Hell On Heels(42)

“Because I’m Myrtle, Keeper of Secrets. I know lots of things.” She smiled and plopped herself down next to me.
“Why did it happen?” I still maintained a death grip on my bed.
“Your magic came in, and it’s just a guess, but did you get angry?” she asked.
“She told me she’d fry my ass and she’s pissed at Satan,” Janet trilled gleefully.
"And the told me the'd rip a map of Hell into my chetht hair," Carl added with pride.
“Ewwwwww. Well, there you go,” Myrtle told me as she hopped off my bed and headed for my door.
“Wait just one minute, little secret keeper,” I shouted. “How do I control this?”
“First of all, it's Keeper of Secrets, and if you wanna know what to do read the book.” She raised her eyebrows at me.
“What book?” What the Hell was she talking about?
“The silver one your grandpa gave you,” she replied, grinning evilly.
“The one with the heartbeat?” I moaned and hoped I was wrong.#p#分页标题#e#
“The one and only.”
“It freaks me out that an inanimate object has a heart beat."
“How do you know it’s inanimate?” she challenged. Myrtle pulled the silver tome with the bizarre heartbeat out of my suitcase and tossed it onto my bed. “Start reading." With that my bizzaro little family left me alone in my room with the leather bound freak show.
“Great,” I muttered as I gingerly picked up the book and quite possibly my fate. “Just freakin’ great.”

Chapter 16
 
“You have got to be kidding me,” I shouted as I shook my head in disgust and looked at the blank pages of my little silver book with the pulse. “What kind of joke is this?” I muttered as I tossed the empty book on my bed.
Either Grandpa was screwing with my head and playing a really mean prank or the book was alive and very unhappy with me. It was so angry it deleted itself. If I was a gambling gal, I’d lay my money on the book being pissed. It sensed my ambivalence.
I took a deep breath and glanced around to make sure no one was here. “Um, book. . .bookie, friend. Sorry for, you know, not believing.” I rolled my eyes at how ridiculous I sounded and ran my hand gently over the cover, trying to reassure the little book of my change of heart. It purred.
“Holy shit.” I quickly yanked my hand away and it growled. This was so not happening. I’d had a little too much crazy lately. I didn’t have the patience or the time for some pissed off pile of paper. “You know what?” I glared at the book. “I don’t need you. I’m going to find a portal and go to Hell. Some other idiot can come up here and kill the psycho Rogue Demons and find the dumbass Balance of Chaos.” I had no use for a two-ounce instruction manual with a bad attitude.
“And you know what else?” I was on a roll. “You can take this Black Magic crap and shove it up your ass or. . .pages. I don't ever want to get stuck on a ceiling with sparkler fingers and hellacious hair again.” I gave the book a hostile stare and turned my back on it.
What in the Hell was I doing? I was yelling at a book. I was stuck in a foreign world, yelling at a growling book. I was utterly alone in a strange, albeit pretty, new land and I’d become a gravity-deprived freaky electrical conduit. This sucked.
I stomped over to my window and laid my hot forehead against the cool pane. The picturesque landscape calmed my frayed nerves. Dad was right. Eden, Kentucky was gorgeous—rolling hills, graceful weeping willows, and white horse rail fencing as far as my eyes could see. Thoroughbred horses dotted the lush green fields and ponds glistened in the late day sun. It looked like paradise. Bizarrely enough, it felt vaguely familiar to me. I’d never been anywhere but Hell as far as I could remember but Eden, Kentucky made me feel safe and happy.
Maybe I’d stay a week or two, but first I needed to make nice with my book.
I slowly peeled myself away from the serene landscape and turned to embrace my destiny. It was gone.
“Damn it to Hell,” I screeched as I sprinted to my bed and felt around for the book. “Oh no, no, no,” I muttered, frantically looking under the pillows and behind the headboard. “I didn’t know the stinkin’ thing had legs.”
I searched under my bed. Nothing. I ran over to my closet and tore through my clothes. Nothing. Could the stupid book fly?
“Where are you?” I yelled.
Nothing.
“Okay.” I was going to have to eat it. “I’m really sorry. I treated you like an ordinary book and that wasn’t very—well, you know, um—nice of me. So, ahhh. . .” Was this actually happening? “Clearly you’re special. I’ve just never been acquainted with a living book, so I was a big gaping butt.”