Darren Shan - Dark Calling

With a volley of deafening screams and howls, the army surges forward and smashes to the ground around us, a living wave of chaos, barbarism, and death.

We’d perish in seconds without the power of the Kah-Gash. But as soon as Lord Loss roars, Grubbs grabs Bec, leaps to my side, and wraps an arm around me. Unifying our magic, he draws from the power in the air and erects a hasty but sturdy barrier around us. Instead of driving us to the floor and ripping us to shreds, the demons deflect off the shield.

I work on the window as the demons lash and claw at the barrier. It covers all of us except Kirilli, who was too far away and has been cut off, swamped by the army of demonic warriors. It’s a powerful shield, impervious to physical assault. If the demons continue to hurl themselves at it, they won’t inflict any damage and we’ll be out of here in another couple of—

“Stand aside!” Lord Loss yells, blasting his way through a pack of gibbering beasts. He studies the barrier and sneers, then howls a phrase of magic. Energy crackles in all eight of his hands. He lets it build, then directs it at the barrier, a stream of sizzling, purple power. Lord Loss is a demon master, far superior to any human in the ways of magic. Nothing should be able to stand against him. But we’re the Kah-Gash and I sense within seconds that we’re stronger than our foe. I laugh confidently. We’re going to walk out of this without even a scratch. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when…

Juni lays a hand on Lord Loss’s lumpy flesh. She’s changed a lot since I last saw her and has become a mutated, flesh-dripping, impossibly ugly beast. Her eyes flare with shocking madness and naked hate. I remember when, as Nadia Moore, she saved my life. She’d committed herself to Lord Loss by that stage, but there was still room in her heart for human feelings.

Not anymore. She’s become that which she once fought, every bit as heartless as a true child of the Demonata. She screeches vilely and unleashes a burst of magic at the barrier. At her cry, demons huddle around the pair and link with them, adding their energy to hers and Lord Loss’s, focusing their combined forces on the shield.

“Grubbs!” Bec pants, feeling the barrier give. “We need more power.”

“I can’t,” he gasps, sweating as we all are, buckling under the strain. “This is as far… as I dare unleash it. If I give it more freedom… I won’t be able to control it. Anything could… happen.”

I don’t understand what he’s saying. He must be insane. The barrier will break and they’ll be on us in seconds. We have to throw everything we have at them or else we’re doomed.

Then I remember when we last gave the Kah-Gash absolute freedom. It drove the universes back in time. If we could count on it working in our favor again, there’d be no need to worry. But we don’t know what it will do if we set it loose a second time. Maybe it would give us the strength to defeat the demons—or maybe it would wipe out our universe and hand victory to the Demonata. We dare not play that card unless all else is lost. Our situation is desperate but not hopeless, and until that changes, Grubbs is right to hold back.

“We have to fight,” he roars. “Are you ready?” I nod weakly. “Bec?”

“Go for it,” she growls.

With a battle-hungry cry, Grubbs explodes the barrier. A wall of energy spreads like a ripple from a nuclear explosion, flattening the demons closest to us. For a few seconds we’re standing at the center of a clear circle, confusion reigning all around. Then the demons farther back recover, bellow brutally, and push forward, clambering over the bodies of the fallen, to surround and enclose us.

The real fight begins.

It’s wilder than any battle I’ve ever been involved in. I’ve laughed in the face of overwhelming odds before, but nobody’s laughing now. There are too many of them, demons of every rank, from familiars up to masters like Lord Loss. All they share is a total hatred of us and a determination to strip our flesh from our bones.

We strike without pause, using bolts and fireballs of magic. Hundreds perish within seconds, but still they press on, thousands of fresh monsters to replace each that falls.

I try to stay in touch with Bec and Grubbs, but we’re forced apart. Grubbs is dragged away by several demons at least five times his size. A winged beast snatches Bec from the ground and shoots into the air with her.

I go down under the feet of dozens of hard-shelled demons. Claws slash, fangs and pincers snap. I feel cuts open down my legs and arms, across my stomach and chest. I ignore the pain, use magic to numb the worst of it, and with a great effort thrust off the demons. Yelling, I stagger to my feet, then collapse again beneath a dinosaur-shaped beast.

Fangs lock around my throat and tighten. I turn the flesh of my neck to steel but the fangs continue to grind together. This is the end. There’s nothing I can do. Some wounds are fatal, no matter how magical you are. Once my throat’s been crushed, I’m as dead as—

A silver, purple-tipped spike pokes sharply through the center of the dinosaur’s head. It squeals, then falls aside. A panting Dervish pulls me to my feet. The spikes on his head have tripled in length and writhe like snakes, independent of one another, jabbing at the demons around us, driving them back.

“How much longer will it take you to open that freakin’ window?” he roars.

I look for the patches of light. They’re twenty feet away, drifting apart. With a curse, I summon them, pat the stray patches into place, and start adding new lights to the pack.

“How long?” Dervish screams again, blood flowing from a chunk that’s been bitten out of the left side of his chest—I see snapped white bones poking through the streams of red.

“Maybe a minute,” I gasp, hands blurring.

I glance around as I’m putting the window together. Grubbs is back on his feet, supported by his retinue of werewolves, who’ve torn into the demons around him, attacking rabidly, tearing strips out of their foes. Bec is still fighting with the winged demon and has forced it towards the ground. Meera’s close by, doggedly working her way back to us. Her left arm’s been severed at the shoulder. Half her face is a clawed-up, blood-soaked mess—her beauty’s been spoiled forever. But more worrying than that are the guts dangling from a hole in her stomach, and the small demon wrapped around her waist, tugging at the intestines, reeling them out like a cat unraveling a ball of string.

“Meera!” I scream, desperate to help but needing to stay focused on the window. It’s our only hope of escape. If I abandon it, we’re all doomed.

Dervish has spotted Meera too. He begins to dart to her rescue, then swears and drives back a multi-eyed monster that was about to snap off my hands. He has to stand guard. I can’t protect myself while I’m working on the window. He’s tied to his post, as I am. He weeps with frustration as he fights off the hordes clustered around us, muttering Meera’s name over and over.

The demon working on Meera’s guts stick its head into the hole in her stomach. It’s giggling sickeningly, like a child tucking into a box of treats. But then its head explodes and it topples to the ground. A figure breaks through the demons around Meera and hauls her forward, towards us. I think my eyes are playing tricks, but when I blink and see the same thing, I realize I’m not dreaming.

Kirilli Kovacs is plowing through the ranks of demons. One of his hands has turned into a steel scythe and he’s mowing down all who come too close. He’s the one who rescued Meera.

“Kovacs, you lunatic!” Dervish yells with delight. “You’re supposed to be a coward!”

“I am!” Kirilli screeches.