CHAPTER THREE

Book Club

Seated around a rough-looking, warped wooden table were three pale women. They were dressed in elaborate, dark gowns, as if they’d just left a fancy tea shop.

The tallest woman had a short hairdo, parted down the middle. She had a long neck, a skinny nose, and dark, piercing eyes.

Baru knew immediately who it was. “That’s Mary Shelley,” he whispered.

“Mary and Shelly? Who’s the third lady?” Cal asked, standing beside Baru.

“No,” Baru said. “Mary Shelley is one person. She’s the author of Frankenstein.”

“Frankenstein? That big, green guy who hates fire?” Kelly asked.

Baru groaned.

So many people assumed the name of the creature in the book was Frankenstein. But Frankenstein was actually the name of the doctor who created him: Dr. Victor Frankenstein. Baru had always wanted to know why the famous author hadn’t given her monster a proper name.

“He’s only green in movies and comic books,” Baru said. “But really he was sewn together from a bunch of corpse parts.”

“Perfect,” Cal said. “Then who are the other two?”

Baru wasn’t sure. Thankfully Javier piped up. “I think that’s Ann Radcliffe and Charlotte Brontë,” he said. “They were all gothic authors who lived around the same time.”

“What’re they doing?” Kelly asked.

Baru watched the trio from the shadows of his bookshelf. The women were writing in small notebooks. They paused every few minutes to glance over their shoulders. Occasionally one of them would read from her notebook while the other two listened.

“It’s like my mom’s book club,” Jordan said.

“Or a writer’s group,” Baru said. “They might be reading each other’s work and commenting on it.”

“Goofy place for a writing group to meet,” Kelly said.

Baru continued to watch the writers. Why would they be sitting in a ruined cathedral in the middle of an approaching storm? When the Midnight Library had changed in the past, the Pages needed to do something inside the altered world to help make things right. If not, they couldn’t go back to where they belonged.

But what are we supposed to do? Baru wondered. Help them write their books? Give them an umbrella?

“I’m going to go over there,” Baru decided. He stood up and straightened his shirt.

“Aren’t you afraid of interrupting them?” Kelly asked.

“No,” Baru said.

“They look like they’re scared of something,” Jordan added.

“Well, I’m not,” Baru said with a shrug. He noticed the three women kept glancing toward the altar.

“Be careful,” Javier warned. “And, you know, be friendly.”

Baru nodded, then took a step forward. “Hello, my friends,” Baru said, raising a hand in greeting.

“Stop where you stand!” the woman in the fancy hat shouted in her English accent. “Are you one of them?”

“Calm down, my dear Ann,” said the woman with the frilly lace collar. “He doesn’t have the appearance or stink of them.”

“Monsters take many forms, Charlotte,” Ann snapped.

Mary stood and looked at Baru carefully. “Who are you, young man?” she asked. “And why do you disturb our private gathering?”

Baru felt strange. Three famous authors were staring him down like he was the monster.

“I am Baru Reddy,” he said. “I’m from another world—or time, rather—and . . .”

“I knew it!” Ann shouted. She pounded the table with a fist. “He means to steal our work with the aid of his terrible minions!”

Baru’s mind raced. Steal their work? Terrible minions?

“Ann, lower your voice!” Charlotte hissed. “You’ll lead them right to us with your unseemly outbursts!”

Baru held his hands up to show he was harmless. “We are not minions. I promise, my friends and I are here to help you!”

“’Tis a fool’s errand, I’m afraid. No one can help us,” Mary said.

“Why?” Baru asked. “What’s the problem?”

And just like that, from out of the shadows, they appeared.

“Them,” Mary whispered solemnly.