Beranabus studies me with one eyebrow raised, smiling as if nothing I say can take him by surprise, like he’s waiting for me to make a suggestion so that he can say he already thought of it.
I chew my lower lip, trying to make up my mind. I think about the photo again. Shiver, then straighten up and put my theory to the test.
“I’m picturing Cadaver inside my head now,” I tell Beranabus, then look around. “Dozens of lights are flashing. I could open a window to him if I wanted.”
I clear the demon from my thoughts and think about Beranabus. “Now I’ve got you in my head.” My stomach sinks when I check the lights and my worst fears are realized. “Nothing’s happening. No lights are pulsing.”
“Of course not,” he snorts. “I’m here with you. There no need to open a window to find me.”
“Right. Now I’ll think about a waterfall on Earth — Niagara Falls.” I concentrate. “Lots of pulsing lights again. But when I think about that waterfall of blood... nothing.”
Bernabus is frowning. “What are you —”
“Picturing Sharmila,” I interrupt. “Dervish. Shark. Lights pulse for all three of them.” And for Nadia too, though I don’t tell Beranabus that. “Now I’m thinking of myself — no flashing lights. And now... now I’m thinking about the Kah-Gash.” I give it a full minute. Two. Five. Eyes shut, focusing hard, saying the word over and over. When I finally open my eyes, none of the lights are pulsing, and Beranabus is staring at me, trembling slightly.
“Nobody knows what the Kah-Gash was,” the magician says softly, “or what sort of parts it was broken down into. I’ve always assumed the pieces would be power-charged stones, or other objects of energy, but I guess they could be hidden in anything. Even in...”
“. . . people,” I finish for him.
Beranabus shudders, then steels himself. “Am I the one?” he asks.
“No,” I say sadly. “I’m pretty certain it’s me.”
And with those few words I put my human life behind me forever and surrender myself to whatever demonic horrors destiny holds in store.
The horrifying adventures continue in
SLAWTER
Book 3 in THE DEMONATA series
from Little, Brown and Company.
MY EYES! They stabbed out m
y eyes!”
I shoot awake. Start to struggle up from my bed. An arm hits the side of my head. Knocks me down. A man screams, “My eyes! Who took my eyes?”
“Dervish!” I roar, rolling off the bed, landing beside the feet of my frantic uncle. “It’s only a dream! Wake up!”
“My eyes!” Dervish yells again. I can see his face now, illuminated by a three-quarters-full moon. Eyes wide open, but seeing nothing. Fear scribbled into every line of his features. He lifts his right foot. Brings it down towards my head — hard. I make like a turtle and only just avoid having my nose smashed.
“You took them!” he hisses, sensing my presence, fear turning to hate. He bends and grabs my throat. His fingers tighten. Dervish is thin, doesn’t look like much, but his appearance is deceptive. He could crush my throat, easy.
I lash out at his hand, yanking my neck away at the same time. Tear free. Scrabble backwards. Halted by the bed. Dervish lunges after me. I kick at his head, both feet. No time to worry about hurting him. Connect firmly. Drive him back. He grunts, shakes his head, loses focus.
“Dervish!” I shout. “It’s me, Grubbs! Wake up! It’s only a nightmare! You have to stop, before you —”
“The master,” Dervish cuts in, fear filling his face again. He’s staring at the ceiling — rather, that’s where his eyes are pointing. “Lord Loss.” He starts to cry. “Don’t ... please ... not again. My eyes. Leave them alone. Please ...”
“Dervish,” I say, softly this time, rising, rubbing the side of my head where he hit me, approaching him cautiously. “Dervish. Derv the perv — where’s your nerve?” Knowing from past nights that rhymes draw his attention. “Derv on the floor — where’s the door? Derv without eyes — what’s the surprise?”
He blinks. His head lowers a fraction. Sight begins to return. His pupils were black holes. Now they look quasi-normal.
“It’s OK,” I tell him, moving closer, wary in case the night-mare suddenly fires up again. “You’re home. With me. Lord Loss can’t get you here. Your eyes are fine. It was just a nightmare.”
“Grubbs?” Dervish wheezes.