Outside was crazy. The thick, coming storm weighed me down. It
could come any minute: thunderous, hurricane rain, followed by all
kinds of hell. I dashed across the lawn, into The Lab and up the
stairs. The bookcase was locked. Most of our books anyone can look
at. Some, we don t think would be wise to let out. I fumbled the
key chain, looking for the tiny key that could open the door. I
managed to get it near the keyhole when the electricity died. Cara
may curse my pipe, but right then, I think she d have been glad I
had a lighter. The lighter helped me again. The deep, old books
were a window to the past. We had read few. That would entail
things like dying horrible deaths. Instead, we had a collection of
about books, essays written anywhere from last year to a thousand
years ago. The one I was looking for was deep red, 'Aichlan s
Deimos.' In it I hoped to sort out how to send Xith back to
wherever the hell it came from before it ate Lily Dale, or whatever
it does.
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