Warren activated the spell that bound the eye to him. Immediately what the eye saw overlaid his vision. With a little concentration, he shifted his vision to that afforded by the spell. He saw himself standing in front of the door to the room he had let Naomi borrow.
Satisfied, he went up the stairs to his own room.
In the large suite, Warren undressed and took a quick shower. Attending to his personal hygiene always made him feel more in command of himself.
Instead of remaining unclothed, he dressed in black khakis and another rugby shirt. He also tossed a thigh-length leather jacket on the bed so he could find it quickly if he had to.
He added two 9mm pistols and a sheathed knife. The pistols wouldn’t do anygood against the demons, but not everything out there that hunted and killed was demonic.
Fatigue ate at him and he wanted to lie down but his mind just wouldn’t rest.Thoughts kept banging away inside his skull. The old fear that had always been with him stirred anxiously.
He lifted the heavy drapes and peered outside. Nothing moved out on the streets. A quick check of the Blood Angel eye watching over Naomi showed him that the door was still shut. If it had opened the eye would have alerted him.
“Warren.”
Startled, Warren gazed around the room. No one else was in the suite besides him.
“Warren.”
This time, Warren tracked the voice to the other side of the room. As he walked in that direction, he picked up one of the 9mm pistols from the bed, fisted it, and flicked the safety off with his thumb.
“Whocalled for me?” Warren asked quietly.
“Do you wish to know?”
When he reached the wall, Warren opened the hidden safe area he’d found onlya few days after his arrival. The pressure release that popped the cover of the safe had to be pressed in the correct order in order to reveal the hidden area. Otherwise it looked just like the wall.
The book lay inside.
As Warren watched, the eyes opened on the book cover and looked down at him.
“Do you wish to know?” the book asked again.
“Who are you?” Warren asked.
The book regarded him, almost looking as though it were looking down its nose at him due to the angle.
“I can be your friend. If you allow me.”
“Friendships cost too much.” More than that, Warren told himself, demons lie.
“You’ve never had a friend like me before.”
Warren remained unconvinced.
“I know about Fulaghar,” the book said.
Instead of immediately asking about the demon, Warren chose to pursue the line of questioning in his head. It was more important to find out who was helping him for one, and who all the other players were.
“How did you find out about that?”
“Because I am one of the Keepers.” There was a note of pride in his voice.
“One of the keepers of what?” Warren asked.
“One of the Keepers of the Secret Histories.”
Warren waited, certain there was a trick involved. “What are the SecretHistories?”
“Things that the demons do not want known.” The book continued to stare atWarren. “How can you not be a friend with one such as I? I can help you attaineverything you desire. I can give you a world.”
“Merihim called you a Book of Qhazimog.”
“The demons call us that because Qhazimog was the one who first wrote theSecret Histories.”
“I’ve never heard of him.”
“Before the demons came, there was a lot you hadn’t heard of. There’s still alot you have heard of. Besides that, Qhazimog wasn’t from this world. He wasfrom another. Those who studied the arcane arts millennia ago brought me and other Books into this world. They were given by other worlds that were consumed by the demons and by the Burn.”
Suddenly Warren was even more afraid that he had been. “This is a trick,” herasped.
“If you believe it is so, then it must be.” The book closed its eyes.
“Wait.” Desperation filled Warren. For the last four years his life had gotten harder to live and the risks greater.
“What?” The book opened its eyes again.
“If you are what you say you are, then why would Merihim allow you to fallinto my possession?”
“Your demon lord doesn’t know everything. None of the demons knoweverything.”
“How did he know to send me after you?”
“He knew only that I was a book important to the Cabalists.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then how am I here, talking to you? Demons don’t care for books. They neverhave. For them, books have always presented power to destroy them. I am one of those books. There are others. That’s why demons have sometimes disguisedmonsters as books to destroy scholars who can read the lost languages.”
“What lost languages?” Warren asked.
“Like the language we’re using now.”
“But you’re speaking like me.”
“No,” the book said. “You’re speaking like me. This is my language, and I’msharing it with you. I would never do that with a demon.”
Warren thought about that, but the distrust and fear wouldn’t leave him.Still, his entire life had been lived within those shadows. The trick was to embrace the lives and sort out the truths he needed, the truths that would keep him alive.
Gingerly, he reached into the safe and took the book out. “You can tell meabout Fulaghar?”
“What do you wish to know?”
“I need to kill him.”
The book laughed, and the effort caused it to shake and vibrate in Warren’sgrasp. The noise was dry and hollow.
“Your demon lord does not care much for you, does he?” “Can you tell me aboutFulaghar?” The book’s expression turned serious. “Yes, I can.”
Warren sat at the desk and opened the book. For the first time he saw that the face was not bound to the cover, but instead was free to roam throughout the book. The eyes now opened on every page to look at him and to talk to him.
“Here is Fulaghar,” the book said. “Wrapped in his terrible glory, the ShadowTwisteras he is known by manyhas always been vicious in battle. He is evenfeared within the
