head back to bed, dejected and scared, to spend the rest of the night awake and miserable beneath the covers.
Magicians are rare. Only one or two are born every century, humans with the magical potential of demons, who can change the world with the flick of a wrist.
There are others called mages. They can perform magic when there’s demonic energy in the air, but under everyday conditions they can only manage minor spells. Most mages are part of a group known as the Disciples— they fight demons and try to stop them crossing to our world.
As far as anyone knows, I’m neither a magician nor a mage. I have more magical ability than most people, and tapped into it when I faced Lord Loss and his familiars. But I’m not a true part of the world of magic.
That suits me fine. I don’t want to become a demon-battling Disciple. I want to lead an ordinary life. The thought of brushing shoulders with Lord Loss or his kind again terrifies me. And as somebody who isn’t naturally magical, there’s no reason why I should get involved in any more demonic battles. I can sit on the sidelines with the rest of humanity, ignorant of the wars being fought between the forces of good and evil, free of the curse of magic and the responsibilities it brings.
At least that’s what Dervish believes. That’s how I’d
But something changed in Slawter. I discovered a power within myself, and although I masked it from Dervish, it hasn’t gone away. The magic is working its way out, keen to break free. It allows me to reverse the flow of water, lift great weights, move objects without touching them. I’ve awoken several times to find myself levitating above my bed.
I’ve fought the magic with desperate determination. And for the most part I’ve been successful. I hope that by focusing and fighting it every step of the way, I can work it out of my system and return to normal.
I’d like to talk with Dervish about it and seek his advice. But I’m afraid. Magic is his life. He’s a Disciple first and foremost, dedicated to the task of keeping the world safe from demons. Dervish loves me, but I have no doubt that if he knew about my power he’d press me into learning more spells. He’d say the world needed me. He’d nag, lecture and plead. I’d resist, but my uncle can be extremely persuasive when he puts his mind to it. I’m certain he’d nudge me back into the world of magic… back into the world of demons.
So here I am. I want to be an average teenager whose only worries are puberty, acne, scoring with girls, impressing my friends and getting through school in one piece. But I’m forced to spend the better part of every day brooding about turning into a werewolf or becoming a whizz-kid wizard who has to fight evil, heartless demons.
“Of course I have nightmares…”
PREPARATIONS
Dervish has to go away for a couple of days. “Meera’s heading off for pastures distant, might not be back this way for several months, wants to say goodbye in style.”
“‘In style’?” I smirk. Meera Flame is one of Dervish’s closest friends. Definitely his sexiest. She’s hotter than a hot dog that’s been cooked extra HOT! “Are you and Meera finally going to get it on?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dervish snorts. “We’re just friends. You know that.”
“That’s what you always
“Well,” Dervish huffs, “it’s true. I’ve never made a pass at her and I don’t intend to start now.”
“Why not?” I ask, genuinely interested.
Dervish pulls a saintly expression. “Grubbs,” he says softly. “Remember when I told you that your dad was Bill-E’s dad too?”
“Yes…” Warily.
“What I didn’t tell you was that your mother… well, the woman you thought of as your mum only met your dad after you were born. Meera…” He stops.
I gawp at him, head pounding, limbs trembling. My world starts to explode.
Then I catch his grin.
“You son of a jackal!” I roar, swatting him around his balding head. “That wasn’t funny.”
“Oh, it so was,” he laughs, wiping away tears.
Most of the time I get a kick out of Dervish’s warped sense of humour. But there are other times when it really gets up my nose.
“Keep it up,” I growl. “Maybe I’ll tell Misery Mauch about you. I doubt if he’d see the funny side of a sick joke like that. Wouldn’t surprise me if he took me out of your custody and put me some place where the people are halfway normal.”
“If only,” Dervish sighs, then squints at me. “I don’t want to lay it on heavy, but I’ve something to say and I want you to pay attention.”
“What now?” I ask with a sulky sneer. “Ma and Pa Spleen are my grandparents? Misery Mauch is your long-lost brother?”
“This house has been wrecked once already,” Dervish says. “I don’t want it destroyed again. Keep your freakish little friends under as much control as you can. A certain amount of wear-and-tear is unavoidable, I accept that, but they’ll only run wild if you let them. Lay down the law and they won’t cause too much damage. And for heaven’s sake, don’t let any of them into my study. Remember that it’s guarded by spells, so if anyone wanders in there uninvited…”
“What are you babbling about?” I snap. I hate when he starts on a spiel without making it clear what the subject is.
Dervish frowns. “A bit slow today, aren’t you?”
“I’m going away.” He raps my head with his knuckles. “You’ll have the house to yourself.” He raps it again. “It’s the weekend.”
He goes to rap my head a third time. I catch his hand in mid-air, my face lighting up with a smile as I finally get it. At the exact same moment we exclaim, me excitedly, Dervish sarcastically—
“Strip poker,” Frank says earnestly. “It’s a must.”
“Hey!” Loch barks. “My sister will be there.”
“So we’ll wait till she sneaks off with Grubbs, then…
Everybody laughs, even Loch.
“Have you told the girls yet?” Charlie asks.
“No. I wanted to discuss it with you lot first, get some ideas, like how many people to invite, should I have a theme, if—”
“I wouldn’t invite too many,” Leon says, a worried look on his face. “I made that mistake once. Had just about the whole school back to my place while my parents were away skiing. I did what I could to clean up the next day but it was impossible.”
“Yeah,” Frank nods. “This is your first party. You don’t want to blow it by taking on more than you can handle.”
“Especially since there’s so much opportunity for the future,” Loch agrees. “That mansion could be highly valuable over the next few years. Loads of rooms—loads of
The discussion continues. Everyone—Loch, Frank, Charlie, Leon and Robbie—chips in with their own ideas. Music, food, drink, the guest list… each is debated at great length. But the guest list is the one we keep coming back to, the topic that creates the most divisions.
“Two girls to each guy,” Frank insists. “If not three.”
“Nah,” Robbie grunts. “Equal numbers or else they’ll gang up on us.”
