“Hello, Billy.” He paused. “Mind if I call you Billy? It’s easier to say than this Billos crap. Besides, Bill rhymes with will, and that’s what we’re here to fix. My will, her will, we all scream for Bill’s will. Kapische?”

Billos stepped toward Darsal, who looked as if she’d been beaten before being strung up. “What’s going on? Who are you? You can’t do this!”

“I can’t. Gee whiz, oh my gosh, I’m sorry. What’s your plan? We all lie down and die? ’Cause that’s what happens in about five minutes if we don’t kill someone. Her. Or you. I’m not volunteering, and there’s no other way out.”

That was the second time the man in black had suggested that there was no way out of the library. Billos glanced around—no windows or doors that he could see.

“Name’s Black,” the man said. “Marsuvees Black. You, Billy Boy, and me, the Black man, and Darsal-poo here have all found ourselves trapped in a magical room that will only let us out if one of us dies. So say The Powers That Be.”

Billos stared at Darsal, pushing down the confusion that throbbed through his head. Confusion that unnerved him like the rest of this crazy place. Like this—he looked back at the man called Black—this human dressed up like a Shataiki.

“The Powers That Be?” he asked.

Black forced a grin. “Evil, baby. I suggest we comply. Trust me, when we do get out of this room, the world that awaits you no less than seriously rocks. Power that will make your bones quiver like a snake’s tail, baby.”

The man took a breath, holding his grin. “But I’ll let you make the choice. Let me kill her and walk into a new life. Or pretend you can stop me and die with her. Your choice.”

Billos hesitated only a moment, filled with thoughts of power that might make his bones quiver, then regained his composure and with it his backbone. He walked toward Darsal, swiveling his knife.

The man called Marsuvees Black slipped a large silver knife from a sheath Billos hadn’t seen until now and stepped up to Darsal.

“Think about this, you stupid nincompoop.” The man spoke with a certain uncaring that made Billos believe he could as easily kill both Darsal and him as take a breath.

For a brief moment he considered his options. The man’s eyes flashed above his curved lips, inviting or threatening or both.

“No,” Billos said. Then he threw reason aside and vaulted the railing, knife extended.

“No? The boy from the land of books says no?”

“I said no!” Billos launched himself at the man in a single bound that carried him much higher than he expected with ridiculous ease.