Authors: Greg Chase
Sara had their father’s secret book out on the worktable as Emily entered what had been Sam’s office. Sara doubted she’d ever truly see it as her workspace. It was just her father’s space that she’d use out of convenience.
Emily stood in the middle of the huge space, staring at the book’s polished stone cover. “We said we wouldn’t, Ra.”
Sara knew she’d be hesitant. Hell, Sara was scared. They’d only messed with the book a few times. But the last time had terrified Emily so badly they made a pact not to open it again unless it was an emergency. They couldn’t summon a being from a book without thinking they’d performed some type of dark magic. And the last time, when that being had grown cross, it had scared the shit out of both of them. “He said we were to leave it alone until the time was right. He wasn’t mad at you, Emi.”
Emily hesitatingly approached the volume. “You think the time’s right because Mom and Dad aren’t here?”
The last time they’d played their little game, Sam had been upstairs. If anything had gone seriously wrong, he’d have protected them. But not this time. “The man from the book said he would help, that we’d never be alone. I have to know what he meant.”
And how Emi and I fit into future events.
“You know Ellie and Joshua can’t interfere. No Tobe can—he told us that.” It’d be just the two of them with this strange being. No protection at all, which after Sara’s kidnapping wasn’t something Emily or the Tobes would allow. How the strange being managed to keep the Tobes at bay was still a mystery.
“If you say
no
, I’ll respect that.” Sara had made a promise to herself to always listen to her sister, even now.
But Emily never denied any of Sara’s requests. “If you think it’s a good idea, I’ll help.”
It wouldn’t work without both sisters in agreement. Sara knew. She’d tried it alone once before, and nothing had happened.
She opened the book. The first half was much as Sam had described it—texts of ancient religions. Between each page of stationary type was a sheet of some unknown material. It wasn’t paper but was translucent, milky white with words that floated and changed on its surface. But the strange pages had no substance. As she went to turn one, it lifted off the book on its own as if anticipating her action. She’d guessed it to be a holographic projection at first, but why would the Tobes go to all that trouble? Nothing about the book made sense.
Depending on what the twins read regarding a particular set of beliefs, the magic page would weave the idea together with the other doctrines until one unified human religion took shape. The religion culminated in Sam’s odd life, in which he created a new species of beings. Though how one led to the other was a question their summoned being refused to answer. One of many.
The page she sought lay toward the center of the book. Like a schoolbook with questions at the end of each chapter, this page asked for the various names that had been used for God. Sara and Emily made a game of it, coming up with as many as they could. It didn’t take long for the letters on the page to begin breaking up into random stick patterns.
“What do you need to know?” The man stood against the wall view screen, sporting short gray hair and a beard, tattered jeans, ratty sandals, and a well-worn T-shirt. He was an unremarkable character. Sara wouldn’t have given him a second glance if she’d run into him on the street.
“Our parents have left to combat the Moons of Jupiter.” As a character out of a book, Sara wasn’t sure how much he knew of current events.
“I’m aware. Most of what you’ll want to know, I still can’t tell you. But I am here.” His soft, quiet voice had a way of filling a room.
“We’re alone. Can we rely on your help? You said you would last time we talked to you.” Sara hated sounding like a little girl, and that was precisely how she felt.
“You’re never alone. There’s a building full of individuals here. I’m not your assistant.” He was growing irritated already.
“Is what my parents are attempting going to work?” It was a foolish question, grasping at straws for assurance her parents would be all right. But that fear gripped Sara’s heart.
The man folded his arms. For a moment, Sara thought he was going to leave them like the last time they’d summoned him. “I can’t tell you the future.” He had given the same irritating answer last time. The way he emphasized
tell
indicated he knew the future—he just wouldn’t reveal it.
“Can you at least do something about these churches?” Sara didn’t mean it as a trick question, but he had to have some influence. Didn’t he?
“What mankind believes isn’t my concern.” Another irritating nonanswer.
“Then what good are you really? Because all I’m getting is frustration from talking to you.” Sara wondered if there was another book around there somewhere with a more helpful being she could conjure up.
His smile was even more annoying than his words. “What does that tell you?”
Sarcasm played on her tongue, but she resisted the childish responses. “That I’m not asking the right questions.”
“You’re learning. Day-to-day help is all around you. No one can offer more help than the sister right next to you. But you know that. You don’t need me to tell you what you already know. Telling you what hasn’t happened yet would be cheating. Would you really want to open a book to the last page? And what would you accomplish having someone else fight your battles? Or even worse, handicap your enemies? Do you really want to remain a child?”
Great, not only did their imaginary friend not have any answers, but he wanted to play the role of inquisitor. The worst part was each of his questions cut deep to her core. She sat back in the couch with her head down. “Then what are the right questions?”
“When you’re ready for
me
—not what I can do for you—and to just enjoy each other’s existence, you’ll lose the need for answers.” His words gave her hope, but for what, she didn’t know.
Emily squeezed her fists tight, an indication she wanted to ask her question. The question had resulted in the man leaving abruptly the last time, but it wasn’t as if Sara was making any headway. She was on her own, at least when it came to this useless genie-in-a-book. She nodded silently to her sister.
Emily bowed her head, her innocent blue eyes hiding behind blond curls. “Are you really God?”
“Not yet.”
***
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reg Chase is
a science fiction author and glass artist living in New Orleans with his wife, fellow author Deanna Chase, and their two shih tzu dogs. On any given day you can find him behind his computer, people watching in the quarter, or out in his studio creating stories in glass. You can find his glass work at
Chase Designs
.