Darren Shan - Dark Calling

“If I fight Death and fail, I’ll return to do what you wish, assuming I survive. But if I quit now, it’ll gnaw away me… at my soul… forever.”

I lower my gaze and wipe tears from my eyes. I don’t know when I started crying, but my cheeks are soaked. “Open a window,” I croak. “I’m going home.”

The journey back passes unremarkably. A series of lights, windows, and worlds. We follow a different route most of the way, but the chambers we pass through are much the same. I don’t explore any of the worlds. I’m fully focused on the battle to come, the huge risk I’m taking, what will happen if I fail. I wish I could be positive about my decision but I’m full of doubts. I think about changing my mind at least ten times an hour.

Eventually we start passing through worlds I remember from the trip out. I get excited as we draw closer to Earth. I might be going to my death, but if that’s to be my destiny, at least I’ll die on home soil.

Finally, as my stomach’s starting to rumble again, we hit Atlantis and come to a stop. Raz looks around to make sure there are no giant slugs, then glances at me. “I’ll wait here for you.”

I’m surprised. “You’re not coming with me?”

“No. I will escort you back but I won’t cross with you. You must face Death by yourself, as everyone must when their time comes. If you wish to return, you can find me here.”

“But I can’t operate the smaller lights,” I remind him.

“You won’t need to,” Raz says. “You will be able to use the normal lights to search for me. It will take a long time to piece them together—at least several hours—but just think of me and you will find the way.”

“How will I breathe while crossing?” I ask.

Raz goes to one of the lodestones and cuts off a sliver of rock with a fingernail, as easily as slicing through paper. “Put this in your pocket,” he says, handing it to me. “Draw on its power if you come back. It will sustain you.”

“You’re sure?” I ask, eyeing the tiny chip of rock suspiciously.

“Yes.”

“How long will you wait?” I ask.

“As long as it takes,” he says. “I will know when you are… finished.”

“You mean when I’m dead,” I smile.

“If the hand plays out that way, yes. But I hope it doesn’t.”

Raz sets to work on the window, and it materializes minutes later. I start to tremble and my stomach clenches. I was never the bravest. I hate fighting. But when I have to, I do. Wincing, I step forward.

“One last thing,” Raz stops me, then hesitates. “This is a delicate matter. I don’t wish to cast doubts without proof, but it’s important that you know about the possibility of the threat.”

“What threat?” I grunt.

“The girl,” Raz says softly. “Her piece of the Kah-Gash was originally part of Lord Loss.”

“So?” I ask warily.

“It was in the demon master for a long time. Pieces normally merge with beings who live no more than a few hundred years. They’re influenced by those they share a life with. Having been part of Lord Loss for so long, her piece might have been more affected by the demon than by other hosts.”

“Are you saying…?” I stop, the thought unfinished, not wanting to continue.

“The Kah-Gash could be manipulating the girl,” Raz says. “Perhaps it spared her soul in order to give Death its freedom. Maybe it wants to restore the original universe. Bec is of good heart, but the best of people can be tricked and misused.

“We might be worrying unnecessarily,” Raz concludes. “You may have nothing to fear. But watch her, Kernel. Use those sharp eyes of yours. Look for treachery and be prepared for it. Beware the priestess, Bec. ”

Raz leads me through the sub-universe of lights for the last time, then bids me a quick farewell and propels me forward. Before I can yell goodbye, I’m thrust through a window and straight into the middle of a nightmarish war. No time to gather my senses. I have to adapt immediately or die.

I’m in the middle of a city. Blood and corpses everywhere. The air’s thick with the scent of demons, and also with the buzz of magic, which I swiftly tap into. I try to erect a shield around myself but something clatters into me before I can complete it. A beast rolls with me to the ground and comes up spitting. It’s a wolfish creature, long fangs, claws the size of butcher’s knives, hot yellow eyes. It turns, faces me, snarls—then leaps.

I raise my hands to repel the monster, but instead of attacking me, it jumps over my head and tears into something behind, howling with bloodthirsty delight. Whirling, I spot the wolfish beast battling a demon. The wolf rips at the demon’s ribcage, fangs snapping in search of guts.

Wary and confused, I cast my gaze around. There are more wolfen animals on the street and they’re all fighting demons. Soldiers are at work too, tackling the demonic invaders, showering them with bullets. They can’t kill the Demonata but they can injure, disrupt, and stall them.

There’s a burst of magic to my right. I spot a small girl rounding on a demon, frying it with magic until its head explodes and its brains splatter the wall behind it. I’m so pleased to see a familiar face, I forget all about Raz’s warning and call enthusiastically, “Bec!”

She looks up. Her eyes widen with shock, then her lips spread into a smile. She yells something, but as she does, one of the wolf-like beasts wraps its arms around me and howls into my ear, obscuring all other sounds.

I lash at the creature, trying to wriggle free, gathering my energy to fight back. Before I can, the beast laughs and says, “Surely you recognize me.”

I place the voice instantly but can’t believe it. I stare at the creature. He’s two or three feet taller than when I last saw him, and his face is warped—dark skin, lots of blood vessels, tufts of wiry ginger hair, a yellow tinge to his eyes, mouth bigger, teeth sharper. His body is lacerated with cuts and bruises. But it’s definitely—

“Grubbs!” I roar. “What the hell’s happened? You look like a werewolf.”

“I am,” he chuckles. “That’s my pack.” He waves a hairy hand at the wolves. His fingers are twisted and bulging, the nails more like claws. He could probably pop my head one-handed.

“But… how… what…?”

“I’ll deal with this group first and explain later,” he growls, tugging at the waist of his pants. They only just fit him. He’s naked otherwise, chest exposed, rippling with muscles. He’s stained with blood—different colors, so I know it’s demon blood, not his own. Some of the stains are fresh, dripping from his skin and soaking into his hair. But others are caked in. He’s been in the wars since we parted, and he looks like he’s been loving every moment.

As Grubbs pounds away to attack a group of vicious demons, I put my questions on hold and focus on how best I can help. It’s a dirty, messy battle. Normally demons cross singly or in small groups. But there are dozens running riot here. This is no ordinary crossing. It’s the work of a powerful, organized, intelligent foe.

As the battle rages around me, I complete my shield, then focus on the patches of light in the air. A quick check reveals two windows set a few hundred feet from each other. Demons are pouring through both. That suits me perfectly. I might not be a great fighter, but I can turn the tide of this battle single-handed.

Picking a path through the warring forces, I hurry to the nearest window. It’s a large pink panel. Ignoring the demons spilling out of it, protected by my shield, I thrust my hands into the center of the panel and pull at the patches. Within seconds the window pulses, tears apart, then snaps out of existence.