They agreed to be careful with the books from then on; it was common sense. So they decided to stay away from them. Their discussion got them nowhere.

"How do you think they work?" Jazz asked.

"I don't know."

"Who do you think put them there?"

"Beats me. How do we tell the difference between them and the mimics?" asked Wes.

"We… try one at a time? Each one." suggested Jazz.

And so, their curiosity got the better of them. Wes held the candles in a bundle in his hands like a weapon while Jazz's hand moved imperceptibly slow toward a book.

"Jazz?" whispered Wes; Jazz jumped a foot in the air.

"What?" Her voice only trembled a little.

"Be careful." She nodded.

Her fingertips touched the spine. They stood still, waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, she gently grasped and pulled it free of the shelf; even though they expected it, their hearts still wound up in their stomachs when the book became ravenous. Jazz dropped it and stomped it. Wes kicked it. It hit the far wall with a thud. With her heart beating fast, and her blood full of adrenaline, Jazz was more confident. She reached for another book and opened it.

"Safe," she said. "I'm in a meadow." Wes reached forward and gingerly touched the book, palm-down, on its pages.

He was in the meadow now. He and Jazz looked at one another, wide-eyed.

"It works for both of us at the same time!" wondered Jazz.

"I don't see anything," commented Wes. They looked around. GRass, wind, trees, the sky with the sun bright and yellow. In the Doorless Room, Wes removed his hand so Jazz could inspect the cover of the tome.

"Meadows: An Empty World of Green," she read aloud. She walked over and placed it on the table. "A safe pile." Wes looked at the bookcase. Candles in one hand, he reached for a book.

When it didn't try to eat him, he let out a breath and read the title: "The Curse of St-. The rest is scratched off." He opened it.

He was surrounded by people. They stood in what looked to be a church. The night's darkness was held at bay by lanterns the people held or street lights with flickering flames.

A moment later, Jazz appeared by his side. No one seemed to care or even notice their sudden and- dare he say?- magical entrance.

An old man, who looked to be a priest, was addressing the crowd. "Hear me now! We must rid our town of this menace at once err we be saddled and cursed forevermore under this creature!"

The crowd roared their approval. Wes and Jazz exchanged glances. Creature?

Jazz turned to a man beside her. "What's this creature?"

He looked at her like she was crazy. He edged away, pushing the people in his path. Once clear of the crowd, he ran full tilt down the dirt road. Jazz gaped in his wake.

"Don't mind Crazy Dan. He don't trust no one," said a man nearby. "And don't be talkin' so willy-nilly 'bout the creature 'round here. We don't likin' to sayin' it. They say it summons him."

"Summons who, though?" Wes asked.

"He's the bane of this here Faust," piped up a woman to Wes' left.

"Faust?"

"You're standin' in Faust, boy! Don't you know where you at?"

Wes had nothing to say to that.

The Priest had still more to say: "Take up arms, my brethren! Defend Faust and rid us of this demon once and for all! God is on our side!" The cheer was deafening.

In the Doorless Room, Jazz asked, "Are you getting a funny feeling about this?"

"Yeah."

The crowd of Faust was indeed taking up arms. A pair of men were passing out clubs and pitchforks and knives and various tools-to-be-used-as-weapons. One of them approached Wes and Jazz.

"Will you help us, strangers?" he said.

"Tell us about your curse, first," demanded Jazz.

"It's the worst of the worst. Takes our children. He burns our crops." He didn't meet Jazz's eyes. An air of grief surrounded Faust.

"We'll help you," agreed Jazz and Wes, in unison.