KIRILLI
I step through the window and find myself on a highly polished wooden floor. There are no walls or ceiling, only a clear blue sky and glaring sun far overhead. I squint and cover my eyes with a hand. When my pupils adjust, I slowly lower my hand and stare around with awe.
We’re surrounded by water—we must be on a boat. Everywhere I look, an ocean stretches ahead of me, small waves lazily rippling by. I’ve only seen the sea once before and that was from the safety of land. Finding myself stranded in the middle of it makes me feel sick. Even though the floor is steady, my legs seem to wobble beneath me and I have to fight to calm my stomach.
“Easy, Little One,” Beranabus murmurs, touching my arm and smiling.
“It’s so vast,” I whisper, eyes round.
“Aye, but it’s only the sea. You’ve nothing to fear.”
“But the monsters…” I catch myself. In my time we thought the sea was home to an array of terrors. Now I know that isn’t so. I remind myself that I’m not living in the fifth century any longer. Frowning at myself for overreacting, I order my legs to steady and my stomach to stop churning.
Breathing more calmly, I pivot slowly and study the vessel on which we’ve landed. We’re on the deck of a massive ship, a luxury cruise liner, but its grandeurs have been spoilt by a recent, vicious attack. Deckchairs are strewn everywhere. We’re close to a swimming pool—the water is red and there are bodies floating in it. A man lies spread-eagled on a diving board, blood dripping from his throat into the water. More corpses dot the deck and some are draped over deckchairs.
There are carcasses everywhere. Freshly dead, with blood oozing from them. Men, women and children. Some are in crew uniforms, others in swim wear or casual clothes. Apart from the soft dripping noises of the blood, there’s no sound, not even the chug of an engine. The boat is as dead as the butchered passengers and staff.
As I gaze with horror at the carnage, the more experienced Sharmila checks a few of the bodies to ensure they’re beyond help. “Juni could not have killed all these people by herself,” she says quietly.
“She could,” Beranabus grunts, “but I don’t think she did. You can see different marks if you look closely. A group of demons had a party here.”
“Where are they now?” Dervish asks, fingers flexing angrily.
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Beranabus walks to the diving board, steps on to it and pushes the body off into the water as if it was a rubbish bag—he can be as detached as a demon when he needs to be. The splash disturbs the silence. We wait edgily, but nothing reacts to the noise.
“Are you sure Dervish and Sharmila are safe here?” I ask Kernel, trying to find something other than the corpses to focus on. “There’s magic in the air, but I’m not sure it will hold.”
“It’s secure,” he assures me. “We wouldn’t have brought them over if we had any doubts. We’re surrounded by a bubble of magical energy. The entire ship’s been encased.”
“Like the town of Slawter,” Dervish notes, then tugs anxiously at his beard. “This bubble—it’s pretty impenetrable?”
“Yes,” Kernel says.
“So if the window to the oasis blinks out of existence, we’re trapped.”
Kernel smiles. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it open. That’s what I excel at.”
Beranabus returns from the diving board. “They must have a lodestone on board. No demon could maintain a shield like this without a lodestone.”
Lodestones are stones of ancient—Old—power. Demons can use them to seal off an area and fill it with magic. That lets them operate as if they were in their own universe. They can use them to open tunnels as well, if the stone is especially powerful. But they need human help. They can’t do it alone.
Lodestones are rare. When the Old Creatures inhabited the Earth, they used the stones to help keep back the Demonata. But in their absence the demons learnt to turn the magic of the stones against the humans they were originally intended to protect. Beranabus scoured the world for lodestones centuries ago and destroyed as many as he could find, or sealed them off like the one in Carcery Vale. But some evaded him and remain hidden in various corners of the world. Every so often a mage or demon tracks one down and trouble ensues.
“Is Juni still here?” Dervish asks Kernel.
“Yes,” I answer first. “I sense her near the bottom of the ship.”
“This feels like a trap,” Sharmila mutters.
“Aye,” Beranabus says. “But you learn to live with traps when you’re chasing demons.” He looks around. “Are there any others, Bec?”
I let my senses drift through the areas below deck. “There’s one demon with Juni. Not very powerful. If there are others, they’re masking themselves.”
“There’s a window open down there,” Kernel says.
“Fairly ordinary. Only weaker demons can cross through it.”
“Could there be armed humans?” Dervish asks.
“Perhaps,” I mutter. “Humans are harder to sense than mages or demons.”
“We can handle a few soldiers,” Beranabus barks. “I’ll turn their guns into eels—see how much damage they can do with them then!”
“We should go back,” Sharmila says. “Juni has set this up to ensnare us.”
“Why would she be expecting us?” Dervish argues.
“Lord Loss may have reasoned that we would target Juni. Perhaps everything—the attacks on Dervish, Juni revealing herself on the roof of the hospital—was designed to lure Beranabus here. The demon master might be poised to cross and finish us off personally.”
“Not through that window,” Kernel insists.
“Then through another,” she counters. “We have never been able to explain why Lord Loss can cross when other masters cannot, or how he goes about it.”
Beranabus considers that, then sighs. “You could be right, but we might never get a better shot at Juni. If she’s not expecting us, it’s the perfect time to strike. If she is and this is a trap, at least we can anticipate the worst. The magic in the air means she’ll be dangerous, but it serves us as much as her. If Lord Loss doesn’t turn up, we can match her. If he does cross, we’ll make a swift getaway.”
“Are you sure of that?” Sharmila scowls. “If we have to open a new window…”
“We won’t,” Beranabus says. “Kernel will stay here and guard our escape route. You’ll know if any other windows open, won’t you?”
“Yes,” Kernel says.
“Then keep this one alive and watch for signs of further activity. If you sense anything, summon us and we’ll withdraw. Is everyone satisfied with that?”
He looks pointedly at Sharmila. She frowns then shrugs. Taking the lead, Beranabus picks his way across the bloody, corpse-strewn deck and the rest of us cautiously, nervously follow.
My feet are soon sticky with blood, but I ignore my queasy feelings. This isn’t the way the world should be, having to creep through pools of blood, past dozens of slaughtered humans. But when you find yourself in the middle of a living nightmare you have two choices. You can cower in a corner, eyes shut, praying for it to be over. Or you can get on with things and do your best to deal with the job in hand. I don’t think I’m particularly brave, but I like to think I’ve always been practical.
We undertake a circuit of the upper deck before venturing into the depths of the ship, making sure there aren’t any surprises waiting for us up here if we have to make a quick getaway. We don’t find any demons or soldiers in league with the Demonata. Just one corpse after another, slowly frying beneath the merciless sun.
