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.
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
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 nonetheless 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…
But the universe
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.
“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.”
