Demon Apocalypse

seconds. He takes one off, blows on it and eats it, then takes off another and gives it to Beranabus. After a pause, he removes a third sausage and offers it to me.

“Thanks,” I say, biting into it. Too hot, but delicious. I ravenously munch my way through it, then gratefully accept another.

“Kernel does most of the cooking,” Beranabus says, holding a sausage in one hand, picking at dirt beneath the nails of his right foot with the other.

“I have to,” Kernel says. “He’d eat the food raw if I didn’t.”

“It’s all the same once your stomach processes it,” Beranabus snorts. “Hot, cold, cooked, raw… it doesn’t make any difference when you’re squatting over a hole.”

“A hole?” I frown.

“No toilets,” Kernel says, looking at Beranabus sourly.

Kernel cooks some chicken legs, again using his spell. (I wonder where they get the food from, but don’t ask.) He piles them on a dusty, cracked plate, then cooks some ribs and potatoes. That done, he takes what he wants from the plate and passes it across.

Beranabus bites into his chicken leg, then looks over at me. “Tell me everything about the last few months. I know a lot already, but I want the complete story. When you realised your body was changing, how the magic developed, the way you dealt with it.”

“I thought you were the one meant to provide answers.”

“I will,” he promises. “But you first. It will make my job easier.”

While we eat, I fill him in on all that happened, discovering my magical ability after Slawter, fighting it, the sickness, using magic to counter the threat of the werewolf.

“Why did you fight the magic in the first place?” he interrupts. “Most people would be thrilled if they found themselves in your position.”

“I know what magic entails,” I say quietly. “It’s linked to the Demonata. I’ve been part of that crazy universe before. I didn’t want to get sucked into it again.”

Beranabus and Kernel share a look. Then Beranabus tells me to continue.

I explain about the cave we unearthed in Carcery Vale, going there under the influence of the beast, digging through the rubble blocking the entrance, Loch’s accident, Dervish covering up, Juni entering our lives.

“Who’s Juni Swan?” Kernel asks Beranabus.

“One of Lord Loss’s assistants,” Beranabus says, squinting. “Actually she…” He stops and clears his throat. “We can discuss Miss Swan and her background later. Finish, please, Grubitsch.”

“It’s Grubbs,” I correct him again, then cover the last couple of days and nights, the werewolf taking over, killing Bill-E’s grandparents, Juni whipping me out of town and betraying me on the plane. I tell the story as quickly as I can, eager to get it out of the way. I don’t go into all the details, like the voice and the face in the rock, figuring they’re not important. I can tell Beranabus about them later.

Beranabus listens silently, then spends a couple of minutes thinking about what I’ve said. “The boy who fell,” he finally says, echoing Dervish’s concerns when he first came to the cave. “Was it definitely an accident? Nobody else was—”

“No,” I cut in. “We were alone, just the three of us. He slipped, fell, died. An accident. No demons or evil mages were involved.”

“Good,” Beranabus grunts. “When I heard the entrance had been excavated and someone had died in the cave, I feared the worst—especially since my spells of warning hadn’t worked. I should have been alerted the moment the first rock was lifted out. I assumed a powerful mage had spun a counterspell and was preparing the way for a demon invasion. I’ve never moved so quickly in my life.”

“He ran like his feet were on fire,” Kernel says, smiling for the first time—but it’s a brief, thin smile.

“Dervish told me about the cave,” I say softly. “How it was used as a crossing point for demons. He said the tunnel between universes could be reopened, that the Demonata could come through in their thousands and take over our world. You don’t think Juni and Lord Loss…”

“No.” Beranabus smiles wryly, showing his crooked, discoloured teeth. “Lord Loss has no interest in opening tunnels between universes. Most demons want to destroy humanity, but Lord Loss thrives on human misery. He’s as keen to keep that tunnel closed as we are.”

Beranabus picks at his teeth with a thin chicken bone. His breath stinks. In fact most of him stinks. He obviously isn’t concerned about personal hygiene. Finally, laying the bone aside, he speaks again. “The cave brought me to Carcery Vale, but you’re why I stayed. I could feel the power in you, bursting to be released. I wanted to be there when it exploded—or when you imploded.”

“Imploded?”

“You could have burnt up. If the magic hadn’t found an outlet, it would have destroyed you from within. There was no way of telling until the full moon, when I knew you’d be pushed to the point where you and the beast had to settle the matter once and for all.

“The werewolf is the key,” he continues. “The curse of the Gradys. Many centuries ago, your ancestors bred with demons.”

“Bred?” I yelp. “No way!”

“It doesn’t happen often,” Beranabus says. “Most demons are physically incompatible with humans. But it’s not unheard of. When such unions occur, the offspring are never natural. Humans and demons weren’t meant to mix. When they do, their children are freaks of the highest order, neither human nor demon, caught painfully between. Most die at birth. But some survive.”

His face is dark, shadows flickering across it from the flames of the fire. “A few grow and thrive, either in the demon’s universe or ours. Your ancestor’s child was one of those. The magical strand of the Demonata stayed hidden, at least long enough for the child to mature and bear children of its own. When its demonic legacy finally surfaced, the victim turned into a wolflike creature.”

“So the Demonata are to blame,” I growl, hating them afresh. “I gathered as much from Dervish, but I was never sure.”

“I don’t know about blame,” Beranabus says. “Such couplings are often set in motion by humans. Your ancestor quite possibly made the first approach, and…” He twirls his fingers suggestively.

“Here comes the bride,” mutters Kernel.

Beranabus looks into the flames, considering his next words. “You’re a unique specimen, even for a Grady. I’ve never seen or heard of anyone like you. Magic is unpredictable, chaotic. It works differently in each person. But there are general rules which have always applied—until now. You shattered all of them.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?” I ask.

“I don’t know. It’s the reason I didn’t approach you immediately. I wasn’t sure how you’d change, what the magic would do when it surfaced. Of course there was Juni to consider too. I didn’t know how close you and Dervish were to her, if you knew who she served.”

“Of course we didn’t!” I bellow. “Lord Loss killed my parents and sister. Do you think—”

“Peace,” Beranabus says. “I trust you now, but I couldn’t before. For all I knew, you and Dervish were in league with Juni Swan and I was being lured into a trap. Dervish himself might have opened the entrance to the cave to entice me to Carcery Vale.”

“Have you been paranoid for long?” I ask cynically.

“I learnt a long time ago not to trust anybody,” he replies tightly. “Not until they’ve proved themselves worthy. And even then I keep a close watch on them.”

“I’ve been with Beranabus for thirty years or more,” Kernel says, “and I still wake up sometimes to find him giving me the evil eye.”

“Thirty years?” I study the boy again. “You can’t be that old.”

“We’ll come to that soon,” Beranabus says before Kernel can respond. “Let’s finish with your magic first. Where was I?”

“You were waxing lyrical about how unique he was,” Kernel reminds him.

“Aye.” Beranabus’s face lights up. “In every other magician, the gift of magic is evident from birth. Even if they’re unaware of their potential, other magicians can sense it. Dervish should have seen the magic within you, but he didn’t. Because you hid it from him. From yourself too.”