Wolf Island. Darren Shan
“Quiet!” Kernel hisses, cocking his head. This is a new tic of his. Several times recently he’s shushed us. He says he can hear muted whispers, hints of sounds which seem to come from the patches of light.
A few minutes pass. Kernel listens intently while Beranabus and I keep our peace. Finally he relaxes and shakes his head.
“Could you make out anything?” Beranabus asks.
“No,” Kernel sighs. “I’m not even sure it’s speech. Maybe it’s just white noise.”
“Or maybe you’re going crazy,” I throw in.
“Maybe,” Kernel agrees.
“I was joking,” I tell him.
“I wasn’t,” he replies.
“Well, whatever it is, it can wait,” Beranabus says. “We’ve had enough rest. Open another window and we’ll go find a few more demons.”
Kernel sighs, then concentrates. Roll on the next round of inquisitions and torture.
TO THE RESCUE
→ We’re chasing a flock of terrified sheep demons. Each one is covered with hundreds of small, woolly heads. No eyes or ears, just big mouths full of sharp demon teeth. All the better to eat you with, my dear.
Beranabus thinks the sheep might know something about the Shadow. Stronger demons prey on these weak creatures. He’s hoping they might have heard something useful if any of the Shadow’s army struck their flock recently. It’s a long shot, but Beranabus has devoted his life to long shots.
As we close in on the frantic demons, Kernel stops and stares at a spot close by.
“Come on!” Beranabus shouts. “Don’t stop now. We–”
“A window’s opening,” Kernel says, and Beranabus instantly loses interest in everything else.
“Start opening one of your own,” the magician barks, moving ahead of Kernel to protect him from whatever might come through. I step up beside the ancient magician, heart pounding hard for the first time in ages.
“Wait,” Kernel says as Beranabus drains magic from the air. “It’s not a demon.” He studies the invisible lights, then smiles. “We have company.”
A few seconds later, a window of dull orange light forms and the Disciple known as Shark emerges, quickly followed by Dervish’s old friend, Meera Flame.
“Shark!” Kernel shouts happily.
“Meera!” I yell, even happier than Kernel.
Beranabus glares suspiciously at the pair.
Meera wraps her arms around me and I whirl her off her feet. We’re both laughing. She kisses my cheeks. “You’ve grown,” she hoots. “You must be two and a half metres tall by now!”
“Not quite,” I chuckle, setting her down and beaming. Meera used to stay with us a lot and helped me look after Dervish when he was incapacitated a few years back. I had a big crush on Meera when I was younger. Hell, looking at her in her tight leather trousers and jacket, I realise I still do. She’s a bit on the old side but doesn’t show it. If only she had a thing for younger guys!
Kernel and Shark are shaking hands, both talking at the same time. I’ve never seen Kernel this animated. Shark’s wearing army fatigues, looking much the same as ever.
“Hi, Shark,” I greet the ex-soldier.
He frowns at me. “Do I know you?”
“Grubbs Grady. We…” I stop. I’ve met Shark twice before, but the first time was in a dream, and the second was in a future which we diverted. As far as he’s concerned, I’m a stranger. It’s simpler not to explain our previous encounters, especially as I saw him ripped to bits by demons the second time.
“Dervish told me about you,” I lie. “I’m Grubbs, his nephew.”
Shark nods. “I can see a bit of him in you. But you’ve got more hair. You’re a lot taller too — what’s Beranabus been feeding you?”
“Enough of the prattle,” Beranabus snaps. “What’s wrong?”
As soon as he says that, the mood switches. Shark and Meera’s grins disappear.
“We were attacked,” Meera says. “I was at Dervish’s. We–”
“Was it Lord Loss?” Beranabus barks. “Is Bec all right?”
“She’s fine,” Shark says.
“But Dervish…” Meera adds, shooting me a worried glance.
My heart freezes. Not Dervish! Losing my parents, Gret and Bill-E was horrific. Dervish is all I have left. If he’s gone too, I don’t know if I can continue.
“He was alive when we left,” Shark says.
“But in bad shape,” Meera sighs. “He had a heart attack.”
“We have to go back,” I gasp, turning for the window.
Shark puts out a hand to stop me. My eyes flash on the letters S H A R K tattooed across his knuckles, and the picture of a shark’s head set between his thumb and index finger. “Hold on,” he says. “We didn’t come here directly. That leads to another demon world.”
“Besides,” Kernel adds, “if the demons are still at the house…”
“We weren’t attacked by demons,” Meera says. “They were…” She locks gazes with me and frowns uncertainly. “Werewolves.”
We gawp at her. Then, without discussing it, Kernel turns away and his hands become a blur as he sets about opening a window back to the human universe.
→ Beranabus crosses first. I’m not far behind. I find myself in a hospital corridor. It looks like the ward where they keep newborn babies. Bec is on the floor close to us. There are two demons. One has the features of an anteater, but sports several snouts. The other is some sort of lizard. Beranabus is addressing them with savage politeness — he’s ultra protective of his little Bec.
“What do the pickings look like now?” he asks as Kernel, Shark and Meera step through after us. In response, the demons bolt for safety. Kernel and the Disciples race after them.
“Dervish?” I snap at Bec, not giving a damn about demons, babies or anything else except my uncle.
“Back there,” Bec pants, pointing back down the corridor. “Hurry. He was fighting a demon. I don’t know–”
I run as fast as I can, long strides, readying myself for the worst. I glance into each room that I pass. Signs of struggle and death in some of them, but no Dervish. I pause at the door of what looks to be an empty room. I’m about to push on when something grunts.
Entering, I spot Dervish to my left, half-obscured by an overturned bed. There’s a demon on top of him, shaped like a giant insect with a golden shell. It’s snapping at Dervish’s face, mandibles grinding open and shut. I’m on it in an instant. I make a fist and smash through its protective shell. It shrieks and turns to deal with me, but I fill its guts with fire and it dies screaming. When I’m sure it’s dead, I toss it aside and bend over my startled, bleary-eyed uncle. He slaps at me feebly. Doesn’t recognise me. He’s finding it hard to focus.
“Hey, baldy,” I chuckle. “Things must be bad when you can’t squish a damn cockroach.”
Dervish relaxes and his eyes settle on me. The smile which lights his face is almost enough to bring me to tears.
“Grubbs!” he cries, throwing his arms around me.
“Don’t go all blubbery on me,” I mutter into his shoulder, fighting back sobs.
Dervish pushes himself away, touches