Wolf Island (3 page)

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
that 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 gape 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 recognize 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 that 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 mom 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 poetic 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 neighbors. 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.” Dervish and I stare incredulously, then we both start to shout questions
at him. “Not now!” Beranabus stops us. “We’ll talk about it on the roof.”

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

Beranabus mutters something under 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 few feet behind, eyes peeled for monsters all
the way up the blood-drenched steps to the roof.

T
HE
voice of the Kah-Gash whispers to me as we’re climbing the stairs, stunning me by abruptly breaking its months-long silence.
You can join with the others.

I pause, startled by its sudden and unexpected reappearance. Then, not wanting to let Beranabus know — he might toss Dervish
aside in his eagerness to make enquiries of the Kah-Gash — I carry on as normal, addressing it internally. “What do you mean?”

Can’t you feel the magic inside Bec and Kernel calling to you?

I have been feeling a strange tickling sensation since I stepped through the window. I put it down to chemical irritants in
the air — one thing you can’t say about the demon universe is that it’s polluted. I’ve become accustomed to fume-free atmospheres.
But now that the Kah-Gash has clued me in, I realize the tickling is the force within myself straining to unite with Bec and
Kernel.

“What would happen if we joined?” I ask.

Wonders.

“Care to be a bit more specific?”

No,
it answers smugly. I’m not sure if the Kah-Gash is a parasite feeding off me, or if it’s woven into my flesh, a part of me
like my heart or brain. But its voice bears echoes of mine. I’ve used that smart-alec tone more times than I can remember.

I’m worried about letting my piece of the Kah-Gash link with the other parts again. What would it do if I gave it free reign?
Could we trust it?

You are the control mechanism,
the voice says, the first time it’s ever told me anything about the nature of itself.
With my help, you can unify the pieces and unleash your full power.

“But could we control it,” I press, “and make the weapon do our bidding?”

To an extent,
the voice answers cagily.

“What does that mean?” I grumble, but there’s no reply. “Hello? Are you still there?”

Unite us,
it says impatiently.
Unleash me. Become the Kah-Gash.

“Without knowing what I’m getting myself into? No bloody way!” I snort.

Coward,
the Kah-Gash sneers, then falls silent. I feel the tickling sensation fade. I continue up the stairs, brooding on what the
voice said and wondering what would have happened if I’d given in to it.

On the roof. Another Disciple, Sharmila Mukherji, was seriously wounded by Juni. Her legs are missing from the thighs down.
Beranabus is working on the stumps, using magic to stop the bleeding and patch her up. She’s unconscious. It doesn’t look
to me like she’ll ever recover.