past.”
“Oh.”
“Sadie’s got her past, but she’s young yet. Her future’s dominant.”
“Do humans have a life book, as well as animals?”
“Of course. Every one of us is written in the book of life.” As soon as Granny Carne says this, I long to see inside the book, to know the future, as Granny Carne does. If only I could see Dad coming back to us—not Mer, but human.
“Does anyone ever read inside the life book, Granny Carne?”
“No,” says Granny Carne. She puts down her pen. “Never try that, my girl. These words can blind you.” Her eyes blaze at me.
I take a deep breath. My voice squeaks with nerves, but I’m determined. “I need to, Granny Carne. I wouldn’t ask otherwise. I really need to.”
“No, my girl.”
“Please! You don’t know how important it is.” Granny Carne stares at me hard. “ You don’t know what you’re asking.” She weighs the book in her hand; then suddenly she seems to change her mind. She holds up the green notebook, open and facing outward.
It’s just a book with writing in it. Not a spell book or anything ridiculous like that. Granny Carne’s magic isn’t of that kind.
“The life book has no power of its own,” says Granny Carne slowly. “It’s what you put into it. What you put into it, my girl.”
The writing faces out toward me. I can’t read it, though.
The writing is too small , or maybe it’s too difficult for me.
Granny Carne begins to turn the pages, slowly at first and then faster. There are far more pages than a small notebook could possibly hold. The pages flicker as if a strong wind is blowing them. I stand up and lean forward, desperate to pick some words out of the blur, to catch just one drop of the future. But instead of making sense, the words swarm like bees all over the creamy paper.
Can words move like this once they’ve been written?
They’re writing themselves, coiling and clustering and buzzing all over the page. They’re angry. Angry bees that have been disturbed by a stranger at their hive. Any moment now they will fly off the page and straight at me, stinging and stinging until I’m blinded. I put my hands up in front of my face to ward them off. The hum of the words rises dangerous and threatening, fil ing my ears. I step back. A chair clatters. I stumble, reach out to get my balance, and nearly fall . The word bees are swarming close, ready to attack.
“Granny Carne! I didn’t mean it! Don’t let them—” Suddenly, the noise is gone, as if a door has been shut on it.
“It’s all right now, my girl. The book is closed.” Slowly I let my hands fall . Granny Carne’s green notebook is shut. It looks so innocent.
“You have to handle things right,” says Granny Carne. “Go to the bees in anger, and they’ll give you anger back. This book is not for your eyes, Sapphire, no matter if you put your life into it. It’s not for you to read. Remember that, no matter what the temptation.”
I nod. I feel too shaky to answer.
“You want to make things go back to what they were before last summer, but the pages have turned.” Granny Carne’s voice is stern now. “You cannot turn them back except by blinding yourself. Go forward, my girl. There’s good and bad coming that won’t be cured by looking back. I can’t see the scope and nature of it yet, but I can read its power. Keep your eyes open. Ingo is growing strong, and the Mer blood in you is racing to meet it.
“But remember something. Remember that you are Earth too, even when you are angry with her, as a girl is angry with her mother when she’s growing away from her. That’s what you carry, my girl, the gifts of both sides. Two ways they can be used: to split you in half or to heal what needs healing.
There are hard times coming. Troubled times.” There are hard times coming. Troubled times.” We stand frozen for a few moments. Granny Carne’s amber eyes are as
Matt Christopher
BWWM Club, Tyra Small
Lynsay Sands
Charlene Weir
Laura Lippman
Ann Cleeves
Madison Daniel
Karen Harbaugh
Sophie Stern
John C. Wohlstetter