Darren Shan: Death's Shadow

Her eyes are hot with mistrust and anger. For reasons she maybe doesn’t even know, she blames me for the disappearance of Grubbs and Bill-E. And to a certain extent she’s right.

I say nothing, figuring silence is better than a lie. After a minute of quiet, Reni asks softly, “Do you have a number for Grubbs?”

“No, but I could probably ask Der—”

“Don’t bother,” she interrupts. “I asked already, when I couldn’t get through on his mobile. He said Grubbs didn’t want to talk to anyone. He told me to email, and I did, but it wasn’t Grubbs who answered. I’m no fool. I could tell it was Dervish pretending to be his nephew.”

I’m not sure how to respond.

“This has something to do with what happened to Loch,” she whispers, and her expression changes, becoming more haunted. “You know who Loch was?”

“Your brother,” I croak.

She nods. “Some people might say it wasn’t coincidence that the pair who were with him the day he died have gone missing. Or that the grandparents of one were butchered. Or that the uncle of another has spent the last six months looking like a man who’s lost everything—everyone—dear to him.”

“What do you want?” I ask stiffly.

“I want to know what happened,” she snarls and grabs both my arms, squeezing tightly. “Loch’s death was awful, but I believed it was an accident, so I dealt with it. Now I have horrible, terrible doubts. There’s more going on than anyone knows. Dervish is hiding the truth and I think you know what it is.”

“I don’t know anything,” I gasp, as images and memories come flying through my head. I want to make her let go, but I can’t. I’m learning far more about her than I care to know, unwillingly stripping her of her secrets. “I came here after they went away. I know nothing about them.”

“I don’t believe you,” Reni says, glaring at me with outright hatred. “You know. You must. You’re part of it. If you had nothing to hide, why stay locked away or skulk around like a thief when you come out?”

“Please… you’re hurting me… let me go… I don’t want to…”

“What?” Reni snaps, shaking me. “You don’t want to what?”

“Learn anymore!” I cry.

She frowns. I’m weeping, not because I’m afraid or sad, but because she is. I know why she’s doing this, why she feels so awful, why she’s desperate to uncover the truth.

“You can’t change it,” I moan. “You can’t bring him back. He’s dead.”

“Who?” Reni hisses. “Grubbs? Bill-E?”

“Loch,” I wheeze, and her hands loosen. “You mustn’t blame yourself. It had nothing to do with you. He wasn’t distracted or angry. That wasn’t why he—”

“What are you talking about?” Reni shouts, clutching me hard again.

“You had a fight with him the day he died.” She releases me, eyes widening, and the images stop. But I can’t let it end there. I have to push on, to try and help her. “You fought about what you were going to watch on television. It was a silly, stupid argument. I’m sure Loch had forgotten it by the time he left. It had nothing to do with his death, I’m certain it didn’t.”

Reni is trembling. Her lower lip quivers. “How do you know that?” she moans. “I never told anybody that.”

“It was an accident,” I mumble. “It wasn’t your fault, so you shouldn’t—”

“How do you know that?” Reni screams.

I shrug. This hasn’t gone like I wanted it to. I hoped to ease her pain, but instead I’ve terrified her.

Reni starts to say something, then closes her mouth and backs off, crying, staring at me as if I’m something hideous and foul. It’s how people in my time stared at a priestess or druid if they thought that person was an agent of evil. She backs into a tree, jumps with fright, then turns and flees.

I watch until she vanishes behind the houses of Carcery Vale, then slowly return through the forest for another lonely night with the aloof and morbid Dervish.

Beranabus is only half human. His father was a demon who ravaged his mother against her will. In later life, Beranabus tracked the monster down and slaughtered him. He took the beast’s head as a trophy. Held it close to his chest that night and wept for hours, stroking his dead father’s face, hating and mourning him in equal measures.

Meera loved Dervish when they were younger. She wanted to marry him and have children. She dreamt of teaching their kids to be Disciples, the entire family battling evil together and saving the world. But she knew he would never father a baby. He was afraid any child of his might catch the curse of the Gradys and turn into a werewolf. So she never confessed her love or told anybody.

Reni saw her mother steal a purse from a shop. It was the most shocking thing she experienced until Loch died. She spent many restless nights wondering what else her mother might have stolen, worrying about what would happen if she was caught. She wanted to discuss it with someone, but it wasn’t something she could talk about, so she kept it to herself.

I know these things because I’ve touched those people and absorbed their inner thoughts. I’m a human sponge—I soak up memories.

I became aware of my gift not long after I returned to life. I spent hours with Beranabus that night, hugging and holding him. Memories seeped into me thick and fast, but it was a time of great confusion and I wasn’t able to separate his memories from Bill-E’s until later.

It took me a few days to make sense of what happened. I had all these images of the distant past swirling around inside my head—starting with his wretched birth in the Labyrinth—and I wasn’t sure where they’d come from. When I worked it out, I thought it was a temporary side-effect of my miraculous return to life. Or maybe Beranabus had fed his memories to me, to help me cope with the new world.

I didn’t touch anybody else until Meera hugged me, in an attempt to comfort me when she found me crying. As soon as we touched, I began absorbing. When I realised what was happening, I broke contact. I felt like a thief, stealing her innermost secrets. The flow of images stopped as soon as I let go.

I learnt less about Meera than Beranabus, since we were in contact for only a handful of seconds. The flow of information was fast, but not instantaneous. I took many of her big secrets and recent memories, but little of her younger life.

I hadn’t touched anyone since then. I don’t like this power. It’s intrusive and sneaky, and I can’t control it. I don’t seem to do any harm. I think the person retains their memories, but I can’t be certain. Maybe, if I held on for a long time, I’d drain all their thoughts and they’d end up a mindless zombie.

I wish I could experiment and find out more about my unwelcome gift, but I can’t without the risk of damaging those I touch. If I was in the Demonata’s universe, I could test it on demons— although I’m not entirely sure I want to get inside a demon’s head!

Nobody knows about it. I’d tell Beranabus if he was here, but he isn’t. I could search for him—I learnt what he knew about opening windows when we touched, and I’m sure I could open one myself—but I don’t want to disturb him. He’s on an important mission and this would distract him. If I’m lucky, the unwelcome gift will fade with time. If not, what of it? I live in seclusion and almost never touch people. I’m sure Reni Gossel won’t come back for another face-to-face. What harm can a secluded hermit do to anyone?

I’m in Dervish’s study, telling him about Bill-E’s problems at school. Bill-E was a shy boy. He found it hard to make friends or fit in. Dervish wants to get to the root of his nephew’s difficulties. There’s no point—he can’t do anything to fix them now—but he’s persistent.