Miranda had shackled him before landing, his wrists separated by a short length of chain, his ankles tethered together in the same way. Then, under the cover of darkness, she’d led him across the asphalt to the waiting jet. He was supposedly stronger than most in the Histories, but he was not strong enough to break the chains—he’d tried more than once and succeeded only in bruising his wrists.

“How high are we?”

She lifted her eyes. “High enough for you to contemplate your death for three or four minutes before being smashed like a bug.”

“You think I would jump shackled like this?”

“I think you would save me the hassle of disposing of your body if you jumped without a parachute.”

He frowned. There were some qualities about Miranda that he found appealing, he’d decided: Her obsession with the Books of History. Her ruthlessness in pursuing what she understood to be great gain. She would have made a good leader among the Forest Guard with the right heart.

“What do you really hope to gain in all of this?” he asked.

She grinned. “You have to ask? I stand in a room below the earth with Alucard. This beast who’s lived for centuries and spawned only he knows what kind of evil upon this earth. Kings and their kingdoms have risen and fallen throughout history because of him.”

He hadn’t thought of it in those terms.

“He has more power and more wealth than any man who has ever lived. And yet he would trade it all for seven history books bound in leather. And you ask me what I hope to gain? The question is, what do you hope to gain?”

“I’m doing what was asked of me.”

“Of course, how silly of me. These fuzzy white bats from your world.”

“Elyon.”

“The one who made this mess to begin with.”

He turned from her and eyed the rear compartment door again. They would fly to Alucard’s lair, and with nothing left to gain from his life, she would dispose of him.

A bell sounded, and Miranda snatched her phone to her ear. Listened.

He had to get the shackles off using the key in her pocket. But even now her eyes rested on him, watching, always ready. She had two of the guns, one in each of two holsters under her arms. One wrong move and he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.

She suddenly stood, spun to the Net screen that hung from the ceiling, and pressed a button. The thin box blazed to life.

There, on a stage like the one they’d seen in the Rose Bowl, stood none other than Karas. The caption below her said they were at the Pepsi Center in Denver. A Tony Montana benefit concert.

Miranda muttered a bitter curse. “They have them! They took them from under our noses!”

Johnis stood from his seat. “The books?”