“Besides,” I chip in, “if the demons are still at the house…”
“We weren’t attacked by demons,” Meera says. “They were…
That throws me. Does she mean werewolf-shaped demons? Then I recall the curse of the Gradys. Lots of teenagers in Grubbs’s family turn into mindless, savage, wolf-like beasts.
Grubbs starts to tremble. Without waiting to be told, I turn, flex my fingers, and focus, thinking of Dervish. Lights pulse around me—that means the ex-punk is still alive. I begin to open a window that will take us to him. Then, on second thought, I focus on Bec instead. As much as I like Dervish, the girl is more important. She’s probably with him, but if not, she must take priority. Dervish is only human. Bec, like me and Grubbs, is so much more.
When a window of amber light opens, Beranabus rushes through, swiftly followed by Grubbs. “There are demons,” I tell Shark and Meera, sensing their presence in the vibrations of the lights. “Are you guys ready to fight?”
“Always,” Shark grins, cracking his knuckles.
Meera gulps, then grinds her teeth together and nods fiercely.
We cross.
I find myself in a hospital ward. Bec is lying on the floor. She looks like any normal girl, a bit smaller than most, but otherwise unremarkable. You could never guess from looking at her that she’d been dead for sixteen hundred years, or that this body wasn’t originally hers.
Two demons are backing away from Bec. One is some sort of lizard hybrid. The other looks like an anteater with several snouts. One of its eyes is missing, blood and goo surrounding the empty socket. I suppress a shudder as Beranabus growls at the demons, “What do the pickings look like now?”
They turn and run. Shark bolts after them. Meera and I follow, leaving Beranabus and Grubbs to help Bec back to her feet. I wonder about Dervish, if he’s still alive, but I’ve no time to dwell on that. Another window is open and the hospital has been flooded with magical energy, but I’m still nowhere near as strong here as I am in the demon universe. My power will dwindle. We need to deal with these monsters swiftly, and we have to be cautious. It’s much easier to die on this world.
I spot the remains of a few babies as we pursue the demons. My stomach churns and I tear my gaze away from the tiny corpses. Even so, thoughts of Art flash through my mind. I fill with sorrow, then rage. They shouldn’t have gone after the newborns. That was too cruel. I’m going to make them pay.
The demons burst out of the maternity ward and scuttle towards the stairs. Shark crouches, then propels himself forward, shooting through the air as if fired from a canon. He knocks the pair of demons aside and they crash into the wall on either side of the staircase. As they yelp with surprise and pain, Meera and I fall upon them. I take the lizard, leaving Meera to deal with the anteater.
It’s a slimy little beast. It slithers around and lashes at me with a forked tongue. Drops of poison hit my eyes and sizzle. I use magic to transform the drops into water, then grab the demon’s tongue and yank hard. It utters a choked scream. The tongue slips through my fingers. I follow it back into the demon’s mouth, jamming my hand halfway down the lizard’s throat. Taking a firmer hold of the tongue, I rip it loose and toss it away. Black blood gushes from the demon’s mouth and its beady eyes roll wildly.
I let the demon drop, then pin it to the floor with one knee. I start tearing off scales, working my fingertips into the gaps, using magic to torment the demon. For a long time I didn’t understand how Beranabus could butcher so nastily. As evil as demons are… as much as I accept the need to kill them… I couldn’t condone torture. But my attitude has changed over the years. I’ve seen too many corpses. Too many murdered babies. These monsters deserve all the agony we can put them through, and a whole lot more on top.
Shark helps Meera finish off the anteater, then studies me as I work on the lizard.
“Need a hand, kid?”
“No,” I pant.
The ex-soldier squats beside me and waits for me to look at him. “I know where you’re coming from,” he says quietly, “but we don’t have time. There are others on the loose. They’re still killing.”
I sigh, then shoot a burst of magic into the lizard. It slumps and I rise. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” Shark says. “Another time and place, I’d have joined in and we’d have had hours of fun.”
“Sure,” Shark smiles. “You’ve got to get a buzz out of fighting. It’d be a hell of a life if you devoted your time to battle and didn’t enjoy it.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a sicko?” Meera snorts.
“We’re all the same,” Shark protests. “I’m just more open about it. Killing demons is noble and necessary, blah blah blah. But it’s a blast too. Right, Kernel?”
“Come on,” I mutter, not wanting to engage in the debate, afraid I’d come down on Shark’s side and not liking what that says about me. “Let’s kill the rest of them before they slaughter more babies.”
That sobers Shark and saps Meera of her indignation. Turning our backs on the dead demons, we go into killing mode and set off in search of monsters viler and more vicious than ourselves.
We kill three more demons, then the mage who is keeping their window open. He’s a thin, balding, middle- aged man in a cheap suit. He doesn’t look evil. Most people who work for the Demonata don’t. He shuts his eyes as we close in on him, and he doesn’t cry out when Shark grabs his throat and crushes it. The nearby demons escape through the window to their own universe before it closes. We let them flee and get stuck into those left behind. Demons don’t last long once a window shuts. Their bodies fall apart after a few minutes and they crumble away to dust. But they can still kill a lot of people during that time, so we afford them no mercy.
When the hospital’s clean, we join the others on the roof. Bec, Dervish, and Sharmila are there. Sharmila’s legs have been cut off. Beranabus is working hard to patch her up. Dervish is sitting on a gurney, looking close to death. Meera goes to him immediately, to check that he’s OK.
“I’ll guard the staircase,” Shark says. “Make sure we aren’t taken by surprise.”
“But the demons are gone,” I frown.
“We have humans to worry about too,” he snorts, then nods at Bec. “She’ll tell you all about it.”
And she does, swiftly and clearly. It’s a disturbing story. First I learn that an old enemy—once a friend—has returned from beyond the grave. Juni Swan, who I first knew as Nadia Moore, has come back to life in a new, mutated form.
I’m always torn when I think of Nadia / Juni. She was a bitter but kind young woman when we first met. She saved my life in Lord Loss’s realm when I fell into a river of lava. She told me then to be wary of her if we ever met again, that she served the demon master now and I should think of her as a foe. But I find it hard to hate her. She’s a person who lost her way. She didn’t seek out evil—she got sucked into it. I pity her as much as I fear and mistrust her.
Bec describes the attack on Dervish’s home in Carcery Vale. Werewolves broke in, supported by humans with guns. She tells us she has a curious gift—she can absorb the memories of anyone she touches. One of the werewolves was a Grady. Its parents turned it over to the Lambs—family executioners—to dispose of. But the Lambs kept the beast alive, and they or some other group subsequently used it as a weapon.
We discuss this troubling turn of events. Grubbs is more worked up than the rest of us—he hates the thought of his relatives being manipulated. Bec thinks Lord Loss masterminded the attack, that he knows she’s part of the Kah-Gash. Beranabus agrees, then tells me to open a window. Dervish and Sharmila won’t last long in this universe. They need magic to survive.
I’m glad to set to work on the window because I need magic too. My eyes are burning. It was bad as soon as I set foot on this world, but since the demons’ window closed, the pain has increased sharply and my vision has started to blur. My new eyes are the work of magic. They can’t function normally here. As much as I despise the universe of the Demonata, I’m a slave of it now.
As I’m working on the window, I hear the whispers from the mysterious small lights. I glance around and spot several pulsing rapidly. But the whispers don’t seem to be directed at me this time. And they’re not repeating a single word. There’s a steady stream of phrases, none of which I can make sense of.
Behind me, Dervish and Beranabus are arguing. Dervish wants to stay and find out more about the werewolves. Beranabus says we can’t waste time on them. Meera sides with Dervish. There have been lots of crossings recently and the Disciples are struggling to cope. She’s afraid the werewolves might be used to target
