“Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal,” his grandfather said, steering fast around a corner. “Big library back there. They don’t like to talk about it, but they have a magnificent collection of old magical and occult works. I figured, if there was anywhere I might find out more about the Shadow Gate story, it would be in a particular four-hundred-year-old volume I just happen to know is locked in their restricted section. Thing is, you have to apply in advance for access—all sorts of red tape, Alex, forms to fill, and we don’t have the time.”

Alex closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “And?”

“Not much.” The old man winced in disappointment. “But there was a passing mention of the legend. It supposedly happened around the fifteenth century, at some castle in Germany. Although that hardly narrows it down. Castles galore over there. And, as I said, there’s always a price to pay: It seems that when our sorcerer opened this gate, the sky was torn apart, the earth cracked in protest, a pit opened into the underworld, and the castle fell. Some rigmarole like that.”

“Underworld?” Alex’s flesh crept. “What does that mean?”

“Who knows?” His grandfather shrugged. “Doesn’t sound too peachy, though. Anyway, this sorcerer had eleven followers. When he opened the gate and the great apocalypse began, they panicked and turned on him. The account is muddy, but the basics seem clear: they sealed the gate, renounced all his works, and changed their ways.”

“And you think the tall man wants to open the gate again?”

“Well. Sounds about his style, Alex. Wouldn’t you say?”

•  •  •

BEFORE LONG, THEY were out on a highway heading away from the city, eastward into night and rain. Still busy, the road stretched ahead dotted with moving lights. Every minute or so, the old man scrutinized the traffic behind, tension nibbling the corners of his eyes.

Alex’s grandfather pulled out his chocolate bar, bit off a mouthful, and proffered the rest. Alex shook his head.

“Take us most of the night to get where we’re going,” the old man mumbled. “You could take the opportunity to try the tablet again. Go gentle, but just see if you can, y’know, feel anything?”

“Yeah.” Alex turned to his window. “I’ll try. I’m just not sure I’ll be able—”

“Hang on,” the old man said, sounding grim. He switched lanes and accelerated, keeping his foot down almost a minute. Eventually, they moved back into slower traffic. Thirty seconds later, he suddenly repeated the operation, dodging through vehicles at speed.

“Just a test,” Alex’s grandfather said, after they had settled into a more sedate stream again. “Thought I spotted something. A big car as we were leaving the city. But we’re okay.” He glanced repeatedly at the rearview. “I think.”