Darren Shan - Demon Thief

I can’t understand why the magician and the others can’t see the lights. They’re more powerful and experienced than me. So why am I the only one who can view the assembly of the window?

While I’m pondering that, a few more patches of light slot into place. A shimmer runs through the panel. The various colours vibrate a few times in unison. Then they all turn yellow and stop pulsing.

“Ah!” Beranabus grunts. He turns, claps his hands to get everyone’s attention, then waves at the window of yellow light, now visible for all to see. Raz and Sharmila approach with suspicion. Nadia hangs back.

“Do you know what is through there?” Sharmila asks.

“Another world,” Beranabus says.

“Can you be more specific?”

He shrugs. “I was searching for Cadaver, not a specific world. Until we pass through the window, I’ve no way of telling where we’ll emerge.” He raises a bushy eyebrow. “Nervous, Miss Mukherji?”

“Nadia told us about her vision,” Raz mutters, gaze lowered. “About the Kah-Gash and your quest. She said there would be fighting and death.”

Beranabus snorts. “That girl should learn to keep her mouth shut.” He glares at Nadia, then shrugs. “You chance death every time you face a demon. That’s nothing new.”

“But we have been told that on this occasion it definitely lies in wait,” Sharmila says. “That is different.”

“Not really,” Beranabus says. “Nadia has no idea who will die. It could be anyone—you, her, me, the boy. Maybe it will be all of us.” Beranabus looks at the window and scowls. “You can quit if you wish. I’ve no time for cowards. But consider this—the Kah-Gash can destroy a universe. If you withdraw and the piece of the weapon we’re chasing falls into the hands of the Demonata…”

“You really believe the Kah-Gash exists?” Sharmila asks.

“Aye.”

Sharmila and Raz share an uneasy glance then Raz nods, followed—after a pause of several seconds—by Sharmila.

“How about you, Fleck?” Beranabus turns his small dark eyes on me. This is the first really close look I’ve had of him. His skin is pale, but covered in dirt and grime. Lots of wrinkles, and a few old scars and blemishes. Untidy black hair, clumps of grey and white, his beard trimmed unevenly. His hands are clean, in contrast with the rest of him, but the tight flesh round his knuckles is covered by lots of blotches and faded scars. Dusty, dirty clothes. He wears a small flower in a buttonhole on his jacket, which looks pathetically out of place. Several of his teeth are missing, and the rest are crooked and rotten. He smells bad, like something that has half decomposed. I don’t like him and I don’t trust him. But he’s the only hope I have of finding Art.

“I’m coming,” I say, trying to sound more positive than I feel.

“Then it’s decided,” Beranabus says and steps through the yellow window. Sharmila follows, then Nadia—reluctantly, chin low.

Raz claps me on the back. “After you.”

I face the window of yellow light. Think about the demons that might be waiting on the other side. Take a breath. Hold it. Step through.

A desert world. It’s night, but lots of stars are glittering, so I can see clearly in all directions. Beranabus is magically searching for Cadaver, standing very still, eyes closed. After a few minutes he shakes his head. “He’s been through here but didn’t stop.” Rolling his shoulders, he spits on his hands, scuffs the sand with his feet, then starts on another spell, to open a new window and follow the demon to whatever world it fled to next.

The patches of light round us are glowing steadily when Beranabus begins. Soon after he starts searching for Cadaver, several pulse and move towards a spot in front of him. As he chants, more pulse and others drift in from afar to be added to the patchwork panel. Beranabus is piecing them together with spells. But if he could see them like I could, and move them directly by hand…

I think about offering my help, but I’m afraid he’ll laugh at me, so I keep my idea to myself. After a while I realise it’s been ages since I ate or drank, yet I don’t feel hungry or thirsty. I mention this to Raz, who’s lying on the sand close by, idly gouging out shapes with a finger.

“I noticed that too,” he says. “And although I have been here a day or two, I don’t feel sleepy. Our bodies must work differently in this universe. It is a place of magic and you can do many incredible things with magic.” He waves a hand over the sand and a sandcastle slowly thrusts upwards, turrets, a moat, tiny sandy guards on the ramparts.

“Cool!” I gasp. “Do you think I could…?”

“Try,” he says. “I didn’t know I could do that until just now.”

Excited, I sit and think about a castle even bigger and grander than Raz’s. I wave a hand over the sand, summoning my masterpiece.

Nothing happens.

Disappointed, I decide I’m being too ambitious, so I picture a smaller castle, with fewer turrets and troops. Again, nothing happens. I keep lowering my expectations, demanding less and less, until finally I ask for the simplest sandcastle possible. The sand ripples, then spits up a meagre glob.

Raz laughs. “Don’t worry. Gifts vary. Magic shows itself uniquely in each person. I can create sandcastles. Perhaps you can change shape or make rain.”

“Really?”

“It’s possible.”

I close my eyes and think about what sort of an animal I’d like to turn into.

Later. No luck with the shape-changing or making rain. If I have a magical gift, it must be very unique!

Beranabus is hard at work on the window, which seems to be nearing completion. I’m lying next to Nadia, Sharmila and Raz close by. Nadia’s been telling us about her life with Beranabus, the ways of demons, how to fight them.

“Where are they all?” I ask during a lull. “This is the second world I’ve been to, and apart from the trees, I haven’t seen any demons.”

“In a hurry to spot some?” Sharmila chuckles.

“No. I was just wondering. Where do they live?”

“They could be anywhere,” Nadia says. “Beneath the sand. All around us and invisible. On the other side of the world. There might be thousands here or only one. It varies. Some demons create a world just for themselves. Others—”

“Demons can create worlds?” Raz interrupts.

“The stronger ones can. Most just rampage through existing realms, but demon masters have the power to make new worlds and even self-contained universes.”

“Do they make the stars as well?” I ask.

Nadia smiles grimly. “Those aren’t stars.”

We stare at her then up at the sky. It’s peppered with glowing dots. They’re not like the stars in our universe—they’re bigger, brighter, closer, and many move across the heavens like meteors. But they can’t be anything other than…

“They’re demons,” Nadia says.

“They can’t be!” Sharmila protests.

“Nevertheless, they are.”

“But…” Sharmila gazes up at the sky, horrified. “To be able to see them from here… they must be enormous!”

“Yes.”

“Are they demon masters?” Raz asks.

“A few, perhaps, but most are just incredibly large demons who sail the skies, looking for others to torture and destroy. They don’t usually bother with the likes of us—we’re too tiny—but occasionally one might decide to squash us like ants.” She chuckles humourlessly. “When that happens, you get out as quick as you can. There’s nothing else you can do against a star-sized demon.”

I gawp at Nadia, then at the sky, filled with monstrous shapes. Suddenly, this place feels a lot more dangerous than it did a few minutes ago.