Fact or Fiction?

Zackary held my hand as we walked back to my house. We didn’t speak much. I was trying to stop myself from thinking about that kiss on the dance floor but it was impossible. I had stopped Lucy on the way out to let her know. She was drunk and I knew she wouldn’t be coming in early.

He whistled when he saw my house.

“Nice,” he said. “Not what I imagined, though.”

I stood beside him and tilted my head. “What did you imagine?”

“Something bigger,” he admitted. “Two stories, brick, and an extravagant front yard.”

I laughed. “Well, you have the brick part right.” I looked at him and he smiled softly. I finally made up my mind. “I have something I want to show you. Will you come in for a few minutes?”

His eyes flickered with something but he nodded. As we walked up to my door, I knew he was aware of what I was going to show him.

“I’d offer you some wine or something but I don’t drink anymore,” I said, taking my heels off. “Jeez my feet are killing me,” I mumbled to myself. “You want some water or something?”

He shut the door and took his cape off with a sigh. He looked upset.

“Just get the book, Ophelia,” he whispered.

I stared at him for a while but he didn’t meet my eyes. I went into my room and bit my lower lip, unlocking the strongbox. Zackary was sitting on my couch, running his hands through his hair. I sat beside him and he glared at it.

“I hate this book,” he said.

I frowned. “Then why did you give it to me?”

He just shook his head. “Later. Have you figured out how to work it?”

“Sort of,” I said and opened it.

The paragraph about him hating Halloween was still there and he turned pink but didn’t mention it. He flipped a few pages and cleared his throat. He stared at it, his gaze focused and I frowned.

The couch was comfortable, easing some of the tension in the room. Zackary wasn’t sure if it was the book or what he was about to tell her that made him the most uncomfortable.

I blinked. “How?”

“If I focus on the book, I can send… messages I guess but it writes it like a book – in third person.”

I frowned. “So whenever it wrote things from your point of view, it was you putting it in there?”

“Sometimes it’s subconscious,” he answered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t realize I’m doing it.”

“You know who tried to shoot me, don’t you?” I whispered and he leaned his head back, his eyes shut. “Who was it, Zackary?”

He sighed. “I’m not supposed to tell you. Not until the trial.”

I slammed the book shut, glaring at him. “What do you mean?”

“It’s the rule of the book, Ophelia,” he said. “Well, one of the rules.”

“Why did you give it to me?”

“Do you still have the box?” he asked but I shook my head. “Why not?”

“It fell apart,” I said and he rubbed his eyes.

“Damn it.” He sighed heavily. “That means the book is forever yours now.”

“Why is all of this a bad thing?” I asked. “It- You saved my life!”

For the first time, he glared at me. “This book is dangerous, Ophelia! If it gets in the hands of the wrong person, then they could cause terrible damage!”

“I don’t get it! It’s just telling me stuff!”

He took it and tapped the cover. “Have you asked it anything yet?”

“Sort of. It wrote out something about maybe true love exists and I told it that I knew that. I wanted to know why it said something I already knew. Then it said ‘What’s fact for one is fiction to another’.” I shrugged. “I guess I’m supposed to show someone that. But that’s not the point.”

“Imagine if someone like… I don’t know….” He sighed, looking for inspiration and his eyes fell on my book Edge of Reason. “Let’s say James Hardy got hold of this book. What do you think he’d do?”

I bit my lip. James Hardy was the psychotic psychiatrist that stalked his female patients. I stared at the book.

“He would learn everything about the women,” I mumbled.

“Exactly,” he said, tossing it on the coffee table with a glare at it. “It has no moral conscious. It will reveal anything you want it to.”

I snatched it up. “Who tried to kill me?”

The page stayed blank and I glared at him.

“No. It’s part of your future,” he said. “It won’t show you about your future.”

“That’s bullshit!” I said. “Dr. Zebula said that it could tell the past, present, and future!”

He shook his head. “Rumors. No. This book is writing your story, Ophelia.”

“Then why are you showing up?”

“Because I’m part of your story.”

“So what about Lucy? Why hasn’t she shown up?”

“She never touched the book,” he answered. “That night you found that high school girl trying to throw the brick through your house?” I nodded. “I had a dream about it: that’s what you read. I still have a connection to this damn book.”

“Why do you hate it so much?” I whispered. “And why did it say you have to leave once you tell me about it?”

He blinked at me. “You don’t want me to leave?”

“Why would I?”

“Because I’m the one that brought this piece of shit into your life!” he shouted, standing up and pointing at it. “This book is-is- I hate it!”

He turned his back and I bit my lip. I thought for a while then it hit me.

“That’s how you found out your sister was innocent, isn’t it?” I whispered and he hung his head. “You had the book and it told you.” I stood up and approached him slowly. “Zackary, your sister could have been in jail for so long if you hadn’t helped. What if this book isn’t such a bad thing?”

He shook his head but didn’t speak. He cleared his throat and my heart ached. He was crying.

I wrapped my arms around him and rested my head on his back. He was shaking and I knew he was trying to hold back. He put one of his hands on my arm and the other he covered his eyes with. I shut my eyes. What other horrors had the book revealed to him as his time as a lawyer?

“I hate that book,” he whispered. I felt tears splash onto my arm. “I’ve had to read about gruesome murders as they happen and I was powerless to stop them. The-The best I could do was represent the families that lost their loved ones.”

I sighed gently. “Zackary-”

“I was New York’s top lawyer all because I had the help of a magical book,” he said as if he didn’t hear me. “I couldn’t stand it. I felt like a fake, like a phony. They gave me a huge house for solving a difficult case when really all the details were in the book, I just had to know how to interpret the clues it gave me.” He sniffled. “And now I’ve put that burden on you.”

“Will you please turn around?” I whispered when he stayed still and silent for ten minutes.

“I don’t want to,” he mumbled.

“Why?”

“Because I’m ashamed and embarrassed.”

I sighed gently and let him go, standing in front of him. I made him look at me. His eyes held nothing but pain.

“I need you to answer two questions for me,” I whispered and he nodded. “The first is how you knew I was the next owner.”

He shut his eyes. “The book told me,” he muttered. “I was going to move after my last case. Somewhere that maybe there weren’t as many fucking murders. It sent me your name and the address to your store. It was in the town I had already moved to.”

“Why here?”

He bit his lip. “I felt some weird tug to this town. I don’t know what it was.” He shrugged. “I guess it was because you’re the final book keeper.”

“No, that’s not why it was,” I whispered.

“What do you mean?”

I shut my eyes. “My final question is if you’re really going to leave,” I said, ignoring his question.

“Only if you want me to.” I looked at him. “When the book’s previous owner sent this to me, I thought it was great. Then I read about my sister and the two murders after that. I hated it. My… predecessor I guess, tried to say it was a good thing and all that. Then I read that he was behind the murders.” He shook his head. “I hated him as much as I hate the book. I made him leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” I said, turning red and trying to hide my blush.

“Why not?” he whispered.

I shrugged. “I like you, Zackary,” I admitted. “And-And I think there’s more than just a late night explanation between you, me, and this book.”

Suddenly, he was kissing me. I was surprised but kissed him back. He was crying.

“Please stay,” I breathed, pulling form his kiss.

He just nodded and I hugged him. Beside us, the book was glowing and we both turned to it. I bit my lip and pulled him to the couch, opening it with shaking hands.