Authors: Amelia Grace
|The Book Keeper|
Cohen falls back to earth from a disturbing dream, and discovers a mysterious book beside his bed. It is covered in dust and has the words Mutato Nomine De Te Fabula embossed into the leather.
Cohen hates books. He doesn’t do books. He doesn’t buy books.
As he plans to dispose of the book in a dying fire, a page becomes dislodged. It is inkless, but bumpy, and a pencil rubbing reveals a name and email. He makes contact with the Keeper Of The Book, a beautiful woman named Georgia.
They meet to exchange the book, each holding a secret that they can not reveal to the other. Georgia’s secret will change Cohen’s life. Cohen’s secret will end Georgia’s life.
Now there’s a problem. Their lives have become bound by The Rules of the Book, And neither can be released from the book until it’s contents have been revealed. Their lives are about to change, unless they can break the rules.
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Text Copyright 2013 Amelia Grace
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Young Adult/Adult Reading Material
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We are not given a good life or a bad life. We are given a life. It’s up to us to make it good or bad ~ unknown
Life doesn’t give you the people you want. It gives you the people you need; to help you, to hurt you, to love you, to leave you, and to make you into the person you were meant to be ~ unknown
Live beautifully. Dream passionately. Love completely ~ wish I knew...
The long bony index finger slid down the page of names, searching for the
terrena nomen dedit
of the man standing before him. It stopped at the empty space amongst other names, alphabetically.
His name was not there. Vanished.
‘Sir, your Earthly Given Name does not appear to be in The Book. You must return, Earthbound –perhaps it is not your time, or......’ His voice was deep and grave, his eyes soulful.
solitary man looked into the eyes of the unknown figure, searching for answers to questions not yet asked. And then he looked to the ridiculously large book that rested upon the golden lectern, each page edged in fine gold.
Tears pooled in his weary eyes as he shook his head in disbelief.
My name is not in the book?
My. Name. Is. Not. In.
He clutched his chest as the pain seared through his heart, and then the blackness fell upon him like a plague, surrounding him as the silence moved in to torture him.
A rough tongue licked my foot as it hung over the edge of the bed, rousing me from the depths of unconsciousness. Fogginess covered my vision as I weakly opened my eyes. My heavy body struggled free of the uncomfortable sleep.
looked down to the floor. There sat a mangy cat. Not mine. I don’t own a cat. In fact, I believed them to be evil. How did it get in here?
I shook my head and
looked around, the perception of grogginess finally abating, but lurking in my mind was a faint awkward memory. I couldn’t remember the details. But it left an uneasy haunting feeling in the pit of my stomach.
made haste to the window of my bedroom, disturbing the dust specks in the filtered beams of morning sunlight that crept in. The specks of dust now chaotically floated, colliding with each other around in the light.
The street below was busy with cars travelling at a hasty pace. A dog was at the fence barking at some children running past on their way to school. It all looked very familiar. I ran my hand through my hair and shook my head. Everything
looked the same – but did not feel the same. What was different?
Then my reflection on the window pane caught my eye, and
the memories from the dream came flooding back to me.
. I shook my head from side to side. The dream – it was wrong, so so wrong.
I squatted on the floor and put my head to my knees, my hands over my head.
My personality felt like it was disintegrating, and I couldn’t distinguish between reality and fantasy. Was I going insane? Is this what it is like to go crazy, to lose control of your mind?
My heart started palpitating and I began trembling, uncontrollably. The light headed feeling in my head gave way to chest pain, and then I was gasping for breath. This was it. I was going to die.
I sucked in a huge breath of air. I REFUSE to die.
This is NOT how my life will end!
Now I was angry! And it was
growing inside me like a raging fire. Veins rose on my forehead as I let out a deep scream of frustration. I beat my fists fiercely on the floor boards. It is not real. It. Is. Not. Real!
Desperate for self preservation.
I lay face down on the floor and let the loud sobs heave from my chest. Tears flooded from my eyes dripping to the floor, and saliva dribbled from my open mouth hanging as deep sadness came to being. I cried through to emotional exhaustion, the tiredness overcoming me. I dragged my heavy body back to the bed. My bed. And closed my eyes. The dream was
real. If I said it enough I would believe it.
I awoke to the loud splots of heavy rain on the windows. Summer rain.
One thing that I loved. The sound, the smell, the expectation, the muted light from the heavy clouds.
I leaned over to turn on the bedside lamp, and there it was – a book.
Covered in dust. Not mine. Definitely not mine! I’m not a book man. Don’t read books. Don’t buy books. In fact, they’re only good for a fire-starter in my opinion.
I consciously moved my eyes away from the book, and looked at the soft light of the lamp. I blinked slowly, trying to erase the suspicious book from my mind.
A book? Here?. My curiosity piqued. I leaned over and blew the dust off the top. It flowed off the cover and into the air like a wave turning over on itself, leaving the worn brown leather cover naked to the eye. I ran my finger tips lightly over the
It was smooth and soft, like the skin of a newborn baby. But then my fingers felt the bumps. It was blemished. Damaged. I held the leather bound book in my hands, raised it level with my eyes and looked closely at the area of damage. It was not damage on the leather, but the markings had been placed there on purpose
. It was embossed. The words were unknown to me – Mutato Nomine De Te Fabula Narratur – Latin, I think.
I shook my head, disgruntled. Books. I don’t do books. I placed it back on the bedside table, and out sight, out of mind.
I don’t do books. Okay. Never. Ever.
I rubbed my forehead with my hand as I closed my eyes, and then left the bedroom, only to return to fetch the book. The aggravating, stupid book!. I wanted it to repel me like
all frigging books did. But it didn’t. I was drawn to it. I hate books! I don’t do books!
I swung my hand over the leather cover and let my fingers fall heavily onto it, and then begrudgingly picked it up. I felt like slamming it down onto the wooden floor. Why did it incite anger in me? My entire body was repelled by it, and obsessed with it
at the same time. I ran my hand through my hair and took a deep breath, turned and walked into the kitchen with it. I placed it on the kitchen table to deal with later. Bloody book!
My mood had
now been set for the rest of the day. I swung my work satchel over my shoulder and left the apartment in haste, hoofed it down the three flights of stairs onto the street and ran to catch the bus, but missed it. And with it I missed the connecting train as well. Bloody Book! Now I would be an hour and a half late for work. The boss would not be happy – join the club I say! Bloody book!
Cohen, nice of you to turn up at work today.’ Sarcasm spewed from the mouth of my ever pleasant boss. Perhaps I should have delivered a vanilla latte to her as I walked in the door. A peace offering. Sometimes it worked.
Aye. Couldn’t get my designs wet in the rain – played it safe,’ I offered as an excuse aka lie, to soften the blow. She lowered her head and raised her right eyebrow. No smile in sight.
Bring them to my office immediately Mr Darcy,’ she ordered before she turned abruptly, her skirt swishing around and then settling as she walked off with intent.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and then followed her to the office, enclosed in glass
, the blinds closed – our conversation would not be seen, or heard.
er walnut coloured desk was her battle station. She stood behind it, arms folded under her breasts, pushing them up slightly. Her face was impassive.
Shut the door Mr Darcy.’ Her words froze the air. I looked into her green eyes momentarily before I smoothly turned and closed the door with the faintest click.
Don’t bother to sit. You won’t be here long.’ Her words were curt. I took a deep breath before I turned and looked at her.
Here goes..I knew the book was a bad sign.
I took a step forward, and stopped, nervous energy rebounding about inside my body.
I am about to be fired.....
I closed my eyes waiting for the words to come from her mouth, her mouth that was framed by perfectly formed lips. How could such piercing words of poison leave such a place of beauty?
When I opened my eyes again, she was standing directly in front of me. I could smell her perfume, feel her breath on me, sweet and minty. Her eyes looked directly into mine. They looked so innocent, needy.
Cohen, I received a directive this morning. You will no longer be here with us. You need to report in at CAI by three o’clock this afternoon. They have ..... needs that only you can fill.’ Her voice was soft and full of regret. It was like she was two different people. She moved her hand around to the back of my neck and lightly into my hair. Such confusing mixed messages. One minute closed and icy, the next, warm and seductive.
She looked deeply into my eyes before she moved her lips gently onto mine, kissing me lightly, and then with intent.
I put my hand at the side of her face and ended the kiss.
Catherine......no,’ I said roughly, shaking my head. ‘You are my boss. Off limits to me. I’m sorry,’ my voice trailed off. She looked deeply into my eyes once more, then lightly ran her warm soft hand over the side of my neck, and along my jaw line before brushing a finger over my bottom lip, singing to my primal urges .
‘Not anymore,’ she whispered suggestively. I brought my eyebrows together as I shook my head slowly.