“Shark!” Dervish yells, nodding at the demon, which has spat at a third punk and is now bent over the remains of the man with the Mohican. It’s slurping up the spit, along with the gooey mush which is all that’s left of the man’s skull and brains.
“On it,” Shark grunts, stepping forward. He taps into the magic, tenses, then leaps through the air, landing beside the demon. Before it can react, he grabs one of its heads and twists savagely left, then right, ripping it loose.
The demon screeches and spits at Shark with both remaining mouths. Shark ducks out of the way of one of the spitballs and deflects the other with a wave of a magically charged hand. He throws the severed head—still moving—through the window, then grabs for another. This time the demon dodges the tattooed fingers and takes flight, making a noise which is a weird cross between a pig’s squeal and a chicken’s cluck.
The demon’s heading for one of the windows at the front of the building. Before it gets there and breaks through to kill the punks who’ve spilled out on to the street past the bewildered doormen, Dervish mutters a quick spell. The glass turns to steel. The demon doesn’t see this. It leaps, cackling, only to slam hard into the metal and flop to the floor.
Dervish uses magic to clear a path between us and the demon. He darts forward while the demon’s shaking its heads with confusion. Gets between the monster and the front door. “Are you sure we can’t kill it?” he shouts at Shark.
“Yes!” Shark bellows.
“Then let’s force it back through the window.” He sneaks a look at me. “Kernel, can you budge over, block its path to the rear doors?”
“I’m not sure,” I mutter. “I’m not good at fighting…”
“You won’t have to fight,” Dervish assures me. “Just look like you know what you’re doing, like you’re the meanest piece of scum in the room. Scowl. Growl. Howl. If it goes for you, I’ll step in.”
I trust Dervish, even though I barely know him. He’s younger than Shark, but speaks like he’s older. So with only the slightest hesitation, I do what he asks and edge my way left, along the path which Dervish is creating. I take up a position halfway between him and Shark, spread my arms, glare at the demon and act as if I’m far more powerful and confident than I feel.
The demon’s on its feet. Blood oozes from the neck where its third head was removed. Bile dribbles from its remaining mouths, sizzling where it hits the floor, burning through the old wooden floorboards. It sends a ball of spit zooming at Dervish, but he waves a hand at it and the ball explodes. He chants a spell and several bricks snap loose from the wall and fly at the demon, striking its body and heads.
The demon bats the bricks away, then looks from Dervish to Shark to me. It’s searching for a weak point. Its gaze lingers on me, since I’m the smallest. I want to run for cover like the punks, but I don’t give in to fear. Instead, I step forward, sneering at the demon, inviting an attack.
The bluff works. With a petulant cry, the demon darts towards the window of violet light, past the singer who’s still roaring into his microphone, eyes shut, no idea of what’s going on. Shark curses, as though he left the route to the window open by accident. He lunges at the demon. The beast picks up speed, makes it to the window, then leaps to safety, laughing hysterically at Shark, thinking it got the better of him.
“What a team!” Shark hoots, standing to the left of the window, on his guard in case the demon returns. “Did you see that baby run? We kicked its ass royally!”
“What a buzz,” Dervish murmurs, closing in on the window, pausing to melt the walls around the front and rear doors, allowing more of the punks to exit—easier than trying to restore order. “I’ve never felt so powerful. Never knew I could do so much. The magic in the air… the way I tapped into it… unbelievable!”
“You’ve got the taste for this now,” Shark chuckles. “You were nervous earlier. That’s understandable. We all get the jitters the first time. But you’ve caught the bug. It’s demon-fighting all the way for you now, right?”
“Maybe,” Dervish says, smiling crookedly, looking at his hands with a mix of pride and wonder. “I did most of it without thinking. It was like there was somebody else inside me, pulling the strings.”
“The steel windows were a good idea,” Shark commends him. “You’re more imaginative than me. I’d have tried to drag the demon back.”
“How long will the window to the other universe remain open?” Dervish asks.
“Maybe a few minutes,” Shark says. “We’ll stick by it until it closes, to be safe, then get out of here quick. Try explaining to a policeman that you’re part of the great war against demons—see where it gets you!”
Dervish examines the window with innocent curiosity. He pokes his fingers into the light, yelps when they disappear, clutches his hand back and wriggles his fingers, relieved to see them still in place.
Shark laughs. “I did that the first time too.”
“Have you ever stepped through?” Dervish asks.
“Once. Came back right away—didn’t want to get stuck over there.”
“What did you see?”
“A world like ours, only—”
“I have to go,” I cut in. They’d forgotten about me. Now they stare. “Beranabus. I’ve got to get back to him. Remember?”
“You want to step through the window?” Shark frowns.
“No. But I have to. I can find him when I’m in the demon universe.”
“What if the monster’s waiting for you on the other side?” Dervish says.
I shrug unhappily. “I don’t have a choice. I can’t find Beranabus here.”
“Won’t he come for you?” Shark asks.
“Maybe. But I’m not sure he can find me as easily as I can find him. I have to go,” I say, urgently this time, aware that the window might close while we’re arguing. “A demon stole my brother. I have to rescue him.”
I take a step towards the window. Shark puts out a large tattooed hand and stops me. “There’s no way I’m going to let a kid walk through that alone,” he growls. As my face crumples, he smiles. “So I’d better tag along, make sure you don’t come to any harm. Dervish?” He raises a questioning eyebrow.
Dervish studies the window again. Licks his lips nervously. Then nods quickly. “Yeah. What the hell. There’s never much to do here on a Saturday anyway.”
My eyes fill with happy tears. “Thank you,” I mumble.
“Never mind the thanks,” Shark sniffs. “Just be ready to fight.” And saying that, he grabs the collar of my T-shirt and hurls me through the violet window of light, back into the cauldron of the Demonata.
THE RELUCTANT DISCIPLE
I come out on top of a fluffy cloud. Through a break to my left I see land far below. My stomach drops as I picture myself falling through the mist, then the sky, hitting the ground hard and splattering. But the cloud holds, supporting me like the water in the first world I visited.
Shark steps through after me, Dervish just behind him. They yell with shock when they see what we’re standing on. Turn to dive back through the window. “It’s OK!” I shout. “We won’t fall.”
They pause, glance at me uncertainly, then realise I’m telling the truth—otherwise we’d have already dropped.
The now two-headed demon is on another bank of cloud ahead of us. When it spots us, it squeals with fear and bounds away. Shark starts after it, but Dervish calls him back. “We’re here to find Beranabus, not kill a stray demon.”
Shark pulls a face, loath to let the demon escape. Then he sighs. “OK, kid. Tell us how you plan to find him.”
“I’ll open a window,” I say, as the one we stepped through comes apart. “Just give me a few minutes to find the patches.”
“ ‘Patches’?” Dervish echoes, but I don’t answer. Looking around, I’m pleased to note that there are loads of patches of light in the air, despite the fact that we’re standing on top of a cloud. I start thinking about Beranabus, muttering his name softly, hoping he’s
still alive and that I have the power to make the lights pulse.
For a few seconds—nothing. But before panic has a chance to set in, a pink square by my left foot blinks. Then a brown octagon. Soon, dozens of the patches are pulsing and I merrily set to work.
I’m aware of Dervish and Shark talking while I build the window. Dervish is complaining about the cold. His leather jacket is too small to button up properly—it’s for style, not warmth—and his bare chest is freezing in these icy heights.
“Use magic,” I tell him, recalling the way I instinctively repaired my broken arm. “You can warm up if you think yourself warm.”
Dervish is sceptical, but gives it a go, and moments later he’s beaming, even taking his jacket off and tying it around his waist.
“You must have been here a long time to know so much,” Shark says.
“Actually, I don’t think it’s been more than half a day,” I reply. “Though it feels longer. I’ll tell you about it later, if we have time.”
The window comes together smoothly under my guidance. I don’t hurry. Pleased to note I’m no longer hungry or tired. Marvelling at the way this universe works. I start wondering if we could float down to the ground from here, but then the assembled patches pulse as one and a brownish window opens. “Here we go,” I say smugly.
“I didn’t think windows could be opened that quickly or simply,” Shark says.
“It’s easy-peasy when you know how.”
Shark steps up beside me and looks back at Dervish. “Ready for the next leg of the tour?”
“Hurm,” Dervish says uncertainly. “Do you know where that leads?” he asks me.
“No. But Beranabus will be there.” I hesitate. “When I left him, he was in trouble, fighting a team of demons. We might have to help him. So be prepared, OK?”
“Yes, boss,” Shark laughs.
“Thanks for warning us,” Dervish says, then takes up a position to my left. Shark slides into place on my right. We step through the window.
It’s the same world where Nadia and I ran out on Beranabus. Night. Three moons shine, closer than the moon is to Earth in my universe. Too bright to see if there are any giant demons soaring overhead.
Corpses are scattered across the hard yellow ground. Demons in an advanced state of decomposition, most rotted to the bone. Either demons rot quickly here or this is one of those places where time runs faster than in the human universe.
I spy Beranabus working on a window. Sharmila is nearby, sitting next to a mound of freshly dug earth. I guess it’s Raz’s final resting place, that she and Beranabus—probably just her—dug a grave for the fallen Disciple.
I get a lump in my throat when I think about how Raz died, but there’s no time to cry. I didn’t believe I could be so matter of fact about the death of a friend, but I’m learning a lot here. One of the things is that in times of severe disorder, you can’t worry about the dead, only the living. I still think Art is alive. He’s the one I have to focus on. I can’t do any good for the dead Raz Warlo.
“Beranabus!” I call. “It’s me, Kernel. I’m back.”
The magician’s head whips round and Sharmila’s jerks up. They stare at me in disbelief, then at the two men with me. Then Beranabus cheers—the first time he’s acted like an ordinary human since I met him—and rushes across to pick me up and whirl me around.
“Kernel Fleck!” he booms. “You’re a wonder! I’ve been struggling to build a window to you for days. And here you pop up, cool as a breeze! You’re the most remarkable human I’ve met in centuries!”
He sets me down and I find myself grinning at him. I hadn’t liked the cranky magician before. But now I see he can be as emotional as any normal person. He simply hides his feelings better than most.
“Hello, Beranabus,” Shark says, stepping forward, hand outstretched.
Beranabus shakes the hand briefly, frowning. Then he points at Shark and says, “Octopus?”
“Shark,” Shark laughs.
“Ah. I knew it was something like that.” He looks at Dervish blankly.
“This is Dervish Grady,” Shark introduces him. “My latest recruit.”
“Another Disciple,” Beranabus murmurs, nodding shortly at Dervish. “How many does that make?”
“If you don’t know, I’m sure nobody does,” Shark says.
Beranabus shrugs. “I never was good at numbers. Anyway, welcome to the team, Grady. I hope you last longer than some of my other followers.” His eyes flash on Raz’s grave.
“It is good to see you again, Kernel,” Sharmila says, stepping forward to hug me. She looks drawn and miserable, but has reattached her arm and healed her wounds since the battle.
“I’m pleased you made it,” I whisper.
“It was close. My injuries were fatal. If not for Beranabus, I would have died.”
“Yes, yes, I’m better than any doctor,” Beranabus says impatiently. “Now what about my other Disciple? Where’s Nadia? Not dead, surely.”
I pause. Part of me wants to cover up for her and tell him she was killed by a demon. But his small dark eyes are fixed on me and I find myself incapable of attempting a lie. “She didn’t want to come back. She left me. Went off by herself. She’s had enough of demons.”
Beranabus’ face blackens with fury. “I’ll flay her skin from her back! Find her. Open a window to her. Immediately.”
“I do not think you should do that,” Sharmila says. “Nadia is a free agent. If she wants to—”
“I don’t care about her wants!” Beranabus bellows. “We need her. Now open that window, Kernel, and don’t pretend you can’t. I’ll know if you’re lying. And I’ll punish you for it.”
I want to tell him to get stuffed, I’m not his servant. But those dark eyes are fierce with anger when I look at him and I wilt. “I’ll try,” I mutter unhappily. “I’m not sure it will work, since she’s not in this universe, but I’ll give it a go. If you’re certain.”
“Aye!” Beranabus growls, glaring at me as I clear my thoughts and concentrate on Nadia’s image, feeling like a traitor of the lowest, meanest order.
We’re waiting for Beranabus. He said that because of the time differences between this world and ours, he could be gone for a few hours as we experience it, even though it will only be a few minutes for him. I keep an eye on the window, holding it open. It’s not hard. When I see a patch or two shimmer and start to slip free of the panel, I press them back into place.
We chat to pass the time. Sharmila tells Dervish and Shark about the Kah-Gash, Beranabus’ quest, her part in the mission. I describe how I got mixed up in it, and demonstrate how I can construct windows so quickly, though I can’t explain why I alone can see the patches of light.
In return, Shark and Dervish tell us of their lives. Shark’s been a Disciple for several years, working with others to avert demonic crossings. He was in the army when he discovered his magical talent. On a tour of duty. A village came under attack from four demons. Shark and his team tried to stop them. A Disciple was present. He realised Shark’s potential when he saw him fighting, pulled him clear of the massacre, explained about the Demonata. All of Shark’s fellow soldiers were killed, so Shark became a Disciple, though he still wears his uniform out of respect for the dead.
Dervish is new to the game. Shark discovered him a few months ago while trying to stop a crossing in the city where I met them. He was successful, thanks to Dervish, who happened to be nearby when a window was about to open. Dervish saw that Shark was in trouble, ran to his aid and used magic he’d never known he possessed to knock out the woman trying to open the window. That was the end of life as he knew it.
“Is that how Disciples are normally recruited?” I ask. “There’s an attack, they discover magic within themselves and a Disciple asks them to join?”
“Pretty much,” Shark says. “Lots of people have magical ability, but it usually only reveals itself in the presence of demons. When windows are created, some of the magic of their universe fl
ows through, which people like us can tap into, even without training or intent. We’ve spent decades trying to identify and develop the potential some other way, but no luck so far.”
“Does everybody join once they know they have the power?” I ask.
“No,” Sharmila answers. “Many reject their calling. I do not blame them. Ours is a harsh life, lonely, filled with peril.”
Shark snorts with contempt. “If I had my way, we’d press-gang the lot of them, force them to fight.”
“That would be unfair,” Sharmila says.
“This isn’t about fairness,” Shark argues. “It’s about winning a war. You can’t run away from your duty during war. It’s desertion.”
“That’s what Nadia did,” I say softly, and my eyes meet Sharmila’s. We’re both worried about what will happen when Beranabus catches up with her.
Nadia falls hard through the window and lands heavily on the ground. She howls hatefully and tries to leap back through the panel of light. Beranabus appears before she completes the jump. Shoves her away, snarling like an animal. “Stop!” he roars.
Nadia tries to wriggle around him, fingers stretching towards the window of light. He blocks her way, standing firm like a Roman emperor, while Nadia shrieks and wails.
She tries using magic to move him, but he flicks aside her bolt of energy and holds his position. “Kernel!” he shouts. “Dismantle the window.”
“I’m not sure I should—”
He flashes his teeth at me, making it very clear that he’ll turn on me next if I disobey him. Feeling lousy and afraid, I slink around Nadia and Beranabus—the magician fending his assistant off, protecting me from her—and set to work on the window. After removing a few pieces, the patches slide apart and the window disappears.
Nadia throws herself flat and weeps into the yellow earth, hammering the ground with her fists. Beranabus sighs and steps aside, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ll thank me for this later,” he says.
“I’ll thank the demon who rips your head off and fills your skull with fire!” she screams back, then bolts upright and glares at me. “You showed him where to find me!”
[Demonata 02] - Demon Thief Page 10
