the biggest of brainboxes. “Shark and Meera,” I say, with what I hope sounds like authority. Shark can’t hear me, but to my surprise Meera responds negatively.
“I want to stay with Dervish,” she says.
“He’ll be fine,” I tell her, trying to sound confident, not wanting them to know how nervous I feel — I’ve never taken on a mission like this before. “He has Beranabus and Bec to look after him. Unless you want to leave Bec with me?” I ask the magician.
“No,” he mumbles, as I guessed he would. “If you’re staying, I’ll take her to replace you.”
“Then go,” I say. “Chase the truth on your side. I’ll do the same here. If I discover no link between Lord Loss and the Lambs, I’ll return. If they are working for him, I’ll cull the whole bloody lot.”
Kernel grunts and a green window opens. “Time to decide,” he tells Beranabus. I look from the magician to Meera. She’s not happy, but she doesn’t raise any further objections.
“Very well,” Beranabus snaps. “But listen to Shark and Meera, heed their advice and contact me before you go running up against the likes of Lord Loss or the Shadow.” He picks up the unconscious Sharmila. “Follow me, Bec,” he says curtly and steps through the window.
Bec stares at us, confused. I flash her a quick grin of support, which she misses. Meera steps up to her and asks if she’s OK. Before I can hear her reply, Dervish is hugging me, squeezing me tight.
“I don’t want to leave you,” he says, and I can tell he’s struggling not to cry. I have a lump in my throat too.
“You have to go,” I tell him. “You’ll die if you stay here.”
“Maybe that would be the easiest thing,” he sighs.
I squeeze his ribs until he gasps. “Don’t you dare give up,” I snarl. “Mum and Dad… Gret and Bill-E… they’d give anything to be where you are now — alive. It doesn’t matter how much pain you’re in or how sorry you feel for yourself. Alive is better than dead. Always.”
“When did you become the sensible one?” Dervish scowls.
“When you became a pathetic mess,” I tell him lightly.
“Oh,” he grins. “Thanks for clearing that up.” He clasps the back of my neck and glares into my eyes. “Be careful, Grubbs. If you die before me, I’ll be mad as hell.”
“Don’t worry,” I laugh. “I’ll outlive you by decades. I’ll be dancing on your grave fifty years from now, just wait and see.”
Dervish smiles shakily, then releases me and staggers through the window, massaging his chest with one hand, just about managing not to weep. I hate watching him go. I wish he could stay or that I could leave with him. But wishes don’t mean a damn when you’ve been selected by the universe to spend your life fighting demons.
“Sorry we couldn’t have more of a chat,” I say to Bec, and I genuinely mean it. I’d like to sit down with her and listen to her full story, learn what life was like sixteen hundred years ago, what she makes of the world now, if Riverdance is anything like the real deal.
“Next time,” she smiles.
“Yeah,” I grunt, not believing for a second that our paths will cross again. In this game you soon learn not to take anything good for granted. The chances are that Bec or I – probably both – will perish at the hands of demons long before the universes can throw us back together.
I think about bidding Kernel farewell, but he doesn’t look interested in saying goodbye, so I simply wave at him. He half-waves back, already focusing on Bec. She’s his companion now. I mean nothing to him if I’m not by his side, so he won’t waste time worrying about me. I know how he feels because I feel the same way about him.
“Come on,” I say to a slightly befuddled-looking Meera. “Let’s go and break the news to Shark. Do you think he’ll mind us volunteering him for a life or death mission?”
“No,” Meera sighs as we cross the roof to the doorway. “That dumb goon would be offended if we left him out.”
GETTING STARTED
→ It’s chaos downstairs. Juni Swan forced down a helicopter during the duel on the roof. The flames are still flickering, though the teams of firefighters who were quick on the scene have the worst of the blaze under control. Shattered glass from the hospital windows lines the surrounding streets like crystal confetti. The dead and wounded are everywhere, covered in blankets or being nursed by bloodied, shaken medics. Police buzz around like angry bees.
Shark has no problem talking his way through. A few words with the commanding officer and we’re being escorted past the teams of baying news reporters to a spot in the city where we’re free to go our own way. The Disciples have contacts in some pretty high places.
First things first — we’re exhausted and need to sleep. We find the nearest hotel and book three connecting rooms. The receptionist regards us warily and almost refuses us entry, but when Shark produces a platinum credit card and says he’ll pay up front, and that he wants their best rooms, the man behind the desk undergoes a swift transformation.
I’d like to talk through events with Shark and Meera, but both disappear to their beds as soon as we’ve tipped the bellboy and shut the doors, so I’ve no choice but to follow their lead.
The room’s large, but it feels cramped after a year spent sleeping wild – if not often – beneath vast demonic skies. I open the windows and stick my head out, breathing in fresh air as I replay the scenes from the hospital. Why the hell did I volunteer to stay behind? I could be with Dervish now, catching up, taking care of him. Instead I’ve promised to track down Prae Athim and put a stop to whatever’s going on between Lord Loss and the Lambs. Just how I’m going to do that is a mystery. I spoke before I thought, like an over-eager hero. I’ve been hanging around Beranabus too long!
Withdrawing, I decide the plans can wait. I go to the toilet, then undress and slide beneath the soft bedcovers. I’m worried I won’t be able to sleep, that I’ll lie awake all night. But within a minute my eyelids go heavy and seconds later it’s lights out.
→ Breakfast in bed is heavenly. I eat like a ravenous savage, bolting down sausages, bacon, eggs, mushrooms. And toast! How can a few burnt bits of bread smeared with churned-up cow’s milk taste so delicious?
There’s a knock on one of the connecting doors while I’m mopping up the juice from my baked beans. “C’m’ in,” I grunt.
Meera appears like an angel, in an ivory-white nightdress. Washed, manicured, the works. You’d never guess that twelve hours earlier she’d been elbow-deep in demon blood.
“Wow!” I exclaim, dropping the toast and clapping.
She beams and gives me a twirl, then perches on the edge of my bed and picks up the toast. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” I grin, though I’d have bitten the hand off anybody else who tried to take my last piece.
“I’ve been up for hours,” she says.
“You should have woken me.”
“Why? Did you want a manicure too?”
“Very funny. But I could have done with a haircut.”
“That’s for sure,” she sniffs. “I ordered some clothes for you. I can’t wait to see you in them. I love dressing up boys, especially fashion-challenged teens.”
“Me? Fashion-challenged? I never used to be.”
“Well, you are now.” She takes my tray and tugs at the bedsheets. “Come on. Chop-chop!”
“Whoah!” I yelp, only just managing to grab on to the sheets in time. “I’m naked under here!”
“That’s