edges of his cape as a choking sulfur stench filled the flat. “You dare question me?” he spat.

“No!” said Dieter quickly. “Of course not! I only meant … It’s just … I’m merely pointing out that …”

Magus glowered at the frightened man trembling in fear across the room. “I am aware that the prophecy names a boy,” he rasped in his awful voice. “It would not be the first time the Oracle has sent us in the wrong direction. The woman was clear. The child she bore was a girl.”

“Yes, master,” said Dieter, bowing low as he attempted to back out of the room as quickly as possible.

“And, Dieter,” said Magus.

“Yes, master?”

“Send your wife in to clean up this mess. The stench from that cot displeases me.”

“As you wish, master,” said Dieter, and he made a hasty retreat.

When Dieter had bowed his way out of sight, Magus eyed his she-beast. “Go,” he said, and the hellhound jumped to his bidding. “Kill the horseman, Medea,” he said to the four-footed fiend, “but bring me the child alive. I shall want to assess if she is the One before I kill her.”

To that the she-beast gave an almost imperceptible nod, then trotted out the door.

THE BOX

The White Cliffs of Dover, Eight Years Later,

August 1938

“Which tunnel do you like, Theo?” Ian asked, pointing to the crude map he’d made of all the tunnels he and Theo had discovered since they’d started exploring the cliffs outside their orphanage.

“It’s your birthday, Ian,” Theo said loudly above the noise of the wind coming off the water. “You choose.”

“Right,” he said, hurrying down the small path leading toward the cliffs and the sea. He stopped at one rocky out-cropping and climbed up a boulder to have a look at the landscape.

The White Cliffs of Dover soared majestically some three hundred and fifty feet above the turbulent waters of the Strait of Dover—the narrowest section of the English Channel separating England from continental Europe.

The terrain at the top of the cliffs was often battered by fierce winds that swept in off the sea, making the vegetation lean over on itself and the rocks and boulders look pock-marked. To the west, at the base of the cliffs, was the port of Dover, where ships from neighboring countries such as France, Belgium, and the Netherlands docked. Ian and Theo would often watch the large ships come into port and unload their cargo of people and goods, and they would talk about the places they’d go when they were old enough to book passage and explore the world.

A kilometer behind Ian was the domineering facade of Castle Dover, a monstrous structure that stood sentry in its regal pose as it surveyed the surrounding countryside and offered the best views of the sea and the coastline of France.

And a kilometer behind Castle Dover was the much smaller structure of Delphi Keep, the residence of the Earl of Kent until Castle Dover had been built about five hundred years later. The keep had been turned into an orphanage by the current Earl of Kent, who held that an eight-hundred-year-old fortress that had withstood assault from foreign invaders for centuries could surely hold up against the thirty-odd children who ran, roughhoused, and played within its halls and called it home.

To the rest of the world, Dover was fairly small, but it was the only home Ian, Theo, and many of the other orphans had ever known.

Ian in particular loved this little patch of England because it offered him such opportunity for adventure. There were the keep and Castle Dover with their many nooks and crannies, the port at the base of the cliffs, the quaint village, and of course the rugged terrain where he now stood, which was host to an abundance of hidden tunnels and secret passageways carved out of the soft, chalky limestone that provided the white cliffs with their beauty and their name.

But at the moment Ian wasn’t thinking about the majesty of the cliffs or the port below. His attention was focused on his map as he turned atop the boulder and considered the terrain against the markers he’d carefully documented. Theo was standing at the giant rock’s base, looking up at him with mild curiosity. “Have you decided yet?” she asked him.

“I think we should check this area,” he said, jumping down from his perch and indicating a rather blank section on his map. “You never know when we’ll find that one tunnel that might contain a bit of