Part Thirteen

Blue stared at her sister as her sister stared at the book, her fingers tracing over the page in a dazed sort of state. “G?” she asked, but her sister wasn’t listening.

“It’s not Latin,” Georgeanne said in something of a sleepwalking-state, aware of no one else save her and the pages. “Although some of the words would make you think that.” She dragged her fingers across one line again and again as if the translation was on the tip of her tongue.

“We could always take the journal with us,” suggested Blue feeling a little uncomfortable each second they remained in the room. She was worried with the way her sister could not take her eyes off the journal. Finally she grabbed the book, slid it from her sister’s fingers and shut it. Blinking, Georgeanne looked up at Blue.

“B?” she said, her eyes confused.

Placing a hand to her sister’s cheek, she smiled then took her hand and said, “Let’s go.” They went to the door and left the abandoned room behind them.

Feeling confined inside the castle, she dragged her sister out to the back lawn to the grand gazebo. Once beneath its shade, she let go of her hand and twirled around, breathing in the air of the sunny day. When she stopped, she saw Georgeanne seated at one of the benches, her face troubled.

“G?” she said, worried.

“Those words,” she said. “Those words were written in my hand.” Blue said nothing. “How could that be? The book is tattered and ripped. It must be older than we are.” She looked up at her sister then and asked, “How can I have written in a book that is older than we are?”

Blue looked at her sister lovingly and said, “I do not know.”

They stayed in silence for a moment before Georgeanne said, “Looks like you’re not the only having weird days.”

“Would you care to trade?” said Blue trying her best at a half-smile.

Georgeanne smiled weakly. “Oh I’m afraid it’s not that easy, dear sister.” She stood and walked across the gazebo staring back at the castle.

“What do you mean?” asked Blue.

“Do you really think the oddity of your special day and the book you hold with my script in it is all that there is?” Blue said nothing. “One strange dream I could understand. We’ve all had strange dreams. But one so specific and precise? And even in dream - how could so long happen in such a small span of time? And then we find that… thing,” she said with a wave of her hand. Blue looked down at the journal in her hands. “No, my sweet sister - something is afoot, and whatever it is, it means to entangle us within its grasp.”

“You make it sound so horrible,” said Blue hugging the journal to her.

Georgeanne turned around and said apologetically, “I don’t mean to.” She turned away from her sister then and added quietly, “It’s only a feeling.”

“I trust your feelings,” said Blue. “You’re usually right about these sorts of things.”

“These sorts of things?” questioned Georgeanne.

“You know what I mean,” Blue corrected. “You have some kind of intuition that I lack.”

“You don’t lack it,” her sister said. “You just don’t acknowledge it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your impulsiveness? That’s your gut – your instinct – telling you to do things.”

“So you’re saying doing what I want is intuitive?”

“I’m saying you’re more than what you think you are.”

Blue looked at her sister then, her hair sparkling in the sun like the seeds of a pomegranate. “So are you,” she said.

She smiled at that idea, but then her face changed to worry, and she asked Blue, “What’s happening to us?”

Blue glanced down at the journal in her hands, her thoughts turning back to her earlier dream. “I’m not sure.” Looking up at her sister, she asked, “Are you scared?”

Georgeanne looked away briefly, thinking on the question, her fingers twisted in each other. When she turned back to her sister, she said plainly and honestly, “A little.” She pulled her hands apart forcing them at her sides. “You?”

“A little,” Blue admitted.

“Don’t be scared,” said a new voice – new to Georgeanne but not new to Blue. The girls spun around quickly toward the direction it had come from.

“You,” said Blue staring at the man from what she thought was a dream.

“What are you doing here?” asked Georgeanne stepping closer. Blue looked over at her sister who now stood beside her several feet away.

“You know this man?” she asked.

Still staring at the man, her sister answered, “Yes.”

“But how?” Blue asked. “This is the man from my dream.”

Georgeanne’s head turned toward her sister quickly as she said, “Him? But that’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“I dreamed of him last night.”

The girls turned back to the man before them who just stood there – waiting. “What do you want from us?” asked Blue.

“Only to help you,” he replied.

“Devon?” ventured Georgeanne, and he nodded. “You want to help us with what exactly?”

“Well,” said Devon matter-of-factly, “how about finding your mother for starters.”