by Darren Shan
I start to lean over, mouth dry, spinal cord tingling.
But then I think of Juni’s eyes again and it finally clicks. The glow reminded me of the fiery, eyeless sockets of one of Lord Loss’s familiars—the charmless hell-baby known as Artery.
I draw away from Reni. She stares at me, surprised and slightly hurt. I force a bitter smile. “Later,” I whisper. “I’m nervous, you know?” Letting her think I’ve gone shy. Unable to tell her that thoughts of demons have set my teeth trembling, that I’m afraid I might accidentally bite her tongue if we kiss.
Reni smiles back and gives my hand a squeeze. “I know,” she says, finding it sweet. She leans her head on my shoulder and sighs. “When you’re ready, give me a shout. I can wait.”
I lay my head on hers and close my eyes, drowning out the sounds of the film, trying to listen to her heartbeat, feeling her hair soft against my cheek—but not able to stop thinking about Juni’s eyes and demons.
As we come out of the cinema I spot a tramp sitting by the side of one of the mall’s fountains. We’re a long way off but he looks like the same one I ran into on the path home last week. As the others file to the restaurant again, for milkshakes, I halt and fix my gaze on the tramp. I’m certain it’s him—same shaggy beard, long hair, old clothes, posy of flowers in a buttonhole. And maybe it’s my imagination, but he seems to be looking back at me, returning my stare.
I start towards him, not entirely sure why, but bothered by his being here, wanting to make sure it’s the same man. Then Reni notices I’m not with the group. She calls my name. When I don’t respond, she calls again, sharply.
“Sorry,” I mutter, taking my eyes off the tramp. “Thought I saw someone I knew.”
“Who?” Reni asks.
“Nobody.” I smile when she frowns at me. “A teacher. But it wasn’t. Come on, let’s go tuck into our shakes.”
“You’re in a strange mood tonight,” Reni comments, towing me along to catch up with the others.
Just before we turn the corner, I look back at the fountain. But nobody’s there now. The tramp has gone.
* * * * *
Home. Troubled. Thinking about the tramp. Probably nothing, just coincidence that I’ve seen him a couple of times. But it might be something more. We’re protected here from demons, Dervish has said it dozens of times. But some demons have human assistants. What if the tramp is working for Lord Loss, waiting for the chance to knock me out and cart me away to a spot where the demon master can set his evil hands on me?
I decide to tell Dervish. I might wind up looking like a frightened fool, jumping at shadows, but it’s best not to take chances with stuff like this. I go searching for Dervish in his study, then his bedroom, but I only find Juni, sitting on the edge of Dervish’s bed, staring out the window, pensive.
“Hi,” I say. “Is Dervish about?”
“He’s gone for Chinese.”
“Oh.” The local Chinese takeaway does home deliveries but Dervish doesn’t trust them to send the correct food. He always fetches it himself. “No worries. I’ll catch him when he’s back.” I start to leave.
“Grubbs,” Juni stops me. She pats the space on the bed next to her. There’s a long silence as I settle beside her. She continues to stare out the window. She’s so slender, I feel even bigger than normal sitting next to her.
“I saw you earlier, in the study,” Juni says.
“How?” I frown. “Your eyes were closed.”
“I could see through the lids—part of the spell. You looked scared. You ran away as if I frightened you.” I fidget uncomfortably. “Are you afraid that Dervish is falling in love with me? That I’m going to steal his love for you?”
“No,” I laugh. “That wasn’t it at all.”
“Then why did you look so spooked?”
“Your eyes.” I clear my throat. “They were like a demon’s that I fought.”
Juni tenses when I mention the D word. Then relaxes. “We haven’t talked much about that, have we?” she notes softly.
“No.”
“I’m still haunted by what happened,” she whispers. “I’m dealing with it, but it’s hard. Knowing there are demons in the world… or tearing at the edges of it… wanting to grab us and destroy…”
“I know exactly how you feel. I hate them too. They terrify me.” I blush at the confession. “That’s why I ran. I didn’t realise it till later, but your eyes reminded me of a demon’s. I panicked. It was silly, but…” I shrug.
“You think I have a demon’s eyes?” Juni asks, bemused.
“No,” I chuckle. “It was just magic. Dervish told me magic comes from demons, that the energy we tap into has seeped through from the Demonata’s universe. Every time we cast a spell, we use a bit of demonic energy. I guess it makes us look like them sometimes. This was just the first time I noticed it.”
Juni nods, understanding. Then, out of nowhere, she says, “Dervish is going to ask me to move in.”
“Oh?” I blink.
“I don’t know if I should.” She looks worried. “This has taken me by complete surprise. Maybe I need to slow things down. Stay away for a while. Give us all some space and time.”
I stare at her clumsily. I can’t think of anything to say. I know nothing about stuff like this. After a few seconds, Juni laughs and lays a hand on my knee. “Sorry. I don’t expect you to decide for me. I just needed to say it out loud.”
“I… I think… I mean… Dervish likes you. Really likes you. I… I think you should say yes.”
“You wouldn’t mind?” she asks softly.
“No.”
“You’re sure?” Her fingers tighten on my knee. “Since I got involved with Dervish, I’ve noticed a change in your response to me. I wasn’t sure you approved of our relationship. I thought you didn’t like me, that you didn’t want me to—”
“No,” I interrupt. “That’s crazy. I… No.” Smiling now. “It’s been strange, having you here, but I’m not against it. Honest. I’d like it if you moved in.”
Juni smiles blazingly. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear that.” She leans over and kisses my cheek. My blush darkens and spreads. She tweaks my nose, then gets up. “Come on,” she says, heading for the door. “Dervish will be back soon. We ordered extra in case you wanted any. You can help me prepare some plates.”
Following her down the stairs, grinning to myself, delighted to find that I truly don’t mind if she comes to live with us. Figuring crowded might not be such a bad thing for this hollow old house.
Late Sunday. Juni was right. Dervish asked her last night if she’d come live with us. She agreed, but said it would have to be for a trial period. They’ll see how they get on and if things don’t work, she’ll move out again.
She made the big switch today. Didn’t have much to bring. She’s moved around a lot this year, living out of a suitcase. She had a house once, but sold it when she accepted the movie job with Davida Haym. She’s been living in hotels since then. Says she has bits and bobs in storage, which she can fetch later, but there’s no urgency.
Dervish is like a child at Christmas. When Juni left to check out of her hotel this morning, he spent the time polishing and cleaning, making sure everything would be shiny and perfect when she returned. He’s been dancing around the house like a pantomime fairy, whistling, sometimes singing out loud.
Give me strength!
They’re in bed now. It’s nearly two in the morning. They’ve probably been asleep for hours, but I can’t nod off. Worrying about lycanthropy. Magic. Juni moving in and how that’s going to change things. Loch. Reni. The tramp. (I forgot to tell Dervish about him.)
I get up and dress. Pad downstairs and let myself out. Start walking, then jogging. Soon I’m running, breathing hard, breath turning to mist on the cool night air. I develop a stitch. Ignoring it, I run until it feels as if my stomach is on fire. Finally I stop and bend over, panting like a thirsty dog. When I can breathe normally I set off again, but only jogging this t
ime, pacing myself.
It’s hard to jog at night. The forest is dark around me. Have to be careful where I put my feet. But I’m not afraid. The sounds and smells of the night don’t scare me. I’m safe here, on home turf.
I jog without direction, simply enjoying the exercise. Letting my feet guide me. Not keeping track of my route, confident I can find my way back.
Then I round a patch of briars and spot scatterings of rocks and earth—I’m at the entrance to the cave. I stop and squint suspiciously. Dervish hasn’t had time to fill in the hole. He stuck a crate down it and covered it with soil and small stones so nobody would fall down into the cave, but that’s as far as he got.
I approach the hole cautiously, wondering if I’ve been drawn here by some external force or if it’s just coincidence. I listen closely for whispers but I can’t hear anything. Can’t sense anything either—no magical warmth within, or feeling that I’m being summoned.
I stop at the edge of the hole and stare down into darkness, thinking about Loch. It seems so long ago that we were messing about here, dreaming of Lord Sheftree’s buried treasure. Everything was simple then. You don’t recognise the good times in life until it all goes bad and you look back and see how lucky you were, how easy you had things.
I wonder where Loch is now, if there’s an afterlife, what it’s like if there is. Is he sitting on a cloud, plucking at the strings of a harp? Wrestling with angels? Being waited upon by beautiful women? Does he know the answers to all the questions in the universe? Has he come back as somebody else or as an animal? Or is there nothing when you die? I know people have souls, but do they vanish into oblivion when the body shuts down? Is life the start and finish of all that we are? Is Loch—
“You’re out late.”
A voice behind me. I whirl and spot the tramp, half-hidden by shadows, watching me with a little smile that’s hard to distinguish behind the tangled bush of his beard.
“Who are you?” I shout. “Why are you following me?
The tramp steps forward and I get my first good look at him. Dark skin, but I think the colour’s more to do with dirt than flesh pigment. Black hair streaked with patches of grey and white. Small build. Cracked fingernails, but not caked with dirt as you’d expect—clean as a surgeon’s. Small eyes, blue or grey.
“You should be asleep,” the tramp says. A deep voice. Hard to place the accent.
“Who are you?” I growl again, looking for something to defend myself with.
The tramp walks past me to the edge of the hole. Stares down, the same way I was staring moments before. “A grave fit for a king,” he murmurs, then looks at me and smiles crookedly. “Have anyone in mind for it?”
“Who are you?” I ask for the third time but my voice is trembling now. This is no ordinary tramp. There’s something powerful and dangerous about him.
The tramp doesn’t answer my question. Instead he looks up at the sky—at the moon. “Won’t be long now,” he says casually, then skirts the hole and walks off, not looking back, disappearing into the cover of the forest within seconds.
I stay where I am for a minute, shivering. Then bolt for home, to wake Dervish—the hell with his beauty sleep—and tell him about the mysterious, ominous stranger.
Almost back at the mansion, ready to scream myself hoarse about the tramp, when I slow, frown and pause.
Maybe Dervish already knows.
The tramp knew who I was. I’m pretty sure he knew about the cave too and what happened there. And he definitely knew about the moon and what it’s doing to me—that was clear by his mocking tone. If he was a servant of Lord Loss, that would have been the perfect place to ambush me. I was alone. I didn’t know he was there until he spoke. He could have clubbed me over the head or injected me with a sleeping drug. But he didn’t. So I doubt he’s in league with the demon master. If that’s the case, he could only have known all those things if he’d been told. And Dervish is the only one who could have told him.
Flashback. Dervish’s study… him on the phone… checking afterwards… finding the black folder with the numbers and names.
Figuring—the tramp must be one of the Lambs. A scout, sent to keep an eye on me. Dervish promised to summon a magician to help, but instead he called in the Lambs, to be safe, in case I turn and he can’t handle me alone. The tramp has been shadowing me ever since, ready to move quickly if needs dictate.
I enter the house and creep up the stairs. I don’t wake Dervish or ask him about the tramp. Just undress and crawl into bed. Cold. Stiff. Terrified. Alone.
A SECRET SHARED
Everything’s a blur. School, chatting with my friends, playing happy families with Dervish and Juni. Life goes on as normal around me, and I take part, the way I always have. But I’m not fully there. Always thinking about the moon, the cave, the tramp, Dervish (possibly) scheming behind my back. Waiting for the change to hit. Going to bed tense every night, lying in the dark, wondering if this is when I’ll turn. Stiffening whenever one of my fingers twitches or my stomach growls. Terror when my lips lift back over my teeth in a wolf-life snarl—then relief when I realise I’m only yawning.
I discuss some of it with Dervish but I’m reluctant to share everything. The more I think about it, the more positive I am—he called in the Lambs. I resent him for that. There’s no real reason to. It’s not like he’s washing his hands of me. I’m sure he’ll be extra careful, that he won’t let them act unless I’m beyond saving. But why summon them so soon? He didn’t with Bill-E. He kept them in the dark. Dealt with it himself while there was still hope. I was sure he’d act the same way with me.
Of course, I’m different. We can’t work the Lord Loss angle anymore. Dervish didn’t call the Lambs in last time because he planned to fight for Bill-E’s humanity. If he won, Lord Loss would have cured Bill-E. If he lost, they’d have both been slaughtered by the demon master. Either way, no need for the Lambs. I’m not that lucky. There’s no get-out clause in my case.
Also there’s the magic. Dervish can deal with a werewolf, but perhaps not one with magical powers. Maybe he’s scared, isn’t sure what I’ll be capable of when I turn, doesn’t feel he can handle me solo, wants the security of back-up. Perfectly logical if he does. I can’t blame him for that.
But even so, I feel betrayed and the feeling won’t go away. I should talk with him, tell him I know he called in the Lambs, discuss my disappointment, give him the chance to explain.
But I don’t. Afraid to bring the subject out into the open, like when I first became aware of the magic inside me and kept it secret. Ludicrously hoping that I’m wrong about the tramp, that things aren’t at such an advanced stage, that I can still be saved. Figuring if I don’t talk about it, maybe it will go away. Grubbs Grady—human ostrich!
A week to go.
Today, at lunch, when we’re alone, Reni asks if anything is wrong. I haven’t been paying her the kind of attention she expects. She wants to know if I’ve lost interest, if I’m seeing or thinking about somebody else. She puts it lightly, tries to make a joke of it, but I can see the suspicion and hurt in her eyes.
I lie. Say things are the same as always. Make excuses. Tell her there’s a lot of confusion in my life—Loch dying (not that I put it so bluntly), Juni moving in with Dervish. I even mention exams and the future, pretending I’m worried about the direction I’m taking.
She buys it. Thinks I’m going through a mid-teen crisis, that it’s nothing to do with her. Willing to wait for my mood to improve. Confident I’ll be back looking to put the moves on her once I sort through my problems. Never guessing that they might be the ripping-her-throat-open-with-my-teeth type of moves—if I turn into a werewolf next weekend.
Walking home slowly, watching for the tramp. I’ve caught glimpses of him since that night at the cave, hanging around school, on the streets of Carcery Vale, once in the trees across from my bedroom window. But he’s kept at a safe distance. No follow-up contact. Slips away if I try to approach.
I
’m surprised he even spoke to me that once. Maybe it was an accident—late at night, standing guard in the forest, at the scene of a tragedy. Perhaps the mood affected him and he spoke without meaning to. I’m sure even the executioners of the Lambs are prone to human slip-ups every now and then.
Thinking about the tramp and the Lambs as I let myself in. Wondering how they kill the werewolves. I imagine it’s clinical and undramatic, probably a powerful poison, injected humanely. But I can’t help playing out shock-horror scenes—hordes of Lambs dressed as tramps surrounding me, attacking me with machetes and clubs, a slow, humiliating, painful death.
“Grubbs,” Dervish calls as I’m heading up the stairs, disrupting my train of morbid thoughts. “Could you come see me when you’re ready?”
“Sure.” Up to my room. Toss my bag into a corner. Out of my uniform swiftly, into jeans and a baggy sweater seconds later. Jog back down in my socks to find Dervish and Juni sitting on one of the couches in the TV room, looking edgy and stern.
I take a seat, wary. I look at them and they stare at me. A long, ragged silence. Then Dervish speaks quickly. “I’ve told Juni about you. About us. The family curse. What’s been happening with you recently.”
I blink slowly and glance at Juni. Can’t tell what she’s thinking. Wearing her most enigmatic counsellor’s face.
“I thought long and hard about this,” Dervish says, leaning forward. “It would have been easy to ask Juni to go away next weekend and keep her out of the loop. Easy and safe.” He looks at her. She smiles briefly and lays a hand on his. “But we need her help. I don’t know why, but you’ve stopped talking to me. This last week or two, you’ve been withdrawn, moody, sullen. Maybe it’s just fear. But I think there’s more to it. You’ve cut me out as if you have issues with me and that’s not good. I need to know what you’re thinking and feeling. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on inside your head.”
