Darren Shan - Demon Apocalypse

“Get on with it,” I snarl.

“There’s not much more to get on with. I spied on Dervish and Juni when I wasn’t following you. I knew that witch was up to no good, but I wasn’t sure of her exact plans. Then I saw the Lambs arrive. You burst out of the underground cellar. I trailed you to the cave, but didn’t follow you down—Juni would have sensed my presence. I waited while she came, dealt with you and left again. Then you burst out of the cave. I pursued you to your brother’s house, then the airport. When I realised Juni planned to board an aeroplane with you, I guessed what her plan was and I followed.”

“You could have stopped her,” I say icily. “You knew she was going to kill the other passengers. You could have attacked. Ripped me from her before we got on.”

“No,” he says. “I wasn’t sure. She might not have struck on the aeroplane. Or perhaps she was taking you somewhere else to meet Lord Loss. Maybe you were in league with her. I weighed up all my options and I decided to wait. It was the right call and if I had to make it again, I’d do exactly the same thing.”

He scowls at the disgusted look I give him, then waves the matter away. “And here we are,” he says. “The end of the story.”

“Not quite,” I reply. “You still haven’t said what you want me for, why you rescued me and brought me here.”

Beranabus frowns. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“Yes. But I want you to say it.”

“Very well. You’re a magician. I want you to become my assistant, like Kernel, cross into the universe of the Demonata with us, and spend the rest of your life by my side, killing demons.”

Sitting on my blanket, legs crossed, hunched over, fingers locked together. Beranabus is at his table, sorting through papers, muttering and whistling. Kernel is exercising, stretching and limbering up. They’re setting off to fight demons shortly. They expect me to go with them.

It’s crazy. I told Beranabus I wouldn’t do it. Leave my own world? Enter the Demonata’s realm? Fight monsters like Lord Loss every day? No bloody way, Jo-bloody-se!

Beranabus didn’t argue. Just shrugged and said we all have to make our own decisions in life, then went to get ready. I sat by the fire a while longer, watching him and Kernel prepare. Then came back here, where I’ve been sitting for the last half-hour, silent, numb.

Kernel finishes stretching. Bends, touches his toes, then rises in the air. Slowly turns head over heels. Lands softly on his feet and lets go of his toes. Spots me watching him and walks over. “Having fun?”

“It’s better than a circus.” I stare up at him, his scars and bruises, the marks of past battles, the fear in his eyes. “How do you do it?” I whisper. “I’ve fought demons. I know what it’s like. How do you find the courage to…”

Kernel shrugs like it’s no big deal. Licks his lips and glances at Beranabus, then sits beside me. “I never really had a choice,” he says. “I had a brother. Well, I thought… No, let’s leave it at that—it gets too complicated otherwise. He was kidnapped by a demon. I followed after him. Met Beranabus and some others—your uncle was one of them.”

“You know Dervish?” I ask, surprised.

“Yes. I haven’t seen him in thirty-odd years, but we were good friends back then. I wouldn’t have survived without him. Is he still a punk?”

“What?” I frown.

“He was a punk. Spiked hair, earrings, leather jacket, chains.”

“No,” I chuckle. “We must be talking about a different guy. Dervish was never…” I hesitate. How many demon-fighting Disciples called Dervish can there be in the world? “I’ll quiz you about that later. Finish telling me about yourself first.”

Kernel shrugs. “Things didn’t work out with my brother. I returned home, but several years had passed—time works differently in the Demonata’s universe. I couldn’t pick up the pieces of my old life. I no longer belonged to that world. So I came to work for Beranabus. He taught me how to master my powers and slay demons. I’ve been doing it ever since.”

“What’s it like? Do you have days off? Weekends? Holidays?”

Kernel laughs. “Sure—two weeks on a beach of fire in the sunny south of Hades, half-price offseason. Of course we don’t have holidays! We don’t fight all the time—we have to rest, and Beranabus occasionally has to do something on this world—but we’re at it most days of any given year.”

“What do you do when you’re not fighting?”

“Recover and relax here.”

“You don’t get out at all? Not even for a day trip?”

“Day trip to where?” Kernel snorts. “I pop up the ladder every now and then for a breath of fresh air. Maybe go for a walk for an hour or two. But it’s boiling by day, freezing by night, and there’s nothing to see or do.”

“Doesn’t Beranabus take you with him when he goes away?”

“Rarely,” Kernel says hotly. “He prefers it if one of us is here when we’re not battling demons, in case anyone tries to contact him. And even when he does take me, it’s only ever on business. We’re in and out as quickly as possible, keeping a low profile, hiding in the shadows.”

He stops. His fingers are trembling. There are hard tears in his eyes, but he’s holding them back. I try thinking of something comforting to say, but can’t. I want to change the subject, but don’t know what to talk to him about. So I ask about his age—not entirely off-topic, but hopefully less of a sore point.

“You said you’d been with Beranabus thirty years, but that can’t be right. You don’t look more than sixteen or seventeen.”

He smiles tiredly. “Like I said, time works differently in the demon universe. It varies from zone to zone. In some places it passes faster than here or at the same rate, but usually it’s slower. We’re often gone for what feels like a day or two, only to return to find six months have passed here.”

“Bloody hell!” I gasp.

Kernel nods miserably. “In real time I’ve been with Beranabus for… I don’t know… maybe four or five years. But thirty or more have slipped by on Earth while we’ve been off fighting demons.”

“That’s what Beranabus wants me to sign up for?” I gulp. “Spend my life facing demons? Live in a cave when I’m not working? And go out one day to find that decades have passed and everyone I knew is old or dead?”

“It sounds bad when you put it that way.” Kernel laughs hollowly. “It has its rewards. I’m more powerful than just about any living human. And I save the planet from unimaginable dangers on a regular basis. But that’s not much comfort when I’m rotting away here or being pummelled by a four-headed giant.”

Kernel stands and smirks, a hint of pity in his otherwise bitter, mocking smile. “Welcome to the firm.” Then he goes to get ready.

Beranabus works on opening a window to the Demonata’s universe. It was a big deal for Dervish when he summoned Lord Loss, but Beranabus is more adept. A few spells, some scrawled symbols on the walls, a silly short dance and the world starts to fade around us. Smoke pours from Beranabus’s flesh, all sorts of shapes, mostly a mix of animals and demons. The roof of the cave goes momentarily translucent. I spot a red sky full of giant demons streaking across the heavens like meteors. Then the cave firms up again. The smoke clears. And Beranabus is standing in front of a black pillar which is strangely familiar. The word “monolith” pops into my head, but I don’t know why.

“Not bad, aye?” Beranabus says. “Kernel is the master of opening windows, but he’s at his best in the universe of the Demonata. From here it’s as easy for me to do it. But once we cross he’s in a league of his own. You’ll see what I mean soon enough—if you come with us.” He takes a step back from the monolith. “Made up your mind yet?”