Billos directed a blast of suhupow toward the shelves behind the bar. Boom! Glass shattered; bottles crashed to the ground.

“Move it! I’m not beyond taking a limb in this state of mind.”

“Why not just kill us and be done with it?” Darsal demanded.

Billos hesitated, then spoke what he thought must be the truth. “Because I still love you.”

“Love me? With a suhupow gun pointed at me?”

“You’ll see. This will all make perfect sense when it’s over. I’m chosen, Darsal. I was born for power, and this is the time of my making.”

She refused to budge.

Billos shifted his gun so that it lined up with Karas. “Don’t make me.”

Darsal spit to one side, turned her back on him, and walked for the back door.

“You too.” He motioned at Karas with the weapon.

“I don’t know what kind of love you think this is, and I certainly don’t know why Darsal ever loved anyone as mean as you,” she snapped. Then she fell in behind Darsal.

Billos paraded them out of Smither’s Barbeque, down the now-empty back alley, and through the store’s back entrance.

“You see, now we’re back to where we started,” he said. “If you would have listened to me, Papa and the two cops would still be alive.”

“We are listening to you,” Darsal said. “And there’s no doubt but that plenty of death awaits us all.”

Billos searched the store for Marsuvees Black. That the man was putting him through this incredible test of loyalty, forcing Billos to betray Darsal, could only mean that what lay ahead was equally incredible.

Surely Black could have walked into the eatery and done what he wanted rather than give Billos the task. This was like battle school, and Billos was being put through the final test before being handed the sword of power.

As soon as Billos had proven himself, Black would undoubtedly give Darsal her freedom, and all would be forgiven. There was always the chance that Billos was wrong on this point, but he refused to take that slim chance seriously.

“Stop,” he ordered.

Still no sign of Black.

“He wanted you to get the books for him, didn’t he?” Darsal asked, turning to face him.

Billos wasn’t sure what he was expected to do at this point. Maybe leave them locked up while he went after the rest of the village.

“He’s after the books, Billos. For all we know, he’s the Dark One. You’re making a terrible mistake.”

Billos had considered the possibility but refused to dwell on it. The lure of greatness was too great to be bothered by such unlikely risks. And even if it wasn’t that unlikely . . . Billos had been chosen, what could he say?

“He’s going to eat you up and spit you out,” Darsal said.

“You’re as smart as you look, peach plum.”