by Darren Shan
“That’s more like it,” I grin.
“Exactly what you want to hear before you step into the gladiatorial pit,” Kernel agrees.
We enjoy the moment, smiling at one another. (Kernel smiles a little off-centre, at a nearby tree.) Then we face the entrance to the cave and take a decisive step forward.
“Hold it!” I gasp, ruining the mood, but struck by a sudden thought which I can’t let pass.
“What’s wrong?” Beranabus asks.
“Nothing. I mean… I don’t know if you can… it’s no big deal, but…” I nod at my naked flesh. “I don’t want to face them like this. You couldn’t conjure up some clothes, could you?”
Beranabus stares at me in disbelief—then laughs. “The things you worry about! But, in a way, you’re right. One should always go into battle suitably clad.” He waves a hand regally and the trees rustle overhead. I have the sensation of being wrapped up tight by rough blankets. Looking down, I see that I’m clad from neck to ankles in a suit of green, brown, red and yellow leaves, as are Beranabus and Kernel.
“The best I can do in a pinch,” Beranabus says. “The material won’t hold for long, but it should see us through the fight.”
“Perfect,” I smile, shaking my arms to make sure I’m not bound too tightly. Then we face the hole, take a step forward, on to the slope, and down.
The shaft feels narrower than before. The rock’s hot to the touch and it seems to throb with magical energy. I climb silently in the darkness, searching for toeholds and fingerholds, careful not to send any pebbles tumbling in case the noise alerts the demons.
I hate this. No excitement at the thought of the battle to come. Just sheer terror. If there was any way to avoid it, I’d be out of here in a flash. But there are no alternatives. It’s fight to the death or surrender this world and everyone I care about to the Demonata. I’d like to think I’m a hero, but the truth is I’m just doing what I have to. There isn’t a choice.
Can I kill Juni if the opportunity falls my way? I’m not certain. I despise her, maybe even more than Lord Loss. He’s a demon, born to be evil, but she made a conscious decision to betray her people. At the same time, she’s human. It wouldn’t be like killing a demon. I don’t know if I could do it. Hopefully I won’t have to. Beranabus is the man for that job, and I imagine he’ll relish the task of terminating the treacherous Miss Swan. But if things don’t work out that way… if I come face-to-face with her… if it falls to me to finish her off…
I drive the thoughts away. No point worrying about it. I’ll just have to play this out and hope for the best. I’ve got to go in there focused on the fight, confident of victory, not filled with doubt.
I concentrate on the climb and our crab-like descent, hand by hand, foot by foot, slowly, carefully, edging ever closer to the demons below.
We reach the bottom and group together on the solid cave floor. I can see light ahead of us. Soft, blue, unnatural. Three distinct, separate sounds—someone chanting.
Occasional growls and snapping noises. Whimpering and moaning.
Beranabus checks that we’re ready, then advances. I keep a few steps behind, slightly to his right so I can see ahead of him, guiding Kernel by his leaf-clad arm. I stub my toes on rocks with almost every step I take, but that’s a minor pain, easily ignored.
We enter the main cave and the scene unfolds before us. Juni and Lord Loss are in front of the crack close to the waterfall, the crack I made. Momentary guilt—have I inadvertently helped the demons? But it doesn’t last. Logic tells me not to worry. They could have created a similar opening without much effort.
A few metres behind Juni and her master, Dervish and Bill-E are kneeling, arms bound by ropes, gags in mouths. Artery, Femur and Spine are dancing around them, cackling, making sudden lunges, teeth snapping, claws extended—then pulling away before making contact. Bill-E’s the one whimpering and moaning, trying to squirm away from the demons. Dervish is kneeling upright, glaring hatefully at Lord Loss and Juni, beaten but defiant.
Instant relief—Dervish and Bill-E are innocent. They haven’t been bewitched by Juni. They’re victims, not adversaries. A weight lifts from my heart. Whether or not I can kill Juni, there’s no way I could have harmed my uncle or brother, even if they’d been working in league with the demons.
“Good evening, all!” Beranabus booms, startling me almost as much as the others in the cave. Lord Loss, his familiars and Juni whirl round. Dervish and Bill-E’s heads twist as far as the ropes allow. “I trust we’re not late,” Beranabus says, striding forward, saluting Dervish. “Got delayed en route. You’d never believe our story if we told you.”
The rabbit-shaped Femur snarls and crouches, meaning to use its powerful hind legs to leap across the cave at Beranabus and splatter him with acid.
“Wait,” Lord Loss stops the familiar. He taps Juni’s left arm with one of his eight hands and nods at the crack. She shoots us a hateful glance, then faces the rock and resumes her chant. “This is an unexpected pleasure,” Lord Loss says icily, drifting past Dervish and Bill-E towards us.
“When we heard about the party, we had to drop in,” Beranabus quips, very different to his normal, serious self. “I hope we’re not unwelcome?”
“Certainly not,” Lord Loss smiles. “I am delighted to see you. Especially young Grubitsch. I thought, when he slipped through our clutches on the aeroplane, that it might be a long time before our paths crossed again. Yet here he is, fresh and wide-eyed, ready to die. And you know you’ll die, don’t you, Grubitsch? You realise time has run out, that you, your uncle and brother are doomed?”
“Shut up, you ba—”
I stop abruptly. He called Bill-E my brother. Of course Lord Loss knew about that—Bill-E was infected with the family curse—but Bill-E didn’t. We never told him. I try looking past the demon master, to catch my half-brother’s gaze, but Lord Loss is blocking the view.
“Yes, Grubitsch,” the monster purrs. “I told him. We spent quite an amount of time tonight discussing how you kept the truth from him and ran away when the going got tough, leaving him behind for me as an offering.”
“That’s not true!” I shout. “Don’t believe him, Bill-E. I—”
“That’s not important now,” Beranabus interrupts. “I want to know who’s the mastermind behind this? What foul hellspawn are you working for? Who organised the demons and gave them orders to come running when the tunnel opens?”
Lord Loss frowns. “You know about our plan?”
“Obviously. Now tell me who’s behind it.”
The demon master chuckles. “No, Beranabus. You have been very clever. But if you do not know the full magnitude of the force you’ve chosen to pit yourself against, I will not enlighten you. It’s not my job to explain. Do your own detective work. I am sure you and your capable assistants can…”
He pauses, catching sight of the eyeless Kernel Fleck. “But what is this? What happened to poor Cornelius?”
“Never mind,” Beranabus snaps. “I want to know about—”
“I recognise those wounds,” Lord Loss continues, raising his voice. “Those are the marks of my familiar, Spine. Such trademark injuries are unmistakable. I can even see some of his maggoty offspring embedded in the bloodied pits. It must have been a recent attack. But Spine has been with me the whole time.” He looks back at his familiar. The scorpion with the semi-human face stares at him blankly.
“And your hair,” Lord Loss says, facing us again. “You’re as hairless as myself. You’ve been in a fight of great viciousness. Spine seems to have been in it too. But how…”
“Tell us about the demon who set you up to this and I’ll tell you about our fight,” Beranabus grins.
“If I thought you were genuine, I’d happily make that deal,” Lord Loss replies. “I sense great magic and mystery in this. If I did not know better, I would say…” He trails off into silence, then sneers. “But I know you, Beranabus. You are a rogue. You would renege on your promise and tell me not
hing. So I’ll hold my tongue and torture the truth out of the boys once I’ve defeated you.”
“Nay,” Beranabus snorts. “Secrecy and surprise were the only advantages you had. Now that we’ve thwarted you, you must face us openly, on our world, where your powers are diminished. You can’t beat us. If you abandon the spells and leave, I’ll let you walk away and settle for sealing this place off. But if you force us to fight, we’ll kill you all. Even those of you who have died before.”
“Ah,” Lord Loss chuckles. “You’ve seen through Miss Swan’s disguise.”
“I knew her for a cuckoo the moment I laid eyes on her,” Beranabus says as Juni continues to chant, not glancing round even though she’s the subject of their conversation. “It took me a while to pierce the illusion, but I knew of her true face long before she moved against Grubbs.”
“What are you talking about?” I mutter.
“Watch,” Beranabus says and murmurs the words of a quick spell, waving a hand at Juni. Lord Loss makes no move to defend her. He’s loving this. As I stare at Juni, her flesh ripples. She stops chanting and cries out, but with surprise not pain. Her hands dart to her face and she turns sharply, flashing a furious glare at Beranabus. Dervish gives a muffled cry of shock and jerks away from her.
Her face has changed completely. Much plainer. Bad acne scars. Dirty, short blonde hair. Blue eyes. A sullen expression. Quite fat. Pale skin, but not as white as her albino flesh. She appears younger than before, maybe mid- to late-twenties.
“What’s happening?” Kernel asks.
Before I can tell him, Juni shrieks in a voice entirely unlike her own, “Give me back my face, you swine!”
Kernel’s forehead creases. “Nadia?” he gasps.
“You have a good ear,” Lord Loss purrs. “Shame about the eyes.”
“Nadia Moore,” Beranabus snorts. “Another distant relative of yours, Grubbs, and once one of my closest assistants. I thought she died in Lord Loss’s kingdom many years ago, but it seems she merely switched allegiances and created a new look for herself.”
“Cornelius knew,” Lord Loss says with relish. “Not about her rebirth as Juni Swan, but about her survival, the trick she pulled to escape your tyrannical rule. He kept it a secret from you, Beranabus. Perhaps he has other secrets. Are you certain you can trust him?”
Beranabus sniffs away the jibe. “I prefer you this way, Nadia,” he says. “Reality’s more attractive than facade. You should have kept your original face.”
“I’m not Nadia Moore,” Juni snarls. “She died, just the way you saw it. I put everything about her behind me—her name, features, loyalties. I’m Juni Swan now and always will be, even if you’ve disabled my glamour.”
“I felt guilty when you were killed,” Beranabus says softly. “About as guilty as I’ve ever felt in my long, wretched life. But I won’t feel anything when you die a second time, when I kill you myself.” His expression hardens and he addresses Lord Loss. “My offer stands. Walk away now and we won’t interfere—I’ll even let Nadia leave too. If you stay, you die.”
“A generous offer,” Lord Loss says. “If you had the backing of your Disciples, perhaps I’d be inclined to accept and slaughter you another time—I prefer to fight when the odds are in my favour. But you come only with a blind boy and a cur who has already proven his cowardice. And though you yourself are a fearsome opponent, you’re only one man. And no man, no matter how powerful, has ever got the better of a demon master. So, in answer to your offer…”
Lord Loss smirks vilely, then screeches unintelligibly at his familiars. With ear-piercing howls of delight, the demons attack.
THE HIGH…
Artery and Lord Loss hurl themselves at Beranabus. The scorpion-shaped Spine targets Kernel, eager to finish the job which it doesn’t remember starting. Femur sets its sights on me.
It’s almost comical watching the rabbit bound towards me. It’s like a sick cartoon, Bugs Bunny gone batty, leaping on people to plant a great smacker of a kiss on them. Except this creature’s acidic smooch will melt a person’s face and leave them a smouldering, sizzling mess—not the sort of fare you’d usually find in a Looney Tunes flick.
Femur spits acid in mid-air. It spurts towards me, a sheet of liquid death. Directed by the magic inside me, I wave my left hand at the deadly juice. It divides and hisses past my head, hitting a couple of stalagmites behind me, quickly eating into them and eroding the work of thousands of years.
The rabbit’s leap brings it within reach. I grab its neck and twist sharply. The neck breaks and I toss the creature away. It gurgles, then heals itself and gets up. I smile, grown bold by the combination of magic and ease with which I shrugged off the demon’s attack. I beckon to it. “Try again, lettuce-muncher!”
As Femur tenses its rear legs and works its lips over its gums, Kernel stumbles past me. Spine is on his head, jabbing its stinger at his eye sockets. He’s batting it away. “Let me know if you need help!” I shout. Then Femur leaps and spits acid again, and I have to focus on that.
As I fend off the rabbit I spot Beranabus. Lord Loss has the magician within his grasp, all eight arms wrapped around him, a spider devouring a fly. Artery is on Beranabus’s back, chewing at his shoulders. One of his hands is under the magician’s skin. I see knuckles moving within the flesh.
Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but Beranabus’s skin appears to be a different colour. There’s a purple tinge to it and his eyes seem to have grown and turned a dark grey shade. And the blood streaming from the hole in his shoulder that Artery’s chewing at… is it yellow?
As I’m studying Beranabus uncertainly, Femur bounces up once more, spraying its corrosive poison. Snapping back to attention, I freeze the acid, then punch through the solid panel of ice and grab the rabbit’s ears. “Enough of this crap,” I grunt and drive my left fist down the demon’s throat.
Femur’s eyes bulge alarmingly. It chokes and tries to gnaw through my arm. Cuts the flesh up pretty bad. Pain flares, but I numb myself to it and focus on my hand deep in the rabbit’s guts. I fill the fist with magic, then let it explode, incinerating the demon from the inside out. Femur gasps, mouth slackening, blinking furiously. Its legs shake. Acid dribbles over my forearm, but I turn it to mist before it harms me.
The rabbit’s ears rip loose and I throw them away. They flop around on the floor of the cave for a few seconds, then fall still as life leaves Femur’s body. Its flesh turns a dark red colour, then crumbles away like ash. I pull my arm free and study the mess, lips curled with disgust. I start towards the waterfall to wash clean and sluice out my wounds. Then I have a better idea and direct magic at my arm. Seconds later—spotless, unmarked flesh. Coolio!
My first thought is to go to Beranabus’s aid or help Kernel with Spine. But then the magician’s warning kicks in. Juni Swan is public enemy number one. She has to be stopped. I’m not sure I can do it—the doubts swim back inside my head—but I have to try.
Skirting Beranabus and Lord Loss, I hurry to where the transformed Juni is chanting into the crack, arms spread wide, words coming fast and furious. For a second I think I glimpse a face in the rock, just within the opening of the crack. But then it’s gone and I’m not sure whether it was Bec, the first of the demon hordes or a trick of the light.
I don’t want to touch Juni—the thought of physical contact with her repulses me. So I bring my hands together and summon a bolt of magic to fire instead. Nothing happens. I can feel the magic, but it’s like there’s a barrier between us, blocking the lines of communication. Then I realise what the problem is—the werewolf. There’s a full moon. Beranabus told me I’d have no trouble suppressing the wolf now, but it would always be there, scratching away beneath the surface, whining, trying to break free.
“No time for games, wolfie,” I mutter, and mentally drive the beast deep down within me, to howl in silent, imprisoned protest for at least another month. The magic burns brightly inside me as soon as the way’s been cleared. Once again I tell it what
I want and this time I feel energy gather in my hands. Pointing them at Juni, I unleash the power. A huge ball of magic shoots straight at her— then hits an invisible barrier and crackles away into nothing.
Juni glances around, sneers at me, carries on chanting.
“’Ubbs!” Dervish grunts as I prepare a second blast. He’s straining to get to his feet. Beside him, Bill-E’s staring at me as if he doesn’t know who I am. “’Ubbs!” Dervish shouts again, mouth constricted by his gag.
I wave a hand at my uncle and brother. Their gags and the ropes binding them burn away. As soon as he’s free, Dervish thrusts himself up and throws his arms around me. “I thought you were dead!” he cries, burying his head in my chest.
“Not me,” I grin, hugging back hard, momentarily forgetting the fight and all that’s at stake. It’s so great to see him again, to have him hold me, to be home and with the closest thing to a father I have left. If the world ended here and now, for me it would be a good end.
“Grubbs?” Bill-E says hesitantly, studying me warily. “Is it really you?”
“Sure is… little brother.” I smile at him awkwardly.
“You should have told me,” he growls, pointing a finger. “All this time… if I’d known… all my life I thought I was alone. You should have told me!”
“I know,” I sigh. “I was a fool. Forgive me?”
“No way, baldy,” he smirks. The smile quickly fades when he spots the woman next to the crack. “Her!” he growls, finger swivelling. “Is that Juni?”
“Yes,” Dervish snarls. “The face might be different, but the evil stench is the same. She told us you attacked her, Grubbs. That after killing Ma and Pa Spleen, you…” He pauses. “You didn’t kill them, did you?”
“Of course not,” I huff indignantly, not admitting that I’d thought the same thing myself.
