The Demonata 6-10. Darren Shan
shrugs, then straightens her shoulders and speaks quickly. “The Demonata crossed three weeks ago in great numbers. They worked like soldiers, coordinated, attacking set targets, establishing control of the area around the cave. They have fractured since then, individuals branching off by themselves, spreading in chaotic directions. But they were organised to begin with. We did not expect that. They have never banded together in that way before. Who could have commanded them? Who has the power to unite so many monsters for even a short period of time?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Beranabus says. “The investigation can come later. Tell me more about the invasion. They were able to operate by day as well as night?”
“Most of them,” Sharmila says. “There were some weaker demons, but most in the first wave were beasts of great strength. The sun meant nothing to them.”
“Strange,” Beranabus frowns. “They can’t have massed in advance — I would have received word of such a build-up long ago. They must have been summoned when the cave was reactivated. But for so many to gather so quickly… You’re right. This was no ordinary attack. There was a leader working behind the scenes, establishing contacts, making allies, forging secret links, priming them to await a call, so they could respond immediately.”
He shudders. “It’s our worst fear come true. The disorderly division between the Demonata has always been our strongest card. But if they’ve finally found a figurehead to unite and lead them…” He puts the thought aside and nods sharply at Sharmila to continue.
“They established control of Carcery Vale and the nearby regions within a day,” Sharmila says. “They expanded steadily over the next few days and nights, conquering neighbouring towns and villages, establishing bases. Most people had fled their homes by then, but the demons did not care. They were more interested in boundaries than victims — again, very undemonlike behaviour.”
“Did anyone survive?” I ask, not wanting to interrupt but having to. “In Carcery Vale, were any spared?”
Sharmila laughs brutally. “Do not be ridiculous! It was a bloodbath. They kept a few alive to torture, but most were slaughtered that first day.”
“But not all,” I whisper, a faint ray of hope forming, forcing the madness back, giving me a ghost of a reason to stay sane. “Lord Loss hates Dervish and Bill-E. He wouldn’t want to kill them quickly. Maybe he spared them, so he could torment them at his leisure.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Beranabus says gruffly. “Alive or dead, it makes no difference, not when an army of demons separates us from them. Finish your report, Sharmila.”
The Indian lady shrugs. “The rest should be obvious. Public shock, confusion and denial to begin with. We live in scientific, enlightened times. People do not believe in demons. Even when the film crews went in and the first pictures emerged, most refused to accept it. They thought the pictures were computer generated, the work of a prankster, maybe an especially cunning film producer trying to generate interest in their next movie. There was talk of Davida Haym faking her death a year earlier in order to set this up. Quite ironic, no? But as the days went by, realisation sunk in. There were too many confirmed deaths, a never-ending series of reports and no government denials.”
“Bless the governments,” Kernel snorts. “How did our great leaders respond?”
“Slowly,” Sharmila says. “We warned them of the threat of the Demonata many times in the past, even though Beranabus told us not to bother.”
“I’ve never met a politician who didn’t deserve to be tossed into a pit full of Kallin,” Beranabus grunts.
“Nobody heeded our warnings,” Sharmila continues. “Despite all the evidence we presented, and our predictions of what would happen if a prolonged invasion ever came to pass, we were treated as cranks. We have always had a number of supporters in various high-ranking corners of the globe, but not enough to make a difference.
“Most governments spent the initial week in a blind panic. First they had to confirm the reports were genuine — that took a few days. Then they debated the meaning of it, what the demons might want, how they could placate them, what their response should be if the demons refused to negotiate. A few acted quickly and sent troops in – mostly from nearby countries, who could see they were next on the agenda – but it was the second week before the war began for real.”
“War,” Beranabus murmurs, face crinkling. “Most humans know nothing of true warfare. They wage their silly territorial battles, kill each other ruthlessly and freely, and consider themselves experts on war and suffering. But the real war has always been ahead of them, unseen, unimagined. Enemies who can’t be killed by normal weapons, who have their base in an alternate universe, who are interested only in slaughtering every living being on the face of the planet.”
“They know about it now,” Sharmila says grimly. “They have seen the footage on television and the Internet. Hordes of soldiers firing bullets into demons, dropping bombs on them. The demons falling from the force of the bullets, shattered by the bombs. Then rising, piecing themselves back together. Coming on again. Unstoppable. Ripping the soldiers to shreds. They are still trying – or were, the last I heard – to send in more troops, to drop more destructive missiles. But they can see it is pointless. They realise now – too late – the manner of beasts they are dealing with. The human race has learnt a lot about war over the last three weeks. More than I wish they ever had to.”
“Have there been any nuclear retaliations?” Beranabus asks calmly.
“Nuclear?” Kernel and I shout at the same time.
“The politicians have resorted to nuclear assaults before,” Beranabus says. “They say they don’t build such bombs to use, but when the pressure builds, the fingers will come down on the buttons. Only a fool thinks otherwise.”
“No nuclear strikes yet,” Sharmila says. “There has been talk, and if not for the Disciples it might have happened already. But our voice has been heard at last and officials are knocking each other over in their haste to bring us on board as advisors. We said a nuclear attack would not stop the demons, that the tunnel is of magical origin and can only be closed magically. They did not like that. Some wanted to chance a nuclear blast anyway. But for the moment they are holding off. At least they were…”
This is crazy. We’re standing here, talking about nuclear bombs being dropped on Carcery Vale. It’s insane.
“We have to do something!” I shout. Beranabus, Sharmila and Kernel look at me, eyebrows raised. “We have to… to…”
Beranabus smiles cynically when I run out of words. “I wish you’d been able to finish. If you had a plan, I’d have loved to hear it. But of course you don’t. I don’t either. But let’s hear Sharmila out and, who knows, maybe one will fall together.” He turns his attention back to the Indian woman. “What have the Disciples been doing aside from advising?”
“Meera Flame led a small team in when we first realised what was happening,” Sharmila says.
“Meera,” I moan. “Is she…?”
Sharmila sighs. “Most of us thought it was too soon. We did not know enough about what was going on. The general consensus was to wait a day or two, gather more information, then hit them hard. Meera rejected that plan. Dervish was her friend. She thought he might still be alive. She asked for volunteers. A few rallied to her side. They went in. Nobody has heard from them since.”
“And the rest?” Beranabus asks as I reel from the news of another friend’s almost certain death. “What did you do once you’d sized up the situation?”
“Not much more than Meera,” Sharmila says miserably. “We pinpointed the opening to the cave, and that was where we struck, but the demons had it guarded. Eight of our best went in, led by Shark, in the light of midday, hoping to take them by surprise. But they were ready and waiting. Two got out alive — Shark was one of them. The others…”
“That’s