of death, but we’re not sure what that means. The demons weren’t sure either.
Beranabus hasn’t dared go after any of the masters. They’re too powerful. He thinks the creature has made its base in Lord Loss’s realm, but he dares not set foot there. And Kernel—who can usually find anything in either universe—isn’t able to search for the beast since he doesn’t know the thing’s name and didn’t see it in the cave, being blind at the time. Beranabus has tried to magically recreate a picture of the Shadow, but it always comes up blurred and indistinct.
We spent the first couple of days here arguing about what to do next. While I worked tirelessly on Sharmila’s legs—and helped her adjust to the shock when she regained consciousness—Dervish pressed Beranabus to focus on the werewolf and demon attacks.
“You’ve been chasing this Shadow for months without result,” he argued. “This is something concrete, a puzzle we can solve. Better to direct our energies at a problem we can crack than waste them on an enigma.”
“But all else is irrelevant,” Beranabus bellowed. “The Shadow is the greatest threat humanity has ever faced. We have to pursue it relentlessly, down as many blind alleys as it takes, until we find a demon who knows its name, where it comes from, how powerful it is. The knowledge is out there. We just have to find it. But we can’t do that if we squander our time on a bunch of hairy Grady miscreants!”
Dervish countered by insisting the attacks were linked to the Shadow. We know Lord Loss is working for him, and that the revived Juni Swan works for Lord Loss.
“Maybe Lord Loss and Juni just want to kill us before the world is ruined,” he said. “But they might be planning to use the werewolves to target the Disciples, kill as many as they can and clear the way for crossings.”
Kernel supported Dervish. “We can’t go after Lord Loss directly—he’s too powerful,” he said. “But we can target Juni. Lord Loss didn’t show himself at the hospital but Juni was acting on his behalf. She might have been part of the group in Carcery Vale too. If more assaults on the Disciples are planned, she’ll possibly act as the go- between again, conveying Lord Loss’s orders to their allies. If we can trap her, we can find out what she knows about the Shadow.”
Beranabus was swayed by that and told Kernel to devote himself to tracking her movements. I think he’s keen to get his hands on Juni for personal reasons. She betrayed him. But it’s not just revenge he’s interested in. He also wants to know how she came back.
We don’t understand how my soul remained trapped in the cave when I died, or how I returned to life. That’s never happened before. Ghosts exist, but they’re mere after-images of people. We don’t know where a person’s soul goes when they die, if there’s a heavenly realm, if they get reborn or if they simply cease to exist. But they always move on. Never, in all of history, has a person’s soul survived death and returned to life. Until me. And now Juni.
Beranabus believes I survived because I’m part of the Kah-Gash. The mystical weapon turned back time, so it could feasibly cheat death too. But Juni isn’t a piece of the Kah-Gash. She shouldn’t have been able to survive the destruction of her body. Her return troubles Beranabus deeply. He suspects it’s linked to the rise of the Shadow. If the new demon leader has the power to restore life, maybe it shares other powers in common with the Kah-Gash. Beranabus wants—
So Kernel has been focusing on Juni and Lord Loss for the last few days. He’s developed in many ways since the three of us worked in league as the Kah-Gash. He can do more than open windows now. He can search for several people at the same time, and track their movements—he knows when they switch from one realm or universe to the other.
Juni is currently in Lord Loss’s kingdom, with her master. But as soon as she moves, Kernel will know and we’ll blaze into action.
I’ve spent a lot of time with Beranabus. He’s changed so much over the centuries, made himself hard and uncaring, believing he had to be like a demon in order to fight the Demonata. It helped that he is half-demon. There’s a monster within him, always active, struggling to rise to the surface. Beranabus has to fight it constantly to maintain control, but through those battles he’s learnt more about demons and their ways than he ever could have otherwise.
One of his greatest fears is that he’ll go insane and the demon within him will take over. It would be the ultimate irony—the man who spent all his life battling to save humans from the Demonata turns into one of them and goes on a massive killing spree.
Beranabus can discuss such fears with me because I already know about them. I absorbed his secrets along with his memories, so he can’t hide them from me. I know almost as much about the ancient magician as he does.
“Sometimes I wonder if my life’s been worthwhile,” he muttered last night when we were apart from the others. “I’ve gone without pleasure or company for most of my years. If we lose and the Demonata kill us all, there won’t have been a point. Maybe I should have settled, married, had children, lived a normal life. It might not have made any difference in the end.”
I tried to make him see that millions of people owe their lives to him, that the Demonata would have taken over our world many centuries before this if not for his stubborn resistance. But he’s fallen into a dark state of mind. I think partly it’s because of my return. I’ve made him aware of all that he’s missed out on. If he’d allowed himself to be more human, he’d have had friends and family, and perhaps been much happier.
I’m sitting beneath the shade of a bony tree, trying to think of a way to ease Beranabus’s troubled mind. Someone coughs close by, disturbing me. I open my eyes and find Dervish standing there. “Mind if I sit down?”
I nudge over. When he’s sitting, he smiles awkwardly. We haven’t said much to each other since he recovered. I think he’s embarrassed—we’d had that big conversation prior to the attacks, but never had a chance to wrap it up.
“How are you getting on?” he asks.
“Not too bad.”
“It’s pretty boring here, huh?”
I shrug. “I’d rather this to the excitement of fighting demons.”
He strokes one of his newly grown spikes. “What do you think of the hair?”
“Some of the warriors in my time styled their hair like that,” I tell him.
“Yeah?” He looks proud.
“But they were all a lot younger than you.”
He pulls a face. “I started going bald early, so I had no choice other than adapt. But I never liked looking like the crown of an egg.”
“Baldness suits old men.”
“I’m not…” he starts to protest, then sighs. “No, you’re right, I
“Ignorant?” I echo.
“The way I treated you,” he says softly. “I was an ignorant old man. If Billy or Grubbs had seen me acting that way, they’d have kicked me hard and told me to stop being an idiot.”
“You were upset,” I excuse him. “People do strange things when they lose a loved one.”
“I should have known better,” he grunts. “I would have been more sensitive a few years ago, but you don’t see things so clearly when you let yourself become a grumpy old fogey. I used to criticise Ma and Pa Spleen— Billy’s grandparents—for being cranky and small-minded. But I was turning into a carbon copy of them.” He shudders.
“Bill-E loved his grandparents regardless of their flaws,” I say. “He would have gone on loving and forgiving you too, no matter what.”
“How about you?” Dervish asks.
I frown uncomfortably. I should say something diplomatic, but I was reared to speak my mind. “I don’t love you. I hardly even know you.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Dervish says quickly. “I meant, can you forgive me? Can we be friends? Or will I always be the ogre who made you tell him stories about a dead boy for months on end?”
“You’ll always be an ogre,” I say seriously, then laugh at his expression. “I’m joking. Of course we can be
