Chaos. Part 10

"I've spared no expense doing so. I'll show you the vault before we leave. No one can know. For all we know, he's watching us at this very moment."

"Alucard?" Silvie glanced at the perimeter.

"From a satellite in the sky," Karas said. "From the stars. Unlikely, but we have to be careful."

"Then let's take a new vow," Johnis said. He dropped to one knee and placed his right hand on the black book. "To never stray from our task of finding the seven before the Dark One does."

Silvie placed her cool palm over his knuckles. Then Karas, with wide eyes, joined the ranks of the chosen.

"To never stray from our task of finding the seven before the Dark One does," they said together.

"Though far from home, to remain home in our hearts, never to betray each other or the books."

Their eyes met in solemn intent. "Though far from home, to remain home in our hearts, never to betray each other or the books."

"Until the books are found or we die."

"Until the books are found or we die."

THE HELICOPTER REMINDED SILVIE OF A FLYING BEETLE, complete with beating wings and bug eyes, and it took a little encouragement from Karas to get her inside the apparatus.

The Rose Bowl, as it turned out, was a large stadium filled to capacity with onlookers who'd come to see Tony Montana perform. Karas instructed the pilot to hover over the scene while she explained how it all worked. The lights, the long lines of cars, the sound system.

"Absurd," Silvie scoffed.

Johnis turned from the gla.s.s door. "How is this any different than our own celebrations?"

"To hear a few people sing?"

"Your mind is too consumed with war, Silvie! Our own gathering isn't so different. And the gatherings of the legends! In the end we were made to celebrate; isn't that part of the Great Romance?"

In those terms he was right, of course. But she didn't waste the opportunity to refocus his mind. "Love, my dear," she said, winking. "The Great Romance is all about love."

His face blushed. "Yes. Love."

His entire demeanor seemed to have s.h.i.+fted a little off center since coming to the Histories, she thought. He was more excitable than stoic.

"You think this is something? You should see Agnew take the stage when I can convince them to come out of hiding. Their concerts sell out in hours, regardless of the venue," Karas said into her mouthpiece. "Take her down, Peter."

They landed behind the stage and were ushered in by a contingent of black-suited guards awaiting their arrival. Karas acknowledged each with a nod, a shake of the hand, a smile. By all that Silvie could see, Karas was widely admired here.

They hurried into a "green" room, which was actually a dirty white room under the stadium. Tony Montana was a slight man, dressed in a black s.h.i.+rt and a white headband. His jeans were torn, perhaps to give the illusion that he'd just come from battle, although Silvie knew nothing could be farther from the truth. The way handlers busied themselves around him, offering him drinks and delicacies, she doubted he'd ever lifted a shovel, much less a sword.

Any doubts she had about this man the throngs had come to adore fell to the side when he turned and looked at her. His eyes were a bright blue, a complete contrast to his dark skin and black, tangled hair. He studied her with interest, simultaneously intense and innocent. But more than ail of this, his face, the pouting shape of his lips, the small nose, the baby-smooth skin. Apart from his blue eyes, Tony Montana reminded her very much of Johnis.

Karas took Silvie's arm. "You see it too?"

"He looks a" Silvie paused, not sure she should make the comparison.

"Like Johnis," Karas said. "If I ever allow myself to fall in love, it will be with this man." She stepped up to the rock star. "h.e.l.lo, Tony. I would like you to meet the two most important people in the world to me."

He kissed her cheek. "And here I thought I occupied one of those places." To Silvie, dipping his head, "A pleasure."

Tony Montana made polite conversation, but as Johnis gained confidence, they began prying with questions that seemed to genuinely engage each other. Soon they were in a deep discussion about poetry and beauty and love and all things creative.

An attendant with an earpiece approached them from a side door. "Sixty seconds, Kara."

Karas nodded. "You ready, Tony?"

"Always, my dear."

She nodded to the attendant. "Take my friends to the press box. I'll join you in a few a"

She stopped, slipped a thin black card from her jeans, and stared at a red light that blinked on one end.

"Kara?" Tony touched her elbow. "Everything okay?"

She blinked. Slid the card back into her pocket. "Fine." But her face had paled. "I'll meet you in the box."

They watched from the press box as Karas took the stage to the sound of cheering cries that suggested she was the star they'd come to see, Silvie thought. It was hard to imagine that this frail-looking woman had been a little girl trapped in Witch's dungeon only a week earlier, at least from her perspective. Yet here she was, acknowledging the roaring approval of a hundred thousand fans in the Histories.

Then Karas introduced Tony Montana, and the stadium trembled with pounding hands and feet. The lights went out, smoke rose on the stage, a single drum began to thump, and Silvie held her breath.

She wasn't ready for the thunder that followed. Lightening stuttered on the stage, blinding them. The drums pounded. Silvie grabbed Johnis's arm.

Tony leaped higher than seemed natural, his legs twisted to one side, and when his feet landed, the guitars roared. Music, the screaming variety she'd heard earlier, shook the stadium.

"Fantastic!"

She turned to see Johnis grinning from ear to ear. His delight was infectious. She had to agree: the sound of music from the Histories was, indeed, fantastic.

"Like it?"

Karas had come up behind them.

"Yes."

"Good. We have to go."

The black card, Silvie thought. There's a problem.

"What's wrong?" Johnis asked.

"I just talked to Rick. There's a woman at the house who refuses to give her name. We need to see her immediately."

"Why?"

"Because she claims to have a blue book with her. The blue Book of History."

aras walked with a quick, tense step. Silvie had watched her address a hundred thousand screaming fens as casually as a mother addressing her children before sending them off to bed. But news of one woman who claimed to have the fourth Book of History in her possession was enough to betray her true compa.s.s. Whatever others thought of Kara Longford's interests in entertainment here on Earth, in truth her heart teetered on the balances of good and evil in a world far, far away.

She flung the front door to her house wide before the butler had a chance to open it. "Where?"

"She's waiting in the atrium, my lady." He bowed.

Karas stepped out of her shoes and moved over the marble floor in her bare feet, followed closely by Johnis and Silvie.

The woman who refused to give her name stood on the patio next to the lighted pool, her back to them. The night horizon glimmered with a million city lights. A stiff breeze whipped at the guest's loose slacks and blue blouse. Her long, black hair flowed on the wind. Silvie could only think of one name: Darsal.

They stopped ten feet from the woman, silent in the night.

"May we help you?" Karas asked.

Their guest turned and stared at them. All hope that this woman might be Darsal vanished. The resemblance went no further than her dark hair and height. No scar. Cheekbones too high. Lips thinner. Arms thin, not muscular from battle.

"Kara Longford." The woman stepped forward and extended her hand, "It's so good to finally meet you. Miranda Card."

Karas took her hand. "Miranda Card. What's this about a blue book?"

"And these"a"Miranda looked at Johnis and Silviea""are the two chosen ones: Johnis and Silvie."

"You know about us?" Johnis glanced at Silvie. "What do you know?"

"Only what Darsal told me," Miranda said. "Before she died."

"Darsal is dead?" Silvie asked. She wasn't sure what to make of the woman before them.

"Yes. I'm sorry, you have to forgive me. I never actually believed this day would come. It's all very strange to me." She smiled coyly, an expression mixed with some doubt and some intrigue. Her eyes rested on Johnis, and Silvie thought there might be some seduction behind her brown eyes as well.

They stared at her, stalled by the enormity of what the stranger named Miranda was suggesting.

"What are you trying to tell us?" Johnis asked. "That Darsal is dead, and you have her book?"

"I'm sorry, yes; I know it must come as a shock. But you have to understand that this is all a bit shocking to me as well."

"Why don't we sit?" Karas led them to a couch and two chairs that overlooked the city. "Now, perhaps you could start at the beginning. Tell us how you know Darsal and how you knew to look for us."

"Of course. Forgive me a" She wasn't able to wipe the faintest of grins from her face.

"No need to apologize," Silvie snapped. "Just tell us."

"I'm an American who works as the curator for a large private museum in Turkey, where Darsal first found me."

"Why was she looking for you?"

"She wasn't. She came to the library seven years ago, asking about fora""

"Seven years ago?" Silvie looked at Karas. "She's been here that long?"

"Longer," Miranda said, "She told me she'd come into this reality three years earlier on a quest to find the lost books. At first I thought she was a nutcase, you understand."

The woman withdrew a box of the white smoking sticks that Karas called "cigarettes," lit one with a gold fire-starter, and blew smoke into the night air.

Still that slight grin.

"You find this humorous?" Silvie asked.

"I just flew five thousand miles to meet with you," Miranda said. "I think that earns me the right to express my nerves any way I wish, don't you?"

Silvie decided she didn't like this woman.

"Go on," Johnis said.

Miranda sucked on the cigarette and blew more smoke. "Let me start over. Your friend Darsal came to me in a state of desperation, suffering what I a.s.sumed were delusions of the grandest kind. End-of-the-world nonsense. The Dark One this, the lost books that. Alucard."

Johnis was on his feet. "He's here?"

"No. Not that I've seen. Sit."

He sat.

"She had a blue book that she claimed had transported her from another reality. She had to find six others and return them to the Roush. She was looking for three warriors: Karas, Johnis, and Silvie. I dismissed it all until she came to my house in the middle of the night, bleeding badly from a wound in her neck. *A bite,' she claimed. She wouldn't let me call for medical help, so I did my best. She died the next morning on my kitchen table."

"You let her die?"

"She refused a trip to the hospital. I had no choice, trust me. Darsal wasn't the kind of woman you pushed around."

"You a she just died on your table and you didn't report it to the authorities?"

"I did. They cremated her body after an autopsy that confirmed she'd been bitten by an animal and perished from blood loss."

"But she gave you her blue book and told you about us," Karas said. "So why didn't you contact me sooner?"

"I can't say I truly believed her until I saw Johnis and Silvie on the Net, speaking of the books in the exact same way Darsal did. Needless to say, I was shocked. I left immediately."

"Where is it?" Karas demanded.

Miranda stared at the younger woman, dropped her smoke stick on the marble, and ground it out with a high-heeled black shoe.

"Darsal made me promise two things before she died. That I would never so much as show the book she left to any person without first confirming they had the others. And that I was to give the book to Johnis only and offer to help."

The curator from Turkey slid one leg over the other and waited for them to react.

Karas crossed her legs in similar fas.h.i.+on. "Then give Johnis the blue book. It's the only help we need."

Miranda smiled at her for a few long beats, then stood and crossed behind the couch. "Listen to you, refusing help from a friend who owes a debt. If Darsal was right, you already have your share of enemies, lurking out there in the night."

She ran her hand along the back cus.h.i.+on. A finger over Johnis's shoulder. "So beautiful and innocent, yet so naive."