The Zodiac Collector Read Online Free PDF Page B

glance in her direction. She’s facing the wall. Good. I can immerse myself in the book’s beauty, wonder, and mystique in peace.
    I ease Castor to the end of my bed and balance the book on my lap, ready for another swim in the deep pool of magick Gamma presented me with. To test the parchment waters, I dip my toes in the front index. Each sign draws me in by degrees. Then I wade through page after page of spells for good luck, healing, sweet dreams, protection, truth, peace, even air fresheners. Some pages are islands of potions for rejuvenation, love, and warding off evil energies. Toward the back is a treasure chest of chants calling on spirits, invoking the Zodiac signs, and phasing into astral projection. I surf the swirly script, float on the star and curlicue designs in the corners, and navigate the key on the bottom of each page outlining the matching signs.
    When I come up for air, sandy grains in my eyes force me to stop exploring and pull me toward sleep. I click the light off and huddle under the sheets, holding the book in my arms.
    * * *
    It’s so lame being at the library on Saturday morning, surrounded by towers of crowded bookshelves instead of trees and frayed carpets instead of soft grass. Mary and I should be hanging out at the faire grounds, spying on the early-bird vendors. I should be fighting off asthma attacks triggered by pollen rather than dust. But no, we have the SAT coming up.
    Mary diligently studies biology while I stare blankly at my math textbook and tap my pencil against my notebook so fast it blurs. Taptaptaptaptaptap… My leg bobs up and down in rhythm.
    There’s no way I’m focusing. Besides, whatever I study today will be withdrawn from my crappy memory bank, leaving me with a negative balance by the time our exam comes around.
    My gaze shifts to my backpack. Inside is the cool waters of the spellbook. Its refreshing aura tempts me. Pick me up , it says. Quench your thirst .
    â€œShh,” Mary glares at me.
    I drop my pencil, tearing my gaze from my backpack to raise my eyebrows at her. “What?”
    â€œThat tapping is annoying.”
    I shrug. “Nobody’s here.”
    â€œI’m here, and you’re bothering me.”
    â€œSorry.” I bite my lip and resist the spellbook’s siren call. My eyes close like an unfurling sail. I take a deep breath. My heart pounds with want and my fingers tingle with need.
    Mary clears her throat.
    My eyes fly open.
    She jabs my textbook with a finger and goes back to studying.
    I sigh and make a valiant attempt at making sense of letters with exponentials and equal signs and brackets and—oh my!—X’s. My eyes cross by the time I get halfway down a page.
    I “grrr” under my breath and slam the book shut.
    â€œAnne.”
    â€œWhat now?”
    â€œNever mind.” Mary juts out her chin and slides to the other end of the table.
    The spellbook pulls at me like an anchor. I tumble after it, snatch it out of my backpack, and lay it on the table over my textbook. The pages greet me with friendly crinkles and swishes as I turn them, like secrets whispered between best friends.
    Mary’s finger slides under my nose and shakes back and forth in a no-no motion.
    â€œGeez!” I gasp and jerk back.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” She uses the same voice she scolds Pollux with.
    â€œI’m taking a break. You?” I yank the book toward me.
    She slaps a palm over the spell I’m reading. “You’re supposed to be studying for the SAT.”
    â€œI don’t need you telling me what to do.”
    Her lips thin. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”
    â€œWhy do you have to be so controlling?”
    â€œAnne.” She leans over the table.
    â€œMary.” I meet her in the middle until our noses almost touch.
    She growls and retreats to her biology book. A few minutes later, she says, “I’m not trying to fight with you.” Her