“I know, I know. But think about it.” Everything was clicking into place. “The guys who gave us the books had to be actors. Probably twins, like us—get it? Very funny. These are just props. Really good props. They know too much about us. Mom and Dad know what I do for a living, and they know you’re in Manhattan?—”
Sidney cut her off. “No, theydon’t.This was a last minute trip. I booked the flightthis morning.”
The little back room suddenly felt both too cold and too hot at the same time. She stared at the book in front of her. “I’m going to open the book I have and see if there’s any answers inside of it. There should be something there that’ll tell us what’s going on.”
“Sasha, it could be dangerous. What if it’s covered in—in drugs? Or poison?” Sidney’s voice was trembling.
“I’ve got napkins so I don’t touch it. I’m not gonnalick it.”She sighed. “I’m not an idiot.” She opted not to tell her sister she already touched it without gloves once, and that might’ve been the source of the random vision she had.
“All—all right, but stay on the phone. Okay?” Sidney was sniffling.
Oh god, shehatedwhen her twin started to cry. It was the easiest way to get Sasha’s waterworks going. “This is my job, right? Preserving old books like this. I’ll be able to tell it’s a fake with one look at the text on the inside. The outside’s a decent copy. But the text itself and the paper will be much harder to duplicate.”
Sid sniffled. “Y—yeah.”
Reaching out, she hovered her fingers over the metal clasp that kept the latch of the book shut. “All right, here we go.”
Touching the clasp, she cringed and braced herself. Nothing happened.
A flick, and the piece of metal fell open. Nothing happened.
“Sash?” Sidney sounded terrified. “Sasha, are you there?”
“Still here. It’s just a book. It can’teatme.” She chuckled.
Grasping the cover, she tested it, and was pleased to see that the hinge—while clearly old, was in very good condition. It opened without issue.This doesn’t look like a fake…this looks very real. Very, very real.It was cracked, dusty, falling apart here and there. It wasn’t pristine by any means.
“What’s—what’s it say?” The digital voice of her sister betrayed every ounce of her fear.
“The first few pages are blank. That’s normal.” She carefully turned them. They were either blank pages or vellum, meant to keep ink from block prints from bleeding over. She reached the title page, expecting to find something in German. Or perhaps Latin.
But one large word in black text greeted her. No author, none of the usual markings. Just one word. One…adjective, actually.
She blinked in confusion. “Huh.”
“What? What’s it say?” Sidney was getting frantic.
“It just says…Vile.”
Sasha should have known.
She should have known not to want her life to be more interesting. She should have known not to play with strange books. She’d seen enough movies. She’d read enough fiction.
She should have known not to read the single word on the page in front of her.
She’d opened the door.
And walked.
Right.
Into it.
The single wordVileon the page suddenly turned into a puddle ofblack ink before her eyes. For a moment, she blinked, not able to process what she was seeing. It was impossible. But as it began to leak over the page, seeping out along the sepia surface and onto the table as if it were a living thing, she screamed.
It wasn’t just possible.
It was happening.
