It dripped again and I looked up, freezing but trying not to show fear as I looked into the face of the Librarian. She leaned over me, her skeletal hands resting on the back of my chair, her full lips dripping a thick, deep red.

I looked away quickly, hesitating before striking the flint on my pen again. “You can’t hurt me,” I declared, and proved it by pressing on with my work.

It felt like ages, but was probably only a minute or two, when the sound of dripping finally stopped. The anticipation of the vile liquid made me wince, ready for it. I released a breath.

And then something flapped by my head, just skimming my scalp before passing and tumbling onto the floor beyond me. I looked up briefly. A paperback book. If there was a message meant for me, it was an ill-chosen prop, the spine not heavy or broken enough to stay open. But hard, sharp pain at the back of my head quickly followed it, something heavy knocking my shoulder and dropping beside me in the chair, scaring me to my feet. I held the amulet and my pen with one hand, grabbing the back of my head with the other as I backed into the fireplace. My scalp throbbed when I removed my hand, and I—God help me—stared at the red smudge on my palm that the stinging and throbbing told me was more mine than the dripping from earlier. My trembling hand dropped from my view slightly as I gaped at the heavy book occupying my chair.

It wasn’t open deliberately, like the initial pile was. No, this book was sending a different message, same as the paperback.

A message that might kill me if I didn’t work quickly.

Another book vaulted off a shelf toward me, and I ducked and dodged away. I hid beside the chair, shielding my head with my arm just in time for another book to fall on my head. I shoved to my feet, running out the door to hide beside the doorway, just as another book came flying out the door, the spine breaking against the wall across from me.

I stood against the wall, panting. The books had stopped … but I couldn’t feel much from the Librarian either. It was as if, as soon as I’d left the room, the chalk marks in my mind had been smudged, all feeling from them fuzzy. So then … there was no way to cleanse the library from the safety of outside the door. I had no choice but to get back in there.

I took one last deep breath and rushed back inside.

My heart was pounding. My head was throbbing. My amulet was pulsing, like it hadn’t been outside of the room. I should’ve analyzed the situation before rushing in, because the onslaught began immediately. I ducked, a dictionary just missing my head.