Dark Calling, Page 2

  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.”

  “Fun?” Meera barks.

  “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 members of the secret group. If they killed a large number of the mages, demons could cross freely.

  Even though I’m not paying a huge amount of attention to the argument, I find myself pausing. “It might be related,” I say.

  “Related to what?” Bec asks. Beranabus waves her silent and frowns at me.

  “This could be part of the Shadow’s plan,” I tell him, the words tumbling out by themselves. The whispers from the lights have increased. I have to concentrate hard to drown them out. “It could be trying to create scores of windows so that its army of demons can break through at once. We’ll need the Disciples if that’s the case—we can’t be everywhere at the same time to stop them all.”

  “Maybe,” Beranabus says. “But that doesn’t alter the fact that Dervish will last about five minutes if we leave him here.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Dervish snarls.

  “No,” Beranabus says. “Your heart is finished. You’ll die within days. That’s not a guess,” he adds before
Dervish can argue. “And you wouldn’t be able to do much during that time, apart from wheeze and clutch your chest a lot.”

  “It’s really that bad?” Dervish asks quietly.

  Beranabus nods. “In the universe of magic, you might survive. Here, you’re a dead man walking.”

  “Then get him there quick,” Grubbs says. “I’ll stay.”

  “Not you too,” Beranabus groans. “What did I do to deserve as stubborn and reckless a pair as you?”

  “It makes sense,” Grubbs insists. “If the attacks were Lord Loss looking to get even, they’re irrelevant. But if they’re related to the Shadow, we need to know. I can confront the Lambs, find out if they’re mixed up with the demon master, stop them if they are.”

  “Is the Shadow the creature we saw in the cave?” Bec asks.

  “Aye,” Beranabus says. “We haven’t learned much about it, except that it’s put together an army of demons and is working hard to launch them across to our world.”

  He stares at Grubbs, and as he pauses, the whispers change. They’re softer now, almost musical. I feel uneasy, even slightly sick, but I’ve no idea why.

  “You’d operate alone?” Beranabus asks.

  “I’d need help,” Grubbs replies, and asks for Shark and Meera’s assistance. While they discuss that, I focus on the window again. I’m close to opening it. The whispers of the lights have almost died away. I feel worse than ever, as if we’re in great danger. But there’s no reason to be afraid… is there?

  A pale green window opens. Beranabus still hasn’t chosen whether or not to let Grubbs stay. “Time to decide,” I tell him, and as I say that, the whispers spark up again.

  “Very well,” Beranabus snaps at Grubbs. “But listen to Shark and Meera, heed their advice, and contact me before you go running up against the likes of Lord Loss or the Shadow.” He picks up the unconscious Sharmila. “Follow me, Bec,” he says and steps through the window.

  Bec doesn’t leave immediately. She’s confused, not sure of what’s happening. Dervish is busy saying goodbye to Grubbs and Meera, wishing them luck, cursing the fact that he can’t stay and help them. As he finally stumbles through the window, Grubbs has a short chat with Bec. Then she faces me. She looks more lost than I feel. As difficult as it is, I force a smile. “The world moves quickly when Beranabus is around,” I tell her, trying to cheer her up.

  “What’s it like through there?” she asks, staring at the window with quiet terror.

  “Bad.” My smile slips. “The Shadow’s promising the eradication of mankind and a new dawn of demon rule. Others have threatened that before, but it’s convinced an army of demons—even powerful masters like Lord Loss—that it can make good on its vow. We could be looking at the end this time.” I take a step into the window of light but don’t cross fully, straddling two universes at the same time. I wave Bec forward. “Let’s go.”

  She looks back once, then follows me through the window to an oasis in the demon universe that Beranabus and I are familiar with. We’ll be safe here, for a while at least.

  But I take no comfort from our security. I’m steady on my feet, maintaining a calm front, but inside my head sirens are blaring, my thoughts a million miles removed from werewolves, the Lambs, Juni Swan, and the Shadow. I feel sicker than when I saw the dismembered babies in the hospital.

  I’ve realized why the whispers unnerved me. That final burst of chattering, just before Beranabus made his decision to let Grubbs go, clued me in to what was really happening.

  Beranabus should have brought Grubbs along. He’s been wary of uniting the pieces of the Kah-Gash, but this was the time to risk it. Our enemies are on the move, trying to kill one of us or get their hands on a piece of the ancient weapon. Beranabus should have kept us all with him, if not to unleash the power of the Kah-Gash, then to protect us. We’d be a lot safer if we stuck together. Leaving Grubbs behind was madness.

  Why did someone as experienced as Beranabus make such a slip? And why did the others—myself included—go along with his bad call?

  Answer—the lights. The whispers influenced us. Something didn’t want us to band together, so it subtly interfered and split us up, making it seem as if it was our own choice. We’re being manipulated by the whispers of the lights!

  LYING LOW

  I CAN’T tell the others about the lights, the whispers, or my suspicion that we are being used. I want to, but whenever I try to share my fears, my lips seize up. I’m unable to speak, or else everyday babble spills out and we end up talking about something else. I’ve tried writing, scribbling a warning in the sand of the oasis, but my fingers clench and turn against me.

  When we first stepped through the window, I thought I might have imagined the whispers or the influence they’re exerting over us. Now I’m sure I called it right. The lights did—do—control us. They must have planted a hidden command inside my brain that makes me clam up whenever I try to share my misgivings.

  While I struggle to break through the spell, the others argue about what to do next. Beranabus wants to hunt the Shadow, pick up where we left off. Dervish is against that. He’s determined to go after Juni, to settle old scores.

  I stay out of the arguments for a couple of days. But when Dervish is pressing his claim for the umpteenth time, trying to sway Beranabus by saying we might be able to torture Juni to find out information about the Shadow, the small, ever-changing lights pulse and the air hums with whispers only I can hear.

  “We can’t go after Lord Loss directly—he’s too powerful,” I find myself telling Beranabus, and although I know these aren’t my words, that I’m being used like a puppet, I can’t stop. “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 thinks that makes sense—or the lights make him think it—so he tells me to focus on Juni, track her movements, and let him know when she slips out of Lord Loss’s realm.

  I want to scream and tell them we’re being toyed with, but my lips gum up. I throw everything I have at the spell, to no avail. In the end I do as Beranabus bids. I retire to one of the fake trees—the oasis is dotted with trees made of bones and scraps of flesh—and sit in the shade, glumly training my thoughts on Juni Swan.

  As days pass, the others recuperate. Beranabus and Bec fashioned new legs for Sharmila out of the bones and skin of the trees when we arrived, and she adapts to them smoothly. Bec has worked a lot with Dervish, drawing on her healing powers, doing what she can for his faltering heart. Neither he nor Sharmila can live on Earth again, but as long as they stay in this universe of magic they can function almost normally.

  The four of them pass a lot of the time dueling, sharpening their reflexes, testing their skills. Magic is all about trial and error. Even after thousands of years, Beranabus is still discovering new aspects of himself, depending on what’s thrown at him.

  I’d like to join them, but I’ve been given a task and Beranabus doesn’t take it kindly when one of his assistants disobeys a direct order. So I keep to myself, studying the lights and focusing on Juni Swan and her master.

  It’s difficult because of the whispers. The murmurs come regularly while I’m concentrating, not as strongly as at the hospital, but distracting nonetheless. I can’t stop thinking about the spell they’ve woven. Is it the work of the Shadow? Unlikely—if the creature could exert such influence, it would turn us against one another.

  The Kah-Gash? A weapon that can destroy universes and distort the laws of time would have no difficulty bending a few humans to its will. But the Kah-Gash would surely have wanted me, Grubbs, and Bec together, to unite so it could be reassembled.

  If not the Shadow or the Kah-Gash, who can be controlling the lights? Are they self-conscious,
some new life-form? Or maybe I’m imagining them. I’ve doubted my sanity in the past. Maybe this time I’ve cracked for real.

  Finally, after a week of self-torment and doubt, I sense Juni opening a window and leaving Lord Loss’s world.

  “She’s moving,” I tell the others, disrupting their latest duel.

  They crowd around me. “Where did she go?” Beranabus asks.

  “Earth,” I say after a brief pause to confirm her location.

  “And Lord Loss?”

  “He stayed in his own realm.”

  “Can you tell where exactly she is?” Dervish asks.

  “No. I should be able to, but I can’t place it.” That worries me more than I reveal.

  “Is she close to Grubbs?” Dervish presses.

  I do a quick scan and shake my head.

  “Well?” Sharmila asks Beranabus.

  “Kernel and I will investigate,” he says. “The rest of you stay here.”

  “Nuts to that,” Dervish huffs.

  “Don’t forget about your heart,” Beranabus says. “Or Sharmila’s legs. You’re a pair of wrecks on that world. Let us check the situation and report back. We won’t engage her if we can avoid it.”

  “What about me?” Bec asks. “I can survive there.”

  “Aye, but I’m asking you to wait. Please. Until we know more about what we’re walking into.”

  I’d like to know more about it too before I cross. But I’ve lived with Beranabus long enough to know he doesn’t hold much faith in the philosophy of look-before-you-leap. Except for his edgy pursuit of the Shadow, I’ve never seen him act cautiously. He believes it’s best to jump in the fire and deal with the flames when they’re licking the soles of your feet.

  Keeping silent about my fears, I slot patches of light together and open a white window. With my back to the others, I offer up a quick prayer, the kind I used to reel off when I was a fresh apprentice, before I grew hardened to the terrors of the Demonata. Then, sensing Beranabus behind me, I step forward into the unknown.

  DEATH WATCH