Death's Shadow (12 page)

“Yes. At least the one I touched was. I don’t know about the others.”

“They must have been,” he mutters. “I’ve never heard of anyone outside our family being inflicted with the wolfen curse. But why?” He glances at Dervish. “Have you been rubbing Prae Athim the wrong way?”

“I haven’t seen her since she paid us that visit before
Slawter,
” Dervish answers. “I’ve got to say, I don’t have much time for Prae, but this isn’t her style. I could understand it if they were after something — you, for instance, to dissect you and try to find a cure for lycanthropy — but there was nothing in this for them. Those who set the werewolves loose wanted us dead. The Lambs don’t go in for mindless, wholesale slaughter.”

“But if not the Lambs, who?” Kernel asks. The bald, chocolate-skinned teenager was blind when I last saw him, his sockets picked clean by demonic maggots. He’s restored his eyes in the Demonata universe, but his new globes don’t look natural. They’re the same blue color as before, but brighter, sharper, with tiny flickering shadows moving constantly across the surface.

“I think Lord Loss was behind the attacks,” I answer Kernel’s question. “Maybe he realized I was part of the Kah-Gash and wanted to eliminate the threat I pose, or perhaps he just wanted to kill Dervish and me for revenge. The attack tonight by Juni Swan makes me surer than ever that he sent the werewolves. It can’t be coincidence.”

“Juni Swan,” Beranabus mutters guiltily. “I’d never have thought poor Nadia could turn into such a hideous creature. I don’t know how she survived. Your spirit flourished after death, but you’re part of the Kah-Gash. Juni isn’t. Lord Loss must have separated her soul from her body some way, just before her death. That’s why he took her corpse when he fled. But I don’t understand how he did it.”

He broods in silence, then curses. “It doesn’t matter. We can worry about her later. You’re right — Lord Loss sent the werewolves. I cast spells on Carcery Vale to prevent crossings, except for in the secret cellar, where any demon who did cross would be confined. Even if he found a way around those spells, he would have been afraid to risk a direct confrontation. If he opened a window, the air would have been saturated with magic. You and Dervish could have tapped into that. You were powerful in the cave, stronger than Lord Loss in some ways. He probably thought humans and werewolves stood a better chance of killing you. But that doesn’t explain why the Lambs agreed to help him. Or, if they weren’t Lambs, how they got their hands on the werewolves.”

“Maybe he struck a deal with them,” Dervish says. “Promised them the cure for lycanthropy if they helped him murder Bec and me.”

“Would they agree to such a deal?” Beranabus asks.

“Possibly.”

“Prae Athim’s daughter turned into a werewolf,” Grubbs says softly. “She’s still alive. A person will go to all manner of crazy lengths when family’s involved.” He winks at Dervish.

“An intriguing mystery,” Beranabus snorts. “But we can’t waste any more time on it. We have more important matters to deal with, not least the good health of Dervish and Miss Mukherji — they’ll both be dead soon if we don’t take them to the demon universe. Open a window, Kernel.”

Kernel starts moving his hands, manipulating patches of light that only he can see. That’s his great gift — he can open a window in minutes instead of hours or days, to any section of the demon universe. In the past he couldn’t work his magic on this world, but he seems to have developed since I last saw him.

“I’m not going,” Dervish says.

“You can’t stay here,” Beranabus retorts.

“I have to. They attacked me . . . my home . . . my friends. I can’t let that pass. I have to pursue them. Find out why. Extract revenge.”

“Later.”

“No,” Dervish insists. “Now.” He gets off the gurney and weaves to his feet. Meera steadies him. He smiles at her, then glares at Beranabus.

“It would help if we knew,” Meera says in support of her friend. “The attack on Dervish and Bec might have been a trial run. The werewolves could be set loose on other Disciples.”

“That’s not my problem,” Beranabus sniffs.

“There’s been a huge increase in crossings,” Meera says. “We’ve seen five or six times the usual activity in recent months. The Disciples are stretched thinly, struggling to cope. If several were picked off by werewolves and assassins, thousands of innocents would die.”

“It might be related,” Kernel says, pausing.

“Related to what?” I ask, but Beranabus waves my question away. He’s frowning.

“This could be part of the Shadow’s plan,” Kernel presses. “It could be trying to create dozens of windows so that its army of demons can break through at once. We’ll need the Disciples if that’s the case — we can’t be everywhere at the same time to stop them all.”

“Maybe,” Beranabus says grudgingly. “But that doesn’t alter the fact that Dervish will last about five minutes if we leave him here.”

“I’ll be fine,” Dervish growls.

“No,” Beranabus says. “Your heart is finished. You’ll die within days. That’s not a guess,” he adds as Dervish starts to argue. “And you wouldn’t be able to do much during that time, apart from wheeze and clutch your chest a lot.”

Dervish stares at the magician, jaw trembling. “It’s really that bad?”

Beranabus nods soberly. “In the universe of magic, you might survive. Here, you’re a dead man walking.”

“Then get him there quick,” Grubbs says. “I’ll stay.”

“Not you too,” Beranabus groans. “What did I do to deserve as stubborn and reckless a pair as you?”

“It makes sense,” Grubbs says, ignoring the cutting comment. “If the attacks were Lord Loss trying to get even, they’re irrelevant. But if they’re related to the Shadow, we need to know. I can confront the Lambs, find out if they’re mixed up with the demon master, stop them if they are.”

“Is the Shadow the creature we saw in the cave?” I ask, recalling the dark beast whom even Lord Loss seemed to be working for.

“Aye,” Beranabus says. “We haven’t learned much about it, except that it’s put together an army of demons and is working hard to launch them across to our world.” He studies Grubbs, frowning as he considers the teenager’s proposal. “You’d operate alone?”

“I’d need help,” Grubbs says. “Shark and Meera.”

“I want to stay with Dervish,” Meera says.

“He’ll be fine,” Grubbs overrules her. “He has Beranabus and Bec to look after him. Unless you want to leave Bec with me?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No,” Beranabus mumbles. “If you’re staying, I’ll take her to replace you.”

“Then go,” Grubbs says. “Chase the truth on your side. I’ll do the same here. If I discover no link between Lord Loss and the Lambs, I’ll return. If they
are
working for him, I’ll cull the whole bloody lot.”

Kernel grunts, and a green window opens. “Time to decide,” he tells Beranabus.

“Very well,” the magician snaps. “But listen to Shark and Meera, heed their advice and contact me before you go running up against the likes of Lord Loss or the Shadow.” He carefully picks up Sharmila and steps through the window with her. “Follow me, Bec.”

I look around at the others, dazed by the speed with which things have been decided. Dervish is hugging Grubbs, squeezing him tightly, the way I wish he would have squeezed me all these long months.

“Are you OK with this?” Meera asks. “You don’t want to stay?”

“I’ll do what I must,” I sigh.

“Take care of Dervish,” Meera whispers.

“I will,” I laugh, wishing I could remain with Meera instead of Dervish.

“Be wary,” she croaks, dropping her voice even lower. “Beranabus has always been strongly driven, but he’s almost insanely focused now. He says this Shadow he’s been hunting is a massive threat to mankind, and he’s determined to defeat it at all costs. But he’s old and fuzzy-headed. He makes mistakes. Don’t let him lead you astray.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” I promise.

Dervish and Grubbs complete their farewells and the elder Grady stumbles through the window, rubbing the flesh around his chest, fighting back tears.

“Sorry we couldn’t have more of a chat,” Grubbs says to me.

“Next time.” I smile.

“Yeah,” he grunts skeptically. I can tell he thinks there will never be a time for simple chat. We belong to the world of pitched battle, and Grubbs believes we’ll never escape it. I think he’s right.

As Grubbs and Meera work their way across the roof to tell Shark about their new mission, I face Kernel Fleck. He’s grinning at me sympathetically. “The world moves quickly when Beranabus is around,” he says.

“What’s it like through there?” I ask, nodding at the window.

“Bad.” His grin slips. “The Shadow’s promising the eradication of mankind and a new dawn of demon rule. Others have threatened that before, but the Shadow has convinced an army of demons — even powerful masters like Lord Loss — that it can make good on its vow. We could be looking at the end this time.” Kernel puts one foot into the panel of green light bridging two universes and beckons halfheartedly. “Let’s go.”

I take one last look at the human world — the night is bright with fires from the crashed helicopter and police searchlights — then wearily follow Kernel into the den of all things demonic.

CHASING SHADOWS

W
E’RE
at an oasis in the middle of a desert. The trees are made out of bones, flaps of skin instead of leaves, and the well at the center is filled with a dark sulphurous liquid. The liquid’s alive and can suck in and kill passers-by, but it only has a reach of two or three yards, so as long as we don’t stray too close to it, we’re safe.

The oasis was designed by a demon master a long time ago, based on something he’d seen on Earth. As much as demons hate humans and our world, they envy our forms and shapes. That’s why many of them base their bodies on animals from our planet. They lack our imagination or the skills of Mother Nature.

We’ve been here for a week, although it’s hard to judge the passage of time. There’s one sun and moon above the oasis, like on Earth, but they never move. The sun shines for hours on end, holding its position in the sky, then abruptly dims to be replaced by the light of a three-quarters-full moon.

I haven’t had to eat or drink since I came, and I’ve only slept twice, a couple of hours each time. The magic in the air is far thicker than it was on my world sixteen hundred years ago. I could perform amazing feats here, turn a mountain upside down if I wanted. The trouble is, if I can do that much, so can the demons.

We haven’t seen any of the Demonata yet. This is an abandoned region. Its master moved on or died, leaving only the skeletal trees and cannibalistic well. Individual demons wander through occasionally — some are picked off by the well — but incursions are rare. Beranabus has used it as a bolthole on several occasions.

Sharmila is still recovering, but we haven’t been able to restore her lower legs. Magic works differently in each person. Kernel was able to replace his eyes when he lost them, but Sharmila can’t grow new legs. You never know for sure what you can or can’t do with your power until you test it.

Beranabus and I have used some of the bones and fleshy leaves from the trees to create artificial legs. We’ve attached them to Sharmila’s thighs and she’s spent the last couple of days adjusting, using magic to operate the limbs and keep her balance. She moves clumsily when she walks, and with great discomfort, but at least she’s mobile. I don’t know what will happen when she returns to the human world — the legs we’ve created won’t work in a place without magic — but for now she’s coping.

Dervish looks healthier too. I’ve taught him ways to direct magic into his heart, to strengthen and protect it. He should be fine as long as he stays here, but if he returns home the situation will rapidly change. His heart won’t hold up long over there.

Dervish wove the material of his hospital gown in with scraps of flesh from the trees to create an outfit. He’s also given himself a full head of silver hair and stuck it up in six long purple-tipped spikes. I was startled when I first saw it.

“I had spikes like this the last time I fought alongside Beranabus,” he explained, blushing slightly. “I walked away alive then, so maybe they were good luck. We’ll need all the luck we can muster when we fight again.”

There’s no doubt we’ll have to fight either the Shadow or its army — or both. The first battles have already been waged. Before Meera and Shark tracked them down, Beranabus, Kernel, and Grubbs were flitting from realm to realm, hunting demons and challenging them, trying to find out more about the mysterious Shadow.

We saw the Shadow the night Bill-E was killed. A huge nebulous cloud of a monster, darker than any night, almost as black as the cave when I was sealed up there. Immensely powerful even by demonic standards.

Lord Loss said the creature would destroy humanity. The maudlin demon master craves human misery, feeding on it like a cat slurping milk. In my time he slyly helped me close a tunnel to stop a demon invasion. He needs humans the way a fish needs water.

But he’s afraid of the Shadow. He doesn’t believe mankind can defeat this new threat. He has sided with the creature, serving as if he was an ordinary demon, not a powerful master. He does the Shadow’s bidding, even though that might mean the end of the human suffering he cherishes.

Lord Loss’s fear of the Shadow fills Beranabus with unease. He believes the war between humanity and the Demonata can’t last forever. In the distant past, the powerful Old Creatures ruled the Earth and demons couldn’t cross. By my time their power had waned. That led to the current war between humans and demons. Beranabus thinks we must find a way to block their passage between universes or they’ll wipe us out completely.

The Kah-Gash has been Beranabus’s only real hope. According to the ancient legends, the weapon can destroy a universe — ours or the Demonata’s. He’d love to do that. It doesn’t bother him that he’d be eradicating an entire life form. He sees this as a blood-drenched fight to the finish. The universes are colliding and only the victors will survive.

Beranabus has the Kah-Gash now — in the shape of Grubbs, Kernel, and me — but he doesn’t trust it. The weapon has a will of its own. It worked through us when the world was last threatened by a demon breakthrough, but it’s been silent since. We don’t know what its plans or desires are.