oversized, hand-drawn
M
in the middle of a page adorned with flowers and leaves. Again there were recipes and medicines, lists of ingredients and amounts. . . .
“Look,” Amy said. “She stops writing here — she has ten blank pages. And she’s copied out a poem. Then here — she writes,
I miei viaggi.
‘My travels,’ ” Amy translated. “After that the rest of the book is written in code!”
“I’m guessing we’re here to crack it,” Dan said.
“Maybe Grace already did!”
Excited, Amy picked up Grace’s notebook. Only about a third of the book was written in. There were lists of Latin words and translations of old Italian to modern Italian. Then there were notations that didn’t make any sense at all.
“I think Grace tried to break the code, but wasn’t able to,” Amy said.
Dan groaned. “Why isn’t it ever easy?”
As she flipped the pages, an envelope fell out.
Amy’s heart fluttered. “It’s from Grace,” she said to Dan.
The note wasn’t long.
“The secret is out in the world,” Dan said. “The serum.”
Amy touched the letter
G
, so bold, so strong. “She was afraid this day would come.”
“Somewhere in there,” Dan said, pointing to the book, “is the answer to our problem. Grace gave us a way to fight J. Rutherford Pierce!”
By the evening, they had to give up. Olivia’s book was a fascinating glimpse into life in Ireland in the early sixteenth century, but they couldn’t see how what she wrote could help them. And they could not break the code.
“There’s too much Latin and Italian,” Dan said sleepily from his prone position on the floor. “And if I have to read one more poultice recipe, I’ll tear my hair out.” He raised himself on his elbows. “You know who we need to call. Atticus and Jake know these dead languages. They could —”
“No,” Amy interrupted.
Dan sat upright. “While we’re sitting here, Pierce is gaining power every day with the serum. We’re the only ones who can stop him. We have to use everything we can, every
one
we can. You might want to protect everybody,” he said. “I get that. But if the whole world falls apart, what good did it do?”
Amy jackknifed to her feet. “Let’s just go to bed.”
Dan’s words pounded in Amy’s head as she tucked the book under her arm and followed him up the worn wooden stairs to their rooms. She wanted to tell him he was wrong. She wanted to say,
You don’t know what it’s like to be in charge.
She wanted to fling an accusation at him —
You’re the one who wants to run away! You don’t get to have a vote anymore!
But she was too exhausted to fight.
She pulled on the sweats they’d bought in town, brushed her teeth, and turned out the light.
Sleep wouldn’t come. She tossed and turned for an hour. When she closed her eyes, she felt herself falling, the dark, oily river rushing up at her. She felt Dan’s fingers weakening. Panicked, she reached for the light. She propped herself up on pillows and picked up Olivia’s book.
As she read, her eyebrows knit together. All these years, they’d wondered about the fascinating Gideon Cahill, the man who set out to stop a plague and developed a powerful serum. Who knew that his wife, Olivia, was just as fascinating and brilliant as he was? The journal made clear that it was Olivia who gathered the serum ingredients, Olivia who assisted Gideon in the lab, Olivia who kept the family together. Amy read Olivia’s words.
The power he sought for healing transmogrified into a beast. A beast with the power of great destruction. And so it must itself be destroyed. To each is its opposite. The opposite negates the other.
She looked again to the poem right before the coded end of the book. She’d read it that evening several times, but hadn’t understood it. She read it again, her heartbeat thudding in her ears.
Four souls, four elements, now dispersed.
’
Twas as though my Family, cursed
and burdened — lo! to pass through years
of
M
in the middle of a page adorned with flowers and leaves. Again there were recipes and medicines, lists of ingredients and amounts. . . .
“Look,” Amy said. “She stops writing here — she has ten blank pages. And she’s copied out a poem. Then here — she writes,
I miei viaggi.
‘My travels,’ ” Amy translated. “After that the rest of the book is written in code!”
“I’m guessing we’re here to crack it,” Dan said.
“Maybe Grace already did!”
Excited, Amy picked up Grace’s notebook. Only about a third of the book was written in. There were lists of Latin words and translations of old Italian to modern Italian. Then there were notations that didn’t make any sense at all.
“I think Grace tried to break the code, but wasn’t able to,” Amy said.
Dan groaned. “Why isn’t it ever easy?”
As she flipped the pages, an envelope fell out.
Amy’s heart fluttered. “It’s from Grace,” she said to Dan.
The note wasn’t long.
“The secret is out in the world,” Dan said. “The serum.”
Amy touched the letter
G
, so bold, so strong. “She was afraid this day would come.”
“Somewhere in there,” Dan said, pointing to the book, “is the answer to our problem. Grace gave us a way to fight J. Rutherford Pierce!”
By the evening, they had to give up. Olivia’s book was a fascinating glimpse into life in Ireland in the early sixteenth century, but they couldn’t see how what she wrote could help them. And they could not break the code.
“There’s too much Latin and Italian,” Dan said sleepily from his prone position on the floor. “And if I have to read one more poultice recipe, I’ll tear my hair out.” He raised himself on his elbows. “You know who we need to call. Atticus and Jake know these dead languages. They could —”
“No,” Amy interrupted.
Dan sat upright. “While we’re sitting here, Pierce is gaining power every day with the serum. We’re the only ones who can stop him. We have to use everything we can, every
one
we can. You might want to protect everybody,” he said. “I get that. But if the whole world falls apart, what good did it do?”
Amy jackknifed to her feet. “Let’s just go to bed.”
Dan’s words pounded in Amy’s head as she tucked the book under her arm and followed him up the worn wooden stairs to their rooms. She wanted to tell him he was wrong. She wanted to say,
You don’t know what it’s like to be in charge.
She wanted to fling an accusation at him —
You’re the one who wants to run away! You don’t get to have a vote anymore!
But she was too exhausted to fight.
She pulled on the sweats they’d bought in town, brushed her teeth, and turned out the light.
Sleep wouldn’t come. She tossed and turned for an hour. When she closed her eyes, she felt herself falling, the dark, oily river rushing up at her. She felt Dan’s fingers weakening. Panicked, she reached for the light. She propped herself up on pillows and picked up Olivia’s book.
As she read, her eyebrows knit together. All these years, they’d wondered about the fascinating Gideon Cahill, the man who set out to stop a plague and developed a powerful serum. Who knew that his wife, Olivia, was just as fascinating and brilliant as he was? The journal made clear that it was Olivia who gathered the serum ingredients, Olivia who assisted Gideon in the lab, Olivia who kept the family together. Amy read Olivia’s words.
The power he sought for healing transmogrified into a beast. A beast with the power of great destruction. And so it must itself be destroyed. To each is its opposite. The opposite negates the other.
She looked again to the poem right before the coded end of the book. She’d read it that evening several times, but hadn’t understood it. She read it again, her heartbeat thudding in her ears.
Four souls, four elements, now dispersed.
’
Twas as though my Family, cursed
and burdened — lo! to pass through years
of
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