by Ted Dekker
“Maybe the fact that it’s so obvious makes it the perfect place. Either way, you’ll know soon enough.”
“Tell me where.”
“And minimize my value? I’ll show you.”
Miranda smiled gently, eyeing Johnis with interest. She was still dressed in the boots, the dark dress, the lace. Long, black, unkempt hair. A perfectly formed face that, apart from her betrayal, would be beautiful.
She sat beside him with her arms crossed and one leg draped over the other as the helicopter wound through the mountains, flying low. The flight from Romania had taken only a few hours aboard the orbital jet. The sun was beginning to dip in the west.
There was a strong possibility that Karas had already collected the book and, if so, Johnis was finished. But he also knew that both he and Silvie were finished anyway. His only hope was to stall Miranda long enough to give Karas time.
Time to find the last three books before Alucard could get his claws on them.
“You remind me of Darsal,” Miranda said. “Both so intent, so obsessed with this mission.”
“That’s nice.”
“She was bitter, you know. When I met her, she’d spent three years without success. She had no clue what had happened to the others. To you. But she was driven by something else entirely. Do you know what that was?”
“Billos,” Johnis said.
“A man. She was in love with a man. She once told me that she blamed Elyon. It was his rules that forced Billos to give up his life.”
“Billos died? She said that?”
“I suppose so. She obviously thought he was dead.”
“And what did she expect to do about it?” Johnis demanded.
“That’s the question, isn’t it? What did she think having all seven books would do for her?”
Miranda’s suggestion stunned him. This notion that Darsal might have intended to use the books for her own gain or for revenge … preposterous!
There had always been a strange connection between Darsal and Billos, dating back to his rescue of her when she was much younger. Clearly, whatever had happened when they’d both gone into the books had only strengthened the bond.
“Well?” Miranda pressed. “What could someone like Darsal or, for that matter, anyone do with the seven books?”
“Something in this world,” Johnis said.
“Yes, this world. It’s always been about this world. Even the Shataiki are about this world. They may have crossed some forbidden river, thanks to Tanis, as Alucard claims, but they’ve always had their sights on this world. And now they’re about to repeat it, honey.”
Some of what she said made sense; some it didn’t. For Johnis, the matter was simple: he was here to get the books before the Dark One could. And so far he’d done that by following his heart.
“It’s all about the Shataiki, and it’s all about love.” Miranda looked at him. “What about you, Johnis? What would you do for love?”
“Anything.”
“I’m counting on it. You’re just like Darsal that way. ” She rested her hand on his thigh. “I like that in a man.”
“Take your stinking hands off me.”
She leaned close. He could smell her perfume, a rich spice he didn’t recognize. The scent of Shataiki lingered faintly about her.
“When I have the books, you’ll change your tune, little boy. And make no mistake, I will have them.”
“Don’t you mean Alucard?”
“Alucard,” she said slowly. “I’m sure you’ve figured out that it was he who killed Darsal. As he intends on killing you.”
Her hand suddenly tightened like a vice above his knee. Her grip was strong, stronger than he thought possible.
She released him, lifted her hand, and slapped him with enough force to spin his head.
“Love, baby. It’s all about love.”
Two minutes later they settled in a field just behind a spire-tipped building Miranda called a “church,” and Johnis’s head was still spinning with her words. Her slap. He wasn’t sure he shouldn’t fear Miranda Card more than Alucard.
It was now all about timing. He would make his play, but not until they had the book. Then he would see just what this witch was made of. He had a few tricks up his sleeve himself.
“Where to?”
“To the home of Sally Drake,” Johnis said.
Let’s go.
“You know where it is?”
“Like I said, I’ve been here in the simulation looking for clues. If you’re wrong about this, I’m going to cut off your fingers. Start praying, boy.”
“HURRY!”
Silvie stumbled over the stones that littered the top of the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Karas, who carried the three Books of History, was still twenty steps behind. “Hurry!”
“This isn’t a race!” Karas panted. “We have them, Silvie. You want me to lose them?”
Silvie played her light to the side. She had no idea how far it was to the bottom or if there was a bottom. “Just hurry; they have Johnis.”
“Having the books won’t help us find Johnis.”
You’re wrong Karas. The hooks are exactly what we need to find Johnis. She spilled through the hole they’d punched in the tunnel.
“What we need now is the fourth book.” Karas clambered up behind.
“How? How will all four help us more than three? You may have been searching for ten years, Karas, but I have more history with the books.”
“With four books we could go back to the forest,” Karas said.
Yes, there was that. But Johnis wasn’t in the forest. He was here, in Alucard’s talons.
“Of course, the fourth book. Just hurry.”
JOHNIS AND MIRANDA STOOD OUTSIDE OF SALLY DRAKE’S house ten minutes later. The streets were empty except for one boy who leaned against the church, chewing on a piece of grass.
“Do you want to go in peacefully, or should I just go in, kill the tramp, and find the book on my own?”
“No need to cause a stir. Let me get the book.”
“Remember: one false move and 1 will kill you where you stand.”
He knocked on the door and waited for a few seconds.
A thin woman answered the door. “Hello?”
“Sally Drake?”
“Yes. May I help you?”
“My name is Johnis. I think you have something a friend of mine, Karas, left with you. A book. I would like the book.”
She stared at him, speechless.
“Sally Drake?”
The woman blinked. “I … I’m sorry. For a moment there I thought you looked … Have we met?”
“Hurry it, please!” Miranda snapped.
Sally looked over Johnis’s shoulder at Miranda. “I’m sorry, but I was told not to—”
Miranda flew past Johnis and slammed her gun against Sally’s forehead. The woman dropped in a pile, unconscious.
Miranda stepped over the fallen form, muttering something about people not listening. Pulled Sally’s prone body into the house.
“Get in here!”
Johnis stumbled in, dumbstruck.
“Find the book!”
She wouldn’t let him out of her sight, which slowed their search some, but the house only had four rooms, including the kitchen. Miranda found the book in the larger of the two bedrooms, under the mattress.
Black. Blood smeared on the first page. The Story of History.
Her eyes were fired with satisfaction. “Let’s go.”
“What about her? You can’t just leave an innocent woman …”
“Innocent? She was holding one of the books, you fool! Karas is the one who’s to blame for dragging her into this. Move!”
They left Paradise behind two minutes later. The sun was setting, time was fleeting, and Johnis was running out of options.
He had to make his play, and soon. The jet that would return them to Alucard’s lair waited in a city to which they would fly in a smaller jet.
In the city, he d
ecided. At the very least he would strike in the city.
s she okay?”
“Hurt but alive.” Karas eased Silvie away from the house.
A police car with flashing lights sat in front of Sally Drake’s home. They had already taken her to the hospital in Delta, twenty minutes away.
“And the book?”
“Gone.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it’s not where we agreed she would keep it. It’s gone!” Karas yelled the last word, red faced.
“How long?”
“They came in a helicopter and were gone before anyone could talk to them. A man and a woman.”
“Johnis! How long?”
“Ten minutes.” Karas pressed her fingers against her temples. “This can’t be happening.”
“It is happening! They’ll stop at nothing! How far could they have gone in ten minutes?”
“They were flying. They’re gone.”
A man dressed in a round hat and pointed boots eyed them from the sidewalk. Karas took Silvie’s arm and led her across the street. The helicopter whirled in a field next to the church, ready for departure.
“We have to get out of here.”
Silvie walked, numb, her mind buzzing with what they now must do. “We have to use the books.”
“We only have three,” Karas groaned. “We might as well have one. All we can do is enter the simulation—you know that. They’re worthless!”
“Not to Alucard.”
“What are you saying?”
Silvie angled for the helicopter and picked up her pace. “We have to trade the books for Johnis.”
“Don’t be stupid!”
Silvie whirled, furious despite the knowledge that Karas was being perfectly logical. “I’ll tell you what was stupid!” She pointed a finger in Karas’s face. “Going into Teeleh’s lair to recover the first Book of History. Leading the Third into battle to rescue his mother. Betraying Thomas to save you from Witch! That was stupid!”
Karas’s face lightened a shade.
Silvie continued. “Yet those were all things Johnis did, following his heart. Now he’s in trouble, and you suggest I don’t follow my heart?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what?”
“Follow your heart, but don’t be stupid,” Karas said. “You can’t give Alucard all seven books! Your mission is to find them before the Dark One does, not to give the Dark One all seven to save your lover.”
“You think I don’t know the mission? I was chosen with Johnis. I was there when he went into the first lair. I was by his side when he risked his life to save you, or have you forgotten?”
“I don’t see—”
“I’m saying that Johnis didn’t follow perfect logic; he did what he believed was right in the face of terrible odds. And each time he ended up with a book.”
“Then he was lucky.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it. Johnis was chosen because he was willing to do what others were unwilling to do. It’s in his heart! That is the only way to find the books.”
It was the first time Silvie had actually thought of it in those terms, but saying it, she thought she might actually have struck on the heart of the matter.
“Think about it.” She jabbed her head with a finger. “It’s about the heart, not logic. The Great Romance, the fall from Elyon, Teeleh’s jealousy, the Horde, the lost books … all of these have to do with the heart. The only way to find the seven books is to follow your heart.” She let out a long breath, “Johnis followed his. Now I will follow mine.”
“But giving the books—”
“The right thing to do is to save Johnis, at all costs.”
“Even if it costs the mission?”
“It’s my mission to lose, not yours. Were you chosen?”
Karas looked at the helicopter, her jaw set. Silvie knew that she was wounding her friend, the only friend she had in this world at the moment. But she wasn’t about to let the one man who’d repeatedly risked his life to save theirs be killed now. And yes, there was some self-serving messiness to this business. She loved Johnis. More than she loved the books, more than she loved herself.
“No,” Karas said. “You were chosen. So I’ll follow you. Like I followed Darsal.”
“And did Darsal find the fourth book?”
“Yes.”
“So then, have faith.”
“Darsal also struck the deal with Alucard that put us in this mess.”
Touchy.
“As you say, I’m chosen. And I say we do whatever it takes to get Johnis back.”
“Okay. We use the books to get Johnis back if we can. Any suggestions, chosen one?”
Silvie ignored the dig. “We get word to Miranda before she does anything foolish.”
“And how do we do that?”
“The same way we got word to you. You need to get us on the Net.”
“That could take some time, assuming anyone is even interested. You can’t just walk up to a camera and spout off your personal messages for them to broadcast,”
“Then we do something more inventive. Take someone important captive.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She frowned. “You really want to do this, huh?”
“Every minute we talk takes him another minute farther from us. We have the only thing they need now. We use the books!”
Karas turned and walked toward the helicopter. “Here goes nothing.”
e had to move, and he had to do it quickly. And judging by the switch they’d made from the helicopter to the small jet, moving on the ground was going to be more of a problem than he’d imagined.
Miranda had shackled him before landing, his wrists separated by a short length of chain, his ankles tethered together in the same way. Then, under the cover of darkness, she’d led him across the asphalt to the waiting jet. He was supposedly stronger than most in the Histories, but he was not strong enough to break the chains— he’d tried more than once and succeeded only in bruising his wrists.
“How high are we?”
She lifted her eyes. “High enough for you to contemplate your death for three or four minutes before being smashed like a bug.”
“You think I would jump shackled like this?”
“I think you would save me the hassle of disposing of your body if you jumped without a parachute.”
He frowned. There were some qualities about Miranda that he found appealing, he’d decided: Her obsession with the Books of History. Her ruthlessness in pursuing what she understood to be great gain. She would have made a good leader among the Forest Guard with the right heart.
“What do you really hope to gain in all of this?” he asked.
She grinned. “You have to ask? I stand in a room below the earth with Alucard. This beast who’s lived for centuries and spawned only he knows what kind of evil upon this earth. Kings and their kingdoms have risen and fallen throughout history because of him.”
He hadn’t thought of it in those terms.
“He has more power and more wealth than any man who has ever lived. And yet he would trade it all for seven history books bound in leather. And you ask me what I hope to gain? The question is, what do you hope to gain?”
“I’m doing what was asked of me.”
“Of course, how silly of me. These fuzzy white bats from your world.”
“Elyon.”
“The one who made this mess to begin with.”
He turned from her and eyed the rear compartment door again. They would fly to Alucard’s lair, and with nothing left to gain from his life, she would dispose of him.
A bell sounded, and Miranda snatched her phone to her ear. Listened.
He had to get the shackles off using the key in her pocket. But even now her eyes rested on him, watching, always ready. She had two of the guns, one in each of two holsters under her arms. One wrong move and he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.
She suddenly stood, spun to
the Net screen that hung from the ceiling, and pressed a button. The thin box blazed to life.
There, on a stage like the one they’d seen in the Rose Bowl, stood none other than Karas. The caption below her said they were at the Pepsi Center in Denver. A Tony Montana benefit concert.
Miranda muttered a bitter curse. “They have them! They took them from under our noses!”
Johnis stood from his seat. “The books?”
Miranda whirled. “Sit!”
He remained standing, his eyes on the Net, and she spun back, momentarily preoccupied. Karas stood center stage with Tony Montana to one side. Her voice suddenly filled the box.
“So listen up, people.” She stepped to one side, and Silvie walked out to the microphone. In her hand she held a stack of three books: a black one, like the one they’d retrieved from Sally Drakes home; a purple one; a gold one.
She spoke in a shrill voice, yelling, staring right at the camera. “Alucard! Listen to me, you sick monster from hell! I have them.” She held up the three books. “I have the last three Books of History,”
She stopped, her eyes fiery and her breathing labored. Surely she realized that millions of people were watching this. It was why she was doing it.
But what, exactly, did she have in mind? Surely not …
“You want them? They’re yours. Give me Johnis, and you can have them. That’s all I ask. Give me the man that I love, and you can have these books and wreak all the terrible havoc you want.”
“She’s lost her mind.” Miranda laughed. “She’s gone completely mad. For love!”
“You know where I am. I’ll give you until daybreak. If you don’t come, I’m going to burn them!”
“She’s really lost her marbles this time. Totally—”
Johnis seized her momentary distraction and rushed her then, covering the carpet between them in two strides, each at the limit of the chains around his ankles.
His fingers clawed at one of the guns under her arm before she could turn. He let his momentum carry him forward, and his shoulder slammed into her back with enough force to snap her spine.
She grunted and started to rise, but he didn’t wait to see what damage he’d done. Her brown bag sat on her seat, and in that bag, the Book of History she’d taken from Sally Drake’s home.
