Slawter

But I spoke to Emmet. He wasn’t killed. Unless…

You can do just about anything with movie technology or magic. Maybe Chuda Sool was also eavesdropping with Tump Kooniart when I told Dervish and Juni my fears. Perhaps he intercepted the call and faked Emmet’s voice, using either a mechanical or magical vocal distorter. Difficult—but not impossible.

I grab my trousers from the chair at the foot of my bed, dig my mobile out of the pocket and dial Emmet’s number. There’s no dial tone at his end. His phone’s turned off or he’s somewhere without a signal.

I get up, dress and head for class. I think about asking Juni for alternate phone numbers for Emmet and his mum, but she’d probably want to know why I was looking for them now. I don’t want to reveal my suspicions to anyone in case I end up a laughing stock again. So, at the end of lessons, I casually ask Miss Jaun if she has Mrs. Eijit’s number. I say I’ve been trying to contact Emmet on his mobile but haven’t been able to get through. Miss Jaun searches her list of names, then calls the number out to me. I thank her and dial it as I head for lunch. Dead, like Emmet’s. I try his number again—the same as earlier.

It might not mean anything. Then again, it might.

I try the two numbers several times over the course of the day. Not a peep out of either. I dial directory enquiries and get their home number. Ring it, only to find that the line has been disconnected.

One last try. I remember Emmet telling us about his local school. Again I use directory enquiries, then call and ask if I can speak with Emmet Eijit. I say I found his mobile phone and want to return it. The secretary says Emmet’s not at school, he’s making a film. I say I thought he’d finished and returned. No, she says, he hasn’t. I ask if she’s sure, if maybe he’s back home, just not at school. She says definitely not, she knows his mother.

I stare at my phone a long time after that, certain I’ve been tricked. Emmet and his mum are still here, along with Kik—but not necessarily alive.

Night. Kik hasn’t been found. The search teams return at seven. Kuk and his father aren’t with them. The searchers say Mr. Kane and his son have gone home, in case Kik heads there. I groan when I hear that. I hope it’s true. I pray that it is. Not just because I don’t want Kuk and his dad to be dead—but because if it’s a lie, it means the guards who were with them are part of a cover-up. It means it isn’t just Chuda Sool and one or two others I have to be wary of. I might not be able to trust anybody in the entire cast and crew.

Filming resumes in the morning. Davida’s still worried about the missing Kik (or claims to be— who can I trust?), but life must go on. A film costs a fortune to make. Every day is vital. She can’t afford to have her team sitting around idle. So, while a selection of guards took off to search the land around Slawter as the sun rose, the cameras rolled as normal.

They’re filming the second big demon scene tonight. No carnage or loss of life this time. It’s a scene from the third act, in which a demon appears to Bobby Mint and his friends. It predicts doom, warns them of the destruction to come, then tells them they can’t leave, it’s too late, they’re destined to die, along with everyone they care about and love.

I’ve lost interest in filming but I have to go watch tonight’s shoot, to check out the demon. I’ve heard it’s different to the one that killed Emmet. I wonder if this creature will be real or a model? I know what I’d put my money on!

A large crowd gathers for the shoot, but not as many as at the first demon show. This scene’s being shot outside a church, one of the fake buildings in Slawter. In the script, the heroes have gathered inside to discuss the demons and what they can do to alert others to the danger. Those scenes have been filmed—or will be—on an interior set. This scene is set at the end of their debate. They’ve just come out. As they’re heading down the steps, the demon appears out of the church behind them, laughing, saying it’s overheard their entire plan.

Davida sets the scene, runs the actors through their paces, makes sure all the cameras and lights are correctly positioned, then takes her seat. Action!

I watch nervously, holding my breath, as Salit Smit and the others spill out of the church, faces bright and determined. There are eight steps down from the doors. As they hit the second from bottom step, laughter echoes from within.

“Poor, foolish humans,” the demon crows. Salit and his crew whirl, gasping. “You think you know so much. But, like all mortals, your knowledge of the world is pitiful. It would be amusing, were it not so sad.”

I start to shiver at the first syllable. There’s no mistaking that voice, the low, mournful tone. I know what’s coming next. I’d give anything to be wrong but I know I’m not.

The demon appears, gliding out of the shadows. He’s lit perfectly. I hear murmurs of approval from the people around me. They were caught by surprise with Emmet, but they’re ready this time, in control of their emotions. Besides, although this demon is more horrific in appearance than the first, he moves so fluidly and gracefully that they have time to appreciate his design, the months of hard work which must have gone into creating him.

“You cannot defeat me or my kind,” the demon says, looking from one so-called hero to another, then beyond, to the crowd watching the filming. “We can go anywhere you can and to places where you can’t. We see all, hear all, know all. And we will kill all.”

A tall demon, pale red skin with lots of cracks in it, from which blood continually oozes. Dark red eyes. No hair or nose. Grey teeth and tongue. A hole where his heart should be, filled with dozens of tiny snakes. Mangled hands at the ends of eight arms. No feet, just fleshy strips dangling from his waist, giving the appearance of thin, misshapen legs. He doesn’t touch the floor, but hovers a few centimetres above the ground all the time.

“This is our town now, or soon will be,” the demon says. “There is nothing you can do to stop us.” His eyes fall on me and he smiles widely. “There is nothing any of you can do—except be slaughtered.”

Then he laughs and drifts back into the church. The doors slam shut. A boy in the group of heroes screams. Davida yells, “Cut!”

Everyone pours forward, cheering, congratulating the actors, remarking on how realistic and creepy the demon was, questioning how the effects team got it to hover so believably, what mechanics were involved.

But there were no strings or engines. It wasn’t a model or costume. The few doubts I had up to this point vanish. We’re in seriously deep trouble. The demon wasn’t speaking from a script. His words weren’t meant for the fictional characters—but for those of us watching.

There are real demons here. Emmet has been killed, and probably Kik and her relatives too. And it’s going to get worse. Because the monster who wowed the crowd a minute ago is the one who killed my parents and sister, who vowed to kill Dervish, Bill-E and me… the majestic, terrible demon master himself… lowly Lord Loss.

D

Incredibly, impossibly, Dervish doesn’t believe me.

“It was just another guy in a costume,” he says. “You have to stop seeing demons everywhere you look. I know—”

“Don’t!” I snap. I’ve got him by himself, out of earshot of everybody. “That piece of scum killed my Mum and Dad. He slaughtered Gret. Don’t tell me I could ever confuse a movie prop for the real thing. Don’t you dare.”

“Grubbs, I know this is hard, but you’ve got to believe—”

“That was Lord Loss!” I cry.

“It looked like him,” Dervish says soothingly, “but that’s because Davida did a lot of research. She knows what real demons look like. Actually, I helped her out on this one. She had some of the details wrong. She didn’t know about the cracks in his skin, the colour of his eyes or that he didn’t have real feet.”

“Really?” I sneer. “And you filled her in on the facts?”

“Yes,” Dervish says, trying to sound modest.

“And her technicians were able to make the changes—” I click my fingers—“like that? They were able to take elaborate, mechanised costumes they’d been working on for months and alter them within the space of a few days?”

“Yes,” Dervish says evenly.

I stare into my uncle’s eyes but I don’t find him there. The Dervish I know wouldn’t smile at me glibly like