“Forget the books for now,” Silvie cried. “We have to find Karas and Darsal first.”

“Of course,” Johnis said, pacing, “but our mission is to find all seven books, and all seven are now in this reality, visible, ready to be found. We have two; Karas and Darsal have two; that leaves the last three—only Elyon knows where—in this cursed place.”

“You think Alucard is here?”

She reached for his hand and held it in her own. Not out of affection, but because after hours alone in this unnerving place she needed to be close to someone. To him.

And judging by the slight quiver in his hand, Johnis needed comfort as well.

“I’m afraid, Johnis.”

“We made the right choice, Silvie.” But his voice was filled with doubt. “We’re here to find the seven books before the Dark One does. We’ll do that or die trying.”

“Spoken like the good old Johnis we all know so well.”

“Something’s wrong with us,” he said, looking at her. “I don’t feel like myself.”

“Really? You just now noticed?”

Johnis returned his attention to the valley. A dull roar rose from the city. “So . . . where are we?”

“I told you,” Silvie said. “We’re in hell.”

She tilted her head up at the sound of a distant roar. A huge white bird with fixed wings soared through the blue sky.

“Dear Elyon, look at the size of that thing.” Johnis grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the boulders. They vaulted over one and came to a stop in the shade of several larger rocks. “I’ve seen them all day,” Silvie said. “We’ve been spotted by now.”

Johnis looked skyward. “They’re birds?”

“If the buggies are ants, then maybe those monsters are birds,” she said, sliding to her seat. “Either way, they can’t possibly be good. If they’re the enemy, which we have to assume, they can’t be beaten, not by us.”

His soft brown eyes searched hers, his mind spinning behind the fine features, messy brown hair, and high cheekbones. If there was one person who would remain strong in the most difficult situation, clinging to principle and all that was right, it was Johnis. He’d proven that over and over again.

“I need you, Johnis. I’m . . . I’m lost. My emotions seem to be getting the better of me.”

Johnis removed his eyes from hers and looked about, dazed.

“Maybe this is what happens when you vanish from one reality and reappear in another,” she said. “What if all our innards didn’t come through right?”

Johnis stood, withdrew his knife, and twirled it once. Then again, twice this time. Silvie was the master with knives, but he performed the maneuver with surprising ease.

“Our bodies seem to have come through in one piece,” he said.