It's almost like a presence saying hello.
Thinking of that little string, I tug back. Twice.
An answering jerk. One. Two. Three
The words I just spoke drift into my head: It's like the book is alive.
Is it crazy to talk into this void in my head, in the general direction I hope the book is in?
Sure. But at least no one can see or hear me doing it.
Hello? I call out, trying to use the same mental channel I use to speak with Selene. Are you there?
Another tug on that string.
I really, really need you to come to where I am. It's safer here. Or something. How do you explain to a book that the world has gone to shit and you want to keep it from being used to create further catastrophe?
Please.
Being polite never hurts.
This time, that string-y feeling yanks, and it feels like my heart is constricted, interfering in its ability to beat.
