“I know. But wait. Let’s see what comes out after him.”
As he says it, I see two more shadows appearing. The first of the pair steps out. It’s Cadaver, the demon thief, looking as hairy and loathsome as the last time I saw him. His long ears are upright and his wide white eyes are alert. He picks up Art and glares at us with his half-human, half-canine face. Art cuddles up to the demon and a bolt of jealousy shoots through me.
Then the other figure appears and jealousy washes away to be replaced by awe and terror — and recognition.
The creature is maybe seven or eight feet tall. He has eight arms, each of which ends in stubby, misshapen fingers, with bones sticking out of the flesh. No legs or feet, just long strips of flesh beneath the waist. He doesn’t touch the floor of the drawbridge, but hovers in the air. Lumpy skin, a pale red shade, cracked in dozens of places, blood oozing from the cracks. Bald like me. Dark red eyes, no white at all. A small mouth with a grey tongue and teeth. No nose, just two holes set above his upper lip. A gaping hole in the left side of his chest, where his heart should be. Lots of small snakes inside the hole, wriggling around, hissing and spitting.
This was what I was trying to r
emember earlier, when Beranabus was asking me about the first window I formed, a year ago, when I went missing. Just before I stepped through, something looked out at me from the other side. It was a demon. This demon.
He’s one of the creepiest monsters I’ve seen, but that’s not what sets him apart. He has an air of authority. I can feel the menace, the evil, the energy and power. Easy to see why these other demons obey him, why they stand like soldiers in the presence of a general, awaiting his command, eager to please him, afraid of what he’ll do if he loses his temper.
This is a demon of an entirely different class. I can sense it. So can the others. Even Shark doesn’t look confident any longer. I know now why Beranabus doesn’t want to fight this monster. Why he said we couldn’t.
It’s Lord Loss. It must be. It couldn’t be anybody else.
After several seconds of silence, which I’m sure Lord Loss allows just so we can admire his awful beauty, the demon master reaches out with one of his eight hands and pats Art on the head. Art gurgles and tries to bite into the blood-stained flesh. Lord Loss jerks his hand away before Art brings his teeth together — even demon masters are wary of my little biter of a brother!
His head turns right, slowly. Fresh cracks open around his neck and shoulders. Blood flows from them. He levels his gaze on us, studying us one at a time. Nadia is murmuring the words of some spell — a protective spell perhaps, though I don’t think that will be much use if he decides to attack. Lord Loss observes her longer than the rest of us, frowning softly, then his eyes move on.
As he studies me, I remember how he looked at me before, the way his eyes lingered on me then, how I stood up to him. He could have crossed that night, I’m sure, and taken me. But I stared him down. Made a fist and threatened him with magic. He wasn’t sure how powerful I was. He retreated. That gives me hope and the strength to look at him directly now, without flinching.
“It is pleasing to see you again after all these years, Beranabus,” Lord Loss finally says, breaking the heavy silence. His voice is the saddest I’ve ever heard, as if everyone close to him had recently died in tragic, painful circumstances.
“I don’t know if I would call it a pleasure, exactly,” Beranabus answers.
“This is the first time you have visited me here, though I have felt you pass a few times before. You should not have waited so long, old friend.”
“I’d have happily waited a few more centuries.”
The pair smile thinly at each other. I can tell there’s no love lost between them. If we survive, I must ask Beranabus to tell me about their history. I bet it’s an interesting story.
Lord Loss lets his gaze settle on me again. He sighs mournfully. “Cornelius Fleck. I hoped you would not embark on such a foolhardy quest. You should have stayed and comforted your father and mother. They are distraught without you, even after all this time. I know you love your brother, but it would —”
“What do you mean?” I interrupt, curiosity forcing me to speak. “It’s only been a few days since I left home.”
The demon master makes a miserable sound. “You poor child. Did Beranabus not explain the vagaries of time in this universe?”
“Yes,” I say uneasily. “But...I mean...a couple of days...it can’t make much of a.. .” I look to Beranabus. “How long have I been here?”
“I don’t know,” he says shiftily. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters,” Lord Loss disagrees. “The boy thinks he can come here, rescue his brother, return, and all will be well. If only it were that simple.” He sighs again. “I cannot be accurate, Cornelius, since it is hard to judge the passage of time in your universe, but it has been at least five or six years since Cadaver made off with young Art.”
“No!” I cry. “That’s impossible!”
“I’m afraid it is not only possible — it is true,” Lord Loss insists. “You were unfortunate with the worlds you visited, although it may not have been mere misfortune. Cadaver is roguish. He might have chosen those worlds deliberately.”
My heart’s pounding. Five or six years! All the children my age who I knew in Paskinston will be adults now. Mom and Dad must think we’re both dead. They’ll have grieved and moved on with their lives. If I return with Art, the two of us looking no older than we did on the day we disappeared...
“Don’t think about it,” Dervish hisses. “He’s probably lying. He wants to destroy your confidence.”
“I am not in the habit of lying!” Lord Loss booms, just the slightest hint of anger in his otherwise morbid tone. “In fact, I have never told a lie, have I, Beranabus?”
“So it’s said,” Beranabus mutters.
“Whatever,” Dervish sniffs.