The Demonata 6-10

“Maybe,” Beranabus agrees. “But even if the energy was present, and you could unlock it, you’d have to follow the unleashed river of power back to its origin. I doubt it’s possible to set limits, to travel back just a day, a week or a month.”

“So what?” I sob. “We’ll ride it back to the start and wait. I don’t care.”

Beranabus smiles softly. “The last tunnel that was anything near to this in size was closed more than three hundred years ago.”

“Three…” I mutter, feeling the last sliver of hope die within me.

“Let it go, Grubbs,” Beranabus says. “Your brother’s dead and you can’t bring him back. There’s no way around it. You’ll drive yourself mad if you can’t accept that.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad,” I sigh, then sit there, crying, saying my silent farewells to poor, unfortunate Bill-E Spleen — R.I.-bloody-P.

ONE SMALL STEP FOR MAN

→ Dervish’s bedroom. He’s sitting on the end of his bed, expression blank. He hasn’t washed the dirt and blood from his face and hands yet. I haven’t either. Too weary for such mundane tasks. Life will go on, I’m sure — it always does. But right now we’re a pair of zombies, capable only of the simplest movements.

“See you later,” I mumble, turning to go to my own room.

“Wait,” Dervish says. “I don’t want to be alone, not now. Stay. Please?”

With a weary nod, I start to pull at the leaves of my magical suit. It’s hanging off me in shreds and will be simple to remove. But after picking at a few leaves, I lose interest and crawl onto the bed beside Dervish. I put my arms around him and we hold each other tight. He often held me like this when I first came to live with him, whenever I awoke from a particularly brutal nightmare. But this time the nightmare is reality and there’s little comfort to be found in the embrace.

“You had to do it,” Dervish whispers.

I break into fresh tears. “He was my brother,” I moan. “What would Dad have said?”

“The same thing I’m saying,” Dervish croaks. “You did what had to be done. It should have been me. I was his guardian — yours too. The responsibility was mine. But I couldn’t find the strength. I failed. If you hadn’t been so brave, we’d have all died and Billy would have suffered terribly. You did what was best. You should feel proud, not wretched.”

I laugh bitterly. “Proud! Yeah, sure.”

Dervish sighs. “Wrong word. You should feel… I don’t know… maybe there isn’t a word for it. But you did the right thing. That has to be enough. It has to keep you going. Because if you let this destroy you – if you let the madness take you – I’ll lose two nephews, not one.”

“But it’s so tempting,” I mumble. “I want out, Dervish. I know what it’s like to be mad. It’s easier than this. Anything’s easier than this.”

Dervish is silent a minute. Then he says, “I’ll make you a deal. If you fight the temptation… stay sane, no matter how painful it is… so will I.”

“You feel it too?” I ask, surprised by his admission.

He nods. By the way he trembles, I know he’s not just saying it. “Like you said, anything would be easier than this. But we have each other. If you fight, so will I. I’ll stay sane for you if you stay sane for me. Agreed?”

I hug him tighter, loving him more than I ever did before. “Agreed.”

Dervish blinks at the ceiling. “It sounds crazy, but I’m sad about Juni too. I know she was evil and I hate her for what she did, but I loved her. I really thought we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. She had to die, and I’m glad I killed her, but…”

“I know what you mean. I miss her too. I was surprised Lord Loss took her body. I guess he plans to bury or cremate her.”

Dervish snorts. “Eat her, more probably!”

We laugh softly, painfully — the first step back towards something that might one day pass for a normal life. And then, holding one another, we close our eyes, listen to the sounds of the mansion and the world outside, and slowly drift off into a nightmare-laced but none the less welcome sleep.

→ It’s dark when I wake. Dervish is snoring lightly. I lie still for a few minutes, enjoying the nearness of my uncle, remembering Bill-E and Loch, my lost brother and friend, trying not to cry, just about managing to hold back the tears.

I ease myself off the bed, careful not to disturb Dervish. My suit of leaves has disintegrated entirely. I brush the last of the flaky patches off, then pad to my bedroom, shower and kit myself out in more regular clothes. Thinking about all that’s happened while I dress, the night when I almost became a werewolf, the plane, Beranabus, fighting the demons, travelling back through time, killing Bill-E.

Is it just me or does all that seem a bit much for a teenager to have to deal with? Most of my friends have nothing more catastrophic than acne or bad breath to overcome. Wouldn’t it have been fairer to spread the craziness around? Couldn’t Charlie have been stuck with the werewolf curse, and Frank with being a magician? Couldn’t Leon have been betrayed by Juni, and Robbie recruited by Beranabus? And let’s not leave the girls out. Reni did her bit, losing Loch, but Mary could easily have had to kill one of her brothers, and Shannon could have done the whole trip through time stuff.

I chuckle (nice to see I still can). I’m being ridiculous, but there’s a nugget of truth there. It’s been a heavy burden for a single person to bear, especially one as young, inexperienced and… hell, let’s say it… cowardly as me. It isn’t fair.

But the universe isn’t fair. Things don’t work out neatly, pain, hardship and challenges divided equally among those best equipped to deal with them. Sometimes individuals have to be Atlases and carry the weight of the world alone. It shouldn’t happen that way, but it does.

At least I have the crumb of comfort of not having fallen. I stumbled and wished all the time that I could bail out. But I kept going. I did what I had to. I came through. It would have been sweet to do it unscathed, Bill-E and Loch alive and well. But in the grand scheme of things, I don’t have too much to complain about. That’s how Beranabus would see it. And he’s right. But that doesn’t make me feel any better. The devastation of having killed Bill-E is all-consuming. I don’t think any amount of reasoning will ever ease that pain.

Dressed, I go looking for Beranabus, Kernel and Bec. Trying to focus on their needs, since it helps me not brood about Bill-E. Beranabus was badly wounded in the fight and might need help. Kernel will be in a lot of pain. He said he’d have to go to a hospital. I can arrange that. And Bec…

I’m not sure what I can do for a girl who’s been dead for sixteen hundred years, only to find herself slap-bang in the middle of the modern world. Guide her round the house for a start, I guess. Teach her how to open and close doors and windows, explain what TVs, computers and CD players are. No… they can come later. First teach her how to run a bath and use the shower. Give her some clothes to keep her ticking over until she can go shopping in the Vale. Explain where everything is in the kitchen, what a fridge is, how to open a tin, that water comes from a tap and not a well.

I’m padding down the stairs when I hear her. No… not hear, exactly. I sense her. In the hall of portraits. Changing direction, I go to check that she’s OK. I find her studying the faces of dead Gradys and our various relations, slowly moving from one painting or photo to the next, eyes steady, head cocked slightly to one side.

“These are not drawings,” she says without looking around, sensing my presence the same way I sensed hers.

“They’re photographs.”

“Are they magic? Are people alive within them, their souls trapped like mine was in the cave?”

“No. It’s just their image. We use machines to take them.”

“Machines?”

“Special tools.”

She turns. “I’ve seen nothing of this new world. I was limited to the cave. I could peer into the universe of the Demonata, but this world was a blank. I don’t know what has changed and what hasn’t.”

“Most of it’s different to what you knew. Probably everything. It’ll take a while to get used to, but you’ll be OK. Look at it like an adventure — you’ll be exploring a brand new planet.”

“Yes. I’m excited. Scared but excited.” She sighs and looks at the photos again. “Your family?”

“Some of them.” I move up beside her. “They all caught the disease, or died trying to help others who were infected. You know that some of us change into wolf-like beasts, don’t you?”

“I saw them in my own time,” she answers. “I didn’t think the curse would last this long. But I’m not surprised. The blood of the Demonata is strong.” She looks at me shyly. “We are family. Separated by many generations, but family nevertheless.”

“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 any more.”

“I might not be able to pull my weight,” Kernel 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.

For:

Bas — my full-time shadow

OBE (Order of the Bloody Entrails) to:

court jester Sean Kenny — resting in fits of giggles!

Reaped grimly by:

Stella Paskins

Embalmed by:

Christopher Little & Co

Contents

PART ONE: A WHOLE NEW WORLD

Dead Girls Tell Tales

Lonely New World

First Contact

Sponge

Friend Indeed

Waking the Dead

Fight

Flight

Waiting for the Cavalry

PART TWO: WARD DUTY

A Man’s Gotta Do

Up on the Roof

Kids’ Stuff

The Split

Chasing Shadows

PART THREE: ALL ABOARD

Kirilli

Her Master’s Voice

Ship of the Living Dead

Going Down

The Only Way

All at Sea

PART ONE

A WHOLE NEW WORLD

snapshots of beranabus i

Brigitta was sixteen years old and about to get married. She had been promised to a prince since birth. He was handsome and kind, and she was looking forward to the wedding. She had dreams of bearing many fine warrior sons, becoming queen of a mighty empire and living a long and happy life.

But the prince angered a powerful priestess. For revenge, she summoned a demon on the day of the wedding. The beast killed many of the guests and kidnapped Brigitta. She suffered terribly, but the demon didn’t kill her. Instead, several months later he sent her back to the prince — pregnant.

Brigitta was in shock, but the prince cared only about the shame this would bring upon his family. He called in a favour of King Minos and sent Brigitta to Crete on his fleet’s fastest ship. Her mouth was bound and her face covered, so nobody could identify her.

At the island she was led into the infamous Labyrinth, where her face and mouth were freed under cover of darkness. She was left to roam the twisting pathways of the maze until the Minotaur found and killed her.

Like hundreds of other doomed victims, Brigitta tried to find a way out of the Labyrinth, but her quest was hopeless. She could hear the harsh breathing of the Minotaur echoing through the tunnels, and the scraping of his hooves along the dusty floor. She knew he was following her, watching, waiting, savouring her anguish and fear.

Brigitta was in the final stage of her pregnancy. She hoped the Minotaur would kill her before the baby was born, to spare the child a ghastly death. But she could not delay the birth forever. Eventually she had to lie down and, in the blood-stained dirt of the maze, delivered a squealing boy. There was no light, so she could not check if he was deformed. He felt like a normal baby, but she would never know for sure.