the road. She was carrying a plastic jack-o’-lantern with one hand and digging into the top of it with another. When Sam pointed toward Ping, who stood next to the porch light. Hannah waved and handed off the pumpkin. Flapping her arms, she jogged and hopped, until she got into the front yard.
“Look! I’m a dragon, just like you!” she said.
“And a pretty one at that,” Ping said.
“Nuh-uh, not pretty. Fiercesome.”
“Indeed.” Ping nodded.
Sam caught up and said, “We just finished trick-or-treating.”
Ping looked skeptical. “I see.” Behind him, the door opened.
Diana stood in the doorway, wiping her brow with a towel. “Sorry about that. I was just getting out the turkey, and Mara wouldn’t or couldn’t come to the door. Anyway everyone else is out trick-or-treating.” Her eyes looked over Ping’s shoulder to her son. “Oh, you guys are back. Perfect timing. Everyone come in and get ready to eat.”
She took the cake boxes from Ping and waved him inside. As he approached the rear of the couch, Ping could see the back of Mara’s head. She sat on one end, looking down.
“Hello, Mara. How are you?” Ping asked.
Diana walked across the room on her way back to the kitchen. Over her shoulder she said, “I doubt she’ll talk to you. She hasn’t said a word since Hannah prompted her.” Nodding toward the telephone on the small stand next to the entryway, Diana added, “A few minutes ago, she just sat there and let the phone ring without answering it.”
Ping walked around the end of the couch and faced Mara. She was hunched over, writing, flipping a page, writing some more and flipping another page. During the second flip of a page, Ping caught sight of the book. She was definitely writing in the Chronicle of Continuity.
“Mara?” Ping looked from her across the room to Sam, an expression of concern on his face.
Sam walked behind the couch and looked over his sister’s shoulder. “It looks like she’s almost to the end of the book. Just a few more pages to go.”
“But she’s just writing a few words on each page and then flipping to the next one,” Ping said. “I wonder what she’s writing? Did you try asking her?”
Sam shook his head. “She’s ignoring everyone. It’s like she’s in a trance or something. I asked Hannah about it, and she says Mara will be fine, once she’s done writing in the book.”
Ping looked down at the little girl, standing next to Sam. “Do you know what Mara’s writing in the book?” he asked.
“It’s s’posed to help her,” Hannah said.
“Help her with what?” Sam asked.
“All the bad stuff that is coming.”
A distinct slapping sound made them all turn to Mara. The back cover of the book was closed. She looked at them with a confused expression and said, “What are all of you looking at?”
Ping sat down on the couch next to her. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. Again, why are all of you looking at me, like a bunch of goofs?”
“Do you remember anything?”
“About what?”
“Writing in the book.” He dipped his head toward it, and Mara’s gaze followed his.
“I what?” She looked down to her lap at the back of the book. She picked it up and fumbled around with it, turning it over in her hands. Opening the cover, she read aloud the title, Chronicle of Continuity. She pressed a finger against the page and flipped it. The left page, the back of the title page was blank, but the right page had three lines of script, in Mara’s handwriting:
Herein find the clues,
To guide, without disrupting
Continuity.
She read the passage and looked to Ping. He pressed his lips together and shrugged. Mara flipped the page. On the next page, she found:
Seek out passengers,
Ignore a dragon’s folly.
Find the trail of mist.
Again she read it aloud. The following page, the one across from it, was blank. Mara flipped it, and the following pages were blank as well. She fanned the rest of the pages in the book and found no more writing.
“That looks like all she wrote—or all I wrote—since it looks like my handwriting,” Mara said.
Sam pointed at the book. “But you were writing for more than an hour, and you were scrawling and flipping through many more than two pages. I’m pretty sure you wrote something on every page. Don’t you remember it?”
“The last thing I remember is Hannah touching my face and feeling like I fell down a deep well or something. Then all these strange words and phrases kept