Nine marched down the creaking, groaning, oofing staircase as fast as she could for fear that Flabberghast might catch up and interrogate her about the events in the library. She made her way down the various staircases until she found Eric waiting in the entrance hall. He had almost twisted his tail into a knot.

“Lady safe,” he said, looking relieved.

“Of course I’m safe.”

“Room naughty.”

“Yes.”

“Books naughty.”

“Yes,” snapped Nine irritably.

“I did tell you it was a bad idea, Madam,” called Flabberghast smugly from the top of the plum-carpeted stairs.

Nine ignored him and marched to the front door.

“Wait! Wait! Madam! Where are you going?” Flabberghast said, his tone changing from smug to panicked. He began to run down the hallway stairs.

The hands on the clock whizzed backwards, the smallest hand now pointing at the 11. Nine cast a fleeting glance at the tongue-less toad on the coat of arms, then she opened the front door, stepped outside and said, “To a library that doesn’t want to kill me.”

And, with more than a little satisfaction, she slammed the door behind her.

All the way to the library, Nine’s fists were tight, her shoulders up around her ears. Stray cats prowling the streets sprang away to the shadows as she approached. Bonneted ladies walking arm-in-arm stared at her, but Nine didn’t care. She cared about breaking the curse. Getting the jewel in that strange, glowing ball. Escaping Pockets’ Nest for ever. And not having to return to the House. That House! That horrible, horrible House.

She marched up to the library.

It was so unpredictable!

She pulled open the door and stepped inside.

So unreasonable!

She stormed over to where the librarian was sitting at his desk in the corner, one hand holding his head, the other writing lists of numbers in a large notebook. She slammed her hands down on the desk, rattling the inkwell and making the librarian jump.

“And are your books going to try and kill me, Mr Downes?”

“I … don’t believe so,” the librarian said slowly, straightening his horn-rimmed glasses to look at her more closely.

“Exactly!” said Nine, throwing her hands up in the air before marching off towards the shelves.

She took a deep breath. This was the only place to be when she was really worked up. Something about the room calmed her down. She ignored the smattering of people. All she saw – all she felt – were the books, their words breathing stories, wisdom, and the only escape and freedom she had ever known.

She closed her eyes, searching for the musty, bookish scent beyond the smell of damp, trying hard to drown out Pockets’ voice and the ticking clock in the House. She ran her hands along the line of book spines and was about to lift one at random from the shelf—

“You know you are not permitted to borrow from this library,” Mr Downes whispered in her ear.

Nine felt her heart jolt. She whirled around, hands on hips, and looked at the librarian accusingly.

“Another point to me,” he said, pulling out his little notebook.

“That doesn’t count,” Nine burst out.

“Forgive me asking,” said Mr Downes as he tucked his notebook back into his jacket, “but are you in trouble? I mean, more than usual.”

Nine rubbed her hands over her eyes. The magic words are… “Books on magic,” she said in a low voice. “I need books on magic.”

The librarian took her by the elbow and pulled her to the side of the room. He glanced around nervously. “I don’t know why you would suppose I had books on such things—”

“Mr Downes, I need information,” said Nine, looking him in the eye. “Secrets. Magic. Curses.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Witchcraft.”

Mr Downes widened his eyes and shuffled uncomfortably. “I’m really not sure you should be—”

“Do you have anything? Anything?”

The librarian sighed and pointed to an ill-lit corner of the room by one of the boarded-up windows.

“Top shelf, in the corner. You’ll need the ladder. Don’t draw attention to yourself.” Nine nodded and went to move but Mr Downes grabbed her elbow. “And I didn’t say any of that,” he added.

As the librarian rubbed his brow and wandered back to his desk, Nine made her way to the corner. She grasped the bottom of the long, wheeled ladder and pulled it along the shelves towards the darkest corner. She twisted her satchel to her back and up she climbed until she reached the top shelf. She felt a little prickle at the back of her neck … a sense of being somewhere she really shouldn’t be. It excited her and terrified her in equal measures. She wanted to look over her shoulder, check she was safe, alone, unwatched, but she didn’t dare risk making eye contact with anyone below.

Instead her fingers trailed the soft, dark spines of the books as she read their golden-lettered titles…

Folklore and Legend: A Hunter’s Guide…

Hunting what? Nine shook her head. Focus.

An Exploration of Mythical Creatures of Land and Sea…

No, not now.

Spellbinding Methods and Their Efficiency…

Hmm, getting closer.

The Secret Book of Secrets and How to Uncover Them…

YES!

Nine’s heart skipped a beat as her fingers lingered over the thick burgundy spine. She reached out to take it from the shelf.

A heavy feeling poured over her, growing stronger and stronger … like someone was watching. Not from the ground but right there: up on the ladder. Nine shook the irrational feeling from her head, closed her fingers around the spine and pulled the book out—

An eye with a fiercely red iris stared at her from the back of the shelf.

Nine gasped and jolted backwards on the ladder, nearly falling off. The book tumbled from her grasp and, for a split second, she looked away from the eye to watch the book fall towards the ground. It landed with a thud that echoed throughout the room. She looked back at the shelf. The eye was gone.

Heart still pounding, Nine scrambled down the ladder as fast as she could. She snatched the book from the wooden floor and quickly headed for the exit. Mr Downes was at his desk, leaning over his book of figures, worry lines creased all over his usually genial face. He looked up as Nine walked past. “I trust you found what you were looking for?”

“More than I was looking for!” said Nine over her shoulder. She tucked the book into her satchel and walked out into the street. As she weaved her way through the back alleys towards the House, the roads grew narrower, the people fewer. Nine’s thoughts turned to the red eye in the library. It had been watching her. Definitely watching her. Perhaps a warning—

“THIEF!” bellowed a voice behind her.

Nine jumped out of her thoughts, legs twitching, ready to run. She whirled around to see the ruddy-cheeked butcher from the market speeding towards her, his blood-splattered apron flapping.

“Does anyone not want to kill me today?” she snapped, before she turned and ran.

“I’ll teach you a lesson!” bellowed the butcher.

“Only if you catch me!” Nine said as she sprinted along the dirty, uneven ground. There was a small passageway on the right. She dashed down it. That would show the—

A sickening feeling hit the bottom of her stomach like a stone and she came to a halt. No. Oh no.

This was a dead end.

Nine whirled around. The puffing butcher appeared at the end of the passage, striding towards her. Nine felt panic rising in her chest. She looked around. Walls. She slammed her hands against the rough bricks. Just walls everywhere. The butcher advanced. Nine’s breathing grew faster.

Think. Think.

“Oh yes, I’ve caught you, thief,” the butcher said, stretching out his arm.

THINK!

Suddenly there was a blur of red, and Nine had the unpleasant feeling of being sucked through solid fog. It seemed to squeeze her chest and, for a moment, she stopped breathing. Everything grew dark and silent until, with a strange popping feeling, she felt herself stagger backwards – able to see, able to breathe.

Nine regained her balance. She heard the muffled yell of surprise from the butcher and heard heavy footsteps running away. She was now inside the building, on the other side of the wall…

And she wasn’t alone.