“Well?” Miranda pressed. “What could someone like Darsal or, for that matter, anyone do with the seven books?”

“Something in this world,” Johnis said.

“Yes, this world. It’s always been about this world. Even the Shataiki are about this world. They may have crossed some forbidden river, thanks to Tanis, as Alucard claims, but they’ve always had their sights on this world. And now they’re about to repeat it, honey.”

Some of what she said made sense; some it didn’t. For Johnis, the matter was simple: he was here to get the books before the Dark One could. And so far he’d done that by following his heart.

“It’s all about the Shataiki, and it’s all about love.” Miranda looked at him. “What about you, Johnis? What would you do for love?”

“Anything.”

“I’m counting on it. You’re just like Darsal that way.” She rested her hand on his thigh. “I like that in a man.”

“Take your stinking hands off me.”

She leaned close. He could smell her perfume, a rich spice he didn’t recognize. The scent of Shataiki lingered faintly about her.

“When I have the books, you’ll change your tune, little boy. And make no mistake, I will have them.”

“Don’t you mean Alucard?”

“Alucard,” she said slowly. “I’m sure you’ve figured out that it was he who killed Darsal. As he intends on killing you.”

Her hand suddenly tightened like a vice above his knee. Her grip was strong, stronger than he thought possible.

She released him, lifted her hand, and slapped him with enough force to spin his head.

“Love, baby. It’s all about love.”

Two minutes later they settled in a field just behind a spire-tipped building Miranda called a “church,” and Johnis’s head was still spinning with her words. Her slap. He wasn’t sure he shouldn’t fear Miranda Card more than Alucard.

It was now all about timing. He would make his play, but not until they had the book. Then he would see just what this witch was made of. He had a few tricks up his sleeve himself.

“Where to?”

“To the home of Sally Drake,” Johnis said.

“Let’s go.”

“You know where it is?”

“Like I said, I’ve been here in the simulation looking for clues. If you’re wrong about this, I’m going to cut off your fingers. Start praying, boy.”

“HURRY!”

Silvie stumbled over the stones that littered the top of the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Karas, who carried the three Books of History, was still twenty steps behind. “Hurry!”

“This isn’t a race!” Karas panted. “We have them, Silvie. You want me to lose them?”

Silvie played her light to the side. She had no idea how far it was to the bottom or if there was a bottom. “Just hurry; they have Johnis.”