by Ted Dekker
He’d been in Teeleh’s lair. Then Alucard’s lair. And now another lair, here in the Histories: Romania.
“Move!”
He obeyed. Mucus covered the walls. No worms, but they were near; all of this sludge had come from somewhere. He shivered and forced his legs to move on, toward his objective.
It was true, no matter how much fear coursed through his veins, he was as much drawn by purpose as pushed by his enemy’s demands now. He’d come to the Histories to destroy evil, not flee from it!
The thought gave him some courage, but not much.
Miranda disappeared through a gate ahead on his right. He slowed, listening. Very soft popping sounds ran up and down the tunnel. But by peering into the light cast by the wall sconces, he could see only more darkness beyond.
The iron gate rested open, and he stepped cautiously through. A couch, a desk, bookshelves mostly empty. But unlike Teeleh’s or Alucard’s lair, this study had a large opening in the back. Another tunnel glowed with flickering flame. Water dripped far away.
He hesitated only a moment, then headed in. The floor sloped down, deeper into the ground. For a few steady breaths, he seriously considered turning and running, but he knew that there was no escape.
So he pushed his legs on. Further. Deeper.
The tunnel opened into a large, two-story library lit by wall torches and a half-dozen candelabras rising from dark wooden tables at the center. Wrought-iron railings ran the perimeter of the second floor and opened to the large atrium in which Johnis had entered.
Thousands of books lined the shelves on either side, but the wall directly ahead was draped with red velvet swags. A single table was framed by the heavy drapes. Twin candlesticks, each forming a winged serpent, sat on the table: Teeleh’s symbol.
Miranda stood before the table, her back toward him. She turned and walked to one side, giving him full view of the table. The four books lay one on top of the other—black, brown, blue, green.
“Welcome to my world,” Miranda said.
Johnis looked at the woman standing like a warrior in a dress, boots, and long, stringy hair. She looked as if she might be sick.
“Your world or his world?” Johnis asked.
“Is there a difference?”
“You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“And I would say it’s you who have no idea what you’ve stumbled into. If Darsal was right, you were nothing but a poet a few weeks ago, rejected by this Forest Guard of yours. Your little quest is only four weeks old, isn’t that right?”
So much had happened that it felt much longer. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Here in the so-called Histories, the quest for the books’ power is over two thousand years old.” Miranda’s lips twisted in a whimsical smile. “You’re but the latest little blip in a very long and gruesome ordeal that’s lasted centuries. Darsal stumbled into something much larger than she could possibly know. As have you. The truth is, you know nothing, little Johnis.” Then much louder, even furious, “Nothing!”
“I know where he comes from!” Johnis gestured toward the candlesticks. “Who he is. What he’s capable of.”
Miranda chuckled and walked slowly past the table, brushing the four books with her fingertips. “Really? Then tell me even one thing you know so well. Tell me who he is?”
“The Dark One: Alucard.”
“The nasty beast, Alucard. And what do you really know about Alucard?”
“That Teeleh sent him here to deceive the likes of you, which he’s done surprisingly well in such a short time.”
Miranda walked back, her hands now behind her back like a lecturer. Grinning at the fool. “You see, already you’re misinformed. Alucard has been here for two thousand years, sowing seeds of misery and darkness in more ways than you’ve imagined.”
She let the statement settle.
“And although he’s a nasty beast around whom a whole mythology has emerged, spawning hundreds of stories about vampires and creatures of the night and all such things, he’s not this ‘Dark One’ Darsal went on and on about. Not in this world, anyway. For that matter, neither is Marsuvees Black. Nor Red nor White … nor any of the other minions.”
“Who then?”
“Unfortunately, you’ll never know,” Miranda’s eyes settled on the table, and for the first time Johnis saw a silver knife resting beside the four books. “I do believe he intends to kill you the same way he killed Darsal seven years ago.”
She picked up the knife and pulled the blade out of its silver sheath. “Not with a knife; he prefers another, more intimate method that’s well-known in this world.”
An image of Darsal bleeding to death from a neck bite blossomed in Johnis’s mind. He’d never heard of the Shataiki killing that way. Then again, until a few weeks ago, the Shataiki were hardly more than legend in a world far away.
“You cannot thwart the will of Elyon,” he said with as much confidence as he could muster.
“Elyon? You haven’t heard? God is dead in this world. They killed him two thousand years ago. Alucard was there.”
Johnis had no clue what Miranda referred to, but it hardly mattered any longer. His task was a simple one, and he had no intention of allowing her to complicate things.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“Because I asked her to,” a voice rasped from above.
Johnis jerked his head up and stared at the rafters. The diseased, batlike creature hung from the center beam, staring down with yellow eyes.
Alucard.
He hid himself among thick worms, like a mother nesting her eggs. Slowly he unfolded himself, then dropped from the ceiling and landed on the library floor next to Miranda. Eyes on Johnis.
Alucard’s mangy skin was whiter than he remembered, covered with mucus now, and his eyes had turned yellow. Otherwise two thousand years hadn’t changed the beast.
“Hello, Johnisssss …”
eeleh’s Lair.”
Silvie paced, biting at her fingernail. “What was he thinking? We all went into Alucard’s lair, but Johnis was the only one who went into Teeleh’s beneath the lake. It was where he found the brown book.”
“There has to be more than you’ve told me,” Karas said. “Why else would he tell you to tell me? You have to think!”
“I’m trying to!” Silvie shouted. “But something about this air, this cursed world … I can’t think straight! I thought we were supposed to be more intelligent, not less!”
“Calm down, I’m not the enemy here. And the intelligence will come; have patience. It may take a few days, a couple weeks—” “We don’t have a couple weeks!”
“Then sit down and think with me! Start at the beginning.”
“Again?”
“Again!”
The night had crawled by in relentless fits of tears and threats to end it all here and now. They had to give chase, never mind that they didn’t know where to—just go. They had to inform the authorities, never mind that the police would likely send them both off to the fruit form. They had to offer money, information, cars, whatever was necessary to purchase Johnis’s life back, never mind that they didn’t know who to offer it to.
The eastern sky had grayed with dawn, and now even Karas was showing signs of panic, which didn’t help matters. Silvie dropped onto the couch that faced Los Angeles, which was spread out like an endless gray canyon before them. Her head spun with the events of the past week. They’d gone from celebrated heroes in the forest to insignificant fruits in the Histories in a matter of days.
“It’s hopeless,” she said. “Look at that.”
“I do,” Karas said. “Nearly every day.”
“Thousands and thousands of buildings. Millions of people. Cars and airplanes and endless miles of stone or concrete or asphalt or whatever you call it. Fortunes being made and lost, rock stars getting their feet kissed, ordinary people eating and dressing and dreaming. And here we sit, like two ants on the hill, thinking we must or
can do something to change any of it. You don’t ever feel helpless?”
“Completely,” Karas said. “Try doing it for ten years …”
“Right.” She looked at Karas. “None of them even know that there are seven Books of History that can reshape reality as they know it.”
“No. But some of them wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Where we come from, one day’s events could change everything. Are there ever earth-shattering incidents here? Wars that change everything? Outcomes that every man, woman, and child leans forward to hear?”
“Not really, no. But everyone knows it will happen one day.”
“Could they imagine that it happening? Right now. Today!”
“Some,” she sighed. “Please, Silvie. I know you’re not thinking straight. You’ve been uprooted; we’ve lost the books; Johnis is gone …”
“He kissed me, Karas.” She felt the tears seep into her eyes and made no attempt to blink them away, “We have fallen in love. I know it’s foolish for members of the Forest Guard, and I know we are only just of marrying age, but I would marry him. Nothing else matters to me anymore.”
“The books …”
“What about you, Karas? You’re twenty-one. Surely you’ve fallen in love.”
“More than once.”
“I mean, look at you! You’re stunning. What’s wrong with the men in the Histories? They should be lined up outside your door!”
“Well, that’s not how we do things here, but they are.” She looked far off, “But I’ve been a little too preoccupied to entertain more than a passing interest,”
Spoken like the principled little girl who’d broken ranks with the Horde at great risk to herself—almost a reprimand.
“Perhaps if I had someone like Johnis …”
“Don’t even think about it!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Karas said, blushing. “I know when I’m beat. Unfortunately, men from our world are in short supply here.”
Silvie felt bad for the girl.
“Well, I have a feeling that everything’s going to change in the very near future.” Silvie took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Okay, let’s start at the beginning. What did Johnis mean, ‘Teeleh’s lair’? He wanted to say something that I would understand without Miranda’s knowledge.”
“She’s after the same thing we are now: the final three books.”
“Which became accessible when Johnis crossed over with the fourth book.”
“Right, we’ve been over this.” Karas stood and walked up to the railing. “Teeleh’s lair … it’s the key to the location, Silvie. Something he told you that no one else could know.”
“I told you. He described it to me in the desert on the way to the Horde City. And from what I can remember, it’s exactly the same as Alucard’s lair except …”
Silvie’s heart stopped. She jumped to her feet.
“What?” Karas asked.
“The poem! He said there was a poem on the wall. I don’t remember anything in Alucard’s lair. That’s what was unique about Teeleh’s lair. He must have been trying to direct me to the poem without tipping off Miranda!”
Karas hurried over, her eyes wide. “What poem?”
“Something about a sinner, a saint, and a showdown.” She blinked. “‘Welcome to Paradise.”’
“It said that? ‘Welcome to Paradise’?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, okay, yes. So what does—”
And then Karas got it.
“Paradise. The epicenter of this showdown between saint and sinner, good and evil. You’re saying that there is a lair in Paradise.”
‘“Welcome to Paradise,’” Silvie repeated.
“The monastery was destroyed. Flattened. I’ve been there. Nothing but a cabin.”
“But were you looking for Teeleh’s lair? Johnis must have …”
Her voice trailed off.
Karas stared at her in silence, piecing together what she’d just learned with what she already knew.
She suddenly rushed toward the house. “Get the jet up!” she cried to one of her servants inside.
Silvie hurried behind. “To where?”
“Paradise, Colorado.”
lucard’s tongue licked at the mucus on his fingers. He stared at Johnis like a mad doctor who’d trapped a monkey on which to run his forbidden experiments.
“The beast from hell,” Johnis said. Although he meant it as an accusation, his voice came out strained.
“I have waited for this day.” Alucard walked to the table, his talons clicking on the stone floor. He reached out and touched the prize Miranda had delivered.
“Four is a far cry from seven,” Johnis said.
“That’s where you’re wrong, my friend. Finding the last three will be a simple matter now. They may be the prize locked away for centuries, but I now have the key.” He faced Johnis, his lips twisted. “Surely you know where the other three are.”
Johnis had his ideas, to which he’d tried to alert Silvie. But he knew more than Alucard could possibly know.
“There are only a few lairs in this reality. For all we know, the last three books are hidden here, in this very library.” His eyes ran over the bookcases. Johnis wasn’t positive that the books were in a lair, but they seemed to favor lairs on Other Earth.
After two thousand years, Alucard wasn’t in a rush to tear the place apart, Johnis realized. If the last three books were in one of the lairs, he wasn’t in any danger of someone else finding them before he did. Except for Silvie and Karas.
A chuckle echoed softly around the room. Alucard walked around him, moving easily, inspecting. “You’re wondering why I didn’t just kill all three of you? Are you really so foolish?”
The stench of the beast’s flesh so close was enough to make Johnis temper his breathing.
“Tell him, Miranda.”
“We can kill them at any time. Why would we eliminate something that could still be useful?” She spoke as if she were a disinterested peer to the Shataiki, not his servant.
How so? Johnis wanted to ask. But he already knew. They’d taken him in the event they needed leverage. “What makes you think Silvie and Karas won’t find the books before you do?”
“Let them. It is now only a matter of time. Hours, days, it makes no difference to me.” Alucard breathed heavily and continued in a soft voice that trembled with each word. “My time has come.”
The worms overhead moved through their own muck, agitated.
“We have waited so long. Unlike you humans, Shataiki ate born of the hive lord, the equivalent of your queen bee, only male. All we need now are the females.”
Johnis shuddered. These worms were Alucard’s offspring, trapped larvae, waiting for a female to somehow make them Shataiki. Or was Alucard the female? Either way, with the four books, Alucard could return to the Black Forest and bring back what he needed to turn these larvae into Shataiki. And what would happen to this world if thousands of Shataiki were set free?
“You … you can’t do that.”
“And now that you know how your little quest is going to end, I can kill you.” Alucard’s long, sharp talon reached around Johnis’s neck from behind and drew a thin line over his exposed skin. One jerk and his head would be parted from his body. Was the beast’s need to see the chosen one dead greater than his need for any leverage Johnis might give him?
Johnis didn’t want to find out.
The talon bit into his skin. “Are you ready to die, chosen one?”
“You can’t.” He looked at Miranda’s dark stare. “You don’t have four of the books.”
The talon at his neck hesitated.
“Don’t be a fool,” Miranda said.
“Am I the fool? Do you think we are that stupid?”
A tick bothered Miranda’s cheek.
“You have four books on the table,” Johnis said. “Three of them are genuine. One of them is a fake.”
THE JET STREAKED FOR THE SKY, AND SIL
VIE GRIPPED THE armrests, her knuckles white. But once again, the flying tube of steel hung in the air as comfortably as any bird she’d seen.
She slowly released her grip. “What if we’re wrong?”
“We’re not,” Karas said. “The books are in Teeleh’s lair, wherever that is. I’m willing to stake my life on it.”
“It’s his life you’re staking. What’s all this numbers business?”
“Six of the books went missing. The number of evil, perfection divided. Three are now missing: the number that Teeleh aspires to become—perfection. Follow?”
“Not really,”
“Then never mind for now. The point is, the three missing books are almost certainly hidden in the heart of darkness. Teeleh’s lair.”
“But what makes you think there aren’t other ‘hearts of darkness’ here in the Histories? Why tie it directly to Teeleh?”
“Because you said it yourself, ‘Welcome to Paradise.’ Because the books came from our world when Thomas Hunter crossed over. They would naturally find a place consistent with that world— Teeleh’s lair.”
“Three books in our world; three here,” Silvie said, as if it now all made perfect sense to her. “Six missing books. Evil. Perfection defiled. And if we’re wrong about the lair being in Paradise?”
Karas frowned. “Then we hope Johnis has something up his sleeve besides a little extra strength.”
“HE’S LYING,” MIRANDA SNAPPED.
Johnis allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. “Now who’s the fool?”
Alucard whipped around him and leaped to the table, where he landed on his hind legs with enough force to send a vibration through the floor. He fanned the books across the table with a flip of his wrist. “Show me!”
Miranda was already hovering over the books, the silver knife in her hand. She shoved the blue book to the side and pulled the brown book closer—sliced her finger.
Holding her eyes on Johnis, she planted her finger on the brown book’s cover.
She vanished in a wink of light into this simulation they talked about, modeled after Paradise. Everyone wants a piece of Paradise.
