by Ted Dekker
“Then tell me.”
“I cant. Not yet. It’s too terrible.”
“Will it affect our mission?”
Darsal sighed. “Is there nothing but the mission for you?”
“Yes! There’s Silvie. There’s getting back to Middle! There’s life, because if we fail, I have a feeling there won’t be any.”
“Fair enough,” She paused. “When I arrived in Las Vegas, I was as lost as you. Karas was a young child then, and I had no way of contacting her. By the time I learned that the entertainment mogul was actually our Karas, I had already made the connection with Paradise and tracked the books back to Turkey and then from Turkey to Romania, where I learned that Alucard had been sowing his disease. I got too close to him and exposed myself. It was then that I decided that he and Miranda, that witch he’d taken up with, had to think I was dead.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Is there anything about this mission that hasn’t been dangerous? I managed to pull it off—amazing what a pile of money and the right medical clinic can do for you these days.”
“So what do you know about Alucard?”
“I know he plans on opening a gateway for the Shataiki. I’ve been in the chamber where he keeps his worms.”
“The library,” Johnis said.
“You’ve been in his dungeon?”
He told her.
“Then you know where we’re going. The gateway chamber is deeper than the library you were in. That’s where he’ll do his deed. And that, my friend, is where we’re going.”
She stopped then, as if she’d come to the end of it.
“That’s what you needed to tell me?” Johnis asked.
Darsal set her jaw. “This is all a bit much. We’ll have time later.” She reclined her seat and closed her eyes. “Get some sleep. We’re going to need it.”
THE NIGHT WAS STILL BLACK WHEN THEY PULLED THE CAR off the road and ran through the woods, around Alucard’s mansion an hour north of Bucharest, Romania. They could see two cars parked at the front, a good indication that Miranda had brought them here, as suspected.
They both ran with silver guns firmly fixed to their hips and two long knives on each thigh. Dressed in black from head to foot, Darsal carried a few supplies in a pack at her belly, but other than that, they were going in lean.
They’d made the change on final approach into Bucharest. Darsal had given Johnis lessons on aiming and firing the guns, and she assured him that after fighting the Horde, it was child’s play. Just point and shoot, and brace for a slight kick.
The stone mansion stood dark against a starry sky in the center of the clearing they faced. Asleep by all exterior indications. No lights, no smoke from chimneys, no guards, no sounds but the nearby chirping of crickets.
“Follow closely!” she whispered, breaking from the tree line.
Darsal ran in a crouch, ahead and to his right. They flew through the grass like crows from above. Crossed the hundred yards of cleared ground in a matter of seconds.
They stopped with their backs to the rear wall, listening. Nothing.
Darsal pointed to a stone well they’d passed twenty feet away. “We’re going down.”
“Into the well?”
But she was going already.
Darsal slipped like a cat over the Up of the well, gripped a rope hung at the center, and disappeared into the earth.
A quick tug convinced Johnis the rope would hold them both. He swung out into the well and lowered himself after her.
Down. A hundred feet. Into utter darkness.
It occurred to him that there was no scent of water. A dry well then?
“Here!” Her hands tugged at his shirt and stopped his descent. She pulled him into a tunnel built into the wall. “Water was drawn here when the well was operational. Stay close.”
They hurried through the darkness, using their hands to guide them along the wall. He could hear her breathing, the sound of her boots padding on the rock. But he still could see nothing.
She stopped and put her hand on his shoulder. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
“There’s only one way to do this, and it won’t be fun. A ventilation shaft runs down to the right just ahead. It leads to the gateway chamber. There aren’t any gates to stop us.”
She said it as if this alone weren’t good news. “But?”
“But there are worms.” She pulled something from her pack and handed it to him. “It’s a raincoat with a hood. You’re going to need it.”
They slipped into the plastic suits, and she pulled him forward. “The more speed you hit them with, the easier it will be to get through. You don’t want to get stuck in the middle. Trust me.”
So. This is why she’d been coy about the details of their rescue attempt. They were going to try to slide through a nest of worms. The thought made him shudder.
He smelled the terrible scent of rotten eggs before he felt the hole open on his right. Slime on the walls confirmed they’d reached the air vent in question.
“You’ve done this?”
“More than once. Go on your back, feet first.” She engaged her gun with a loud clank. “Go down with one gun ready.”
She was serious.
But even she was hesitating. “Remember, the faster the better.”
“Hold on. What can we expect past the worms?”
“A ten-foot drop into the chamber. The gateway. With any luck, Silvie.”
Then she threw herself into the shaft and slid away, like a log down the mud waterfalls south of Middle.
Johnis withdrew one of his guns, chambered a round as she’d shown him, held the weapon close to his chest, pulled the hood over his head, and jumped into the slimy tube.
The worm gel was even more slippery than he’d expected. He slid down the chute like a rock, eyes clenched, breath held against the stench. Then his boots slammed into a soft body, and he was in the nest.
Squeals of protest filled his ears. He was all the way in, from head to foot, and he could feel the soft, lumpy bodies on his cheeks. And he still wasn’t through!
Panicked, he gasped. A mistake. The taste of the worm gel was no less offensive than its odor. And then he was out of them, falling free. He opened his eyes for orientation, but it was dark, and gel was thick over his face.
He landed hard, rolled once, and came to his knees, the breath knocked clean out of him. The goo … he had to get the goo out of his eyes. The gun in his fist prevented a clean swipe of his face, but he managed to get most of the stuff off.
Johnis jumped to his feet, his gun extended in the dark.
Fire hissed loudly five feet from him, and he saw that Darsal had ignited a flare from her pack. Her hood was back, and she’d managed to avoid getting any of the mucus on her face.
Johnis glanced around the room, saw no immediate danger, and shrugged out of his plastic suit, glad to be dry. His stomach was on the verge of protesting violently, but he held it in check. Free now, he could think straight.
And see the worms on the ceiling. The huge concentric circles on one wall looked exactly like the rings on the books’ covers.
“Johnis?”
He spun to the sound of Silvie’s voice. She stood against the far wall next to Karas—shackled.
Johnis reached her in four long bounds, dropped his gun at her feet, and fumbled frantically with her cuffs. But the metal clasps were locked tight.
“Easy!” Darsal whispered.
“Darsal,” Karas said. “I thought …”
“Do I look dead?”
“What … what happened?”
“Later. Right now we have our hands full.”
“Thank Elyon,” Silvie breathed. “Thank Elyon!”
Johnis grabbed her face and kissed her. She returned the kiss, and not till he pulled back did he think about the worm salve on his skin. She didn’t seem to mind.
“Don’t thank him too quickly.” Darsal glanced about the room. “We have to destroy the g
ateway and get out alive.”
Silvie and Karas were shackled along a wall that contained chains and metal clasps for four people. Miranda or Alucard had the keys, and the steel links were an inch thick.
“How do we get them out?”
“Not with a bullet, if that’s what you’re thinking. Too thick. We’ll have to figure out how to get the key.”
“What?” Karas cried. “Are you crazy? We have to get out of here!”
“No, we have to destroy the gateway.”
“He doesn’t need a gateway! He needs the books. This is all symbolic.”
“Yes and no. He needs a place to gather the Shataiki that come through. He also needs a nest for the females. With Shataiki, males lay worms that females fertilize.” She crossed to the wall and lit a torch. Yellow flames lapped hungrily at the air.
“A typical flame won’t do much to this stuff, but get enough heat and their mucus will go up like gasoline.”
“Well, then,” Johnis said, “we have our way of destroying them.”
“Problem is, we’re in here too. Along with the books.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
Darsal walked closer to them, eyeing the large black table that stood before the concentric circles formed on the wall. “I don’t know. Part of me thinks we should just burn the books with this stink hole. From everything I’ve seen, they are as evil as Alucard.”
What was she saying? Johnis glanced at Silvie.
“You can’t do that,” Karas said.
“Can’t I?” Darsal eyed her, wearing a crooked smile. “I think I’ve earned the right to do whatever I need to do. The books killed Billos, didn’t they?”
“You know he’s dead?”
“He was left in a dungeon filled with Shataiki!” Venom laced her voice. “Of course he’s dead! Either that or he’s Shataiki himself.” She forced a smile. “All hail the books. We should probably burn every last one.”
The change in her took Johnis off guard. After ten years, she held on to a bitterness that could nor be easily dismissed.
“But first we have to figure out how to get out of here.” She turned her attention to the gateway. “I’ve been in here three times, and each time I can’t help but think that there’s something about the circles that look wrong. Do you see it, Silvie?”
Johnis stood by her side and looked at the gateway. The stone rings looked like they’d been melted in rather than placed. Nothing else that he could see.
“We can’t stand here discussing the gateway!” Karas snapped. “Miranda could step in now, and we’d be finished.”
Darsal walked closer to Silvie. Jumped up on the ledge, eyes on the rings. “At the top of the rings, the worms avoid contact.”
Silvie and Johnis glanced up.
Darsal moved in that moment, when both of their eyes were diverted. She shoved Johnis’s hand back and slammed a shackle over his wrist before he knew what she was doing.
It locked on contact.
Johnis moved without thought. He snatched up the gun with his free hand and spun to Darsal, who’d stepped off the ledge.
“What are you doing?” Silvie cried. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Yes, Silvie.” She lifted her hands and gave Johnis a condescending smile. “I have lost my mind. I lost it with Billos in Alucard’s dungeon ten years ago.”
“Don’t think I won’t use this.” Johnis kept the gun trained on her.
“Would you, Johnis? Would you really shoot one of the chosen ones? Go ahead, pull the trigger.”
He lifted the barrel to the ceiling and pulled the trigger.
Click
“You don’t think I’d be foolish enough to give you a loaded gun, do you? After what you did to that Chevy?”
“What’s the meaning of this?” Karas snapped. “You think that witch Miranda won’t kill you as quickly as she kills us?”
“No, I don’t think she will.”
“Why not?”
“Because I am Miranda.”
What? She was speaking figuratively, Johnis thought. He’d seen them both within the last twenty-four hours, and apart from their hair and their height, their frames, their eyes … He stopped.
“This isn’t Middle, my friends. This is 2033. Masks and cosmetics have come a long way.”
They stared at her, grappling with the notion that the woman they’d known as Miranda had actually been Darsal all along.
“Why?” Karas cried.
Darsal drilled her with a dark stare. “Maybe you’ll understand before it’s all over. Which only gives you a few minutes.”
A door to their right suddenly swung open. The large Shataiki named Alucard stood in its frame, staring at them with yellowed eyes. For a long moment no one moved. No one seemed to breathe.
“Do you have it?” the beast said.
Darsal, who was Miranda, reached into her pack. Withdrew the seventh book. The black one that Karas had hidden and that Darsal had made a show of securing in New York. Her deception had run as deep as her bitterness.
She walked up to Alucard, who stepped into the room.
“The seventh book, sir.”
lames crackled from seven lampstands that Miranda had lit around the table in front of the gateway. A thin trail of oily smoke rose from each, spreading before reaching the nest of worms writhing above. With each passing moment, their agitation seemed to increase, as though they, too, had waited an eternity for this moment.
On the table stood two finely crafted wooden candelabras holding seven colored candles, each which Darsal now lit. A silver bowl filled with water sat to one side.
Ail of this made sense to Silvie. Symbols from Other Earth. Colored candles on wood symbolized the Colored Forests from the legends. Water symbolized Elyon’s water. But two other objects on the end of the table were less obvious to her. A framework that looked somewhat like the drowning gallows that the Horde used, and two crossed planks.
At the center, lit clearly by the wavering flame, lay the seven Books of History, side by side. The black one Michal had first given them on the left. Then the brown, the blue, the green, the purple, the golden, and another black.
Alucard stood across the room, watching Darsal quickly prepare the table. He turned with her wherever she went, as if he feared turning his back to her for even one moment. It was the way evil worked, Silvie thought. Distrusting.
So this was it? All they’d fought for came down to this moment, far below the earth, in the Romanian mountains? The search for the six missing Books of History, the love that had blossomed between Silvie and Johnis, the …
She swallowed at the lump gathered in her throat. “Why haven’t they killed us?” she whispered.
“They’re going to drown us,” Karas’s eyes glistened with tears. “Either that or crucify us. It’s how he does it.”
“You can’t know that,” Johnis said. “He’s gloating after two thousand years of waiting; he’s relishing—”
“Silence!” Alucard thundered.
The beast glared at them with yellow eyes. His mangy black coat looked like it hadn’t been groomed once in the two thousand years since he’d vanished from his lair in the Black Forest— a few days ago for Silvie and Johnis, ten years for Karas and Darsal.
“How could you do this?” Johnis’s voice cut through the room, heavy with bitterness. He was speaking to Darsal. “How could you betray Elyon?”
A roar crackled through the air; Alucard’s wings spread wide, his jaws tilted to the ceiling. Rather than feeling any fear at his display of rage, Silvie felt some consolation in the fact that he still reacted so strongly to the name of their maker.
“And who betrayed Billos?” Darsal snapped, ignoring both Alucard’s order for silence and his roar.
“You!” Johnis cried. “You’re betraying him right now!”
Darsal faced him, her expression drawn and red. “Who made a mockery of the Great Romance by stealing the one love I’ve known for the sake of these cursed book
s?”
“You. You’re making a mockery of the mission.”
“Shut up!” she screamed. But she couldn’t hold back. “If it weren’t for these books, none of us would be here!” She stepped closer, jabbing the air to accentuate each point. “There would be no Shataiki or Horde. I would have died for Billos! Do you understand that? He was my life!”
“And you blame Elyon? Don’t be a fool!”
“I made a vow, and Elyon help me, I’ll keep it or die with Billos!”
“What can you hope to achieve by this?”
A crooked grin split her face. “You know what I hope to gain. These larvae need a female to complete their transformation into lovely black butterflies with fangs. The worms in this hall are female. Once they’ve been fertilized, there’s no turning back.”
“We begin!” Alucard snarled. He walked toward the table, and with each step his claws clacked on the stone floor.
“Please, Darsal.” Johnis could beg all he liked—she didn’t look interested in bending her decision to betray Elyon, Silvie thought. Embittered by her loss of the one man she was willing to die for, Darsal had sworn to wage war on the books and whoever stood in her path to do so.
“We begin!” Alucard growled again.
Darsal’s fierce glare drilled Johnis for another long beat. She turned her back to them and walked to the table under Alucard’s watchful gaze.
Why was the beast so attentive to her? Clearly there was some bad blood between them.
“Why him?” Karas whispered in a voice so faint that Silvie could barely hear her words. “Why is she cooperating?”
Karas’s eyes were wide, and her face glistened with sweat. The thin white blouse she’d worn was now badly smudged and wet. She looked at Silvie.
“If she’s waging war …”
“Don’t, Darsal,” Johnis pleaded. “You can’t open the gate! They’ll only destroy you.”
No reaction this time.
Alucard stood over the seven books like a hawk over a nest of chicks. Saliva dribbled from pink lips and pooled on the table. Darsal stood to one side, eyes on the beast, jaw firm.
Alucard reached for a long knife, held his paw over the silver bowl with water, and slashed himself.
