Kitabı oku: «Wolf Island»

Wolf Island — a ripping place to visit.

Check it out at www.darrenshan.com

For:

Bas – managing director of Shan Island

OBEs (Order of the Bloody Entrails) to:

Csilla and Gabor – Budapest’s best!

Head Lab Technician:

Stella Paskins

Board of Governors:

the Christopher Little lambs

Contents

Shadow Play

Inner Silence

To the Rescue

New Mission

Getting Started

The Filthy Twelve

Meera’s Way

All the King’s Wolves

Timas on the Job

Prey

Open Season

Running the Gauntlet

Cavemen

The Final Push

The Beast Within

The Turned Worm

The Shape of Things to Come

The Devil’s in the Details

Last Man Standing

Toodle-Pips

This is the End, Beautiful Friend

Other Books by Darren Shan

Copyright

About the Publisher

SHADOW PLAY

→ A five-headed demon with the body of a giant earwig bears down on me. I leap high into the air and unleash a paralysing spell. The demon stiffens, quivers wildly, then collapses. Its brittle legs shatter beneath the weight of its oversized body. Beranabus and Kernel move in on the helpless bug. I follow halfheartedly, stifling a yawn. Just another dull day at the office.

One of the demon’s heads looks like a crow, another a vulture, while the rest look like nothing on Earth. It opens its bird-like beak and squirts a thick, green liquid. Beranabus ducks swiftly, but the spit catches Kernel’s right arm. His flesh bubbles away to the bone. Cursing with more irritation than pain, he uses magic to cleanse his flesh and repair the damage.

“We could do with a bit of help here,” Kernel growls as I stroll after them.

“I doubt it,” I grunt, but break into a jog, just in case the demon’s tougher than we anticipated. Wouldn’t want to let the team down.

The earwig unleashes another ball of spit at Beranabus. The elderly magician flicks a hand at the liquid, which rebounds over the demon’s heads. It screams with shock and then agony. Kernel, back to full health, freezes the acidic spit before it fries the creature’s brains. We want this ugly baby alive.

I leap on to the demon’s back. Its shell is slimy beneath my bare feet. Stinks worse than a thousand sweaty armpits. But in this universe that doesn’t even begin to approach the boundaries of disgusting. I confronted a demon made of vomit a few months ago. The only way to subdue it was to suck on the strands of puke and sap it of its strength. Yum!

This wasn’t a career move. I didn’t read a prospectus and go, “Hmm, drinking demon puke… I could do that!” Life just led me here. I’m a magician, and if you’re born with a power like mine, you tend to get drawn into the war with the Demonata hordes. I fought my destiny for a long time, but now I grudgingly accept it and get on with the job at hand.

The earwig shudders, overcoming my paralysing spell. It tries to buck me off, but I dig my toes in and drive a fist through the shell. I let magical warmth flood from my fingers. An electric shock crackles through the demon. It squeals, then collapses limply beneath me.

Beranabus and Kernel face the demon’s vulture-like head and interrogate it. I stay perched on its back, hand immersed in its gooey flesh, green blood staining my forearm, nose crinkled against the stench.

“What is it?” Beranabus shouts, punching the twisted head, then grabbing the beak. “What’s its real name? Where’s it from? How powerful is it? What are its plans?” He releases his hold and waits for an answer.

The demon only moans in response. There are thousands of demon languages. I can’t speak any, but there are spells you can cast to understand them. I generally don’t bother. I’m sure this demon knows no more about the mysterious Shadow than any of the hundreds we’ve tormented over the last however many months that we’ve been on this wild goose chase.

The Shadow is the name we’ve given to a demon of immense power. It’s a massive, pitch-black beast, seemingly stitched together out of patches of shadow, with hundreds of snake-like tentacles. Beranabus thinks it’s the greatest threat we’ve ever faced. Lord Loss – an old foe of mine – said the Shadow was going to destroy the world. When a demon master makes a prediction like that, only a fool doesn’t take note.

We’ve been searching for the monster ever since we first encountered it in a cave, on a night when I lost my brother, but saved the world. We’ve been trying to find out more about it by torturing creatures like this giant earwig. We know the Shadow has assembled an army of demons, promising them the destruction of mankind and even the end of death itself. But we don’t know who it is, where it comes from, exactly how powerful it is.

“This is your last chance,” Beranabus growls, taking a step back from the earwig. “Tell us what you know or we’ll kill you.”

The demon makes a series of spluttering noises. Beranabus and Kernel listen attentively while I scratch my neck and yawn again.

“The same old rubbish,” Kernel murmurs when the demon finishes.

“Unless it’s lying,” Beranabus says without any real hope.

The earwig babbles rapidly, panicked.

“Spare you?” Beranabus muses, as if it’s a novel idea. “Why should we?”

More squeaks and splutters.

“Very well,” Beranabus says after a short pause. “But if you discover something and don’t tell us…” There’s no need for him to finish. The magician is feared in this universe of horrors. The earwig knows the many kinds of hell we could put it through.

I withdraw my hand from the hole in the earwig’s shell and jump to the ground. We’re in a gloomy realm, no sun in the dark purple sky. The land around us is like a desert. I make my hand hard and jab it into the dry earth, over and over, cleaning the green blood from my skin. Kernel opens a window while I’m doing that. When I’m ready, we step through into the next zone, in search of more demons to pump for information about the elusive, ominous Shadow.

INNER SILENCE

→ Six demons later, we rest for a while on a deserted asteroid in the blackest depths of demonic space, each of us sheltered by a magical force field which provides oxygen and warmth. Beranabus creates a few balls of light, directing the rays down, shielding us from any passers-by. In this universe you’re never safe, even in areas usually devoid of life.

You don’t have to sleep, eat or drink much here, but it helps to rest every so often and recharge your batteries. I haven’t been to this spot before, so I go on a stroll in case there’s anything worth seeing. We’ve cut a wild, meandering route through demon territories since I linked up with Beranabus. He’s worried that Lord Loss or others of the Shadow’s forces are tracking us, so we’ve kept on the move, hopefully several steps ahead of any pursuers.

The asteroid’s as uninteresting as I thought it would be, just pitted rock, not even any unusual formations. I thought this universe was amazing when I first came. The physical laws vary from zone to zone. I’ve seen mountains floating overhead. A world made of glass. I’ve been inside the bowels of giant demons. Squashed miniature worlds, killing billions of bacterial demons with a well-placed foot.

I’m not so easily impressed now. It wears you down, the constant weirdness, torturing, killing. Days and demons blur. You can’t stop and marvel at wonders all the time. You start to take them for granted. I see a demon the size of a city, with the face of the Mona Lisa. Big deal. All I care about is how to kill it.

I’m not scared any more either. I was, the first few demons we fought. The old Grubbs Grady yellow streak shone through and I had to battle hard to stand my ground and not flee like a spineless loser. But fear fades over time. I no longer worry about dying. It’s going to happen sooner rather than later — I’ve accepted that. I don’t even give thanks any more when we scrape through a fierce battle.

But close fights are rare. Most of the demons we target are weak and craven. We don’t tackle the stronger beasts, focusing instead on the dregs of the universe. I could defeat most of them single-handed. We always work as a unit, but don’t often need to. I’ve fought thousands of demons, but I could count the number of times my life has been in danger on the fingers of one hand.

Fighting demons and saving the world might sound awesome, but in fact it’s a bore. I used to have more excitement on a Friday night at home, watching a juicy horror flick with Bill-E or wrestling with my friend Loch.

→ Kernel’s playing with invisible lights when I return. His eyes were stabbed out in Carcery Vale. I thought he’d be blind for life, but you can work all sorts of miracles in this universe. Using magic, he eventually pieced together a new pair. They look a lot like his original set, only the blue’s a shade brighter and tiny flickers of different colours play across them all the time.

The flickers are shadows of hidden patches of light. Apparently, the universes are full of them. When a mage or demon opens a window between realms, the mysterious lights cluster together to create the fissure. But only Kernel can see the patches. He can also manipulate them with his hands, allowing him to open windows faster than any other human or demon.

Beranabus was worried that Kernel might not be able to see the lights when he rebuilt his eyes, but actually his vision has improved. He can see patches he never saw before, small, shimmering lights which constantly change shape. He can’t control the newly revealed patches. He’s spent a lot of time fiddling with them, without any success.

I sit and watch Kernel’s hands making shapes in the air. His eyes are focused, his expression intense, like he’s under hypnosis. There are goose bumps on his chocolate-coloured skin. Beads of sweat roll down his bald head, but turn to steam as they trickle close to his eyes. He freaks me out when he’s like this. He doesn’t look human.

Of course he’s not entirely human. Nor am I. We’re hosts to an ancient weapon known as the Kah-Gash, which sets us apart from others of our species. Together with Bec – a girl from the past, but returned to life in the present – we have the power to reverse time and, if the legends are to be believed, destroy an entire universe. Coolio!

I’m constantly aware of the Kah-Gash within me. It’s a separate part of myself, forever swirling beneath the surface of my skin and thoughts. It used to speak to me but it hasn’t said anything since that night in the cave. I often try to question it, to find out more about the weapon’s powers and intentions. But the Kah-Gash is keeping quiet. No matter what I say, it doesn’t respond.

Maybe if Kernel, Bec and I experimented as a team, we could unearth its secrets. But Beranabus is wary of uniting us. We couldn’t control the Kah-Gash when we first got together. It took a direction of its own. It worked in our favour on that occasion, but he’s afraid it might just as easily work against us next time. The old magician has spent more than a thousand years searching for the scattered pieces of the Kah-Gash, but now that he’s reassembled them, he’s afraid to test the all-destructive weapon.

I miss the voice of the Kah-Gash. I was never truly alone when it was there, and loneliness is something I’m feeling a lot of now. I miss my half-brother, Bill-E, taken from me forever that night in the cave. I miss school, my friends, Loch’s sister Reni. I miss the world, the life I knew, TV, music — even the weather!

But most of all I miss Dervish. My uncle was like a father to me since my real dad died. In an odd way I love him more than I loved my parents. I took them for granted and assumed they’d always be around. I knew they’d die at some point, but I thought it would be years ahead, when they were old. Having learnt my lesson the hard way, I made the most of every day with Dervish, going to bed thankful every night that he was still alive and with me.

I could tell Dervish about the demons, the dullness, the loneliness. He’d listen politely, then make some dry, cutting comment that would make it all seem fine. Time wouldn’t drag if I had Dervish to chat with between battles.

I wonder what he’s doing, how he’s coping without me, how much time has passed in my world. Time operates differently in this universe. Depending on where you are, it can pass slower or quicker than on Earth. Kernel told me that when he first came here with Beranabus, he thought he’d only spent a few weeks, but he returned home to find that seven years had passed.

We’ve been trying to stick to zones where time passes at the same rate as on Earth, so that we can respond swiftly if there’s a large-scale assault or if Bec gets into trouble. But Beranabus is elderly and fuzzy-headed. If not for the emergence of the Shadow, I think he’d have shuffled off after the fight in the cave to see out his last few years in peace and quiet. Kernel has absolute faith in him but I wouldn’t be shocked if we returned to Earth only to find that a hundred years have passed and everyone we knew is pushing up daisies.

As if reacting to my thoughts, Beranabus groans and rolls on to his back. He blinks at the darkness, then lets his eyelids flutter shut, drifting into sleep. His long, shaggy hair is almost fully grey. His old suit is torn in many places, stained with different shades of demon blood. The flower in the top buttonhole of his jacket, which he wears in memory of Bec, is drooping and has shed most of its petals. His skin is wrinkled and splotchy, caked with filth. His toenails are like dirty, jagged claws. Only his hands are clean and carefully kept, as always.

Kernel mutters a frustrated curse.

“No joy?” I ask.

“I can’t get near them,” he snaps. “They dart away from my touch. I wish I knew what they were. They’re bugging the hell out of me.”

“Maybe they’re illusions,” I suggest. “Imaginary blobs of light. The result of a misconnection between your new eyes and your brain.”

“No,” Kernel growls. “They’re real, I’m sure of it. I just don’t know what…”

He starts fiddling again. He needs to lighten up. It can’t be healthy, wasting his time on a load of lights that might not even be real. Not that I’ve done a lot more than him in my quieter moments. I wish I had a computer, a TV, a CD player. Hell, I’d even read a book — that’s how low I’ve sunk!

I’m thinking of asking Kernel to open a window back to Earth, so I can nip through and pick up something to distract me, when Beranabus stirs again.

“Was I asleep for long?” he asks.

“A few minutes,” I tell him.

He scowls. “I thought I’d been out for hours. That’s the trouble with this damn universe — you can’t get any decent sleep.”

Beranabus stands and stretches. He looks around with his small, blue-grey eyes and yawns. This is about the only time you can see his mouth properly. Mostly it’s hidden behind a thick, bushy beard. All our hair was burnt away when we travelled through time, but it’s grown back. I think he looked better without the beard, but he likes it. I grew my ginger hair the same way as before too. I guess you always go with what you’re used to.

“I suppose we’d better–” Beranabus begins.

“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 my face with wonder, then says in that wry tone I recall so well, “You could have sent me a card while you were away.”

“No post offices,” I grunt, and we beam at each other.

→ Waiting while the Disciples cleanse the hospital of demons. I should help them, but this will probably be the only private time I get with Dervish. Things have a habit of moving swiftly when Beranabus gets involved. Once they finish off the last demon, talk will turn to the werewolf attack and there might not be any time to sit with my uncle and chat. I’ve devoted a huge chunk of my life to Beranabus’s cause. I’m due a few minutes of down time.

“I told you healthy eating wasn’t worthwhile,” I say, nudging Dervish in the ribs (but gently — he looks like blood mixed in with lumpy porridge). “You told me I should watch my diet. But who had a heart attack first?”

“As illogical as ever,” Dervish scowls. “I thought you might have matured while you were away, but obviously you haven’t.”

“Seriously, how have you been?” I ask.

“Apart from the heart attack?”

“Yeah.”

He shrugs, looking older than I’d have thought possible. “I’m about ready to follow Billy into the wide blue yonder.”

My face stiffens. “Don’t say that, not even joking.”

“No joke,” he sighs. “I was given a single task by Beranabus – guard the entrance to the cave – and I screwed it up. I told Billy’s mum I’d look after him — some job I did of that. I took you in and promised you’d be safe with me, then…”

“I was safe with you.”

“Yeah, I really protected you. Lord Loss and his familiars didn’t get anywhere near you on my watch, did they?”

“That wasn’t your fault,” I tell him heavily. “You did the best you could. For me and Bill-E.”

“Then why is he dead and why are you lost to me?” Dervish moans.

“Because we live in a world under siege,” I say. “Life sucks for mages and magicians — you taught me that. Bad things happen to those of us who get involved, but if we didn’t fight, we’d be in an even worse state. None of it’s your fault, any more than it’s the fault of the moon or the stars.”

Dervish nods slowly, then arches an eyebrow. “The moon or the stars?”

“I always get poetical when I’m dealing with self-pitying simpletons.”

We laugh. This is what I love best about my relationship with Dervish — the more we insult each other, the happier we are. I’m trying to think of something disgusting and hair-curling to say when Beranabus appears. He’s using baby-wipes to clean his hands.

“Still alive?” he asks Dervish.

“Just about.”

“We’re finished here. Time to go.”

It’s not fair. We’ve only had a few minutes together. I want to ask Dervish about Bec and how they’re coping. How he explained Bill-E’s disappearance to our neighbours. What’s happening with my friends. I want to complain about my life with Beranabus and boast about all the action I’ve seen.

But those are childish, selfish wishes. We’re in the middle of a maternity ward. I’ve seen several dead and dismembered bodies already — nurses, mothers, babies. There are probably dozens more scattered throughout the hospital. I’d be the shallowest person in the universe if, in the face of all that tragedy, I moaned of not having enough time to spend with my uncle.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“The roof,” Beranabus says. “We need to discuss the situation before moving on. It’s more complicated than we thought. Bec says the demons who struck were led by Juni Swan.” I stare at him incredulously, then start to shout questions. “Not now!” Beranabus stops me. “We’ll talk about it on the roof.”

“I don’t think I can make it that far,” Dervish says.

Beranabus mutters something beneath his breath – it sounds like, “I hate the damn Gradys!” – then picks up Dervish.

“I can carry him,” I say quickly.

“No,” Beranabus grunts. “Keep watch for any demons we might have missed.”

Settling Dervish on his back, the magician heads for the stairs. I follow a metre behind, eyes peeled for monsters all the way up the blood-drenched steps to the roof.