by Darren Shan
I share a troubled glance with Bec—she doesn’t like this either—but before I can say anything the window opens and demons scurry out of the building. There are dozens of scaly, bloody, multiheaded monsters, oozing pus and slime, slithering down the steps, smashing through windows, hunting for victims. A river of nightmares.
But nothing new. I faced worse with Beranabus. I’m more concerned about the werewolf between me and Bec than I am by the demons bearing down on us.
Grubbs stares at the Demonata, eyes narrow and glinting yellow. His fangs grow an inch, his lips stretching with them. He grabs hold of my hand and Bec’s. Energy spirals up my arm. I tense against it but then the voice of the Kah-Gash murmurs to me. It’s all right. Don’t fight. No harm will come of this.
I don’t entirely trust that inner voice, but even if I wanted to reject the union, I couldn’t. The magic within me warms to Grubbs’s and I feel power well up from nowhere. The shock of it makes me gasp. My skin crackles and my fingers dig into Grubbs’s huge paw. My legs go weak, then steady.
We’re drawing power from all around, from the earth, people, demons, the sky. Everything’s linked. There are connecting lines everywhere, between humans, objects, the Demonata, the stars. The Kah-Gash was here before any of us, holding the sixty-four zones of the original universe together. And it still binds us in place—it just doesn’t define the universes as tightly as it used to.
But it could. With the power coursing through me now, I could quench the sun by snapping my fingers, and open a tunnel between universes. Make myself ruler of all worlds, people, and demons. Limits exist only in the mind. As the Kah-Gash, I’d set those limits, not be bound by them. I could—
“Let’s just kill these demons and leave it at that,” Grubbs says, shattering my dreams of universal dominance.
I blink, coming out of the spell I was under, amazed by how swiftly I gave in to temptation. Grubbs and Bec might not be the jokers in the pack. Maybe I’m the weak link, the one the Kah-Gash can exploit.
But there’s no time for self-doubt. The demons are almost upon us. Our werewolves are howling and the soldiers are readying their rifles. Another second or two and all will be chaos.
Grubbs roars and I feel the magic of the Kah-Gash draining from me—from Bec too. Grubbs is the focal point through which the power is channeled. No way of fighting it now. The energy that we’ve sucked in explodes through Grubbs, mixed in with his roar.
A stream of raw power envelops the demons and stops them cold. Their eyes bulge as they choke in a net of magic. We hold them in place a moment, as easily as we’d trap a colony of ants by lowering a jar over them. Then Grubbs blows on them the way he’d blow on a feather.
The demons shoot backwards, through the walls of the building, then through the window between universes. The startled mage is blasted through as well, torn to shreds with most of the demons. When the area is clear, the stream of energy fans out and crackles across the face of the window. It glows brightly, then crumples, and the patches of light which were used to create it flood back to us along with the magic. The stream swirls around us, breaking up into vortex-like tendrils. Then Grubbs lets go of my hand and Bec’s.
The power dwindles in seconds and the lights drift away. It’s like nothing ever happened—apart from the huge hole in the front of the building.
“Wow,” Grubbs says, flexing his fingers and staring at them. “That was great.” He looks up at us and grins. “Let’s find more demons and do it again!”
A couple of hours later, in a hotel suite even grander than the last we stayed in, Grubbs is still itching to pick another fight, but Bec insists we should focus on Beranabus. The pair are arguing heatedly. I’ve kept quiet. Dervish, Meera, and Kirilli say nothing either. We chipped in during the early stages of the argument, but for the last hour it’s been pretty much Grubbs and Bec yelling at each other.
“Forget about crossing,” Grubbs shouts, towering over the small, slender girl. “I say we wait for them to come. With the power of the Kah-Gash, we’ll drive them back every time. They’ll soon realize they can’t win and head off for softer pickings on other worlds.”
“You think that’s acceptable?” Bec retorts, not intimidated by the grotesque, wolfen teenager. “We pass them along and let others suffer?”
“Like Meera said, we only care about this world,” Grubbs huffs.
“Leave me out of this,” Meera snaps, but both ignore her.
“What about Death?” Bec jeers. “Will you repel the Shadow when it attacks?”
“Why not? Death might be more powerful than the Demonata, but the Kah-Gash can trump it.”
“No,” Bec says. “Death is the ultimate power. If we don’t strike now, it will grow stronger and come to find us.”
Grubbs shrugs. “Do I look worried?”
Bec smothers a curse. “You were all for attacking earlier. You wanted to go for Death like a dog after a rat.”
“That was before you brought Beranabus into the equation. I’d still go if you only wanted to have a crack at the Shadow. But you want to free a dead man. That’s what this is really about. Your beloved Bran turned coward at the end.”
“What are you talking about?” Bec screeches and appeals to the rest of us. “Has he gone mad? Do any of you know what—”
“Beranabus was afraid,” Grubbs interrupts. “That’s why he told you to send Kernel after him. It wasn’t so he could study Death from the inside and learn its secrets. He realized his soul might be trapped and he didn’t want to spend eternity in the grasp of the Shadow. He hoped Kernel could get him out. You know that’s true. You knew it from the moment you suggested the idea of rescuing him. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Bec says nothing. Her face was red with anger moments before, but now the flush fades. Her lower jaw trembles. She looks ashamed.
“This is personal,” Grubbs growls, facing us like a lawyer addressing a jury. “She’s not thinking about beating Death. She only wants to set Beranabus free.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Meera asks quietly. “He was her friend. You’d do the same for Dervish in that position. So would I.”
“I wouldn’t,” Kirilli pipes up.
“No surprise there,” Dervish mutters.
“It’s too dangerous,” Grubbs yells. “I liked Beranabus but I’m not going to risk everything to save his soul. Hell, he might not even be there. Maybe Death didn’t claim him.”
“It did,” I say softly. “I’ve been studying the lights while you were arguing, concentrating on Beranabus. A few started flashing as soon as I focused on him, and more have joined them. It’s not like when I search for someone living, but if his soul hadn’t been absorbed by the Shadow, no lights would flash at all.”
“OK, it took his soul. So what?” Grubbs shrugs. “How many of you want to risk a rescue? Who cared about the mad old buzzard that much?”
He looks around the room. Kirilli instantly shakes his head. Meera nods firmly to show she’s on Bec’s side. Dervish looks uncertain. “We owe him,” he says.
“We owe a lot of people,” Grubbs grunts, “but we can’t always repay our debts. You taught me that. A Disciple doesn’t risk his life to save a few people, not when the fate of billions is at stake.
“If I think we have a real chance of hurting the Shadow, I’ll jump at it. But if we’re just going over there to free Beranabus’s soul…. That’s not right. Beranabus wouldn’t have thought so either—not until he crumbled at the end.”
“What if he didn’t?” I ask angrily. “I spent more time with him than any of you. I never saw him ask for favors. He was the most selfless person I knew. What if he really did hope to learn something that might help us?”
“I’m not willing to take that chance,” Grubbs says.
“You’re a fool,” Bec shouts.
“Maybe,” Grubbs sniffs. “But it looks like we have a tie, three votes for each. You, Meera, and Kernel want to ride to the rescue. Kirilli and I have more sense. And Dervish�
��” He looks to his uncle for a final answer.
Dervish sighs. “I agree with Grubbs. We can’t let personal feelings cloud our judgment.”
“What if it was personal for you?” I softly challenge him.
“It’s not,” Dervish says wearily. “If Grubbs was in that position, I’d do all I could to free him. But he isn’t, so there’s no point—”
“Bill-E,” Bec stops him. Dervish turns slowly, left eyelid ticking, but she isn’t looking at him. She’s staring at me. “Is it Bill-E?”
I nod slowly.
“Liar!” Grubbs howls, raising a huge, shaggy fist. “How dare you—”
“I searched for him after I looked for Beranabus,” I say quickly. “I was running tests, searching for others I knew who’d died, like Mrs. Egin, Logan Rile, Sharmila. I came up blank on all of them. Then I thought of Bill-E and a few lights flashed, the way they flashed for Beranabus.”
“If you’re lying…” Grubbs growls, fingers clenched tight.
I step forward. I’m shaking like a rattlesnake’s tail but I speak clearly. “If you think I’d say this to trick you, you don’t know me at all.”
Grubbs stares into my eyes. He wants to find deception, but he can’t, because I’m telling the truth. His shoulders slump and he backs away. He shares a scared look with Dervish, who’s been hit just as hard by the news.
Bec could crow but she doesn’t. She merely waits.
“I killed him to free him,” Grubbs finally croaks. “It was the hardest thing I’ve done. I murdered my own brother. I wouldn’t have done that to save the world, the universe, or anything else. But I couldn’t bear to let him live in torment at the hands of the Demonata. I killed him to spare his suffering, to set him free. Now you’re telling me I didn’t, that the Shadow has him?”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Tears of blood trickle from Grubbs’s eyes. Raising a hand, he wipes them away, then covers his face with his hand and moans softly.
“We have to free them,” Bec says. She crouches by his side and reaches out to embrace him.
“Don’t touch me!” he barks, pulling away from her.
“Don’t be silly,” she smiles. “I absorbed your secret when we linked outside. I know what Juni predicted. But I don’t believe her. She’s insane. You would never do what she claimed.”
Grubbs cries out and wraps his arms around the little girl, hugging her like a doll, weeping while we stare at the pair of them, bewildered. When he finally stops crying, he releases Bec and grins shakily at her, then casts his gaze over the rest of us, his features firm.
“Show of hands. Who’s going to help me and Bec kick some Shadow ass?”
Five arms rise immediately. Kirilli is the only dissenter. “You’re all crazy,” he grumbles.
“Overruled,” Dervish laughs, then twists his spikes into place and drawls like a gangster. “I always wanted to be part of a jailbreak!”
THE CARRIAGE HELD…
I try opening a window to Beranabus, then Bill-E, but enjoy no luck. It’s too difficult on this world. The lights are few and scattered. I need more power to piece them together. I need the magic of the demon universe.
We cross to a realm we know is safe, where we’ve based ourselves in the past. Grubbs brings his pack of werewolves along (“For fun,” he grins bleakly) but we leave the soldiers behind. I choose a place where time operates like it does on Earth. That way we should be back to face the next assault. Assuming we survive our brush with Death. Which is a pretty big assumption.
As the others prepare for battle, I use the lights to pinpoint the position of our enemies. I still can’t get a fix on Death, even though I now know its identity. But I find Lord Loss and Juni Swan easily enough. They’re on a world I’ve never been to, surrounded by thousands… no, millions of demons. The thought of entering the midst of such an army is terrifying.
I think of telling the others, but what’s the point? We have to do this. Bec, Dervish, and Grubbs for personal reasons, me because I believe—hope—Beranabus can reveal something about Death which will give us the power to defeat it. If all goes well, we won’t have to face the demons, just their shadowy master. If it goes poorly…
Best not to dwell on that.
I turn my thoughts away from demons. Breathing calmly, I focus on Beranabus. Lights begin to pulse, but there aren’t many of them and I have a tough time piecing them together. Normally lights flock to me when I summon them but these patches resist. I have to focus harder than I’ve ever had to, and even then they only drift towards me sluggishly, reluctantly.
Gritting my teeth, I bully the patches into place, slotting them together as if they were pieces of a crudely carved jigsaw puzzle. I’m aware of time ticking, the others growing impatient, especially the werewolves, who howl and hammer the ground with their fists, eager for action.
I push the distractions from my mind and focus on the lights. Normally I can multitask, chat with others while I’m working on a window. Not now. This will take everything I have. I’m doing something no one has ever done before, breaching the barriers of life itself.
Eventually, after hours of fierce concentration, when I’m starting to think it’s impossible, a small window opens. It’s an unimpressive, jagged panel of brown light, and it flickers alarmingly at the edges. But I don’t care. It shouldn’t by rights be open at all, so I’m more proud of it than any window I’ve ever created.
“Come on,” I shout, reacting quickly to push the outermost lights back in place before they can buckle. “This will only hold for a few seconds.”
“Where does it—” Grubbs starts to ask.
“No time!” I yell. “We have to go now or not at all.”
“Then let’s go,” Grubbs grunts and dives blindly through the window.
The werewolves rush after him. When the last of the sixteen has vanished, a nervous Meera crosses, followed by Bec. Kirilli steps forward but hesitates.
“I really don’t want to do this,” he mutters.
“Too bad!” Dervish laughs and pushes the startled stage magician through.
“Hurry,” I gasp, feeling the window start to disintegrate.
Dervish ducks past my whirring arms. As soon as he’s out of sight, I throw myself after him. I sense the window collapse as I sail through. Whatever happens next, whatever dire mess we wind up in, there’s no quick way out. We’re in this to the end, whether we like it or not.
I find myself in a realm of shadows, dark and swirling. The shadows whip at me and then flit away as if blown by a strong wind. But there’s no wind here, just the ever-circling shades of the dead.
I was expecting cries and moans of torment, but it’s silent. That surprises me. At the least I should be able to hear the howls of the werewolves. But when I open my mouth to call for the others—I can’t see any of them—I realize why it’s so quiet. Sounds don’t carry. Though I shout at the top of my voice, nothing emerges.
I hunker down, fighting the dark wisps which threaten to bowl me over and sweep me away. There’s no floor, just banks of shadows all around. I’m not floating. It’s more like being stuck in a pool of mud.
I try to create a ball of light but nothing happens. There’s magic here, waves of energy washing between the shadowy souls and binding them, but it’s a different type of magic and I’m unable to channel it.
As I try again, something solid strikes my left shoulder. Cringing away from my assailant, I peer through the streams of shadows masking my eyes. I spy a bulky shape bearing down on me. Impossible to tell if it’s friend or foe. I back up, desperately scouring the space around me for a trace of magic I can use. Then a pair of huge hands grasps my arms and tugs me to a halt. A face thrusts up next to mine. It’s a fearsome, demonic face, and my first instinct is to lash out. But as a veil of shadows whisks away from over the creature’s eyes, I realize it’s Grubbs.
He says something. I shake my head and mouth back the words, “I can’t hear.”
Grubbs narro
ws his eyes. Nothing happens for a few seconds. Then I hear his voice inside my head. “—me now? Can you hear me now? Can you—”
“Yes,” I stop him, replying silently, thinking the words instead of voicing them.
“Are you able to channel the magic?” he asks.
“No.”
He tuts, then grins. “I couldn’t either. Nobody could. But Bec adapted swiftly and showed the rest of us. Come on.”
He leads me through the shadows, half-staggering, half-swimming. The others aren’t far away—they’re grouped together, Bec at the center, the rest huddled round her, lit dimly by flickering balls of light which she has generated. They all look scared, especially Kirilli. Even the werewolves are subdued, whining silently and glancing around uneasily.
Once I’m in physical contact with the group, Bec speaks. “We haven’t much time. Death isn’t aware of us yet but it will discover us soon. You have to find Beranabus and Bill-E as quickly as possible.”
I realize she’s talking to me. “How can I find them?” I protest. “I opened the window and brought us here. What more can I do?”
“You’re the eyes of the Kah-Gash,” she snaps. “You see more than any of us. To me there’s no difference in the shadows. They all look the same. But I’m sure you can see more.”
“Well, I can’t,” I snarl, hating the way she’s heaping the pressure onto me.
A wave of energy floods through me, opening doors within my brain, clearing passageways. Suddenly I find myself absorbing and converting the magic of Death. I fill with power and breathe out easily, smiling at the buzz of it.
“How did you do that?” I ask, relaxed and cool.
“I used my gift,” Bec says. “Now use yours and look.”
Still smiling, I cast my gaze around and see that Bec was right. Now that I’ve tapped into the magic, the shadows have taken on a new consistency. There are thousands of individual shards and shapes whirling around us, no two alike. I can’t believe I didn’t see them before. Each has its own shade, form, and way of moving. They’re all a grey-black color, but there are more variants of grey and black than I would have dreamed possible.