Darren Shan - Wolf Island

“Don’t play games,” I say softly. “Your only hope is to prove that Dervish is alive and that we need you to protect him. If I think you’re trying to weasel out, all bets are off and all promises are revoked.”

“Come with me,” Timas says commandingly, taking Antoine by the elbow and leading him to one side. “We’ll work on it together. Tell me everything you did and how to undo it. I’ll see to the rest.”

“But… my equipment…” Antoine says weakly.

“We have all the equipment we need,” Timas says, taking a radio unit from a boat and fiddling with the dials.

With a bitter sigh, Antoine casts aside whatever plan he had in mind, sits beside Timas and talks.

The minutes pass quickly. Part of me is sure we’ll be too late. Antoine’s Lambs will have caught a strong wind and picked up Bec sooner than anticipated. Gunned Dervish down and dumped him in the sea for the fishes to feast on. I’m prepared for the worst and ready to rip Antoine to pieces when he breaks the bad news. My wolfen half is looking forward to that. It doesn’t care about Dervish or anything except slaughter and feeding. Dimly aware of Timas and Antoine talking on the radio, Antoine issuing codes and commands. Meera and Prae are listening in, but I’m too agitated to follow it all. I have very little patience since I changed.

Thinking about Juni’s prediction again. I want to dismiss it. Me? Destroy the world? Ridiculous!

Except… it isn’t. I’ve known since that night in the cave outside Carcery Vale that I have the power to annihilate not just a world, but a universe. Beranabus believed the Kah-Gash could be used against the Demonata, but it’s a demonic weapon. Why should it work for us against those who created it?

I wish the contrary old magician was here. I need advice and guidance. But according to Antoine he’s dead, killed on a ship, lost at sea. I should be in shock. I never liked the old buzzard, but he’s protected this world for more than a thousand years and he’s been my mentor for the last several months. His death should have hit me hard. But I only feel annoyed—why did he let himself fall into a trap now, of all times, when he was most needed?

“There we go,” Antoine says, turning away from the radio. He salutes me with a sneer.

“What’s the story?” I bark at Timas.

“We converted the assassination squad into a rescue crew,” Timas says. “I was going to send Disciples, but it was simpler to use those already close to the scene. They’ve taken the survivors on board and are flying back, but not to the city where Juni had arranged to meet them.”

“Dervish?” I mutter, dreading the response.

“Alive,” Timas says. “In bad shape—all three of them are—but breathing.”

“Three?” Meera echoes.

“Dervish, Bec and a Disciple called Kirilli Kovacs. You know him?” Meera shakes her head. “Apparently he was on board when they went to the ship.”

“What about Sharmila?” Meera asks.

“Dead,” Timas says simply. “Along with Beranabus. Maybe Kernel too, but they weren’t sure about that. A few thousand passengers and crew were murdered also.”

“A good day’s work,” Meera snaps at Antoine.

“You can’t blame me for what happened on the ship,” he huffs. “I had nothing to do with that.” He smiles thinly at me. “Those on board the helicopter have orders to release the hostages only in my presence. A little insurance policy.”

I stare at Antoine without blinking. “Dervish is safe?” I ask Timas.

“Yes.”

“Then we’re finished here.”

I still haven’t blinked. Antoine’s fidgeting now.

“You haven’t forgotten your promise, have you?” he laughs, trying but failing to sound light-hearted.

I shake my head slowly. And grin wolfishly.

“I assume you’re a man of your word?” Antoine says stiffly.

“I’m not a man,” I answer quietly. “But yes,” I add as he turns an even paler shade of white beneath his tan. “I said I wouldn’t kill you, and I won’t.”

Antoine breaks into a smile. All his confidence and arrogance come flooding back. He takes a step forward, eager to establish control of the situation. I raise a gnarled, semi-human hand to stop him.

“I said I wouldn’t kill you,” I repeat slowly. “But I said nothing about them .” I gesture at the five werewolves.

Antoine laughs feebly. He thinks I’m joking. Then he looks deeper into my eyes and realises I’m as serious as death.

“No!” he croaks. “You can’t. Your uncle—they’ll kill him if I’m not there.”

“I’ll take that chance,” I chuckle, then click my tongue. Five pairs of wolfen ears prick to attention and the room fills with growls of grisly delight.

“Please,” Antoine sobs, backing up. “I did what you asked. I cooperated.”

I turn my back on him and nod at Meera, Timas and Prae.

“Are you certain you want to do this?” Meera asks as the werewolves advance and Antoine whimpers and begs for mercy.

“Yes,” I say flatly.

“It’s a callous act,” she warns. “This will stain your soul forever. You might regret it when—”

“When what?” I snap. “When I turn back into a human? When we defeat the Demonata and skip off into the sunset, holding hands? That isn’t going to happen. This is what I am. Get used to it.”

I step out of the room, feeling nothing but a dim sense of pleasure that Dervish is alive. “I don’t think I have a soul any longer, if I ever had to begin with,” I tell Meera softly. “And my only regret is that there aren’t more like Antoine to kill.”

Then the air fills with Antoine’s screams. I march ahead without looking back, smiling savagely as the scent of the traitor’s blood reaches my nostrils. I lift my nose and breathe in deep. My eyes narrow. My mouth waters. My stomach growls.

Delicious.

I want to leave the island immediately, take a boat and sail for civilisation, to be reunited with Dervish. But there are details to sort out first. As anxious as I am to press on, I don’t want to leave a job half-done.

First, with Timas leading the way, we sweep the compound in search of any survivors. I’m not sure if I’d take them captive or kill them, but there aren’t any, so that’s a question which ultimately doesn’t require answering. Werewolves howl gratefully as I pass. Their previous leader never treated them to anything like this. They think it’s going to be like this all the time, dozens of soldiers to feast on every day. I’m sorry that I’ll have to disappoint them. Maybe I can round up more of Antoine’s collaborators and send them over—home delivery, Grubbs Grady style!

Once we’re sure the compound’s clean, Prae asks if I can move the werewolves out, so that she can reestablish the perimeter.

“Everything’s changed,” she sighs, running a hand through her grey hair. “We can’t take them back—I won’t subject them to slavery and experimentation again, not after this—but we can’t just leave them here. They’d starve.”

“I’m taking some with me,” I tell her and all three of them stare at me. “The attacks won’t stop. Juni will send others against us. We’ll have to fight again. And again. I’d rather do that with my pack than without them.”

“But how will you control them?” Meera asks. “Off this island… in a city… you can’t keep them like hounds.”

“Yes, I can,” I growl. “I’ll have to treat them to a kill every so often, but that shouldn’t be a problem, not with the sort of action I’m anticipating. I won’t take them all, just the more advanced. Thirty, forty… no more than fifty.”