Someone had filled the case with a bunch of copies of books from Earth, an eclectic selection that included no fewer than three Bibles and the Book of Mormon sitting cheek-by-jowl with bodice-rippers and mystery novels. I counted seven copies of books from the Twilight series and what looked like John Grisham's entire catalog. It was as if someone had raided the Goodwill dumpster and come back with the leavings like some sort of fae packrat.
