Demon Apocalypse td-6

by Darren Shan

  “I know.”

  “The evil priestess—Juni Swan, Nadia Moore, whatever you want to call her—was one like us. Bran told me she could see into the future. Perhaps our demonic heritage was the source of her strange power.”

  I grunt. I don’t want to talk about Juni right now.

  “The boy… Bill-E… he was family too.”

  “Yes,” I mutter. “My brother.”

  “I’m sorry…” she starts to say.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I interrupt. “It wasn’t your fault. Bill-E wouldn’t mind. He was always keen on recycling.”

  “‘Recycling’?” Bec frowns.

  “I’ll explain later. Where are Beranabus and Kernel?”

  “Outside. They…” She casts a look at me and I instantly know what they’re doing, what they want of me.

  “Already?” I ask stiffly. “They can’t wait a while?”

  “No.” She looks back at the faces. “I’m not going. Bran told me to stay. He said I would be company for Dervish, that he could look after me and I could look after him. He said we would be good for one another.”

  “I’ll be looking after Dervish,” I snap.

  Bec shrugs. “I’m only repeating what Bran said. He also said Dervish could teach me about the new world, while he could teach you more about magic. In his opinion that arrangement will work best for everyone.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I huff, storming off. I pause before turning the corner and glance back at her. “If for some reason I don’t return… if anything happens to me… you will take care of Dervish, won’t you?”

  “I’ve comforted people who lost loved ones before. There were many in my rath—my village. I will do my best. I promise.”

  I nod thankfully, then hurry downstairs to sort out things with Beranabus and put him straight on a couple of issues.

  The magician and Kernel are in front of the house, squatting in the middle of the road, draped in clothes which they’re taken from our wardrobes. They’ve healed the worst of their wounds, though they’re covered in cuts and bruises and Kernel’s as blind as he was before. A familiar monolith hangs in the air between them.

  “Leaving so soon?” I ask Beranabus tightly.

  “Work to be done,” he says briskly. “You’ve seen Bec?”

  “Yes. She’s under the impression that I’m leaving. Said she’d been charged with the task of looking after Dervish.”

  “Bec’s staying?” Kernel asks, surprised.

  “I considered bringing her with us,” Beranabus says. “We can’t test the Kah-Gash properly without her. I’ve waited so long to find the different pieces. It might be madness to leave her behind.

  But the weapon unnerves me. It gave us the power to come back in time and stop the Demonata—but before that it led Grubbs to the cave and initiated this whole train of events.”

  “I don’t recall it leading me,” I frown.

  “The night you went to the cave when you were turning into a werewolf,” Beranabus reminds me. “You cleared most of the entrance. Bec didn’t summon you and Lord Loss wasn’t involved at that stage. It can only have been the work of the Kah-Gash. It wanted you to reopen the cave— which makes me assume it also wanted to reopen the tunnel.”

  “You’re saying we can’t trust it?” Kernel barks. “After all this time and effort, the things we’ve sacrificed, the risks we’ve taken… it was all in pursuit of a weapon we don’t dare use?”

  “We’ll use it eventually,” Beranabus says. “We’ll have to. But I want to study the pair of you first and try to form a better idea of what we’ll be dealing with when we next unleash its power. I think it’s better not to keep the three of you together until we’re sure we can control the Kah-Gash.”

  “Then why not leave me behind and take Bec?” I ask.

  Beranabus sighs. “She’s suffered greatly and I care about her deeply. I was scatterbrained as a child—I bet you find that hard to believe! Bec helped me make a vital breakthrough. She set me on track and rooted me in reality. I owe her more than I can ever repay. She deserves to live again, to be human. I’d leave her here forever if I could. That’s impossible, but since it makes sense to keep one of you out of the way of the others for a while, I’ll gladly give her this free time. As the gods surely know, she’s earned it.”

  “That’s the most human thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Kernel murmurs. Then he frowns. “If you knew her, that means you were alive sixteen hundred years ago. I didn’t think humans could survive that long.”

  “They can’t,” Beranabus grunts. He wipes dried blood from his cheeks, but it’s yellow, not red. “You saw me changing in the cave, didn’t you?” he asks me.

  “I saw… something,” I answer cagily.

  “It surfaces occasionally. Sometimes I need to draw on its powers. It’s a dangerous game, involving it so intimately. I run the risk of succumbing to it and losing control. But there are times when we must gamble.” He scowls, then says quickly, bluntly, “I’m half-Demonata. My father was a demon. That’s where my magic comes from. It’s how I’ve lived so long.”

  “You never told me,” Kernel whispers.

  “It’s not something I’m proud of,” Beranabus says acidly. “My mother fell foul of the beast. She never meant for this to happen. It was a horrible twist of fate—or the universe’s way of protecting itself from the Demonata.”

  “Could you have been one of them?” Kernel asks. “You’ve passed for human all this time. Could you have lived as a demon if you’d wished?”

  “Aye. The possibility of becoming a fully fledged demon was always there. It still is. My demon half constantly tempts me, urges me to give myself over to evil, join the Demonata and help them conquer this world. I fight it daily. I’ve held it in check—so far.”

  “Which one of them is your father?” I ask. “Lord Loss?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snorts. “My father was a lesser demon. I tracked him down many centuries ago. I killed the beast and relieved him of his head. Used the skull as a bedpan for a time.” He jerks his thumb at the monolith. “Now that we’ve had the sordid family history, can we move on?”

  “I’m not going,” I tell him. “I’m staying here with Dervish and Bec.”

  Beranabus shrugs. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Don’t say it like that. I’ve done my bit. I stopped the demons breaking through. I killed my brother and saved the world. What more do you want from me?” I scream.

  Beranabus doesn’t blink. “It’s not what I want—it’s what the universe wants. And what I’ve learnt from my long years is the universe only ever wants more. It doesn’t care about sacrifice and best efforts. It needs us to keep fighting. As far as the universe is concerned, there’s no rest for either the good or the wicked. I doubt it even understands the concept.”

  “Well, the universe can go stick its head where the sun don’t shine!” I yell. “I’m through. I did what I had to and now I want out, like Bec.”

  “It’s not within my power to let you go or keep you,” Beranabus says softly. “Your conscience will guide you. There’s no point shrieking at me. It’s yourself you should be angry with. If you were selfish, didn’t care about the world, or were a tenth of the coward you believe you are, you’d go back inside, return to school, live out a long, happy, simple, human life. Which you’re fully entitled to.”

  He takes a step closer, shaking his head. “But you can’t, can you? You saw the shadow monster in the cave, the one that almost broke through—their leader.”

  “It was huge,” I whisper. “Powerful. Evil.”

  “All demons are evil,” Beranabus says. “This was different. I’m not sure how exactly, but I intend to find out. I’ll track it down, even if I have to visit a thousand worlds and kill a million demons. Normally Kernel could lead me to it—he’s a marvel at finding rogue monsters—but I’m not sure he can pull his weight anymore.”

  “I might not be able to pull my weight,” Ke
rnel growls, “but I can punch your lights out, old man.” He bares his teeth. “Or should I say old demon.”

  Beranabus laughs shortly. “Whether or not Kernel can work his magic, I’ll find and kill that beast before it discovers another way to open a tunnel between universes. And you’ll help me. I know it, Kernel knows it—and you know it. That’s why you’re angry. You don’t have a choice because your conscience is directing you. Even after all that’s happened—the grief you’re going through, the guilt, the fear—you have to do this. You couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t.”

  “Can’t we wait?” I cry. “Leave it a few days at least, so I can mourn Bill-E and be with Dervish?”

  “The Demonata won’t wait,” Beranabus says, then smiles faintly. “It’s hard for all of us. Kernel needs medical aid. We can build a new pair of eyes for him in the universe of magic, but they’ll only work in that demonic realm. When he returns to this world, the eyes will soon dissolve. The pain will be awful and will worsen every time he comes back. He can no longer think of Earth as home.

  “I want to sit down with Bec, tell her all that’s happened in the last thousand and a half years, discuss old times, get to know her again, guide her through the ways of this new and frightening world. Retire and enjoy a few years of peace in her company before my exhausted old spirit passes on.

  “But Kernel’s ruined eyes don’t matter a damn. My pitiful wishes matter even less. We’re pawns of the universe. We go where we’re needed, do what we must. All else takes second place to that.”

  “I know,” I sigh. “I understand. But Dervish… Bill-E…”

  “Look at it this way,” Kernel says softly. “You can mourn your brother here and wait for the world to end—or you can mourn him in the Demonata’s universe while you kick seven shades of demon arse all the way to hell.” He pushes himself up and walks to the monolith, wincing from the pain, hands outstretched. He touches the dark face of the window, pauses, lifts his head as though trying to see the sky one last time, even without his eyes and through the layers of bandages. Then, with a soft groan, he steps forward and vanishes.

  “I want to say goodbye to Dervish,” I mutter.

  “No,” Beranabus replies, “you don’t. That would mean more pain. Better to slip away while he’s asleep. He won’t like it, but he’ll accept it.”

  “How’s he going to explain Bill-E’s disappearance to the police, his teachers, everyone who knew him?”

  “He’ll cook up a good story. He was always adept at making fiction fit the facts.” Beranabus extends a hand towards me.

  “What about the cave?” I ask, stalling for time. “We have to block the entrance again or the Demonata might—”

  “I’ve already taken care of that,” Beranabus says curtly, losing patience. “I’ve cast spells of warning again, and Dervish will ensure the entrance is filled in as swiftly as possible.”

  “Your spells didn’t work last time,” I remind him.

  “Because of the Kah-Gash,” he snaps. “That has the power to override any spell of mine or any other’s. But with you and Kernel by my side, I won’t have to worry about that happening again. If demons make another move on the cave, I’ll know. Now, are you coming or not? And before you answer, don’t forget the Lambs are still after you.”

  I sneer. “They frightened me once—not any longer.”

  “Aye. Because you have a more powerful enemy to face now.”

  I nod slowly, reluctantly, then take the ancient magician’s hand. “I’m scared,” I whisper. “More scared than I’ve ever been, and that’s saying a lot.”

  “I know,” he replies quietly. “You probably always will be. If it’s any comfort, I’m scared too, even after all these centuries.”

  “How do you deal with the fear?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I fight.”

  “Is that enough?”

  “It has to be.”

  And on that dubious, dark note, we walk to the monolith, the magician and his assistant, saviours of the world, slaves of the universe. We lay our hands on the smooth black slab. There’s a surge of magic. Our heads tilt back like Kernel’s did, for one final look at a beautiful, twinkling, star-studded sky. I think of Dervish, Bill-E, all I have to leave behind. The battles to come, the loneliness and pain. I want to run away from it all and hide. But I can’t. No—I won’t.

  Beranabus tugs gently. I take a breath, hold it, then willingly step forward with him to face my destiny in the universe of all things foul and demonic.

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