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Hell’s Heroes
Darren Shan
The final dramatic conclusion to Darren Shan’s international phenomenon, The Demonata. Expect the unexpected…Beranabus and Dervish are gone. Bec has formed an unholy alliance with Lord Loss. Kernel is blind, held on Earth against his will. Grubbs is mad with grief and spinning out of control.The demons are crossing.The Disciples are falling.The Shadow is waiting.Welcome to the end.
Copyright
First published in hardback in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2009
First published in paperback in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2010
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
77-85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London, W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
HELL’S HEROES. Copyright © Darren Shan 2009. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Darren Shan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.
EBook Edition © FEBRUARY 2011 ISBN: 9780007435371
Version: 2014-10-29
Find all these hellish heroes and more at
www.darrenshan.com
For:
Liam, Biddy and Bas — the Father, the Mother
and the Holy Bust!!!
OBEs (Order of the Bloody Entrails) to:
Geir, Wiedar, Jon and all the other nocturnal
Norwegian Shan crew
Road Managers:
Geraldine Stroud — the ripper skipper!
Mary Byrne — the tipsy first mate!
Editor-in-chief:
Stella Paskins — 10 rounds, not out!!
Apocalyptic agents:
the Christopher Little chorus line
And an extra special thank you to all of my demonically
delightful Shansters, especially those of you who have kept
me company on the web through the run of the series.
But take heed — if you desert me at this point,
heads will roll!!!
“What happens when you lose everything?
You just start again.
You start all over again.”
‘Apply Some Pressure’ by Maxïmo Park
Contents
Copyright
Epigraph
The Last Laugh
Clocking Off
Mr Grumpy-Puss
In Dreams I Walk With You
Executive Board
Home Sweet Home
Rock On
Shark Attack
Who’s That Girl?
Unstill Waters
Knights in Slimy Armour
Soulful
An Unholy Quartet
Lights Out
Tunnelling Through
Bigger, Better, Badder
À La Moses
The Missing Link
The Wink
With a Bang
Ah Yes, I Remember It Well
Devilment
Once More, with Feeling
Start Me Up
Other Books by Darren Shan
Credits
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
THE LAST LAUGH
→ “I miss Cal,” Dervish says. “We fought a lot when we were young, like all brothers, but we were always there for one another.”
We’re lying in the mouth of a cave, admiring the desolate desert view, sheltered from the fierce afternoon sun.
“It’s strange,” Dervish chuckles. “I thought I’d be the first to go. The life I chose, the risks I took… I was sure I’d die young and nastily. I pictured Cal living to be eighty or ninety. Funny how things work out, isn’t it?”
I stare at the hole in the left side of Dervish’s chest. Blood is seeping from it and I can see bone inside. “Yeah,” I grunt. “Hilarious.”
Dervish shifts and grimaces. He’s in a lot of pain, but he won’t have to suffer much longer. My uncle was in bad shape before we took on an army of demons. Now, having come through hell, he doesn’t have a prayer. He’s finished. We both know it. That’s why we came up here from the underground cave, so he could die in the open, breathing fresh air.
“I remember one time,” Dervish continues, “not long after Cal married your mum. We had a huge row. He wanted me to quit being a Disciple, marry and have kids, lead a normal life. He thought I was crazy to do what I did.”
“He wasn’t wrong,” I snort.
“You love it really,” Dervish grins. Blood trickles down his chin.
“Save your breath,” I tell him, trying not to shudder.
“What for? I won’t need it where I’m going.” He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can survive, do you?”
“Of course not. I’m just sick of listening to you whine.”
Dervish laughs softly. The laugh turns into a blood-drenched cough. I hold him as he shakes and moans, spewing up blood and phlegm. When the fit passes, he asks me to move him out of the cave. “I don’t think I need worry about sunburn,” he murmurs.
I pick up my dying uncle and carry him outside. He doesn’t weigh much. Thin and drawn, overstretched by the world. He rests his head on my chest, like a baby cuddling up to its mother. I prop him against a large rock, then settle beside him. His eyes stay closed. He’s dozed off. I study him sadly, memorising every line of his creased face, brushing the wilting spikes of hair back from his forehead, remembering all the nights he comforted me when I’d had a nightmare.
With a jolt he wakes and looks around, alarmed. When he sees me, and the hole in his chest, he relaxes. “Oh, it was only a dream. I thought we were in trouble.”
“Nothing can trouble us here.”
Dervish smiles at me lopsidedly. “I loved having you live with me. You were like my son. Billy was too, but I never got to spend the sort of time with him that I did with you.”
“If you were my real dad, I’d have asked to be fostered.”
Dervish’s smile widens. “That’s what I like to hear. You’re a true Grady. We don’t do sympathetic.”
His eyes wander and he sighs. “I hope I see Cal again. Billy and Meera. Even Beranabus. So many who’ve gone before me. Do you think there’s an afterlife, Grubbs? Will I be reborn? Or is there just… nothing?”
“There has to be something,” I mutter. “Why would the universe give us souls if not? It’d be pointless.”
Dervish nods slowly, then frowns at something behind me. “What’s that?” he wheezes.
My head shoots round and I scan the surrounding area for danger. But I can’t see anything except dry earth and rocks. “There’s nothing–” I begin, then stop. Dervish’s eyes have glazed over. He’s not breathing. His face is calm.
I tremble and reach out to close his eyelids, blinking back tears. My fingers are just a few centimetres from his eyes when… snap! Dervish’s teeth clamp together and he bites the tip of my index finger.
“Hellfire!” I roar, toppling backwards, heart racing.
“Your face,” Dervish snickers — always the bloody joker!
“Try it again,” I snarl. “Next time I’ll dig a hole and bury you alive.”
“Don’t be so sensitive,” Dervish coos, still giggling. He runs an eye over my unnatural muscles, the tufts of ginger hair sprouting from my skin, my wolfish features, yellow eyes, jagged claws and blood-spattered fangs. “You’re a real mess.”
“With a role model like you, I never had a hope,” I sniff.
“Poor Grubbs.” Dervish makes goo-goo eyes at me. “All you ever wanted was for someone to show you some love.”
“Get stuffed.”
We both laugh.
“I’m going to miss you,” Dervish sighs.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I’ll… y’know… you too.”
