CRASH.
“Ow! Ooh!”
Sharp-cornered books rained down on my skull. I scrambled to get out from under. Something didn’t want me to have that book. But spooked as I was, I hadn’t let go of it. I clenched my fingers tighter and pulled the book out of the pile. Then I scurried on all fours to the end of the row.
I heard shuffling footsteps. Something large, headed my way! I had to get out of here. I got up as quietly as I could and tried to remember where the door was. The sound of heavy breathing was confusing my thoughts.
Panicking, I started to run.
“Oooof!”
I ran smack into the corner of a bookshelf, banging my knee. I rubbed my knee, trying not to groan. Which way was the door? Tucking the book under my arm, I inched forward in the darkness, feeling my way, trying to stay absolutely silent.
Was that laughter I heard? Low, evil laughter? Or was it just my blood pounding through my heart?
I kept moving, feeling in front of me with my free hand, fighting the urge to break into a run. Behind me there was a sudden loud clatter. More books falling. I jumped and stubbed my toe on something metal. It skittered across the floor with a shrieking noise.
A chair! Ignoring my throbbing toe I reached out. My hand touched the back of another chair and then the surface of the table. I felt a surge of hope. I’d reached the front of the room where the tables and chairs were arranged. I only had a few more feet to go.
But as I made a dash for the door it swung open. A flood of light blinded me.
“Well!”
I blinked. Standing in the doorway was a small gray-haired lady with her hair twisted up in a bun. She had a ferocious scowl on her face.
“I thought I heard someone banging around in here,” she said. “Whatever are you doing?”
I stammered. “I—I wanted a book. Then the lights went out.”
“I turned them out,” said the lady. “I didn’t think anyone was in here. It’s late, you know.”
I edged toward the door, afraid to look over my shoulder. “Yes, well, I got my book. Maybe we should leave now.”
“Not on your life, young man. Gruff, isn’t it?” She frowned and her sharp brown eyes seemed to bore right through me.
My breath caught in my chest. She wasn’t going to let me go! It was her all along! And now I was trapped.
She took a step toward me.
I took a step backward.
“I heard a mess of books falling off the shelves,” she said. “And you’re planning to leave them there for someone else to pick up? I don’t think so. We’ll just go back there right now and take care of it.” She smiled. “I’m the librarian. Mrs. Bookbinder. Come along.”
I let my breath out. Maybe she wasn’t one of the werewolves. But that meant there was still a monster waiting silently somewhere in the stacks. We wouldn’t see it until it pounced on us.
“What are you waiting for, young man?” asked Mrs. Bookbinder with an exasperated sigh. “Let’s go. You can show me the books you knocked over.”
“Yes, Mrs. Bookbinder.” I followed her, dragging my feet. They were itching to run out the door.
“What’s the book that was so important?” asked Mrs. Bookbinder.
I didn’t want to show it to her but she insisted, prying it out of my hand. “Butterfly collecting?” asked Mrs. Bookbinder, sounding surprised. “How interesting.”
What? I looked down at the book I was clutching. “Oh, no,” I said. “I picked up the wrong one!”
“No problem,” said Mrs. Bookbinder cheerfully. “My goodness, what a mess,” she added, looking at the pile of books that had fallen. “No doubt we’ll find your book here. What was it about?”
I mumbled something and hurried ahead of her to start picking up books.
“What’s that?” Mrs. Bookbinder pushed a wheeled ladder toward me from the end of the aisle. I’d never even noticed it. She got up on the ladder and started shelving books. “I didn’t hear you,” she said. “What are you looking for?”
“Werewolves,” I whispered. My eyes darted over the books on the floor. But I didn’t see the cover I was looking for. “I want to know about werewolves.”
She jumped down off the ladder and I ducked away, expecting her to turn into a red-eyed monster. She leaned toward me, showing small, pointy teeth.
“No!” I cried, stumbling backward.
Mrs. Bookbinder looked startled. “Are you all right?” she asked, straightening up with a book in her hand.
“Fine,” I mumbled sheepishly. “I guess I got a little spooked in the dark before.”
“Mmm.” The librarian didn’t look like she quite believed me. “Is this the book you’re looking for?”
She held up the book. I looked at it uneasily. The cover was the same, but different somehow. The eyes were red but they weren’t glowing, and the red was too tame. The werewolf’s face looked like a cross between a dog and a human. And not a very ferocious dog at that. Even the teeth were wrong. It wasn’t in the least scary, now that I had a good look at it.
“Yes,” I said, taking it. “I think so.”
The librarian chuckled. Then suddenly her face got very serious. “There’s something you should know, Gruff,” she said, “about that book.”
That’s when the door slammed open and a voice like evil thunder shook the room.
Chapter 11
“MRS. BOOKBINDER!”
I shuddered in fear as the booming voice rattled the glass in the windows, but the librarian just sighed. “Yes, Mr. Smiley,” she called out. “I’m here.”
Then she turned to me with a furtive motion. “Quick, Gruff. Take this one, too.” She thrust the butterfly book into my hands. “You don’t want the principal to see you with a book on werewolves.”
Mrs. Bookbinder hurried past me out of the stacks. “I was just helping one of our young pupils,” she explained. “Come along, Gruff. Time for you to be getting home.”
Pressing
