Darren Shan - Hell's Heroes

“You think you can fight him?” She stares at me as if I’m mad.

“We’ll give it a good shot.”

She shakes her head wordlessly. Then we’re at the window. Before she can think of anything to say, I gently push her through. I don’t need thanks. It’s enough to see her to safety. A small, unimportant triumph—but to me, it matters a lot.

The prisoners continue filing through, but some are beyond help. A grim-faced Shark takes care of those, breaking their necks, freeing their souls swiftly and painlessly. Sometimes that’s the most you can do for a person.

The blond-haired Disciple pauses at the window and looks at us. “I should stay with you and fight,” he mutters. “It’s my job.”

“You wouldn’t be much good to us the state you’re in,” I say as kindly as I can.

“But I know how to do things.”

“You’ve done enough,” I smile. “Go home. Rest up. Recover. Take a long vacation. God knows, you’ve earned it.”

“Before I leave,” he says. “The war… who won?”

“Which war?” I frown.

“The World War.”

“One or Two?”

His face blanches. “There was a second ?”

“Go home,” I tell him, insistent this time, feeling sorry for this confused man who’s going to have to learn to adapt to what’s left of life in the twenty-first century.

Soon they’re all gone or beyond the reaches of pain, and it’s just us in the dungeon. I look from Shark to Timas to Kirilli. “If you want to leave, I’ll understand. This is probably the end for anyone who pushes on with me.”

“Do we look like cowards?” Shark snorts.

“Well…” I was about to say Kirilli did, but one glance at his determined face and I button my lip. The time for mocking Kirilli Kovacs has passed. He’s truly one of us now. “Sorry. I guess I’ve seen too many movies. Let’s go.”

I start for the door.

“Aren’t you even going to say goodbye?” Kernel asks.

“Why?” I grunt. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“You said I could leave,” he snarls.

“You can,” I chuckle, “but you won’t. Walk out on a showdown with Lord Loss? Abandon us when there’s still hope we can beat this thing? Leave Bec to ruin the world, knowing you could maybe have stopped her if you tried? Nuh-uh. You’re going nowhere.”

Kernel grumbles darkly and I feel his scowl burning a hole in the back of my neck. But I know, as I step through the doorway, that he’ll follow. They all will. Hell, we’re heroes—this is what we do.

We creep through the corridors of the high-ceilinged castle, our footsteps muffled by the thick strands of web that serve as floorboards. We still haven’t seen any demons. Maybe Lord Loss’s familiars are with the demon army we fought the last time we were in this universe. But it’s strange that he should choose to face us by himself. As a master, in his own realm, he can be confident of success, but it would be easier if he had hundreds of his henchthings to throw against us. Lord Loss doesn’t usually take chances. Why do so now?

Kernel’s busy juggling patches of light as we walk, putting the framework for a window together, so he can complete it quickly and make a swift getaway if he has to. I’m stunned that he came with us. I was bluffing when I said I was sure he’d stay. I totally expected him to leave. He’s spent the last month going on about how he needs to return to the ark. Why the sudden change?

Guilty, the Kah-Gash murmurs inside my head.

“You did this?” I growl.

I’m able to nudge when the wish already exists, the Kah-Gash says. I can’t make any of you do something you don’t want to, but I can tip the balance if you’re in two minds. Kernel knew he should leave, but he wanted to stay. I played on his wishes and turned him from the path of reason.

“I bet this isn’t the first time you’ve manipulated us,” I accuse it.

It’s not manipulation, the Kah-Gash protests. I merely give you the confidence, from time to time, to do that which you truly desire.

“But it’s what you desire too, isn’t it? You want us to join. You’re using us.”

Such a suspicious mind, the Kah-Gash sighs, then falls silent.

I think about telling Kernel what the Kah-Gash said, offering him the chance to leave. That would be the decent thing. But I’m a slime-covered, hairy, mutated, wolfen beast. What the hell do I know about decency?

We push on until we come to a huge room, the largest in the castle. The floor is littered with toys, dolls, clothes, and other bits and pieces from Earth. In the center a huge chandelier hangs above a massive spider-shaped throne, both carved from webs. There’s a painting of Lord Loss done in the style of Van Gogh pinned to the wall to the rear of the throne.

Lord Loss squats at the base of the throne, not quite touching the floor, head bent over a chessboard. Bec is his opponent. She sits cross-legged with her back to us. She’s making a move as we enter, engrossed in the game.

“A moment, good people,” Lord Loss mutters without looking up. He purses his bloodred lips, studies the chess pieces, then moves one of them. He smiles at Bec and says, “To be resumed.” Then he straightens and Bec turns to face us.

“Hello, Grubbs,” Bec says quietly. “Kernel. Shark. Kirilli.” She nods at the tall redheaded man and the werewolf. Timas beams at her, but Moe just snarls. “Are these all you brought? I thought you’d come with an army.”

“These will do,” I tell her, moving closer, scanning the room for hidden threats. But it seems to be deserted except for this pair.

“Welcome back, Cornelius,” Lord Loss says. “It seems like an age since your last visit. What a shame young Artery isn’t here to greet you.”

Kernel says nothing, but he looks like he’s about to be sick. This is hard for him. Maybe the persuasive power of the Kah-Gash has faded and he’s wondering what the hell he’s doing here.

“No greeting for me?” Shark asks.

“You require none,” Lord Loss says calmly. “You were always a bit player. One does not waste pleasantries on pawns.”

“You’re hurting my feelings,” Shark sniffs. His gaze falls on Bec and he draws his thumb across his throat, trying to freak her. But if she’s worried, she doesn’t show it. Her expression hasn’t changed in the slightest.

“This place is amazing,” Timas says, squinting up at the chandelier, then at the painting behind the throne. “That’s woven out of colored cobwebs, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Lord Loss says, smiling with genuine warmth. “You’re the first visitor to notice. It looks like oil on canvas from a distance, but in fact…” He draws to a halt and coughs into a fist. “We could be friends, Timas Brauss, if circumstances were different. You strike me as a man after my own heart.” He runs a hand over the snake-filled hole in his chest. “So to speak.”

“We freed your prisoners,” Kirilli growls, brushing slime from the sleeves of his jacket.

“How daring of you,” Lord Loss murmurs. “I am devastated. What shall I play with now in my idle moments?” His eyes twinkle viciously. “Perhaps I’ll focus my attention on you, Master Kovacs.”

Kirilli produces a playing card out of thin air, then rips it in two. “That’s what I think of your attention. ”

Lord Loss frowns. “I was told you were of a cowardly nature. It seems I have been misinformed.”

“No,” Kirilli says. “The reports were accurate. But I’ve changed.”

Moe growls at me questioningly.

“Yeah,” I reply. “You’re right.”

“About what?” Lord Loss frowns.