by Darren Shan
shabby clothes that are thirty or forty years out of date. Wears a small bunch of flowers in one of his upper buttonholes. They look ridiculously out of place.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, trying to inch my way around him. He doesn’t react. I take a more cautious look — we’re alone, nobody in sight, flanked by trees. My warning senses kick in. I prepare to run or fight if I need to. But the man makes no threatening moves. Just stares at me, saying nothing, hands by his sides, eyes steady.
“Could you. . . ?” I make a sign for him to move over. But he still doesn’t budge. Sighing, I step off to the side, trampling down a patch of weeds. I wave sarcastically at the clear path. The bum nods at me slowly, then walks past.
Shaking my head, I get on the path again and head for home. I’ve taken no more than five or six steps when I remember the bum from yesterday, the one Bill-E gave money to. I turn to give him the once-over, wondering if it’s the same guy. But the path is empty. No sign of him. He must have slipped back into the forest. It’s like he disappeared.
Homework. Struggling with a complicated chemistry formula when somebody knocks at the front door. I gratefully close my textbook and go see who’s there, happy for an excuse to take a break.
It’s Juni.
“Hello, Grubbs,” she says nervously. “Is your uncle in?”
“Yeah. But. . . um. . . I thought you didn’t want to see him yet.”
“I didn’t.” She laughs lightly. “Then, on my way to my hotel, I found myself taking a left instead of a right and I ended up here.” She shrugs. “I guess the part of me that makes the big decisions thinks that it’s time.”
“Do you want me to call him, or would you rather go find him yourself?”
“Call him, please. It would be more polite.”
“Dervish!” I bellow, then gesture for Juni to enter. “May I take your coat?” I ask as she steps inside.
“Thank you.” She takes it off and passes it to me. Her fingers tremble as we touch. I think about taking hold of her hand and giving it a friendly squeeze, but before I can, Dervish comes trotting down the stairs from his study.
“There’s no need to roar,” Dervish grumbles. “I’m not deaf. I can. . . ”
He sees Juni. Comes to a complete halt, left foot in midair. His jaw slowly, comically drops.
“Hello, Dervish,” Juni says, waving awkwardly. “I’m back.” And they blink at each other like a pair of startled owls.
Two hours later. Dervish and Juni have spent the time shut inside the TV room. I’ve been in the kitchen, where I’m still stuck on the same chemistry problem. Not that I’ve been trying hard. Most of my thoughts have been devoted to Dervish and Juni, and the things they might be discussing. Part of me wants to creep to the door and eavesdrop but that would be sneaky and unfair. I’d hate it if somebody did that to me, so I’m not going to do it to them.
About half an hour after that, when Juni’s gone to the bathroom, Dervish pops into the kitchen. He puts the kettle on, prepares two mugs, grabs some cookies, then sits beside me. He’s grinning softly. “You should have told me,” he says, but there’s no anger in his voice.
“She asked me not to,” I reply.
“I know, but . . .” He chuckles. “No. It doesn’t matter. Maybe it was better this way. The shock was nice. I’m just glad I didn’t fall down the stairs and break my neck.” He looks at me. “Juni told me about the counseling — without revealing any of the confidential details. Said you’re doing great, all things considered. She thinks you’re a marvel. Said if everyone had your powers of recovery, she’d be out of a job.”
I shrug like it’s no big thing, but the compliment tickles me.
“Billy’s not so lucky.” He sighs. “I knew Loch’s death hit him hard, but I didn’t realize things were this bad. I thought, after Slawter, he’d be prepared for death. He seemed to handle that OK. But Juni says he bottled up his feelings, that his reaction now reflects a delayed reaction to what happened then.”
“She’s the expert, I guess.”
Dervish nods slowly, then says, “Billy told her I was his father.”
“Oh?” Bill-E doesn’t know that his mother had an affair with my father, that I’m his half brother, that Dervish is his uncle. He thinks Dervish is his dad.
“She normally wouldn’t share information like that,” Dervish goes on, “but this was one time she felt she had to. She needed to know if it was true.”
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth. Well, some of it. I didn’t mention Cal or your relationship to Billy. That’s our secret. I didn’t see the need to reveal that much.”
The kettle boils. Dervish pours water into the two mugs. Glances at me as he’s dunking tea bags. “I thought you might have told Billy about your Dad.”
“No,” I say softly.
“You know that you can if you want? It’s your call, not mine.”
“I know. I want to tell him and I will. But I’ve never found the right time. It’s the sort of news that will turn his world upside down. I’ve been waiting for a quiet, uneventful period, but we haven’t had any over the past few years.”
Dervish picks up the mugs and pauses. “I wouldn’t wait too long. You know better than most people that time is precious. Waiting’s a dangerous game. Sometimes you miss the boat and end up regretting it.”
I nod thoughtfully. “I’ll give it a few months, let Bill-E get over Loch. When I think he’s ready, I’ll sit him down and spit it all out.”
“If you want any help. . . ”
“I’ll ask. Thanks.”
We smile at each other. Then Dervish heads back to the TV room to continue playing catch-up with Juni.
Eleven. Juni’s still here. At her invitation I’ve joined her and Dervish in the TV room. They’re sitting together on the couch, not touching but very close. They’re chatting away as if they hadn’t seen each other for decades. They hardly ever toss a question or comment my way. I feel like a third wheel but I don’t mind. It’s fun watching them. I’ve never seen Dervish so gushy. Didn’t think the bald old coot had any romance in him.
They talk about all sorts of things — school, Carcery Vale, motorcycles, bands, films, TV. For a man who’s never shown any interest in music, movies, or sitcoms, Dervish has become awfully knowledgeable all of a sudden.
“You were at that gig too?” Juni squeals — yes, squeals! — when talk turns to a punk band they both liked. “I don’t believe it. What a small world. I was in the pit — what about you?”
“Backstage,” Dervish says modestly. “I knew one of the roadies. He got me a pass. Actually, I used to hang out with the lead singer when we were younger.”
Dervish hanging out with punk front men? Moshing backstage at concerts? It’s official — I’ve stepped through into a parallel universe.
“I’m going to bed,” I mutter, rising and faking a yawn. I normally don’t hit the sack before midnight, but this is getting too surreal.
“Bed?” Juni blinks and checks her watch. “Goodness. How did it get to be so late? I have to go. I need to get up early in the morning.”
She stands. Dervish is on his feet a split second later. “Not yet,” he gasps. “It’s only eleven. That’s not late.”
“It is for me,” she laughs.
“But I haven’t shown you around the house yet.” He throws it out in desperation, as if she must see the house now or self-combust. “You said you wanted to see the up-stairs, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Juni says hesitantly, looking at her watch again. “Perhaps another time?”
“It won’t take long,” Dervish smiles. “A quick tour. You can come back for a better look later.”
“Perhaps you won’t invite me back again,” Juni murmurs, lowering her lashes demurely. Yipes! What a line! You can’t get much cornier than that.
“You can visit anytime you like,” Dervish simpers. I stand corrected on the corniness front.
“Well. . . OK,” Juni decides. “
But it will have to be quick — fifteen or twenty minutes tops. Agreed?”
“You can have it in writing if you want,” Dervish smirks.
“No,” Juni says and touches his hand. “I trust you.”
Talk about love-struck puppies! This is excruciating. Any more sappiness and I might vomit.
I accompany Dervish and Juni around the mansion, hanging back a few feet, grimacing like an old crone every time one of them makes some lovey-dovey coo or comment.
Dervish is superanimated, whisking her through the maze of corridors and rooms, treating her to brief sound bites about the house’s history. She loves the cellar — she’s a big wine connoisseur too.
“You’ll have to come uncork a few bottles with me,” Dervish insists.
“Wine is made for sharing,” Juni agrees.
“I was just about to say that,” Dervish says excitedly. “I can’t believe how much we have in common.”
“I know,” Juni smiles. “The same bands, movies, books, wine. . . It’s freaky.”
She sounds a lot younger when she says things like that. I’ve noticed that in adults before. People learn a new way of speaking as they grow up, but words and phrases from their childhood pop out sometimes, taking them back twenty or thirty years in the space of a couple of syllables.
Upstairs the tour continues, although now they’re talking more about bands and books, less about the house. I think of injecting some cutting remark — “Maybe you’re really twins who were separated at birth” — but why spoil their fun? Besides, the more I let them babble, the more ammo I’ll have to tease Dervish with later.
We come to Dervish’s study. The lights and PC are still on from when he was in there earlier. The door’s ajar. Juni’s slightly ahead of Dervish and starts to go in ahead of him. Dervish doesn’t mind. He’s smiling serenely. But then he remembers the spells. (I think of them before he does but wickedly choose not to say anything, thinking how much fun it will be if she turns into an elk or a zebra.)
“Juni, no!” he barks. She stops short, surprised. He smiles shakily. “I mean, it’s a mess in there. Please let me go in first and. . . ”
He tries to press past her but she puts up a hand and stops him. “Wait.” She frowns at the door, then takes another step towards it.
“Juni, I really don’t think. . . ”
“It’s OK.” She looks back at him, calm and composed. “Just give me a minute. I want to try something.”
She faces the door again and closes her eyes. Raises her right hand and holds her palm up to the open doorway. I nudge up beside Dervish, wondering what she’s doing. He’s staring at her uncertainly.
Juni takes a breath. Holds it. Murmurs something softly. The light in the room dims and her fingers glow. Then the lights come back up strong again and the glow in her fingers fades.
She steps forward into the study and nothing happens.
Dervish stands outside, gaping at her as she does a twirl and smiles at him. “You. . . the magic. . . the spells. . . you lifted them!”
Juni snaps her fingers. A book shoots off a shelf and into her hand. “Tah-dah!” she sings, like when I first met her at school. Then she looks at Dervish seriously. “I’ve had a busier year than I let you know,” she says.
Then Dervish is through the door, by her side, babbling with excitement, asking about her magical abilities, what she can do, who taught her. A dozen questions a second, Juni laughing and shaking her head, struggling to answer them all.
I linger outside, staring with disbelief at my uncle and Juni Swan, bewildered and, for some reason I can’t put my finger on, oddly uneasy.
A Familiar Face
IT’S official — Dervish Grady luvs Juni Swan!
It’s only been a week since she turned up at the mansion, but she’s seen more of my uncle in that time than I’ve seen of him in three months. She spent most of last weekend at our place, four of the nights since, and they’re getting together this weekend too.
They talk about magic a lot. Juni is able to channel magical energy when it’s in the air around her. She tapped into her power in Slawter. She wanted to discuss it with Dervish and learn how to hone her talents, but she wasn’t ready to face him. So she made inquiries, found others who are part of that magical underworld, and studied with them in her spare time while she was putting her professional life back together. She advanced quickly and has blossomed into a powerful mage over the past few months.
Dervish is gaga over her. He was attracted to her in Slawter and has thought of her a lot since then. But his feelings have gone over the moon since she came back and he found out they had so much in common — most importantly, magic. He’s so dazzled by her, it’s unreal. I think if she asked him to get on his bike and ride to the other side of the world, he would.
I’m a little dazed by it all. From being a vague friend and temporary school counselor, Juni’s become a central part of my life. I feel like a tornado has struck and nothing will ever be the same again. I was used to having just Dervish around the house. It got to feel natural. Now that’s changed faster than I would have believed possible. I can’t get my head around it.
But I’ll have to, because these two are just warming up. I came down for breakfast this morning and found Dervish and Juni already in the kitchen, making out, and I swear if he’d had his tongue any farther down her throat he’d have been licking her lungs!
Bill-E thinks the Dervish-Juni match is great. We’ve been spending more time together since Loch’s death, hanging out at lunch, having long chats like in the old days. I thought he might be jealous of all the time Juni spends with Dervish but he’s not bothered.
“It’s what Dervish needs,” he contends. “He’s been alone too long.”
“He had me,” I huff.
“It’s not the same thing.” Bill-E laughs. “It’ll be good for him. Maybe he’ll get out more and stop moping around the place.”
“Dervish doesn’t mope.”
“Yes, he does,” Bill-E insists. “At least he did until Juni came along.”
Juni knows I’ve been thrown by the recent developments. She hasn’t mentioned her relationship with Dervish or how her moving in might affect me. But she’s asked several times, at home and in our sessions, if there’s anything I want to talk about apart from Loch’s death, if anything else is bothering me. Each time I’ve said no and glanced away. She hasn’t pressed it. Giving me time. Leaving me alone until I’m ready to discuss it with her willingly.
In the middle of all the confusion, Reni comes back to school.
I don’t know what to say when we first come face-to-face. Apart from at the funeral, when we didn’t speak, I haven’t seen her since Loch’s death. My first reaction — a huge bolt of guilt. I covered up the truth about the accident, helped move the body, lied to protect Dervish’s secret.
Several seconds of horrible silence. Then, “Hi,” Reni whispers.
“Hi,” I croak.
She leans towards me and rests her face on my chest. “I miss him, Grubbs,” she says, voice cracking.
“Me too,” I moan.
Floods of tears. Both of us.
It’s easier after that. Not the same as before — it never will be — but it’s OK, especially when we’re with the others. Now everyone talks openly about Loch, the accident, how hard it’s been, not shying away from the subject. We have Juni to thank for that. She’s had all of us in her office or visited us at home since she came, working doggedly to help us talk about and deal with our grief. Life for us would be a hell of a lot harder without her.
“What are you doing this weekend?” Shannon asks Reni on Friday.
“Nothing much,” Reni says. “Staying in. Studying. I have a lot to catch up on.”
“Scratch that,” Shannon snorts. “You’re coming to the movies with the rest of us. I won’t take no for an answer. Grubbs, you’re coming too.”
“Yes, boss.” I grin, glad for an excuse to get out of the house. Juni’s not very big
, but the place feels crowded when she’s around.
“How will we get there?” Reni asks. There’s a small theater in the Vale but we hardly ever go to it. Much more fun going to a multiplex in one of the bigger nearby towns.
“Frank’s Dad will take us,” Shannon says. Frank’s father is a taxi driver and owns a van. “Won’t he, Frank?” Shannon flutters her eyelids at him, buttering him up.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Frank mutters.
“Can Bill-E come?” I ask, eager to involve him.
“Sure,” Shannon says after a moment’s hesitation. “The more the merrier.”
The gang’s been nice about Bill-E since the accident. They don’t mind me including him in our lunchtime talks and after-school activities. But I can feel the mood shifting back to the way it used to be. Bill-E’s not one of us, and though he was temporarily accepted due to the exceptional circumstances, the natural order of the school world must soon be resumed. The day’s fast arriving when I’ll have to make a choice — Bill-E or the others.
But that’s a bridge to cross another time. This weekend’s about friends, films, and fun. The more serious stuff can wait.
Dervish and Juni spend the night practicing magic. It seems that Juni has quite a gift. She’s learned a lot over the past few months and can run rings around many of my uncle’s spells.
“Have you asked her to join the Disciples?” I inquired earlier this evening, half joking, half serious. “You could go on demon-bashing weekends together, maybe check out some punk concerts at the same time.”
“I don’t know,” Dervish muttered, not picking up on the joke. “I really don’t want to involve her. That life’s so dangerous. But I can’t