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“That’s Emily!” Charlotte raged.

“I’m just saying,” said Lucy defensively. “If this is an Austen-versus-Brontë thing, at least Emily and Charlotte are on the same team.”

“I think I’ll start with you,” Charlotte told her.

Walter, who had been silent, suddenly spoke. “We all need to calm down.”

Charlotte shifted her focus to him. “And who exactly are you?” she asked.

“I’m her boyfriend,” Walter replied, nodding at Jane.

A smile crept across Charlotte’s face. “Her boyfriend,” she repeated. Then she laughed. “This has turned out better than I ever hoped. Revenge will indeed be sweet.”

Jane felt herself tremble with rage. “It is not violence that best overcomes hate,” she said. “Nor vengeance that most certainly heals injury.”

Charlotte sneered at her. “So you’ve read my book,” she said. “I’m touched.”

“Your book?” said Lucy. “But that’s from—” She stopped speaking and looked at Charlotte. Her eyes grew wide. Then she looked at Jane, who nodded weakly. Lucy’s mouth snapped shut and she continued to stare at Charlotte.

“Are you all so stupid?” Charlotte said.

“You’re insane,” said Walter. “You can pretend to be whoever you want to be, but what reason do you have to hate Jane?”

Charlotte stepped back. She looked at Walter for a long time, then looked at Jane. “He doesn’t know, does he?” she said. “He really doesn’t know.”

“Know what?” Walter asked.

Charlotte clapped her hands and held them to her face, covering her mouth. Her eyes glittered with happiness. “Oh, this is turning out to be such fun,” she said, clapping her hands like a child. “All right then, let me tell you a story.” She took a deep breath. “Once upon a time—”

Suddenly the door to the storeroom burst open. Jane looked up to see Byron striding into the room. “You!” she said. Her voice sounded peculiar, as if she’d spoken through a megaphone. Then she realized that it was because everyone in the room had said exactly the same thing at exactly the same time. She looked at the others, all of whom were glaring at Byron with the same look of consternation.

“How dare you come back here?” said Walter. “Jane told you, she wants nothing to do with you.”

“Jane?” said Kelly. He looked over at her with a puzzled expression. “This is the guy Bryce has been sleeping with.”

“Bryce?” Jane said, equally puzzled. She looked at Byron. “You’re Grayson?” she repeated.

Byron shrugged. “I know this is a bit awkward,” he said.

Before he could continue, Charlotte lunged at him, her fangs bared. “You left me!” she screeched.

Byron stepped aside, pushing her as she went by. Charlotte crashed headfirst into a pile of cookbooks, which toppled over, sending her to the floor. She turned herself over and renewed her attack. This time Byron was able to grab her arm. He swung her violently, sending her twirling toward one of the tall shelving units. She hit it hard, and it fell over, burying her in an avalanche of self-help books. Moments later she leapt up, sending copies of Surviving Menopause flying in every direction. She picked one up and chucked it at Byron’s head, missing him by an inch.

“Untie me!” Jane said to Byron. “I can help.”

“There’s no time,” Byron told her as he looked for a way to stop Charlotte.

Charlotte was throwing books furiously now, picking them up and hurling them at Byron as quickly as she could. A firestorm of young adult novels, pop-up books, and how-to guides bore down on him. Jane saw a copy of The Lovely Bones fly by, pages flapping, and cut Byron’s cheek.

Ducking and weaving, Byron ran at Charlotte, batting the missiles out of the way. Then the two of them were entwined, Charlotte clawing at Byron as she roared in rage and Byron trying to subdue her. Then, to her surprise, Jane saw Walter stand up. The ropes that had bound his wrists fell to the floor. He bent and helped Kelly and Lucy up.

“Go!” he said. “Get out of here.”

As the two of them left the room, Walter came to Jane. Kneeling, he reached behind her and cut her ropes.

“How did you get free?” she asked