Yet they were chosen. It was up to them to follow either the one who had made them dark, or the one who had chosen each of them.

Teeleh or Elyon.

“No, no, no, no, no, no . . .” Darsal was rocking, sobbing the words.

Shataiki continued to stream into the room.

“Please, Darsal,” Karas cried. “Please . . .”

Without warning, another larger Shataiki spilled through the gateway, landed next to Alucard’s dead body, and flapped to steady itself.

“Darsal!” Silvie screamed.

She jerked her head up at the warning, seeing the second female. She stood shakily, staring, gathering her wits.

And then something behind her eyes snapped into place. She rushed the dead slab of meat that used to be Alucard and jerked the stake from its heart.

Screamed, red-faced.

Rushed the second female from behind.

Slammed the stake into its back, right through the rib cage, through whatever innards filled the heartless creature, and right out its chest.

She held the stake in place, resisting the attempts of the flailing beast to break free.

“Back to hell!” Darsal thundered. Then again, in a voice that cracked with emotion, “Back to hell!”

She released the stake and staggered back, breathing hard. Her heel struck her bag, and she stopped. Still Shataiki poured in through the gateway.

“Darsal . . .”

It was all Johnis needed to say. Darsal’s face wrinkled with anguish for just a moment. She glanced up, saw the beasts bowing to her, and swept up her bag. Flung it sidearmed at Johnis.

“The keys!” Silvie cried. “Quick!”

Johnis frantically rummaged through the bag.

Darsal was already sprinting toward the Books of History, scattering the Shataiki gathered there. She grabbed the stack of books with both hands and tore the top three from the table with a grunt.

The light vanished immediately with a crack that echoed through the chamber. The upper halves of two Shataiki spun from the closed gateway into the room and fell to the floor, dead lumps of bleeding fur.

Darsal’s sudden change of heart wasn’t lost on the thousands of Shataiki gathered on the floor. They began to bob and shriek with open jaws, like begging chicks in a nest.

“Hurry!” Darsal grabbed the other four books and sprinted for them.

Johnis found the keys, freed Silvie, and was working on Karas.

Thoughts of servitude no longer in their minds, the Shataiki began to take flight around the room. First a dozen, then a hundred, then a thousand, shrieking and flapping in a river of black just below the worms.

Darsal kept one eye on the Shataiki and one on the bag as she withdrew first one, then two flares.

The bats gained courage and began to sweep down, snapping their jaws. Above them, the worms were screaming.

Darsal shoved a flare at Silvie. “Light it by ripping the cap off. It’s hot enough to ignite the worms’ mucus. This place will go up like a tin of gasoline.”