burr sir


Chapter 2: Stuck with an Mule for a Book


Annabeth sat bolt upright in her bed, breathing as if she had never known what oxygen was like before.

She felt raw, like she was placed on a wool carpet naked and dragged until every inch of skin was scraped off.

Breathe. She told herself. Just breathe.

From her neck, there was another burning sensation. Deeper, more scalding. Her dreamscape amulet felt like it had just emerged from the forges. Wincing, she removed the necklace and placed it against the thin blanket on the edge of her bed.

"Where did you get that book?" A quiet, scared voice asked next to Annabeth.

Geraldine Schnee. Two years younger than Annabeth and filled to the brim with anxiety issues. She sat up on the adjacent bunk bed, top bunk, with her blanket held to her chest, and her wide liquid brown eyes locked on Annabeth's form.

The book was in Annabeth's lap. Leather bound, and heavy. It smelled like the deepest part of an ancient forest. Filled with mystery and intrigue. Its cover was a mass of runes all piled one over the other. Some were the ones she saw in the genie's cave.

"Just sleep Geraldine," Annabeth soothed as she peeled back the cover, revealing crumbly brown age stained pages. "You didn't see anything."

Geraldine shuddered and pulled the blanket over her head with a blank expression.

Annabeth returned her eyes to the empty pages before her. Flicking through them, one after another, looking for markings or images or runes. But nothing was there.

With her heart pounding she lifted it from her lap and held it to her face. A coil of dread and uncertainty was throbbing around her throat.

"Please book," she whispered into its center. Her lips brushed the coarse paper. "Tell me how to use you."

Glazed under the solemn light drifting in through the window, the book trembled and fell back into her lap. Like it were laughing at her.

Dance a jig, snort like a pig and thence I shall fulfill your gig.

The words were large and swirly. Written in gold ink as if a powerful deity was somehow behind each masterful letter.

Pumping with excitement Annabeth crawled her way to her bunk ladder. Careful not to bump her head on the low ceiling as she dropped to the floor. She lugged the book after her and scurried into the dark, steep hallway.

Tensely she danced around in one circle and snorted in air through her nose like a pig. Always keeping her eyes glued to the pages, watching for change. Change that eventually came in the books trembles returning fiercely. As if it found something twice as amusing as before. Timidly, she knelt next to it and watched, fascinated, as words emerged.

Lol, I can't believe you actually did it. Noob. This time the letters were black and scribbled in the most insulting font of all time. Comic sans.

"Wha-? What are you?"

A pelican. Clearly.

"Are you sentient?"

No. But if I see Sentient I'll tell him you're looking for him.

Annabeth grabbed at her shirt. Frustrations throbbed through her heart, it made her feel like her ribcage was shrinking in on her organs.

"Can you answer my questions or not?"

Have I not answered every question you just gave me?

Annabeth paused. Rubbing her forehead to try and get the dull ache out of it. She supposed this is what she got for even trying to reason with a cursed magical item. But she had to try anyway. She had to. This was the whole reason she sought out the Genie in the first place.

"Where… where is my mother?" Her voice croaked as she spoke. Tension was kneading her chest again as she held her breath.

She is where she is, unless she isn't. As it so happens, she isn't.

"What kind of answer is that?!" Annabeth clasped the book with both hands. Shaking it up and down against the ground with a dull clacking noise.

A very kind answer. Thank you very much.

Annabeth slammed the book closed. That seemed to stop its ridiculous shaking and taunting lettering. Perturbed, she left in the hallway to be tripped over.

In the bathroom, Annabeth examined the worst of her wounds in the mirror with clenched teeth. A sunburn. That's how it presented itself. Treatable enough, but not hideable like some of her other injuries had been.

But there was more than that. Her hair, which up until then had been a honey blonde with scraggly dry curls, was soft, golden and perfect. Curled like princesses and fun to toy with. Her teeth had lost their crookedness and yellow, and were now white and glistening like some darn Crest commercial. Don't get her started on her skin. Sure it was a little burnt, and felt like she had just dinged right out of a toaster, but it was smooth and clear. No more acne scars. No more acne. No more hairy legs or hairy pits either.

But at a price.

I should've just wished for a tiny tube of everlasting concealer and been done with it.

Sighing, she dug some aloe vera lotion out of the cupboard and squirted some into her scuffed palm. Staring mournfully at the tap as she smoothed it over her sensitive skin.

Stupid book. So not worth it.

There went two years of dreamscape exploration. Magical artifacts were hard to find, and even harder to get. There was a reason the world didn't know about magic and that was because it was so freakin rare.

Back in her bed, Annabeth stared at her book which she'd begrudgingly trudged back into her sheets. Her second magical artifact. Her reason for seeking out the genie in the first place. The all knowing book of all knowingness.

Cursed. That's why it was such a snarky little piece of work.

Now she was cursed.

I need to find a way to undo the curses.