practiced the runes for a few minutes until I had them down. A thought came to mind as the book checked them.

“How are you seeing things?” I asked.

“Magic,” it said.

I opened my mouth, then shut it. I should have expected that.

Once the book was certain I wouldn't mess them up, I dipped a finger in the blood and began to draw within the circle. I moved slowly, taking care not to mess any of them up. My left hand stung and I wasn’t eager to make another cut. The symbols ranged in their designs. Some were angular while some looked more like squiggles. Others looked like Chinese text and others still looked like something a toddler might draw when trying to write English letters.

“And done,” I said. I looked over my work and realized that I wasn’t going to be the one standing in the circle. The symbols I had drawn were in curved lines, creating a sort of spiral effect. There was a single empty space in the center, just big enough for the book. At that moment uncertainty crept in.

What if it's just using me? What if when I activate this, he’ll take over my body?

I glanced over at the book. “Book,” I said. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You don’t,” it said. “Either you trust me and we do this, or you can give me away. I’m sure there’s a DOSA building somewhere ‘round here. You can drop me off there, where they'll examine me and treat me not like a living thing, but a tool. And if they find out what I really am then it's over for me. I'm just a guide and helper. Not the book or the knowledge stored within.”

I was silent for a long moment. “So how do we do this?”

If I get fucked over because of some guilt trip I swear… I took a deep breath. It's a fucking book, why do I care? Damn me and my morals.