topples through, dragging Dervish after him.
A bloodied, panting Grubbs draws up beside me. He casually repels a handful of demons with one swipe of a massive arm. We’re both looking to the sky overhead where Bec is locked in the embrace of Lord Loss.
“Go!” she yells. “Leave me!”
“We can’t,” Grubbs croaks.
“We must,” I mutter as more demons bear down on us, snarling, spitting, claws and fangs at full stretch.
“But—” Grubbs begins.
“We’re demon fodder if we stay,” I snap, then throw myself through the window and out of the demonic universe of death.
I hit a hard floor and I’m on my feet a split second later. This is the cave where Beranabus and I were based before our quest to find the Shadow began. It was the first place that popped into my mind when I started putting a window together.
I rip at the fabric of the window, dismantling it, not waiting for Grubbs. If he crosses within the next few seconds, fine. If not, he’s a fool and he’ll deserve all he gets.
As my hands move within the panel of light, tearing at the individual patches, a werewolf stumbles through, wrapped in the arms of a giant insect-shaped demon. They crash past me and continue their fight on the floor. As Kirilli yelps and slips out of their way, Grubbs backs through the window, bolts of magic flying from his fists, roaring a challenge at those he’s leaving behind.
Two more werewolves follow their leader into the cave. The head and shoulders of a third appear, but something clutches its legs and hauls it back. It howls and kicks at whatever has hold. Grubbs grabs the creature and pulls. But then the window comes undone. The patches of light pulse and snap free of each other. The panel vanishes and the werewolf’s cut neatly in half, its lower body stranded in the universe of the Demonata, its head and upper arms dropping to the floor here. Its death roar catches in its throat.
It’s over.
Well… almost. The insect demon gibbers and breaks free. It darts at the place where the window was, pauses when it realizes it’s trapped, then turns on me. Before it can strike, all three werewolves pounce. They rip it to pieces and feast on the brittle remains, instantly forgetting about the trauma of the battle, fully focused on their meal, ignoring the rest of us as we sink to the floor and stare silently at each other with shock, bewilderment, and dismay.
Grubbs is the first to move. Rising slowly, groaning painfully, he hobbles over to check on Dervish. His uncle’s in bad shape, the worst of any of us. Blood is pumping from the hole in his chest and I don’t think any amount of magic will stop it. Grubbs starts arguing with him. He wants to open a window back to the demon universe, where Dervish will stand a chance of recovery, but the battered Disciple is having none of it. He told Grubbs a while ago that he wanted to die on Earth when his time came. It looks like he’ll soon be granted his wish.
“How’s the foot?” I ask Kirilli, who’s sitting nearby, staring at the place where his right foot used to be. He’s crying softly.
“It’s gone,” Kirilli moans, then looks up. “I don’t feel any pain.”
“You will soon,” I tell him. “But I can work some magic here. I’ll bandage it up and help numb the pain. Then I’ll open a window and drop you off at a hospital before I leave.”
Kirilli doesn’t ask where I’m going. Instead he grins weakly. “I did good, didn’t I?” he asks hopefully.
“You did great.” I smile.
“I never thought I’d be a hero,” he whispers. “I dreamed of it many times but I never believed…” He falls silent, reliving the highlights, conveniently ignoring the part where he danced like a fool in the stomach of the Shadow. I don’t remind him of that, but fetch bandages from behind the spot where I used to sleep. He’s earned the right to be proud. It’s not stumbling along the way that matters, but how you finish.
Grubbs limps over as I’m bandaging Kirilli’s ankle and healing it with magic, closing off the veins and arteries. He watches silently until I’m done, then nods at me. Leaving Kirilli, we squat near the place where we once kept a fire burning. Grubbs’s face has altered. He looks more human than he did when he was fighting. He also looks like he’s in a lot of pain, but he says nothing of it.
“Meera’s dead,” he mumbles.
“I know.”
“She took Juni with her. I’d have rather killed that traitor myself, but as long as she’s gone…” He sighs, then says quietly, “Dervish is dying. He asked me to take him up top, so he can die outside. I need you to open the trapdoor.”
We’re deep beneath the ground. A rope ladder leads to the surface, but a stone slab blocks the way out. It’s operated by magic. Focusing, I mutter the correct phrase and set it sliding free. “Done.”
“Thanks,” Grubbs says and starts to rise.
“I could take him to a hospital with Kirilli,” I suggest.
Grubbs shakes his head. “No point. They couldn’t do anything for him. What a moron, letting the demons bite a chunk out of his chest. He should have kept his guard up. The old fool deserves…” He shudders, fighting hard to hold back tears.
“I’ll wait for you to return,” I tell him.
“That’s OK. Take care of Kirilli. You can come back for me.”
“I’m not coming back.”
Grubbs had made it to his feet, but now he pauses, stares at me, and squats again. “What are you talking about?” he asks gruffly.
“It’s over. I’m going to the ark.”
“You can’t. We need you. This isn’t finished.”
“Of course it is.” I wipe blood and sweat from my forehead. I feel so weary. It will be a relief to leave this world and the fighting behind. “We gave it our best shot. We tore the Shadow to pieces. But you heard Beranabus. Death will return, and it’ll be even stronger next time. We can’t defeat it.”
“We have to try,” Grubbs growls. “We got the better of it once—we can beat it again. I’ll unleash more of the power of the Kah-Gash next time.”
“How?” I snort. “We don’t have Bec. It’s just you and me now.”
“We’ll rescue her,” Grubbs says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Lord Loss won’t kill her. He’ll want to torment her first. I’m guessing he’ll return to his kingdom to wait for the Shadow, and he’ll take her with him.”
“What if he does?” I sigh. “We can’t fight him there. We’d stand no chance of defeating a demon master on his home turf.”
“Maybe not,” Grubbs agrees curtly, “but we have to
I shake my head. “If I stay here and perish, the demons will conquer the universe completely. I shouldn’t have come back at all, but I did, for one last stab at success. We tried and failed. The ark is all that’s left.”
I reach out and squeeze Grubbs’s arm. “Come with me. They’ll welcome you. You can help us keep the ark safe from demons, ensure it never falls to Lord Loss and his stinking kind. It’s the best we can do. Staying here is pointless. The fight has moved on. We have to move with it.”
“Abandon our world?” Grubbs sneers. “Leave Bec in the clutches of Lord Loss? Run while the demons are weak? Never! They’ve lost their master. The army will split. They’ll fight with each other and return to their own realms. We can harry them, hit hard, drive the fear of the Kah-Gash into them. This isn’t the end—it’s the beginning. We have the advantage. Now’s the time to press it home and make sure that even if Death does return, it has no army to support it.”
“That won’t work,” I say impatiently. “Death’s stronger than us, and it’s eternal. No matter what we do, it will rise again, recruit new followers, and lead them to victory. It’s over.”
I stand and roll my neck. I want to sleep so badly. But I’ll wait until I find Raz, then sleep as we travel to the ark. Forcing off the waves of pain and weariness, I focus on the lights in the air around me and think about Raz in the chamber on Atlantis. As patches blink, I start the long, laborious job of piecing them together.
