Johnis hardly heard him. His mind was fogged by the disease, though he desperately tried to hold on to reason. He managed to think about the book that Teeleh had taken such delight in. He didn’t know why the beast had trembled with joy when he’d taken possession of the second book, but it couldn’t mean anything good for humans.

Several delirious hours had passed, and the sun blazed bright and hot overhead. Except for a few Shataiki that flapped about the bleachers, the amphitheater had emptied when Teeleh had soared skyward. Four of the Shataiki stood guard on the stage with this demon wretch, waiting for Johnis and Silvie to finish their transformation into Scabs.

Beside him, Silvie was crying again. But in his own foggy thinking he was having difficulty determining why he should comfort her, much less how he could comfort her. He began to think that she sounded a bit like a bat.

“You don’t even know why the books are so powerful, do you?” something said. Oh yes—Alucard, the Shataiki bat, was speaking again. “I could torture you with needles, but the full knowledge of your failure will cause more pain.”

“What’s that smell?” Johnis heard himself mumble.

The bat stopped pacing. “I would think that’s your flesh rotting,” he said.

But it is more, Johnis thought. Something smells vaguely familiar.

“The books have the full creative power of will,” the Shataiki said. “They can influence the power of human decisions. They can make the word become flesh. They can make a moon red with blood or a soul black with lies.”

“ ‘Destroy the world,’ ” Johnis whispered, remembering the inscription on the rock. In the west, the Dark One seeks Seven to destroy the world.

“Yes. Something like that. The seven original books are the keys to heaven and hell. Teeleh is the rightful prince of both. He holds two in his library below.” The Shataiki gave a hissing cackle. “So close, yet so very far.”

“Smoke,” Johnis breathed, barely aware of his own voice.

“The smoke of hell is what you’ll soon be . . .”

The bat stopped midsentence. As a matter of fact, Johnis did smell smoke. The old bat was smoldering like a trampled fire, perhaps. Dust to dust, fire to fire, ash to ash.

A chorus of high-pitched shrieks carried across the hot wind from the east. Probably just more Shataiki squawking over a piece of rotten fruit or a rat they’d found.

Alucard whirled around and faced eastward.

Johnis lifted his eyes to clouds that boiled on the horizon. Odd, he thought. Those clouds weren’t there a few minutes ago. Is rain coming? It never rains in the desert, but what about here?