Thousands of books lined the shelves on either side, but the wall directly ahead was draped with red velvet swags. A single table was framed by the heavy drapes. Twin candlesticks, each forming a winged serpent, sat on the table: Teeleh’s symbol.

Miranda stood before the table, her back toward him. She turned and walked to one side, giving him full view of the table. The four books lay one on top of the other—black, brown, blue, green.

“Welcome to my world,” Miranda said.

Johnis looked at the woman standing like a warrior in a dress, boots, and long, stringy hair. She looked as if she might be sick.

“Your world or his world?” Johnis asked.

“Is there a difference?”

“You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“And I would say it’s you who have no idea what you’ve stumbled into. If Darsal was right, you were nothing but a poet a few weeks ago, rejected by this Forest Guard of yours. Your little quest is only four weeks old, isn’t that right?”

So much had happened that it felt much longer. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Here in the so-called Histories, the quest for the books’ power is over two thousand years old.” Miranda’s lips twisted in a whimsical smile. “You’re but the latest little blip in a very long and gruesome ordeal that’s lasted centuries. Darsal stumbled into something much larger than she could possibly know. As have you. The truth is, you know nothing, little Johnis.” Then much louder, even furious, “Nothing!”

“I know where he comes from!” Johnis gestured toward the candlesticks. “Who he is. What he’s capable of.”

Miranda chuckled and walked slowly past the table, brushing the four books with her fingertips. “Really? Then tell me even one thing you know so well. Tell me who he is?”

“The Dark One: Alucard.”

“The nasty beast, Alucard. And what do you really know about Alucard?”

“That Teeleh sent him here to deceive the likes of you, which he’s done surprisingly well in such a short time.”

Miranda walked back, her hands now behind her back like a lecturer. Grinning at the fool. “You see, already you’re misinformed. Alucard has been here for two thousand years, sowing seeds of misery and darkness in more ways than you’ve imagined.”

She let the statement settle.

“And although he’s a nasty beast around whom a whole mythology has emerged, spawning hundreds of stories about vampires and creatures of the night and all such things, he’s not this ‘Dark One’ Darsal went on and on about. Not in this world, anyway. For that matter, neither is Marsuvees Black. Nor Red nor White . . . nor any of the other minions.”

“Who then?”