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Chrestomancy is the art of divination through Diana Wynne Jones books, and it’s difficult when the store has such a limited selection.

“Ridiculous,” says Harvey, fanning a copy of Howl’s Moving Castle with a MAJOR MOTION PICTURE sticker on it. “She just put out a new book.”

“They have priorities other than your prophetic needs,” says Satchel gently.

“Shortsighted ones,” says Harvey, checking the Ws for misshelved copies of Eight Days of Luke.

“Just try this,” she says, opening the discarded Howl’s to a random page.

“Oh, confound it all!” Sophie yelled.

Harvey nods. “Precisely.”

“You set that up,” Satchel scowls.


“Please,” Bianca cringes, “Sophie, listen,” as water creeps from the carpet.

“The FUCK!” Sophie’s face is unpinches and pales. The vase of flowers implodes from the floor up onto the table. She draws back her hand.

“Please don’t get mad,” says Bianca.

“You’re on that shit again,” says Sophie. “That fucking drug.”

“Listen,” says Bianca. “You weren’t–weren’t supposed to be back yet…”

“Hey, what’s up?” Sophie retreats from the room. Her movements have a strange, lazy grace, alternated with an odd sharpness. Bianca remembers the first time she saw it: delight, fascination, this new perspective on how people move forward.