The Demonata 6-10. Darren Shan

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СКАЧАТЬ you have been one of them?” Kernel asks. “You’ve passed for human all this time. Could you have lived as a demon if you’d wished?”

      “Aye. The possibility of becoming a fully fledged demon was always there. It still is. My demon half constantly tempts me, urges me to give myself over to evil, join the Demonata and help them conquer this world. I fight it daily. I’ve held it in check — so far.”

      “Which one of them is your father?” I ask. “Lord Loss?”

      “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snorts. “My father was a lesser demon. I tracked him down many centuries ago. I killed the beast and relieved him of his head. Used the skull as a bedpan for a time.” He jerks his thumb at the monolith. “Now that we’ve had the sordid family history, can we move on?”

      “I’m not going,” I tell him. “I’m staying here with Dervish and Bec.”

      Beranabus shrugs. “If that’s what you want.”

      “Don’t say it like that. I’ve done my bit. I stopped the demons breaking through. I killed my brother and saved the world. What more do you want from me?” I scream.

      Beranabus doesn’t blink. “It’s not what I want — it’s what the universe wants. And what I’ve learnt from my long years is the universe only ever wants more. It doesn’t care about sacrifice and best efforts. It needs us to keep fighting. As far as the universe is concerned, there’s no rest for either the good or the wicked. I doubt it even understands the concept.”

      “Well, the universe can go stick its head where the sun don’t shine!” I yell. “I’m through. I did what I had to and now I want out, like Bec.”

      “It’s not within my power to let you go or keep you,” Beranabus says softly. “Your conscience will guide you. There’s no point shrieking at me. It’s yourself you should be angry with. If you were selfish, didn’t care about the world, or were a tenth of the coward you believe you are, you’d go back inside, return to school, live out a long, happy, simple, human life. Which you’re fully entitled to.”

      He takes a step closer, shaking his head. “But you can’t, can you? You saw the shadow monster in the cave, the one that almost broke through — their leader.”

      “It was huge,” I whisper. “Powerful. Evil.”

      “All demons are evil,” Beranabus says. “This was different. I’m not sure how exactly, but I intend to find out. I’ll track it down, even if I have to visit a thousand worlds and kill a million demons. Normally Kernel could lead me to it – he’s a marvel at finding rogue monsters – but I’m not sure he can pull his weight any more.”

      “I might not be able to pull my weight,” Kernel growls, “but I can punch your lights out, old man.” He bares his teeth. “Or should I say old demon.”

      Beranabus laughs shortly. “Whether or not Kernel can work his magic, I’ll find and kill that beast before it discovers another way to open a tunnel between universes. And you’ll help me. I know it, Kernel knows it — and you know it. That’s why you’re angry. You don’t have a choice because your conscience is directing you. Even after all that’s happened – the grief you’re going through, the guilt, the fear – you have to do this. You couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t.”

      “Can’t we wait?” I cry. “Leave it a few days at least, so I can mourn Bill-E and be with Dervish?”

      “The Demonata won’t wait,” Beranabus says, then smiles faintly. “It’s hard for all of us. Kernel needs medical aid. We can build a new pair of eyes for him in the universe of magic, but they’ll only work in that demonic realm. When he returns to this world, the eyes will soon dissolve. The pain will be awful and will worsen every time he comes back. He can no longer think of Earth as home.

      “I want to sit down with Bec, tell her all that’s happened in the last thousand and a half years, discuss old times, get to know her again, guide her through the ways of this new and frightening world. Retire and enjoy a few years of peace in her company before my exhausted old spirit passes on.

      “But Kernel’s ruined eyes don’t matter a damn. My pitiful wishes matter even less. We’re pawns of the universe. We go where we’re needed, do what we must. All else takes second place to that.”

      “I know,” I sigh. “I understand. But Dervish… Bill-E…”

      “Look at it this way,” Kernel says softly. “You can mourn your brother here and wait for the world to end — or you can mourn him in the Demonata’s universe while you kick seven shades of demon arse all the way to hell.” He pushes himself up and walks to the monolith, wincing from the pain, hands outstretched. He touches the dark face of the window, pauses, lifts his head as though trying to see the sky one last time, even without his eyes and through the layers of bandages. Then, with a soft groan, he steps forward and vanishes.

      “I want to say goodbye to Dervish,” I mutter.

      “No,” Beranabus replies, “you don’t. That would mean more pain. Better to slip away while he’s asleep. He won’t like it, but he’ll accept it.”

      “How’s he going to explain Bill-E’s disappearance to the police, his teachers, everyone who knew him?”

      “He’ll cook up a good story. He was always adept at making fiction fit the facts.” Beranabus extends a hand towards me.

      “What about the cave?” I ask, stalling for time. “We have to block the entrance again or the Demonata might–”

      “I’ve already taken care of that,” Beranabus says curtly, losing patience. “I’ve cast spells of warning again, and Dervish will ensure the entrance is filled in as swiftly as possible.”

      “Your spells didn’t work last time,” I remind him.

      “Because of the Kah-Gash,” he snaps. “That has the power to override any spell of mine or any other’s. But with you and Kernel by my side, I won’t have to worry about that happening again. If demons make another move on the cave, I’ll know. Now, are you coming or not? And before you answer, don’t forget the Lambs are still after you.”

      I sneer. “They frightened me once — not any longer.”

      “Aye. Because you have a more powerful enemy to face now.”

      I nod slowly, reluctantly, then take the ancient magician’s hand. “I’m scared,” I whisper. “More scared than I’ve ever been, and that’s saying a lot.”

      “I know,” he replies quietly. “You probably always will be. If it’s any comfort, I’m scared too, even after all these centuries.”

      “How do you deal with the fear?” I ask.

      He shrugs. “I fight.”

      “Is that enough?”

      “It has to be.”

      And on that dubious, dark note, we walk to the monolith, the magician and his assistant, saviours of the world, slaves of the universe. We lay our hands on the smooth black slab. There’s a surge of magic. Our heads tilt back like Kernel’s did, for one final look at СКАЧАТЬ