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“I stayed to track your development. I staked you out and let you see me from time to time — I hoped your magic would respond to mine. I was trying to load the deck in my favour. I’d apologise, but that would be hypocritical of me.”
“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.”
THE MONOLITH
→ 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-sé!
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 off-season. 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?”
“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.
THE STUFF THAT HEROES ARE MADE OF
→ 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.”
“Call it a demonic frequency,” Kernel chips in when I look blank. “Demons have souls, like humans, and they emit a certain type of wave which we can sense. Each demon’s soul is like a radio station, transmitting on an individual frequency. If we think a certain demon’s working on a window or tunnel, we can lock on to its signal and track it down.”
“It’s not easy,” Beranabus says, “especially if it’s a demon we’ve had no first-hand experience of, but we usually find what we’re looking for.”
Kernel points to one of the shorter pillars. “There.”
Beranabus squints. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Either you’re getting sharper or my eyes are getting worse,” Beranabus mutters, then raises a hand and sends a ball of energy shooting at the pillar. There’s a gentle glowing. A sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan. Then the pillar moves and an angular demon steps out of a crack.
Fear grabs hold and magic flares within me. I bring up my hands defensively, but Beranabus stops me with a high-spirited, “Rein in those horses, boy!” He faces the demon and smiles. “How do you feel about dying today?”
The demon makes a series of choking noises. The sounds don’t make sense to me, but Beranabus can decipher them. “No,” he says. “We’re not going to leave you alone. You know who we are and what we want. Now, do you have something to tell us or do we make life wickedly uncomfortable for you?”
The demon glares at Beranabus through a series of triangular eyes, but it looks more miserable than angry. It’s an odd creature, not really frightening in manner or appearance. It mutters something. Beranabus and Kernel share a glance. “You’re sure?” Kernel asks and the demon nods stiffly.
“Excellent,” Beranabus beams and cocks his head at Kernel. The bald teenager shuffles away a couple of metres, then starts moving his hands about in the air. It’s as if he’s sliding invisible blocks around.
“What’s happening?” I ask Beranabus quietly, not wanting to disturb Kernel.
“I’m opening a window,” Kernel answers before Beranabus can, an edge to his voice. “This is my speciality. I can see panels of light which are invisible to all others. When I slide certain panels together, windows form. I can get to anywhere in this universe – or ours – through them.”
“Where will this one lead?” I ask.
“You’ll find out soon,” Kernel says. “We’re going in search of prey. You want to kill demons, don’t you?”
“No. But let’s say I did. What about that one?” I point to the blue demon, which is edging back into the crack, becoming one with the landscape again.
“Not worth killing,” Beranabus says dismissively. “There are untold billions of demons. They’re all evil, but most can’t hurt us or cross to our world. That cretin doesn’t even dare leave this valley. It waits, hiding and surviving, doing precious little else.”
“What does it feed on?” I ask.
“Who knows,” Beranabus sniffs. “Maybe nothing. Most demons don’t need to eat and drink. Many do, but out of choice, not necessity.”
“Then why did we come here, if not to kill it?” I frown.
“Information,” Kernel says, looking around. “We’re like detectives with a team of snitches. We know where to find soft demons. We often come to places like this, rough up the locals, find out if anything foul is afoot — something usually is. Demons like that one might not do much, but they know things. Secrets are hard to keep in this universe. Word spreads quickly.”
“What’s the word now?” I ask, caught off guard. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t something like this.
“There’s a demon trying to possess a woman on Earth,” Beranabus says. “That happens all the time. It’s not a problem for us, though it’s bad for those involved. Some demons who can’t cross universes can establish a hold on the minds of humans. They manipulate them, send them mad, use them to create as much chaos as possible. We normally wouldn’t bother with small-scale melodramatics like this, but I want to break you in gently.”
Kernel grunts. “On my first mission we fought a pair of demons who had almost broken through to the centre of Moscow. They were two of the toughest I’ve ever faced. It was bloody and tight. That’s when I lost the tips of my fingers.” He stares at his left hand, the fingers flinching inwards as he relives the memory.
“Why couldn’t you replace them?” I ask. “You can do that with magic, right?”
