Beautiful Chaos (Caster Chronicles 3)

“Um, Plato?” I guessed hopefully.

“Winston Churchill.” She sighed. “That’s all they can ask of me, and all I can ask of myself. Now it’s time for you to go.”

Now that Mrs. English and my dad were gone, I noticed that Marian was dressed in clothes that were very un-Marian. Instead of a brightly colored dress, she was wearing a black robe over a black dress. As if she was going to a funeral. Which was just about the last place I was going to let Marian go without me.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

She shook her head. “Except home.”

“No.”

“Ethan, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“When Lena and I were the ones in front of the firing squad, you walked right into the line of fire—you and Macon. There’s no way I’m going anywhere.”

Lena dropped down into one of the few remaining chairs and made herself comfortable. “Me neither.”

“You’re very kind, both of you. But I intend to keep you all out of this. I think it’s better for everyone.”

“Haven’t you noticed whenever someone says that, it’s never better for anyone, especially not the person saying it?” I looked at Lena.

Go get Macon. I’ll stay here with Marian. I don’t want her to go through this alone.

Lena was at the door, the lock unbolting itself, before Marian could say a word.

I’m on it.

I put my arm around Marian’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Isn’t this one of those times when we should pull out a book that magically tells us everything is going to be okay?”

She laughed, and for a second she sounded like the old Marian, the Marian who wasn’t on trial for things she didn’t do, who wasn’t worrying about things she couldn’t help. “I don’t recall the books we’ve found lately saying anything of the sort.”

“Yeah. Let’s stay away from the Ps. No Edgar Allan Poe for you today.”

She smiled. “The Ps aren’t all bad. There is always, for example, Plato.” She patted my arm. ‘Courage is a kind of salvation,’ Ethan.” She rummaged in a box and pulled out a blackened book. “And you’ll be happy to know, Plato survived the Gatlin County Library’s own Great Burning.”

Things might be bad, but for the first time in weeks, I actually felt better.

10.09

Reckoning

We were sitting in the archive, in the flickering candlelight. The room was relatively undamaged, which was a miracle. The archive had been soaked, not burned—thanks to the automatic sprinklers in the ceiling. The three of us waited at the long table in the center of the room, having tea from a Thermos.

I stirred mine absentmindedly. “Shouldn’t the Council be visiting you in the Lunae Libri?”

Marian shook her head. “I’m not even sure if they want me back there. This is the only place they’ll speak to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Lena said.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I only hope—”

The cracking sound of lightning filled the room, then the rumble of thunder, and blinding flashes of light. Not the ripping sound of Traveling, but something new. The book appeared first.

The Caster Chronicles.

That was the name inscribed on the front. It landed on the table between us. The book was so massive that the table groaned under its weight.

“What’s that?” I asked.