“No one is going anywhere until I get an explanation for this nonsense,” the Librarian said.

“Ah. In that case . . .” Katie’s outline flexed—and suddenly there were three of her. One of them threw up a hand, and the air shimmered with hard light. The Librarian’s hand shot out, but it hit the light and rebounded.

The other two Katies wheeled, sprinting for the Editor. One of them veered toward the stack of books. The other grabbed something off the desk itself.

“Stop her!” the Editor yelled in a panic. The Librarian dropped all of them, hounds included, and dived for the third Katie, but he was too late. She was already pelting back toward the road, and so were the other two, the hounds right at their heels. Pip started after them, but Eleanor grabbed her by the elbow, hauling her back.

The three Katies reached the road, melding back into each other. The hounds leaped on after her. The Librarian yelled in goatish fury, but Katie just winked—and the road disappeared.

Twenty

The Library was once again silent. Except for the Editor. “Oh no oh no oh no,” she was chanting. “This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.”

“What is it? What did she get?” Otto asked.

The Librarian, panting, looked down at the Editor’s desk in horror. “She took a pot of ink. The red ink,” he said.

“And one of my quills. And who knows how many books,” the Editor said despairingly.

“What happened?” Eleanor asked, still reeling.

The Editor looked regretfully down at her. “I hadn’t edited Thea’s book yet. The story inside it was still the old one—the one where she didn’t escape the Pallid Kingdom as a child. When she touched her own book, it wrote itself inside her.”

“The Eden Eld book is gone,” the hedgewitch noted. “Katie must have taken it.”

Eleanor groaned. She scanned the table, hoping the hedgewitch was wrong. But there was no sign of the book. Hers was still there, at least—and Otto’s and Pip’s. That was a small relief.

The only relief in a sea of sorrow. Thea was gone. Those words had flowed into her, and every horrible thing that had happened to her and every wicked thing she had done had rushed back in.

“Does that mean time is fixed?” Otto asked hopefully.

“For the most part,” the Editor said. “I’ll have to revert some of the changes I’ve been making, but everything should go back to how it used to be on its own. Except . . .”

“Except what?” Pip asked sharply.

The Editor flicked an ear anxiously. “She has Eden Eld’s book. Which means she can prevent the paradoxes there from repairing themselves. Override reality.”

“Do you have any idea how much damage she could do to those books with that ink?” the Librarian asked.