She jumped back. But other than moving its head about, the worm did nothing. No sign of threat other than this cry of protest. The halls fell quiet once more.

“They’ve been trapped down here,” Karas said, “for Elyon knows how long. Waiting to be set free.”

“By who?”

“Alucard? Maybe he couldn’t do it without all seven books.”

“If you’re right,” Silvie said, “and if he thinks he has the other four, he might be on his way now.”

“So . . . we should go in.”

They exchanged a look of fear, then walked forward into the tunnel.

The walls were strewn so thick with worms that they hid most of the stone. They waded through four inches of sludge covering the floor, only partially protected by their boots.

Silvie switched her torch to one hand and covered her nose with the other. If the lair was laid out like Alucard’s, the heart of the nest would be behind a set of gates, ahead on the right.

Which is where they found it. Gate locked. Empty of worms.

Their torches illuminated a study of sorts, complete with desk, a couch, and some bookcases. No dust, but plenty of worm salve. It was almost identical to the study in Alucard’s lair. Slightly different furniture and arrangement, but clearly cut from the same blueprint.

“Stand back.” Karas aimed the barrel of her gun at the lock, turned her head, and pulled the trigger. Boom!

Worms squealed. The lock lay in two. She wrestled it from the latch and opened the gate. With a screech of rusted hinges, the study opened to them.

“Are they here?” Silvie demanded.

Karas fired a stick and set the flame against an old torch mounted on the wall. The flame grew and crackled, spewing black smoke.

Orange light licked the glistening walls. Someone had carved an inscription into the rock next to the gate: Welcome to Paradise, Population 450.

“This is definitely what Billy wrote,” Karas said.

“You mean ‘Billos’?”

“No. One of the children in the monastery. It’s a long story. But this is where the showdown all began. Or ended. Or is it still in full swing?”

“In my book it’s still going,” Silvie said. “Until we find Johnis and the books.”

“So where are they?”

She turned, studying each corner. Silvie walked to the desk and pulled open one of two drawers on each side.

There, just visible in the shadows, lay an old black book. The words on its cover jumped out. Silvie gasped. Reached for the book and pulled it out. Bound in red twine exactly like the other four.

“I was right!” Karas cried. “They’re here!”

But the drawer was empty. “They?”

Karas fumbled with the other drawer, yanked it open, staring inside. She reached in with both hands and pulled out two books, laying them on the desk beside Silvie’s black one.