Demon Thief td-2

by Darren Shan

  “I can’t let you do this,” Beranabus says. “I need you—especially Kernel.”

  “You were quick enough to offer our lives a minute ago,” Shark reminds him.

  “But now I have what we came for—Cadaver. I won’t leave you to be needlessly slaughtered. I can force you to come with me.”

  “I only came for Art,” I tell him. “There’s no point trying to take me. Even if you could, it wouldn’t do you any good. I’d never open a window again, unless it was a window back to this place. Try me—see if I’m bluffing.”

  Beranabus sighs, then squints at Lord Loss. “Can we do a deal for the child?”

  “Perhaps,” Lord Loss replies smoothly. “But I’m not sure I want to. This is far more interesting. I’m dying to see if you will really abandon them, or if you and Miss Mukherji will also stay and fight.”

  “There’s no chance of that happening,” Beranabus says.

  “You are certain?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then the pair of you cannot be part of any deal,” Lord Loss says, turning his attention to me. He strokes Art’s head softly, cooing. Grins, eyes alive with evil. “How much do you love your brother, Cornelius?”

  “Not enough to let you murder me for him,” I reply, thinking about Nadia.

  “You wouldn’t give your life to save his?” Lord Loss asks, surprised.

  “I’d risk it, but I won’t throw it away.”

  “Interesting.” Lord Loss purses his lips. After a few moments he calls, “Vein!”

  A dog-shaped demon slithers down one of the walls. It looks like a black labrador with a crocodile’s head and a woman’s delicate hands instead of paws. She trots over to her master and waits by the foot of the spider-shaped throne.

  “The Board,” Lord Loss says, and the demon races out of the room.

  Silence, waiting for the demon called Vein to return with whatever Lord Loss sent her for. I watch Art play in the demon master’s arms, wishing I could be as ignorant of danger as my brother. While I’m thinking about that, my mind replays all that’s been said. Frowning, I ask, “Why did you steal Art?”

  “I didn’t,” Lord Loss says. “Cadaver took him.”

  “But you told him to. You hired him. Why? Was it to get at me? Did you know about my gift?”

  “What gift?” Lord Loss asks.

  “Careful,” Beranabus warns. “Don’t tell him anything about yourself.”

  “So it wasn’t because you wanted me?” I press.

  “No,” Lord Loss says. “I remembered you from our previous encounter, but—”

  “You’ve met before?” Beranabus barks, startled.

  “Cornelius and I are old acquaintances,” Lord Loss says. He smiles at me. “I guessed you would come after your brother, but I expected you to perish along the way. You held no interest for me then—although you certainly do now.”

  “It wasn’t a trap?”

  “Why go to all that effort to trap a boy I barely know?” Lord Loss laughs. “This gift of yours must be something very special if you think—”

  “Kernel!” Beranabus barks.

  I wave him quiet, letting him know I’m not stupid, that I’m taking care. “Why?” I ask again. “Why steal Art?”

  Lord Loss smiles smugly. “That answer is tied in with the game I plan to let you play—assuming you’re agreeable. Ah, here’s Vein. We can begin.”

  I look around and see the crocodile-dog making for her master with a chess board grasped in her mouth. It’s a few inches thick, made of glass or crystal. Beranabus’ eyes widen when he sees the board. He starts towards Vein, as though to take the board from her, then stops and squints at Lord Loss. “Is that…?”

  “Yes. The Board. The original.”

  “I thought it was lost forever, deep beneath the earth.”

  “No. I rescued it.”

  “I can’t play chess,” I tell Lord Loss. “I know some of the rules, but not all of them.”

  “That’s all right,” Lord Loss says, floating down from his throne, taking the Board from Vein, wiping the surface clear of spit and slime. He looks at the black and white squares, smiling softly. “This is not a regular board. It is the very first chess board, given to humans by ancient beings who came to Earth from the stars. It was designed for greater things than chess, and since unlocking its secrets I no longer play upon it. The Board is better suited to other games. To battle.”

  “I don’t understand,” I frown.

  Lord Loss sets the Board on the floor. “Size, like time, can be different here. In this universe, an object can be both immense and microscopic. The Board is tiny in form, but enormous within. It contains a variety of universes in which I can place the souls of you and your loyal friends. There is no physical exit. Only the truth can guide you out.”

  Lord Loss holds up three arms. “You came in search of a demon thief. Since there are three of you, I will give you three chances to find that thief inside the Board, to apprehend and name him. If you do, your brother will be returned to you and you can take him home, if that is your wish. Otherwise you will remain trapped in the Board for the remainder of your life—and that will be a long, slow, horrible life, Cornelius. One of unimaginable darkness and misery.”

  “No,” Beranabus hisses. “You can’t ask that of him. He’s just a boy.”

  “Quiet!” Lord Loss bellows. “You had your chance to be a participant. Now be silent, like any other bystander.”

  I stare at the demon master, confused. “I don’t get it. I know who the thief is. I already found him. Cadaver.”

  Lord Loss shrugs. “If you and your companions agree to this, I will separate your souls from your bodies—a painless process—and secure them within the Board. You must search for the demon thief there, just as you searched for him here. I’ll give you three chances to find and name him. There is no time limit, but if you name the wrong thief on three occasions, your souls will remain captive in the Board. You’ll live out the rest of your lives there, and those lives will last hundreds, maybe thousands, of years as you experience time.”

  He stops and waits for my answer.

  I’m still not entirely sure about the rules. Why would I name another demon as the thief when I know it’s Cadaver? Unless there will be others disguised as Cadaver and I have to separate the real thief from the fakes.

  “What do you think?” I ask Dervish and Shark.

  “Will we have to fight?” Shark asks Lord Loss.

  “Oh, yes,” Lord Loss says with relish.

  “Can we die?” Dervish frowns. “I mean, if we don’t have actual bodies…”

  “Although I’ll separate your souls from your bodies, you will retain your current forms when you enter the Board,” Lord Loss explains. “If you are killed during the game, your makeshift bodies will dissolve and I will gain control of your souls.”

  Shark shrugs. “I don’t quite get all that, but I’m still with you.

  “Me too,” Dervish says.

  I smile at them, then face Lord Loss. “OK. We’ll do it. But I want your word that—”

  I get no further. Lord Loss barks a quick spell. Webs drop from the ceiling and ensnare us. We start to struggle, but then the webs go up in flames. I feel a stinging sensation. My body seems to melt away. I try to scream. A red veil passes over my eyes. Then the castle, demons and world around me blink out of existence.

  AMAZEING

  Darkness. Silence. I’m crouched over, hands covering my head, trying to protect my face from the sizzling webs. Then I realise I’m not on fire. There’s no pain. I relax my hands and sit up, brushing cobweb ash from my cheeks.

  I can’t see. Total blackness. I reach out with my hands but don’t touch anything. “Hello?” I call, then wait for Shark or Dervish to respond.

  No answer.

  I get to my feet, stretch my hands out and start walking. I count steps inside my head. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Fifty. A hundred. On my hundred and thirtieth step, my left hand brushes something so
ft and sticky. I pause and explore with my fingers. It’s a wall of webs. When I try ripping through the webs, they resist.

  “Dervish!” I shout. “Shark!”

  No answers. No echoes. Only silence.

  Walking, keeping one hand on the webby wall. I come to another wall after several minutes, blocking the way ahead. I turn right and follow the new wall. Only get twelve paces before striking another wall. So I’m either in a very long, narrow room or some sort of alley. Hand on the wall, I start back in the direction I came, trying hard not to panic.

  After sixty-two paces there’s a left turn. A long walk after that, the wall curving slightly. Then I come to the mouth of another room or alley. I head down it, left hand staying in touch with the wall. After twenty-two paces I come to another turning. I start to follow it around to the left then pause. I’ve had an idea.

  Lowering my hand, I shuffle twelve paces across to the right and find the wall opposite. I continue straight ahead, right hand feeling the way. After thirty-six paces I come to a halt. Turn left. Walk ahead. Ten paces… twelve… twenty.

  I stop, smiling ever so slightly. I know where I am now. In a maze.

  A few seconds later, the smile fades—there’s no telling how large this maze is or where the exit might be. Or even if there is an exit. I guess there’s only one way to find out. Keeping a hand on the wall, I start ahead again, further into the pitch-black, demonic maze.

  I’m mapping the maze inside my head. I must have been here for hours. Trying to remember all the twists and turns I’ve taken, the paces between them. Focusing on numbers helps me not worry so much about the darkness, the silence, being all alone with no idea of where…

  The darkness.

  I come to a stunned stop, only now realising why I find the darkness so unsettling. It’s total darkness—there aren’t any patches of light! For the first time in my life I’m experiencing darkness as other people understand it. The lights I’ve grown up with—which I used to create windows between worlds in this universe—have disappeared.

  A terrifying thought strikes like a missile—maybe I’m blind! Perhaps that’s why the darkness is absolute. Maybe Lord Loss burnt my eyes out of their sockets and it’s actually bright as day in here.

  My heart thumps fast. My legs go weak. A life of blackness, lost in a maze, no friends to turn to for help… Maybe that’s what Lord Loss meant when he said I had to find and name the demon thief. Perhaps that’s why he was smirking. He knew that blind, I wouldn’t have any way of identifying Cadaver. He’s tricked me! Robbed me of my sight! Stranded me in this maze of eternal darkness!

  I moan aloud, losing hope, the map of the maze disintegrating inside my head. I should have listened to Beranabus. What made me think I could strike a fair deal with a demon? I feel hysteria bubble up within me. Madness digs its claws into my brain, dragging its way to the surface.

  Magic, a voice inside me whispers. Use magic to create light. Then you’ll find out if you’re blind or not.

  “I don’t know how to do that,” I whimper.

  This is a good time to learn, the voice says drily.

  I nod slowly. The voice is right. No point freaking out when my eyes might be perfectly fine. I concentrate, drawing upon the magic. I’m not much good at fighting, but let’s see how I fare in other areas.

  I imagine a ball of light, small, not too bright, like the bulb in my bedroom at home. A simple ball of light—that can’t be too much to ask for.

  But it is. I can’t generate one. Or else I’ve created light, but can’t see it.

  No, the voice says. You’d know if you had done it. There is no light.

  “So I can’t tell if I’m blind or not. Though I don’t suppose it matters much. If this darkness holds, I might as well be blind.”

  The voice doesn’t answer immediately. Then, as if speaking to a simpleton, it says, Remember the chess board?

  “What about it?”

  It had black squares and white squares. If those squares correspond to the worlds within the Board…

  “…then half the maze is dark and half is bright!” I shout.

  Exactly. So all you have to do is find your way to a white square. Then you’ll see again.

  “Unless I’m in a white square already and I’m blind,” I quibble.

  Just walk! the voice snaps.

  * * * * *

  Stumbling through the maze. I’ve given up trying to keep track of my route. It’s too large to map without a pen and paper (and light). I just have to keep walking and hope that I eventually find my way out by (blind) luck.

  I think about the demon master’s castle and how familiar it seemed. I wonder if I saw it that first time I crossed through a window into the universe of the Demonata. I guess there’s a strong possibility that I did, especially given the fact that I saw Lord Loss beforehand.

  I still can’t remember anything about that trip. I try again to recall what happened when I vanished from my bedroom, where I went, if I came to Lord Loss’ world. But it’s a blank.

  Thinking about that night reminds me of how lonely I was. Without the patches of light I feel lonely again, like before Art came along. I hated being an only child after Annabella died. I think I’ve risked so much for my brother not just because I love him, but because I’m afraid of being alone. He’s the only true friend I’ve ever had.

  For some reason, I find myself thinking about leaving our home in the city. Dad tucking me down in the back seat of the car, handing Art to me, covering us with a blanket, telling me to pretend we had to hide. Mum looking worried. “Take care of your brother, Kernel. Protect him.”

  Then my memory cuts to Art playing with the orange marbles in Sally’s house. Holding them up, the marbles twinkling in front of his eyes. I had the sense that he’d been possessed by an evil spirit. That must have been a vision of what was to come. If Art remains with Lord Loss, and the demon master keeps him alive, will he raise him like one of his familiars? Give him evil powers? Bring him up to be monstrous… to kill?

  The marbles are still in my pocket. I pull one out to have something to touch that isn’t a webby wall. I roll it between my fingers, careful not to drop it. It helps calm me down. A pity I can’t see—I could play a game with the marbles if I had some light.

  As I think that, I feel magic seep through my fingers into the marble—and it starts to glow! A soft orange light. I gasp and clutch my fingers tight around it, scared my mind is playing tricks, not wanting to be disappointed.

  Staring down at the space where I imagine my hand to be. Slowly, hesitantly, I allow my fingers to loosen—and light flashes through the cracks! With a burst of relief, I thrust my hand up and let more magic explode into the marble. It flares to life, causing my eyelids to snap shut. I pull back some of the power, then open my lids slowly, not looking directly at the marble.

  I can see! I must have been in a black square of the maze all along, as my inner voice suggested. Not that sight is much of a bonus here. All I see are webby walls and a floor. Several feet above me hangs the ceiling, a mass of black webs, impossible to see through.

  I smile weakly, gazing at the orange marble throwing off the light, feeling more grateful to it than I ever thought possible. I mean, how many people can say their lives have been enriched by a marble!

  Then, because I can’t stand here gazing at the marble all day like it’s some godly artefact, I bring my hand down, hold it slightly ahead of me to light my path, and continue working my way through the seemingly endless maze.

  Not long after. Making my way down a narrow path much like any other, when I hear a sound somewhere ahead and to the left. I pause, listening carefully. Nothing for a few seconds. But then it comes again, a soft ripping noise, then giggling.

  I advance cautiously, dimming the orange light. I think about letting it go out completely, but then not only wouldn’t the person or creature around the corner not be able to see me—I wouldn’t be able to see them.

  I pause at the corner. L
isten closely. More ripping sounds. An occasional giggle. I think about calling Dervish or Shark’s name. Dismiss the idea—I never heard Dervish or Shark giggle like that.

  I cup my fingers round the marble, directing the light upwards. Step forward, around the corner.

  It takes my eyes a second to adjust. Then I make out a small shape sitting by the wall to my right, maybe fifteen feet ahead of me. A baby. Pulling at the webs, tearing handfuls out of the wall, eating them. “Art!” I shout, letting the light brighten and my fingers drop.

  The baby whirls and of course it isn’t my brother. I knew as soon as the shout left my lips that it wasn’t. It’s the same general size as Art, but green, with lice for hair, fire in its eye sockets and small mouths in the palms of its hands—the first demon I saw when I came to Lord Loss’ world.

  The hell-child spits out a mouthful of webs and hisses at me. I glare at him, hating him for not being Art, for raising my hopes and then dashing them. Not afraid. Despite the fact that I’m not much of a fighter, I’m confident that I can take this demon. He ran once already, which makes me suspect he’s not the bravest of his kind.

  “Come here,” I mutter, stepping towards the hell-child, thinking he might know the way out. The demon shows his teeth and takes his own menacing step forward. But then he hesitates, glances around and darts away.

  I grin viciously. I’m through being meek Kernel Fleck, unable to take care of himself. It’s time for payback. With a wild whoop of abandonment, I give chase.

  I race through the maze, hot on the demon’s heels, reckless with excitement. Taking corners without slowing, I bounce off the webby walls more than once, stick for a few seconds, then tear myself free. The hell-child squeals as he runs. That goads me on, makes me eager to catch up with him. The loneliness and uncertainty have vanished. The chase is everything.

  I almost catch the demon a couple of times, when he hits walls and sticks to them. But he pulls free each time and escapes. His back and shoulders are covered in webs. I’m caked with them too, but I don’t stop to wipe them away.