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“A lot. But I’d never reveal what I know. I wouldn’t even have taken it, except I’ve no choice. Every time I touch someone, I steal from them. I can’t stop it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Meera asks, looking more confused than angry.
“I would have eventually, but there was so much else to deal with…” I shrug it off. “Anyway, I touched one of the werewolves and saw into its mind. It was a jumble, shards of memory all mixed up. I couldn’t make sense of most of what I saw. But I learnt his name, who he was before he changed and who he was passed on to.”
“Well, come on,” Meera says when I hesitate.
“His name was Caspar,” I tell her. “He was a Grady. He turned into a werewolf when he was fourteen. His parents did what many of their kin do, and turned him over to the family executioners—the Lambs.” I know about the Lambs from the memories of Bill-E and Beranabus.
“But the Lambs didn’t execute him,” Meera says, her expression fierce.
“No. I’m assuming the other werewolves were family members scheduled for execution too. But all of them wound up here.”
“The guys with the guns…”
“They were probably working for the Lambs.”
We stare at each other, then at Dervish lying unconscious by our feet. And the temperature of the room seems to drop ten degrees.
→Meera doesn’t understand why the Lambs would do this. They sometimes keep werewolves alive, to experiment on them in an attempt to unlock their genetic codes and discover a cure. But only with the parents’ permission.
“I can picture them keeping the beasts alive on the quiet,” she says. “Very few parents care to commit their children to a lifetime of laboratory misery, even if they’ve turned into werewolves. It’s no surprise if the Lambs told them their kids had been executed, then kept them alive to study.
“But why bring them here to attack us? And how did they organise them? They were working as a team, as if they’d been trained. I didn’t think you could do that with werewolves. Even if you could, why send them against us?”
That’s the key question. According to Meera, Dervish never had much love for the Lambs. They originally formed to execute children who’d turned, but over the decades they acquired more power and branched out into more experimental areas. Dervish didn’t approve of that, especially since he didn’t think science could find a cure for a magically determined disease.
“The Lambs never liked Dervish either,” Meera says. “They thought if he explained more about demons, it might help them with their studies. But they’d no reason to attack him. At least none that I’m aware of.”
“Maybe it’s me,” I mumble. “Grubbs turned into a werewolf – temporarily – and because of his magical powers, the Lambs couldn’t stop him. Maybe they’re afraid I’ll turn too and become a menace.”
“But they don’t know you’re one of the family,” Meera says. “Dervish told them nothing about you. There’s something we’re missing…”
We spend hours debating the mystery. We get no closer to the truth, but at least it helps to pass the time. During the discussions, I think of another reason why the Lambs might have targeted me. But I say nothing of it to Meera, deciding to wait until the other Disciples arrive, so I don’t have to repeat myself.
→Someone knocks on the door leading to the yard. Meera and I were both half-dozing. We jolt awake at the sound and I strengthen the magical fields around the doors and walls. Then a man shouts, “Little pigs, little pigs, let us come in!”
“Idiot,” Meera grunts, but she’s smiling. “It’s Shark.”
“I know. I remember his voice from Bill-E’s dream.”
I remove the spells and the battered door swings open. A tall, burly man in an army uniform enters, followed by an elderly Indian woman who walks with a limp.
“Sorry we’re late,” Shark says, hugging Meera and lifting her off the floor.
“How is he?” Sharmila asks, hobbling directly to Dervish.
“He’s been like that since the attack,” I tell her. “No change.”
She stares at me suspiciously. “You must be Bec. I have heard about you.”
“The dead girl who came back to life,” Shark says. He’s looking at me oddly. “I thought you’d be more like a boy, considering…”
“…I stole Bill-E’s body?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s nothing of Bill-E left,” I tell them. “Except his memories. That’s how I know you and Sharmila.”
Shark frowns. “I never met him.”
“I did,” Sharmila says, “but many years ago, when he was very young.”
“I know. But he met both of you.” I grin weakly at their confusion.
“Bec can tell you about that later,” Meera snaps. “What’s happening outside?”
“Nothing,” Shark says. “All quiet. Your birds have flown the coop.”
“You’re positive? It isn’t a trap, to lure us out of hiding?” Shark shakes his head. “Then let’s get Dervish straight to a hospital. We can talk about the attack on the way. But I’ll tell you this much—they weren’t birds. They were Lambs.”
→Shark and Meera carry Dervish up the steps out of the cellar as gently as they can. Shark grumbles about what he’s going to do to the Lambs when he catches up with them. He drove here in a van. There’s a hospital trolley in the rear. We strap Dervish down and Sharmila produces a drip and heart monitor. She hooks Dervish up. I watch with interest—it’s the first time I’ve seen such apparatus.
When Dervish is as secure as we can make him, I ask Shark if he’s absolutely certain we’re not going to be attacked.
“Nothing in life’s an absolute,” he replies, squinting at the trees, the mansion, the sky. “But if this was a trap, the time to attack would have been when we were moving Dervish up from the cellar. That’s when we were most vulnerable. I’m confident we’ve nothing to fear for the time being.”
“Then I’ve a favour to ask.” I feel strange being so forward but this is no time to be shy. “I can open a window to the Demonata’s universe from the cellar. I’d like you to go through and find Beranabus.”
Shark blinks slowly. Sharmila is frowning.
“Have you ever been to that universe?” Sharmila asks.
“No.”
“Then you do not know what you are asking. It is a place of chaos and peril. We have never been there without Beranabus to guide us.”
“I know how dangerous it is,” I mutter, flashing on some of Beranabus’s many memories of the hellish universe. “But I’ll try to open the window to one of the less savage zones. Did Beranabus teach you a spell to find him once you’re there?”
“No,” Shark grunts. “But Dervish did.”
“We have never tested it,” Sharmila notes. “What if the window closes and we cannot find him? We will be stranded.”
“Dervish might be dying,” Meera hisses.
“I have sympathy for Dervish,” Sharmila says coolly. “That is why I came when you summoned me. But can Beranabus heal him? And even if he can, why should we risk our lives for his?”
“It’s not about helping Dervish,” I say quickly before an argument develops. “We don’t know who the Lambs were after. Their target might have been Dervish or Meera, but it was probably me.”
“What if it was?” Shark asks.
“I’m important,” I mutter, feeling embarrassed. “I can’t explain – there isn’t time – but I’m part of a powerful force which might mean the difference between winning and losing the war with the Demonata.”
Sharmila’s eyes narrow. “The Kah-Gash?”
“You know about it?” I sigh with relief.
“We helped Beranabus search for a piece once,” Shark says. “It wasn’t our most successful mission.”
“I am not convinced of that,” Sharmila says. “I always suspected… Kernel?” She raises an eyebrow.
My smile broadens. “Yes. He was a piece. Grubbs is another. So am I.”
“What are you talking about?” Shark frowns.
Sharmila waves his question away. “Does Beranabus know?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you not with him?”
“He didn’t want to keep us together until he found out more about how the weapon works. He thought I’d be safe here. Nobody else knew. At least we didn’t think so. But if the attack was directed at me, maybe my secret’s out. If that’s the case…”
“…Beranabus must be informed.” Sharmila nods. “I understand now.”
“Care to explain it to the rest of us?” Shark asks, bemused.
“Later.” She thinks about it for a few seconds. “I would go but I am old and slow, even when pumped full of magic. Besides, I know a lot about healing, so I might be of more help here. Meera?”
“I’m not as strong as you,” Meera says.
“But you are younger and faster. In this instance that is important.”
“I don’t like that other universe,” Meera mutters.
“Neither do I. Believe me, I would not send you there lightly.”
“You really think this is necessary?”
Sharmila nods slowly. Meera sighs and agrees reluctantly.
“Shark?” Sharmila asks.
“You want me to place my life on the line without knowing the reason why?” he scowls.
“Yes.”
His scowl disappears and he shrugs. “Fair enough.”
“You understand how time works in that other universe?” Sharmila asks me. “It can pass quicker or slower than it does here. They might find him in a matter of minutes as we experience time or it could be several months.”
“I know. But we don’t have a choice. I’d go myself, except if it’s a trap…”
“…demons might be lying in ambush for you. Very well. Let us not waste any more time. I will stay with Dervish. Shark and Meera will accompany you to the cellar.” She smiles tightly at Shark. “You have been to hell in a bucket before, my old friend. Now it is time to go there without the bucket.”
→In the cellar. I’m working on a spell to create a window to the demon universe. It’s an area Beranabus goes to frequently—his father took his mother there when he abducted her. Because Beranabus has opened a window to that realm many times, it’s a relatively quick and easy procedure, though it still takes me an hour.
As I complete it, a thin lilac window forms in the cellar. I get a shiver down my spine. I never saw a window like this in my own time, but Beranabus has been through thousands of them. He acts like it’s no big thing, but he loathes these demonic passageways. He always expects to die when he steps through, having no real way of knowing what’s lurking on the other side.
“Will you be all right staying here with Sharmila?” Meera asks.
“Yes.”
“We should come with you and enter the demon universe later,” Shark says. “If the Lambs attack you on the way to hospital…”
“I might not be able to open a window there,” I explain. “It’s easier if I’m in an area of magic.”
“Even if Beranabus doesn’t come with us, we’ll return,” Meera says.
“He’ll come,” I smile confidently.
“Because you’re part of the Kah-Gash?”
“Yes. But also because we’re old friends.”
“I didn’t think Beranabus had any friends,” Shark grunts.
“Maybe not now. But he was a boy called Bran once and I was his friend then. He’d do anything for me.”
“You’re sure of that?” Meera asks.
I think about the night I sat with Beranabus and absorbed his memories. He always wears a flower in a buttonhole, in memory of me. “I’m certain.”
“Right,” Shark says, rubbing his hands together. “Keep a light burning—we’ll be back in time for supper.”
Shark steps through the window. Meera smiles wryly, then moves to hug me. I take a step backwards.
“I’d rather not touch. I don’t want to steal any more memories from you.”
“Don’t be silly,” Meera says, wrapping her arms around me. “If things go badly over there, you can remember my life for me.”
We grin shakily at each other, then Meera slips through the window after Shark. I wait a couple of minutes in case they run into trouble and need to make a quick retreat. Then, as the window breaks apart, I douse the lights and climb the steps to help Sharmila escort Dervish to hospital.
PART TWO WARD DUTY (#ulink_f91710f3-f29b-5db5-86b6-05cf940eaa64)
snapshots of beranabus ii
After the death of the Minotaur, the years of wandering began. Beranabus had no difficulty finding his way out of the Labyrinth. He had explored every last alley of the maze. It had been home to him and he knew it intimately.
