Darren Shan - Demon Apocalypse

“I made it up ages ago,” I snap. “I’m not coming.”

“Of course you are,” Beranabus smiles. “Who could resist a challenge like this? The chance to flex your magical muscles, eliminate scores of demons, save the world. You’ll come with us in the end, so why not drop the reluctant act and—”

“I’m not acting!” I shout, flushing angrily. “I’ve had enough of demons. I don’t want to fight them. I don’t care how magical I am. I’m not your assistant and I never will be. So just—”

“There are two fields of thought about the granting of magical talent,” Beranabus interrupts smoothly. “Some claim it’s pure luck, the random lottery of the universe doling out magic without method or purpose. Others—and I’m one of them—believe there’s a force which wants humans to triumph. We think magicians are created to keep the world safe from the Demonata, that at times of great peril, heroes are generated, capable of defeating the otherwise unstoppable forces of evil.

“It doesn’t matter which is right. You have the power. Whether you gained it by design or accident is irrelevant. You have the ability to kill demons, to stop them crossing. If you don’t make the most of that talent—if you hide from your duty—it’s because you’re a coward, plain and simple.”

I tremble with rage at the insult. Part of me wants to call upon all of my newly revealed powers and hit him with the strongest magical blast I can muster, to teach him never to mess with me again. But I don’t. Because he’s speaking the truth.

Dervish loved me, so he never said it, but he must have thought it. He didn’t object when I refused to learn spells and magic. He respected my choice and never made me feel like I was chickening out. I told myself I’d done my bit and now I was entitled to a normal life.

But that was rot. Deep down I knew I didn’t want to fight because I was scared. Dervish knew it, I knew it and now Beranabus knows it. The only difference is, Beranabus has called me out.

Beranabus is leaning towards me, eyebrows raised, awaiting my comeback. When I don’t respond to the insult, he smiles sadly. “I can’t afford to wet-nurse you. This is a serious business, no room for lies or charades. When you were an average child, you could afford to be a coward—nobody suffered. Now you have to be a hero or untold billions might die.”

“That’s an exaggeration, isn’t it?” I mutter.

“No. Those are the stakes we play for. If it was hundreds, it wouldn’t matter—I let that many die on the plane. Even millions… the world can afford to lose a few million humans every now and again. You could think of it as judicious pruning. Mankind would continue whether you joined us or not.

“But we deal in billions— wholesale slaughter. If the more powerful Demonata make it through, everybody perishes. That’s why you can’t be a coward any longer. I won’t let you deny your calling just because you’re a nice boy and I feel sorry for you. We have a duty—me, Kernel, you. Fair or not, that’s the way it is. So you’re coming through that window with us. Unless the coward within you is stronger than I think…”

He looks at me harshly. Behind him, Kernel keeps his head down. I think he’s ashamed of Beranabus, but also of himself and the choices the pair of them must make. The choice I must make.

“I can’t do it,” I sob. “You don’t understand. I’ve replayed those battles with Lord Loss so many times… Vein and Artery… Slawter… the anguish. I did it the first time to save Bill-E, because he’s my brother, and in Slawter because we were trapped and it was fight or die. But there was never time to worry about it in advance or make a considered decision to pit myself against demons. This is different. I’d be choosing horror and misery. I’ve seen the nightmarish work of the Demonata in real life and in dreams. I can’t face them again. I can’t.”

“You can,” Beranabus says, not giving way. “Unless you want to accept that you’re a worthless coward. Unless you’re prepared to flee like a whipped, shamed cur. Are you, Grubitsch?”

“I…” My voice seizes. I come within a breath of saying yes. I want to. I almost grasp the yellow mantle gratefully. But the shame… the guilt… to live the rest of my life as a branded coward…

“Please,” I moan. “Don’t do this to me.”

“It’s already done,” Beranabus says. “I’m not pushing you into anything. I’m just the one who has the unpleasant task of breaking the news to you.” He steps forward, grabs my shoulder and looks hard into my eyes. “Hero or coward. There’s no in-between. Choose now. The Demonata won’t wait forever.”

Wanting to scream, to run, to tell him to go stuff himself.

Knowing I can’t, that I’m gifted, that I’m damned.

“I hope they kill me,” I cry, tearing away from him, trembling wildly. “I hope I don’t last five minutes.”

“I hoped that too when I first crossed,” Kernel says softly, then walks to the monolith, puts a hand on the surface, breathes on it and steps through as the dark face shimmers. He vanishes.

“You will fare better than you fear, Grubitsch,” Beranabus says encouragingly, following Kernel to the monolith. He puts a hand on it.

“Wait,” I stop him and he looks back questioningly. “If we’re going to do this, I want to make one thing clear. It’s Grubbs, understand? I bloody hate Grubitsch .”

Beranabus smiles crookedly and says with all the charm of Sweeney Todd, “If you can kill demons, I’ll call you anything you please. If not, I’ll leave your bones lying scattered in their universe, nameless.” He faces the monolith again and exhales. It shimmers and he moves forward. Gone.

I don’t think about this being my chance to run, to get out of here, lose myself in the desert and die on my own world. Afraid the coward within me will take control if I give it a chance. Without hesitation, I lurch forward, put both hands on the monolith, breathe on it like the others did and step through into madness.

First impression—this place is infinitely different to the webby world of Lord Loss. Light blue in colour, it’s like something out of a Picasso painting, all cubes and weird angles. We’re in a valley of sorts. Narrow, jagged pillars of a weird blue substance rise high around us. I edge over to the nearest pillar and sniff, expecting the stench of sulphur. But it smells more like a piece of rotten fruit—a peach or pear maybe.

“Don’t touch it,” Beranabus says. “It’s probably not dangerous, but we don’t take chances here. The less physical contact we make, the better.”

“Where is this?” I ask.

“The Demonata’s universe, idiot,” Kernel snaps.

“I meant which part? I don’t know anything about the set-up here. Are there ten worlds, twenty, a thousand?

“Do they have names? Which one are we on?”

“Geography doesn’t work like that here,” Beranabus says, studying the pillars, eyes sharp. “The worlds and zones are constantly changing. There are many self-contained galaxies within the general demon universe. The stronger Demonata have the power to create their own realms or take over another demon’s and reshape it. We never know what we’re going to find when we cross.”

“Then how do you hunt?” I frown.

“We target specific demons. Realms might change, but demons don’t, except for the shape-shifters, and even they don’t change on the inside, where it counts. If we know a demon’s name, Kernel can locate it within minutes. If we don’t know, or if the demon doesn’t have a name, it’s more complicated. Each demon has a unique spiritual vibration.”