Dark Calling (The Demonata 9)

“Related to what?” Bec asks. Beranabus waves her silent and frowns at me.

“This could be part of the Shadow’s plan,” I tell him, the words tumbling out by themselves. The whispers from the lights have increased. I have to concentrate hard to drown them out. “It could be trying to create scores of windows so that its army of demons can break through at once. We’ll need the Disciples if that’s the case—we can’t be everywhere at the same time to stop them all.”

“Maybe,” Beranabus says. “But that doesn’t alter the fact that Dervish will last about five minutes if we leave him here.”

“I’ll be fine,” Dervish snarls.

“No,” Beranabus says. “Your heart is finished. You’ll die within days. That’s not a guess,” he adds before

Dervish can argue. “And you wouldn’t be able to do much during that time, apart from wheeze and clutch your chest a lot.”

“It’s really that bad?” Dervish asks quietly.

Beranabus nods. “In the universe of magic, you might survive. Here, you’re a dead man walking.”

“Then get him there quick,” Grubbs says. “I’ll stay.”

“Not you too,” Beranabus groans. “What did I do to deserve as stubborn and reckless a pair as you?”

“It makes sense,” Grubbs insists. “If the attacks were Lord Loss looking to get even, they’re irrelevant. But if they’re related to the Shadow, we need to know. I can confront the Lambs, find out if they’re mixed up with the demon master, stop them if they are.”

“Is the Shadow the creature we saw in the cave?” Bec asks.

“Aye,” Beranabus says. “We haven’t learned much about it, except that it’s put together an army of demons and is working hard to launch them across to our world.”

He stares at Grubbs, and as he pauses, the whispers change. They’re softer now, almost musical. I feel uneasy, even slightly sick, but I’ve no idea why.

“You’d operate alone?” Beranabus asks.

“I’d need help,” Grubbs replies, and asks for Shark and Meera’s assistance. While they discuss that, I focus on the window again. I’m close to opening it. The whispers of the lights have almost died away. I feel worse than ever, as if we’re in great danger. But there’s no reason to be afraid… is there?

A pale green window opens. Beranabus still hasn’t chosen whether or not to let Grubbs stay. “Time to decide,” I tell him, and as I say that, the whispers spark up again.

“Very well,” Beranabus snaps at Grubbs. “But listen to Shark and Meera, heed their advice, and contact me before you go running up against the likes of Lord Loss or the Shadow.” He picks up the unconscious Sharmila. “Follow me, Bec,” he says and steps through the window.

Bec doesn’t leave immediately. She’s confused, not sure of what’s happening. Dervish is busy saying goodbye to Grubbs and Meera, wishing them luck, cursing the fact that he can’t stay and help them. As he finally stumbles through the window, Grubbs has a short chat with Bec. Then she faces me. She looks more lost than I feel. As difficult as it is, I force a smile. “The world moves quickly when Beranabus is around,” I tell her, trying to cheer her up.

“What’s it like through there?” she asks, staring at the window with quiet terror.

“Bad.” My smile slips. “The Shadow’s promising the eradication of mankind and a new dawn of demon rule. Others have threatened that before, but it’s convinced an army of demons—even powerful masters like Lord Loss—that it can make good on its vow. We could be looking at the end this time.” I take a step into the window of light but don’t cross fully, straddling two universes at the same time. I wave Bec forward. “Let’s go.”

She looks back once, then follows me through the window to an oasis in the demon universe that Beranabus and I are familiar with. We’ll be safe here, for a while at least.

But I take no comfort from our security. I’m steady on my feet, maintaining a calm front, but inside my head sirens are blaring, my thoughts a million miles removed from werewolves, the Lambs, Juni Swan, and the Shadow. I feel sicker than when I saw the dismembered babies in the hospital.

I’ve realized why the whispers unnerved me. That final burst of chattering, just before Beranabus made his decision to let Grubbs go, clued me in to what was really happening.

Beranabus should have brought Grubbs along. He’s been wary of uniting the pieces of the Kah-Gash, but this was the time to risk it. Our enemies are on the move, trying to kill one of us or get their hands on a piece of the ancient weapon. Beranabus should have kept us all with him, if not to unleash the power of the Kah-Gash, then to protect us. We’d be a lot safer if we stuck together. Leaving Grubbs behind was madness.

Why did someone as experienced as Beranabus make such a slip? And why did the others—myself included—go along with his bad call?

Answer—the lights. The whispers influenced us. Something didn’t want us to band together, so it subtly interfered and split us up, making it seem as if it was our own choice. We’re being manipulated by the whispers of the lights!

LYING LOW

I CAN’T tell the others about the lights, the whispers, or my suspicion that we are being used. I want to, but whenever I try to share my fears, my lips seize up. I’m unable to speak, or else everyday babble spills out and we end up talking about something else. I’ve tried writing, scribbling a warning in the sand of the oasis, but my fingers clench and turn against me.

When we first stepped through the window, I thought I might have imagined the whispers or the influence they’re exerting over us. Now I’m sure I called it right. The lights did—do—control us. They must have planted a hidden command inside my brain that makes me clam up whenever I try to share my misgivings.