“Sorry we’re late,” Shark says, hugging Meera and lifting her off the floor.
“How is he?” Sharmila asks, hobbling directly to Dervish.
“He’s been like that since the attack,” I tell her. “No change.”
She stares at me suspiciously. “You must be Bec. I have heard about you.”
“The dead girl who came back to life,” Shark says. He’s looking at me oddly. “I thought you’d be more like a boy, considering…”
“…I stole Bill-E’s body?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s nothing of Bill-E left,” I tell them. “Except his memories. That’s how I know you and Sharmila.”
Shark frowns. “I never met him.”
“I did,” Sharmila says, “but many years ago, when he was very young.”
“I know. But he met both of you.” I grin weakly at their confusion.
“Bec can tell you about that later,” Meera snaps. “What’s happening outside?”
“Nothing,” Shark says. “All quiet. Your birds have flown the coop.”
“You’re positive? It isn’t a trap, to lure us out of hiding?” Shark shakes his head. “Then let’s get Dervish straight to a hospital. We can talk about the attack on the way. But I’ll tell you this much—they weren’t birds. They were Lambs.”
Shark and Meera carry Dervish up the steps out of the cellar as gently as they can. Shark grumbles about what he’s going to do to the Lambs when he catches up with them. He drove here in a van. There’s a hospital trolley in the rear. We strap Dervish down and Sharmila produces a drip and heart monitor. She hooks Dervish up. I watch with interest—it’s the first time I’ve seen such apparatus.
When Dervish is as secure as we can make him, I ask Shark if he’s absolutely certain we’re not going to be attacked.
“Nothing in life’s an absolute,” he replies, squinting at the trees, the mansion, the sky. “But if this was a trap, the time to attack would have been when we were moving Dervish up from the cellar. That’s when we were most vulnerable. I’m confident we’ve nothing to fear for the time being.”
“Then I’ve a favour to ask.” I feel strange being so forward but this is no time to be shy. “I can open a window to the Demonata’s universe from the cellar. I’d like you to go through and find Beranabus.”
Shark blinks slowly. Sharmila is frowning.
“Have you ever been to that universe?” Sharmila asks.
“No.”
“Then you do not know what you are asking. It is a place of chaos and peril. We have never been there without Beranabus to guide us.”
“I know how dangerous it is,” I mutter, flashing on some of Beranabus’s many memories of the hellish universe, “But I’ll try to open the window to one of the less savage zones. Did Beranabus teach you a spell to find him once you’re there?”
“No,” Shark grunts. “But Dervish did.”
“We have never tested it,” Sharmila notes. “What if the window closes and we cannot find him? We will be stranded.”
“Dervish might be dying,” Meera hisses.
“I have sympathy for Dervish,” Sharmila says coolly. “That is why I came when you summoned me. But can Beranabus heal him? And even if he can, why should we risk our lives for his?”
“It’s not about helping Dervish,” I say quickly before an argument develops. “We don’t know who the Lambs were after. Their target might have been Dervish or Meera, but it was probably me.”
“What if it was?” Shark asks.
“I’m important,” I mutter, feeling embarrassed. “I can’t explain—there isn’t time—but I’m part of a powerful force which might mean the difference between winning and losing the war with the Demonata.”