The water hit the ground and sizzled. He’d nearly forgotten the power at his fingertips. But it wasn’t enough now.

“No,” he repeated. “We can’t just open a book—”

“It’s the only way out of here,” Karas said.

She spoke the truth, and the Shataiki all seemed to know it. Then why were they standing by?

“Open the book, Billos.”

He searched Darsal’s eyes. They both knew that the books might be Billos’s only way to survive. If there was no way out through the books, he would be trapped here to face whatever fate the Shataiki found suitable.

“Open it,” Darsal said in a thin voice.

Billos hesitated only one more moment, then reached for the green book on the stack of four in Karas’s hands.

“The books have to be together to create the breach,” Alucard said through dripping saliva, as if tasting a delicious fruit he’d waited his whole life to sink his teeth into. “Then the breach is accessed by any of the books until all four are gone. To return, a new breach must be created, using all four.”

The breach he was talking about wasn’t the same as the one that Billos had gone through. This gate opened by all four books would take them to a different place altogether: Earth.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Silvie asked.

Billos withdrew his knife and placed the blade on the string that bound the book. He looked at Johnis, who nodded.

The twine popped under the blade’s sharp edge. Alucard held his ground. The room stilled.

“Open it,” the beast said. His lips trembled with anticipation.

Billos rested one finger along the cover’s edge, then lifted it open. Parchment browned with age faced them all.

But no magic. Nothing that indicated great power lay within. Not even words of another reality.

“Cut your hand. It needs blood.”

Billos sliced his palm. Blood seeped from the wound.

“Put your hand on the page,” Alucard said.

Billos’s hand hovered above, then lowered to the open page. He let it rest there for a moment, then lifted his eyes.

“Nothing.”

A coy smile twisted Alucard’s lips. “You see?”

“Silvie,” Johnis said. “Put your hand on the book.”

“Yes, Silvie,” Alucard said. “Enter the book.”

Silvie glanced at the gate, then looked into Johnis’s eyes. “If something happens—if I go somewhere—you’ll come. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

She handed her water bag to Johnis, walked up to the book, cut her own palm, and unceremoniously placed her bleeding hand on the same page Billos had tried.

Only this time something did happen. This time the space where Silvie stood was suddenly spinning, as if she had become a funnel of dust, swirling in color, fading fast.

Johnis stood rooted, shocked at the sight of her transformation. The book began to suck her in.

“Do your bidding,” Teeleh breathed behind them.