“Darsal . . .” Johnis didn’t bother imploring this time. Just “Darsal,” and it was clearly for his own remorse. Darsal, Darsal, what have you done?

One by one Darsal set the books on the stack as Alucard wet their covers with his blood until there was only the second black book left to set on top.

Instead of placing the book on top, Darsal held the book out to him. “This one should be yours to place, sir.”

Alucard hesitated. Clearly this was not as rehearsed.

He took the book, uttering a soft growl. Held it over the sixth book with both hands. Lifted his head to the stone gateway before him.

He spoke in a low, crackling voice that filled the room. “By the power entrusted in me, for Teeleh, my master, and his precious blood, which gives life to all who despise Elyon and his waters, I call you forth . . . my bride.”

Darsal eased to one side of the table, her eyes on the books.

Alucard lowered the last black book.

A flash of light cracked above the books. Silvie threw herself as low as her chains would allow her. Above them the worms began to squeal.

“Elyon, help us,” Johnis breathed, gripping her hand even tighter.

The light slammed into the stone wall and ran a ring around the perimeters of the concentric circles. Alucard spread his wings, lifted his jaw, and roared, “My bride!”

The gate dissolved into light, humming with the power of a thousand lightning bolts. Silvie couldn’t breathe. Her heart felt as though it had been crammed into her throat.

The first streak of black that cut through the light was a Shataiki guard, the kind that had flocked above Silvie and Johnis in the Black Forest. Roughly two and half feet of shrieking muscle, with large yellow fangs.

And then they came in a dizzying rush, dozens in the space of a few seconds, flying to the ceiling, where they hooked their claws into the squealing worms and hung, glaring with red eyes.

It’s over, Silvie thought. We’ve lost.

But then everything changed.

Darsal moved. The smaller Shataiki were still flying through the breech, and Alucard was still glorying over his coming bride, and Darsal was moving like lightning.

She grabbed one of the wooden candlesticks and flung off the candles, rounding the table in long strides. The candlestick was now a long, sharpened stake.

Screaming at the top of her lungs, Darsal thrust the wooden stake under Alucard’s raised arm. Into his heart.

An earsplitting crack from the beast’s throat shook the chamber. A single, oversized Shataiki spilled out of the light and landed on the ground beyond Alucard. The female had joined her guard. And more of her guard flooded the gate.

Alucard spun about, slashing at empty air. Skin fell from his face, exposing bleached bone.

Darsal leaped over the books, snatched up the second candlestick, and descended on the still-disoriented female.