Prophecy of the Sisters Read Online Free Page A

in town who
     think the friendship improper, Father never let the opinions of others form his own.
    James reaches out, taking my hand and gently pulling me toward him. “How are you, Lia? Is there anything I can do?”
    The worry in his voice, the gruff concern, brings the prick of tears to my eyes. I am at once flooded with both sadness and
     relief. In the safety of James’s company, I realize the strain of my constant caution around Alice.
    I shake my head, clearing my throat a little before trusting myself to speak. “No. It will simply take time, I think, to become
     used to Father’s absence.” I try to sound strong, but the tears spill onto my cheeks. I cover my face with my hands.
    “Lia. Lia.” He moves my hands and grasps them in his. “I know how much your father meant to you. It’s not the same, I know,
     but I’m here for anything you need. Anything at all.”
    His eyes burn into mine, and the tweed of his waistcoat brushes against my gown. A familiar rush of heat works its way outward
     from my stomach to the far reaches of my body and to all the secret places that are only a distant promise.
    He reluctantly steps back, straightening and clearing his throat. “I should think there might be one day when Father would
     remember to bring the ledger in from the carriage, but it’s a stroke of luck for us. Come! Let me show you what I’ve found.”
    James pulls me along, and I find myself smiling in spite of the circumstances, in spite of his fingers nearly touching the
     mark. “Wait! What is it?”
    He drops my hand when he reaches the bookshelf near the window, reaching behind a stack of books waiting to be catalogued.
     “I discovered something interesting this morning. A book I didn’t realize your father had acquired.”
    “What…” My eyes light on the black volume as it comes into view. “… book?”
    “This one.” He holds it toward me. “I found it a couple of days ago, after…” Unsure how to make reference to my Father’s death,
     he smiles sadly and continues. “Anyway, I put it behind the others so I could show it to you before it’s catalogued. It was
     in a hidden panel at the back of one of the shelves. Father, as ever, was looking for his spectacles and didn’t see it at
     all.
Your
father… Well, it’s obvious your father didn’t want anyone to know it was there, though I’m not sure why. I thought you might
     like to see it.”
    When I drop my gaze to the book, recognition ripples through me, though I am certain I have never seen it before in my life.
    “May I?” I reach out to take it from him.
    “Of course. It belongs to you, Lia. Or… It belonged to your father and I assume it belongs to you. And to Alice and Henry,
     of course.”
    But this is an afterthought. He is giving the book to me.
    The leather is cool and dry in my hands, the cover decorated with a design I can only feel through the raised figures under
     my fingers. It is very old, that much is clear.
    I find my voice but am too enthralled with the book to look up at James. “What is it?”
    “That’s just it. I’m not sure. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
    The cover sighs and creaks as I open it, little particles of leather sprinkling the air beneath the book like pieces of dust
     in sunlight. Oddly, there is only one page, covered in words I vaguely recognize as Latin. I am suddenly sorry I’ve not paid
     more attention to our language studies at Wycliffe.
    “What does it say?”
    He leans in, brushing my shoulder as he looks at the page. “It says, ‘Librum Maleficii et Disordinae.’ ” He looks into my
     eyes. “Approximately? The Book of Chaos.”
    “The Book of Chaos?” I shake my head. “Father never made mention of it, and I know his collection as well as he knew it himself.”
    “I know. And I don’t believe he ever mentioned it to my father, either. Certainly not to me.”
    “What sort of book is it?”
    “Well, I remembered you have trouble with Latin, so I took