Blood Beast

THE PROMISE

Dervish regards the cave with something close to religious awe when he enters. For a long minute he doesn’t even glance at where I’m hunched over Loch. His attention is fixed on the walls, the roof, the formations, the waterfall. Then Bill-E nudges him softly and mumbles, “Over there.”

Dervish snaps to his senses and advances. “Billy told me what happened,” he says, still several metres away. “How is he?”

“Fine—” I say and Dervish smiles “—for a dead man.” The smile vanishes. He slows. Behind him, Bill-E covers his mouth with his hands, stifling a sob or a scream.

“You’re sure?” Dervish asks softly.

“Check for yourself,” I say hollowly. “Prove me wrong.” My face crinkles. “Please.”

Dervish kneels and gently pushes me away. He examines Loch. Rolls his eyelids up. Puts his ear to the dead wrestler’s chest. Goes through all the same resuscitation tricks that I tried. I don’t bother telling him that he’s wasting his time. Let him find out for himself.

Eventually he draws back, saddened—but worried too. He looks at me. Then at Bill-E. “Tell me again what happened.”

“He slipped,” Bill-E moans. “I tried to grab him but I couldn’t reach.”

“There was nobody else in the cave?” Dervish presses sharply. He looks at me and licks his lips. “Nothing else?”

“No,” Bill-E cries.

“No,” I whisper.

“You’re sure?” Dervish asks, voice low, directing the question just to me this time. “It’s important. You were alone? The three of you? You’re sure?”

I nod slowly, confused.

“I tried to save him,” Bill-E sobs. “But he was too big. Even if I’d caught him, he’d have dragged me down with him, isn’t that right, Grubbs? It wasn’t my fault. Please, Dervish, don’t say it was my fault.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Dervish sighs. “It was an accident.” He rubs his chin, troubled. He stands, looks around, glances at the waterfall and the spot Loch fell from. Doesn’t mention the crack—he hadn’t seen the wall before I howled and split the rock so he assumes it’s a natural feature.

“Is there anything you can do?” I ask. “Any spells…?”

“No,” Dervish says plainly. “He’s beyond help.”

I fight back tears. “Will the ambulance be here soon? Maybe they—”

“Nobody can do anything!” Dervish snaps. “He’s dead. You’ve seen death before. Don’t ask the impossible. You’re not a child.”

I stare at my uncle, stunned by his harsh tone. It sounds like he’s criticising me for caring about my friend, as though that’s wrong.

Dervish catches my look and his expression softens. “This is bad. And not just because Loch is dead.” He looks around again, nervously. “I didn’t call for an ambulance.”

“What?” I explode. “But—”

“He’s dead,” Dervish says as if that explains everything. “An ambulance wouldn’t have helped.”

“But you didn’t know that when you came,” I shout. “When Bill-E fetched you, Loch was alive. Why didn’t you phone for help? Maybe they could have got here before you. Maybe Loch would be alive if—”

“Billy, come here,” Dervish interrupts me. Bill-E approaches slowly, fearfully, trying not to look at Loch. Dervish keeps me silent with a fierce frown. I want to scream bloody murder, but I bite my tongue, waiting to hear my uncle out. When Bill-E’s a metre or so away from us—the closest he’s going to come—Dervish speaks.

“What happened tonight is a tragedy. I feel for you, honestly, even though I’m not showing it. We’ll talk about this after. I’ll give you all the support I can, make it as easy for you as possible. But right now I have to be hard. And I have to ask something hard of you.”

He pauses. Again a nervous glance around. “As far as the official verdict goes, Loch can’t have died here,” Dervish says. “I’ll explain later. Right now you have to trust me. We need to move the body. Make it look like this happened somewhere else. Cover up the entrance to the cave and tell nobody about it. Understand?”

Bill-E and I gawp at him.

“Please,” Dervish says. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t crucial.”

“You want to… tamper… with the body?” Bill-E croaks.

“I just want to move it,” Dervish says. “We’ll take it to the quarry. You can say you were climbing there. We’ll call the emergency services once we—”

“Bloody hell, Dervish!” I yell. “Loch is dead and you’re playing games? What sort of heartless—”

“You’re not listening!” Dervish roars, losing his temper. He glares at me. “Let me say it again— this is crucial. This cave has been hidden for hundreds of years for a very good reason. It must be hidden again.”

“Hidden?” I whisper and Dervish nods. “You mean you knew about it?”

“I didn’t know the exact location but I knew it existed.” Dervish is white-lipped. “The entrance was deliberately blocked off many centuries ago. We’ll have to fill it in again.” He stands and offers his left hand to me, his right to Bill-E. I don’t want to take it but his eyes tell me I must. Bill-E is even slower to accept the hand but eventually he takes it too.

“You’ve got to promise,” Dervish says. “Promise you’ll back me up, lie for me, say this happened in the quarry, tell nobody about the cave. On all that’s holy to you… in the name of your dead mothers… promise.”

“And if we don’t?” I ask stiffly.

Dervish smiles bitterly. “I could force you but I won’t.” He squeezes our hands tightly. “You both know that we live in a world that’s not the exclusive domain of humans. There are other forces. Demonic forces. This cave could be valuable to them. If we don’t handle this right, demons will benefit and Loch won’t be the only one who dies. Will you promise?”

Neither of us says anything.

Dervish sighs wearily. “I’ll tell you more about it later. You can retract your promise then, if you feel I didn’t have good reason to ask for it. But there isn’t time now. We have to work quickly, get Loch to the quarry and phone for the police straightaway. If we delay, it will show on an autopsy. It’ll be risky, no matter how we play it, but if we don’t act now, while we have the advantage of time, it will be a lot harder. For all of us.”

Bill-E and I share a look. Neither of us knows what this is about but we trust Dervish. He’s saved both our lives in the past.

“You swear you’ll explain?” I ask, voice shaking hoarsely.

“I swear.”

“Then I promise.”

Dervish smiles gratefully and looks to Bill-E.

“OK,” Bill-E says weakly.

“In the name of your mother?” Dervish presses, hearing a wavering tone in Bill-E’s promise.

Bill-E hesitates, then nods. “In the name of my mother.”

Dervish relaxes and lets go of our hands. “Thank you. This is more important than either of you can possibly realise. It’s…” He looks down at Loch and gulps, then mutters under his breath, “At least there wasn’t any blood.”

That reminds me about the mysterious disappearance of Loch’s blood. I start to tell Dervish about it… then stop. It isn’t important. The blood must have simply seeped through cracks in the ground. I’ll only confuse the situation if I speak up now.

Dervish bends beside the body, gently touches Loch’s pale forehead, then sighs and tugs at his beard. A moment’s pause, during which I see how hard he’s having to work to cover up his true feelings. Then his expression firms and he moves into professional mode. “Billy, you bring the torches. I’ll take the shoulders. Grubbs, grab his legs. And for hell’s sake, don’t drop him—that’s the last thing we need.”

The next few hours are nightmarish. We carry the body home, load it on to the back of Dervish’s motorbike, strap the arms around Dervish and put a helmet on so if anybody sees Loch it’ll look like he’s a living passenger. I watch them drive away, shivering next to Bill-E, then go indoors and try to drink a mug of hot chocolate in the kitchen. But I’m unable to gulp it down.

Dervish comes back for us. Usually he’d only allow one of us to ride behind him, but there’s no time to follow the rules of the road. At the quarry, Dervish throws Loch over the uppermost edge of the cliff. The dull thump as he collides with the hard floor brings tears from Bill-E and me. I don’t know why Dervish didn’t chuck Loch down when he brought him out here. Maybe he wasn’t thinking straight. Or maybe he wanted our tears, to make the rest of the charade seem more realistic.

I make a phone call. Following Dervish’s instructions, I dial the emergency number, report the accident breathlessly, give my details and wait. I wonder why Bill-E and I didn’t do that before. We both have mobiles. Why didn’t one of us climb out of the cave and ring for an ambulance? Did we simply lose our heads and panic? Or did something in the cave control our actions?

The police arrive before the ambulance. Dervish debated whether or not he should stay with us or go home and return after the emergency services got here. In the end he chose to stay, instructing us to tell them that we rang him after calling for help. Everybody here knows Dervish. They know how fast he goes on his bike. The police are always trying to catch him but he’s too crafty. They’ll assume he tore over here at top speed. They won’t like it, but given the tragic circumstances, they’re hardly going to make a fuss.

Paramedics examine Loch. They do what they can to bring him back to life. But they go about their job sluggishly, without hope, knowing it’s too late. They don’t cover his face before loading him into the back of the ambulance because they don’t want to upset Bill-E and me. But as soon as he’s out of our sight, I’m certain the sheet will be pulled up and over.

The officer in charge asks to take our statements. Dervish clears his throat and gently suggests phoning Loch’s parents first. The officer blushes—he’s young, probably hasn’t seen a corpse before, temporarily forgot his training. Dervish offers to make the phone call. The officer accepts the offer with a grateful smile.

Dervish keeps it quick and to the point. There’s been an accident. Loch’s been taken to hospital. Says it’s serious. Doesn’t say Loch’s dead. Leaves that for the doctors. Not the sort of news you should break over the phone.

Home. The police drive Bill-E and me. Dervish follows on his bike. More hot chocolate. I still can’t drink it. Biscuits which I can’t eat. Dervish turns on the heating. While the police are talking with us, Dervish rings Ma and Pa Spleen. They arrive before we’re finished, splashing out on a taxi for maybe the first time in their lives. Anxious to protect their grandson. Eager to whip him away from the police and their questions. Dervish has to drag them aside and explain that it will be easier if they let the police finish—if we don’t do it here, we’ll have to go to the police station later. He takes them into the kitchen and plies them with tea and coffee. I imagine them discussing me, Ma and Pa Spleen blaming me for Bill-E being in the quarry after dark, saying I’m responsible for him risking his life on such a dangerous climb—and for Loch’s death.

The interrogation goes softly. The police don’t suspect foul play. They just want to get the facts straight. We tell them we went for a walk. Wound up at the quarry. Went climbing. Loch fell. Bill-E tried to catch him. Couldn’t. The end.

Kids fool around at the quarry all the time. Every few years some local official vows to block it off. Nobody’s ever followed up on the promise, though I think they will after this. The police take the attitude that a fatality was bound to happen sooner or later. Just bad luck that it happened to us.

They leave not long after midnight. (How did it get so late so quick?) They say they might return to take follow-up statements, but that shouldn’t be necessary. They tell us to take a few days off school, maybe go away for a while. They warn of a possible backlash—parents sometimes overreact in situations like this. Loch’s relatives might blame Bill-E and me, hurl insults and accusations at us. The police say we shouldn’t be too upset if that happens, to try and understand their position.

Bill-E wants to stay the night, hear Dervish out, learn why we had to lie. But Ma and Pa Spleen are having none of it. They want out and fast. They’ve never liked Dervish and aren’t a lot fonder of me. Bill-E’s arguments are shot down before they’re out of his mouth. Then it’s into the back of the taxi which they’ve kept waiting and home, where they can pour poison in his ear and remind him of all the times they warned him about the grisly Gradys, how we’d lead him astray.

Then it’s just me and my uncle, alone in our old mansion. A foul smell in the air—the stench of lies and deception.

Without discussing it, we retire upstairs to Dervish’s study, where we sit on opposite sides of his huge desk, facing each other, me suspicious and wiping away tears, Dervish ashamed and tweaking the hairs of his beard.

Time for explanations.

COMING CLEAN

“You know about the Demonata,” Dervish begins. “You’ve seen them at work. You know of their powers, their magic, how destructive they are. You know that some, like Lord Loss, can cross between their universe and ours.”

“Does this have anything to do with him?” I croak.

“No. He doesn’t need the cave, and from what I know of him he isn’t interested in it.” Dervish stops for a moment, thinking about the best way to proceed. “Lord Loss is an exception. Most demons can’t cross readily between universes. If they could, this world would be awash with the Demonata and humans would be their playthings and slaves.

“Many demons hunger for that. They spend a large portion of their time trying to open windows between the two universes. They find weak points where crossing is easier and work on them, assisted by power-crazed mages on this side. The Disciples try to stop them. We look for focal points, prevent crossings where we can, deal with the aftermath when we can’t.”

“Like in Slawter,” I nod. “You explained all that to me before. But what about the cave?”

Dervish puffs his cheeks up, then blows out air. “More than a millennium and a half ago, the Demonata invaded. Normally they cross singly or in small groups. The demons hate each other almost as much as they hate humans—infighting is rife. But in this case thousands banded together to launch an all-out assault. They set out to create a large, permanent opening—a tunnel instead of a temporary window. The cave was the focus for their attempt.

“They were helped by a twisted druid. Our world was more magical then. Magic is an energy and like any form of energy it can ebb and flow over the course of time. Back then it flowed strongly through this world. There were many more magicians and mages than there are now, though they called themselves druids and priestesses. It’s a source of debate as to why there’s so little magic in the world these days. I guess—”

“You’re rambling.”

Dervish grins sheepishly. “Sorry. Keeping it simple, the Demonata tried to open a tunnel through the cave. They nearly succeeded. From what we know, many did cross over, but only lesser demons. The tunnel was shattered before the masters could cross and the cave entrance was later filled in and hidden from the world, so nobody could make an attempt there again.

“Since that time a watch has been kept on this area. There’s always been a watcher here—even before the Disciples were formed—monitoring the situation, making sure the cave isn’t reopened. I’m the latest in a long line of watchmen. That’s why I don’t wander the world like most Disciples. I get away to deal with other matters occasionally but the cave is my main priority.”

“But you said you didn’t know where it was. How could you keep people away from it if you didn’t know its location?”

“Powerful spells were cast when the cave was filled in. As watcher, I would have known instantly if anyone tried to gain access. The spells would have led me straight to the cave.”

“Then why didn’t you come as soon as we started digging?” I frown.

Dervish’s left eye tics. “The spells didn’t work.”

“But you said—”

“Something went wrong,” he snaps. “That’s why I was so worried. I thought a powerful mage must be at work, one with the ability to override the protective spells. When you told me Loch was dead, worry turned to outright panic. Before the tunnel can be reopened, a sacrifice must be made. If Loch had been murdered, the magical potential of the cave would have been reactivated, allowing the Demonata to start building a new tunnel.”

“That’s why you wanted to know if there was anybody else in the cave,” I note.

Dervish nods and licks his lips. “I’m still concerned. Those spells were cast by a magician—they should have worked. You didn’t see Loch slip, did you?”

“No.”

“So you can’t be certain there wasn’t somebody else present, that he wasn’t deliberately killed.”

“Bill-E was with him. He would have seen if there’d been anyone else up there.”

“Maybe,” Dervish says dubiously. “But if there was somebody, and they were powerful enough to mute the warning spells when the cave was reopened, they might have been invisible, or used magic to wipe their presence from Billy’s memory.”

I smile weakly. “You’re seeing phantoms where there aren’t any. We only broke through to the cave today—yesterday, I mean. We went down by ourselves as soon as we discovered the entrance. There can’t have been anybody else.”

“You’re right,” Dervish sighs. “I’m jumping at shadows. But I’m so wired! Back when the tunnel was open, only lesser demons were able to cross. But the core of the tunnel was widening all the time. It had almost got to the point where the masters could cross. The shell of that core remains intact. If the Demonata ever restored it, thousands could cross in a matter of days, masters and all.”

“Couldn’t you force them back again, close it like before?” I ask.

Dervish pulls a face. “Humans are far less magical than they were the last time it was open. And back then they only had to deal with weaker demons. We could stop it happening if we caught wind of it in advance, but if they opened it without our knowing…”

He trails off into silence. It’s hotter than normal in here. Dervish doesn’t usually have the heating on this late. The temperature reminds me of the time we fought Lord Loss in the cellar, the unnatural heat of the Demonata’s universe. I feel highly uncomfortable and shift around edgily on my seat.

“What happens now?” I ask quietly.

“The cave will need to be hidden again. Fresh spells will have to be cast and we’ll try to find out why those in place before didn’t work. But that’s a job for a magician. I’ll put out the call and we’ll wait.”

“I thought there weren’t magicians anymore, only mages.”

Dervish shakes his head. “There’s one. He’s the head of the Disciples, though we don’t have much to do with him personally—he fights most of his battles in the Demonata’s universe. I fought alongside him once, a long time ago. He set me the task of guarding this area a few years later. I don’t know how long it will take him to come, but hopefully it won’t be more than a month or two.”

“Are we safe while we wait?” I ask edgily. “What if an evil mage finds the cave and makes a sacrifice?”

“It’s not that simple,” Dervish says. “The tunnel can’t be opened instantly. A sacrifice would have to be made to start the process, then over the next few weeks the entrances would fuse with the core. At that point someone would need to conduct a lengthy, complicated ritual in the cave. I’d feel that magic at work—it would be impossible to mask—and I’d move heaven and hell to stop it. But I don’t think we’ve anything to fear. Since I wasn’t warned by the spells when you broke through to the cave, nobody else can have been. The Demonata don’t know the entrance to the cave has been cleared, so they have no reason to move on it.”

“Then we’re safe?” I watch his face closely in case he tries to lie.

“As safe as we’ve ever been,” Dervish says calmly and there’s no hint of deception in his features. I start to relax slightly. He raises a finger. “But regardless of how safe it is, I don’t want you going back to the cave.”

“As if!” I lick my lips. “What happens when you block it off again?”

Dervish shrugs. “Life will go on as normal. I’ll stay here, keeping watch, and another Disciple will replace me when I’m old and grey and of no use anymore.”

“What about Bill-E? Are you going to tell him what you told me?”

“Yes. As soon as Ma and Pa Spleen let him out of the house—which might not be any time soon.” Dervish stands and stretches. “What a night. I’ll be glad to see dawn.”

“Loch won’t ever see dawn again,” I mumble. It’s not fair, that I’m having to think about the cave, demons and magic, when I should only be thinking about my poor dead friend.

Dervish smiles helplessly and comes around the desk. Lays a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You can talk with me about him if you want. I know what it’s like to lose a friend. I can help.”

“Yeah. Maybe. Thanks.” I take a deep breath and look up. The fear grows in my chest. It tries to grab my tongue and hold it still. It whispers caution. Screams for silence. But I have to tell him. I can’t keep it secret any longer.

“There’s more than Loch and the cave that we need to discuss.”

“Oh?” A puzzled little smile, not expecting anything major.

“I think I have the family curse.” His smile freezes. I push the fear down deep and spit out the words I never wanted to voice. “I think I’m turning into a werewolf.”

I tell Dervish everything—the sickness, the party, the bottle, the magic that’s been growing within me since Slawter. Waking to find myself at the entrance of the cave, digging as if my life depended on it. The whispers, the face in the rock, splitting the wall with my scream.

Dervish listens silently for the most part, eyes dark, chewing his nails or stroking his beard. Occasionally he’ll ask me to elaborate, to describe the sickness and whispers in more detail. But most of the time he just watches me, his expression impossible to read, head cocked slightly, like a priest hearing confession.

A long pause when I finish. Then Dervish tuts like a teacher. “You should have called me back on Saturday or told me as soon as I got home.”

“I know what I should have done,” I snap. “But I didn’t. I was afraid you’d make me become a Disciple if you knew about the magic. And I hoped I was wrong about turning into a werewolf. Keeping quiet was dumb, but I never claimed to be an Einstein. So cut me some slack.” I glare at him but he only stares back calmly. “Well?” I grunt when he doesn’t say anything. “Am I turning or not?”

“I don’t know. The signs you describe suggest it, but…”

“What?” I hiss.

“Victims don’t realise,” he says quietly. “Nobody turns into a werewolf overnight. It’s a gradual process, spread out over three or four months. The kids often know things aren’t right—if they wake covered in blood, or lying naked outdoors—but I’ve never heard of anyone being conscious of the change or actively fighting it. When they start to turn, their minds blank out. They can’t remember changing or do anything to stop it. What you describe is unlike anything any other member of the family has ever reported. And we’ve been dealing with this for a long time.”

“You’re saying maybe it isn’t…?” I feel hope blossom in my chest.

“I don’t know,” Dervish says again. “The signs all point to lycanthropy—the distorted face, the hands clenching, the howling. If somebody else had seen it happening to you, I’d say you were definitely damned. But you shouldn’t be able to note these things yourself. It…”

He goes quiet again. His forehead’s a landscape of worry lines. I’ve thrown him big time. He looks even more perturbed than he did in the cave. At least he knew where he stood with that and what he had to deal with.

“Tell me about the magic again,” Dervish says. “Everything you can recall.”

I go through the weirdness one chunk at a time. Waking to find myself levitating above the bed. Reversing the flow of water down the sink. Moving things with my mind. Making the bottle rise, explode and transform into flowers and butterflies.

“Everybody saw that?” Dervish asks. “Bill-E will confirm it?”

“Of course.” I frown. “Why?”

Dervish grunts. “If we’re lucky, you’re losing your mind, imagining the magic and the change. You’ve had a hard few years, been through a lot—more than just about any kid in the world. Maybe it’s caught up with you. Maybe you’re going…” He twirls a finger around in the air at the side of his head.

“Know what I like most about you, uncle?” I ask waspishly. “Your subtle tact.”

“Stuff that! This is no time to be soft. If you were going mad, I’d be delighted, because we could deal with it, seek help, fix what’s wrong. Nobody’s seen most of this magic you say you’ve been working. It could all be in your head. But if you really did those tricks with the bottle and there are witnesses…”

“There are,” I say stiffly. “And there’s the cave. We found it on Sunday. We only dug down a small bit, but when we returned yesterday it had been excavated. Rocks and earth everywhere. Bill-E will confirm that too. I did it, Dervish. I went there, not entirely human, and burrowed down.”

“Any idea why?” Dervish asks.

“No. Unless it was the whispers… the face…”

Dervish makes a long humming sound. “If you’re not mad—and much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think you are—I’ve no idea what the face means. Unless some spell was cast upon the cave long ago, one I don’t know about.” He scratches his left ear, then the right. “You couldn’t recognise anything the girl was saying?”

“No.”

“Did the whispers seem to be drawing you to the cave or warning you off?”

I think about it. “Warning me off. But if that was the case, why was I there? What made me return and dig? Could it have been the Demonata? Calling to the beast I’m becoming? Using me to open a tunnel between universes, so they could cross?”

“Possibly,” Dervish says. “I wouldn’t have thought they had that kind of power, but if it’s true that you’re turning, and if there’s magic involved…” He frowns and trails off into a very troubled silence. I let him brood for five minutes… ten… twelve. Then I can’t stand it any longer.

“What are we going to do?” I cry. “I don’t want to turn into a werewolf. I don’t want to hurt anyone. But—”

“Quiet,” he shushes me. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. There’s a lot going on that’s queer to us. But I can ask around, seek advice, search for answers. You haven’t turned and you haven’t hurt anybody, so don’t work yourself up into a state. That won’t help.”

He takes a sheet of paper off a pile on the desk, balls it up and tosses it from one hand to the other, thinking. “First, I mount a watch of you every night. If you feel the sickness returning—or anything that doesn’t feel right—you tell me instantly. If you feel magic forming, tell me that too.” He hesitates. “Can you do anything now? A small spell?”

I shake my head, scared of even trying.

“If I could see you in action… pinpoint the source you tap into… it might help establish what we’re dealing with.”

I shudder, then nod and focus. I stare at the ball of paper which Dervish is still throwing from hand to hand. I try using magic to knock it off course, so it falls to the floor. But nothing happens.

“I can’t do it,” I say after a minute. “It isn’t there now. It comes and goes.”

“OK,” Dervish smiles. “Don’t knock yourself out. Now, it’s been a long, tiring night. Let’s get you to bed and I’ll keep an eye on you.”

“But the change… the magic… that’s it? We’re just going to leave it?”

“Sure,” Dervish says, then smiles reassuringly. “We’re not going to sort this out tonight. There’s not much I can do until I see evidence of your transformation or magical prowess. When that happens, I should have a clearer idea of what you’re going through and we can take it from there. Right now the best thing you can do is hit the sack and get some sleep. The problems will still be there tomorrow but we’ll be in a better state of mind to deal with them.”

Since that’s all there really is to do, I take Dervish’s advice, get ready for bed, then slip beneath the covers. Dervish sits in a chair by the circular window, keeping watch, protecting me, just as he did when I first moved into this house. Maybe it’s his calming presence, or maybe it’s simple exhaustion, but within minutes, despite everything, my eyes droop and I slip into unconsciousness.

Just before I go under completely, I remember the one thing I didn’t tell Dervish about—the blood disappearing from beneath Loch’s head. I don’t think it’s important, but he should be told just in case I’m wrong. I try to rise but it’s too late, I’m too far gone.

Dreams.

I jolt awake. My eyes snap open and I lurch upright in bed. But it’s not like waking from a nightmare. No racing heart or after-images of a bad dream. It’s more like somebody jabbed me with a blunt knife and stung me out of sleep.

I stare around, confused, not sure why I woke so quickly. Then I see that Dervish is gone. That’s probably what disturbed me—he slipped out for a few minutes, to fetch something, go to the toilet, change clothes or whatever, and I sensed him leave. It alarmed me and I jerked awake. Simple.

I start to lean back, half-smiling, then stop. There’s more to it than that. Something’s wrong. I have the sense of being in danger.

I get out of bed warily and pad to the doorway. There’s a light in the corridor at the top of the staircase. I slip out of my room and make for the light. The house is warm—Dervish hasn’t turned the heating off.

I think of calling Dervish’s name but don’t. If we’re not alone, if we’re under attack, I don’t want to tip off our enemies. I don’t think the situation is that grave—the sense of danger isn’t overbearing—but it pays to be cautious.

I reach the wide, ornate staircase which links the three floors of the mansion. Darkness below. A dim light above, coming from the direction of Dervish’s study. I home in on it.

Moments later I’m standing outside the study door, which is ajar. Dervish normally shuts the door, but tonight he left it open, probably because of the heat. He’s talking on the phone. If the door had been shut, I couldn’t have heard what he was saying. Open like this, I can hear him perfectly.

“Yeah,” he grunts softly, “I know.” A pause. “I don’t think so. I didn’t explore it fully, but…” Another pause. “That’s why I said I don’t think so. I’ll go back tomorrow, check it properly and… Yes. No. No. They said there was definitely no one else there.” A pause. “Of course I can’t be certain. I wasn’t there. But I trust them. We’re safe. I’m as sure as I can be, without being one hundred per cent.”

Dervish fidgets on his chair. I think he’s maybe heard a sound and is coming to check. I start to back away but then he speaks again.

“Just let him know what happened.” A pause. “Yes, I know the consequences if… Yes!” Snappish now. “I’m not a fool and I’m not new to this. In my opinion we’re safe. But only one person can confirm that. And he will when he comes. But he can only do that once you get off the phone to me and pass on the message.” A pause. “I know he’s not easy to get in touch with. I know I’ll have to wait. But the sooner you start, the…”

Silence. A long pause this time. I hear Dervish tapping the desk with his fingers. Finally, softly, he says, “He’s like my son.” I stiffen and move forward a few centimetres. “Of course, if the worst comes to… Yes, I know. I know. But I’m hoping…” Dervish sighs. Another long silence.

If I lean forward I can see him. There’s a black folder on the desk close to his hand.

“I have the numbers,” he says quietly. He stops tapping and draws the black folder closer to him. Doesn’t open it. “Yes, I can do it. I have the strength. If there’s no other… if it comes to it.”

Another silence, which Dervish breaks curtly with, “Just tell him. You do your job, leave me to worry about mine.”

He slams the phone down and gets up.

I race back to my room. Dive under the covers. Pull them up over my chest. Try to look like I’m sleeping.

Dervish returns. Checks that I’m OK. Sits in the chair again. I lie very still, eyes closed, listening intently. Finally, after several long minutes, there’s the sound of light snoring.

I sneak out of bed. Tiptoe past the dozing Dervish. Head back upstairs in the dark, not turning any lights on. I think I know what was in that black folder and why I woke with the sense of danger. But I want to make sure. I couldn’t see clearly. There’s a slim chance it was something else.

The study. The door’s still open. I slip inside, gently shut the door, find the desk in the dark and turn on one of the smaller lamps. The desktop lights up. The folder’s still there, close to the phone, black as the cave was.

I pick it up and cradle it in my hands, staring at the blank cover, knowing what I’ll find when I open it, praying to whatever gods there are that I’m wrong.

Then, with a snap, I flick the cover back. I find several pages, a handful of names, addresses, phone numbers and e-mail addresses on each. And at the top of the first page, not in large letters, bold print or underlined, but standing out anyway, as if they’d been burnt into the paper and were still aflame, the two words which confirm all that I feared.

The Lambs.

MISERY MARK II

I spend the rest of the week off school. Strangely enough, I’d rather go in. It’s dull as hell hanging out at the house all the time, brooding, only Dervish for company. I want something to take my mind off Loch’s death and all the other stuff. I want to be with my friends, talk about the tragedy, put it behind me, get on with life. But it’s expected that I take the week off to recover, so I do.

I try hard not to think about the folder or the Lambs. Like Dervish said, the curse has been in our family a long time. Some parents kill their own children if they turn, but many can’t bring themselves to be executioners. Generations ago, the Lambs were formed to deal with that problem. The wealthier members of our clan founded and continue to fund them. It’s their job to kill teenagers who’ve turned into werewolves. They also experiment on some of the beasts, in the hope of unlocking the genetic secrets of the family curse and curing it.

Dervish doesn’t have much to do with the Lambs. He mistrusts them. He always planned to kill Bill-E or me himself if the worst came to pass—there’s nothing like the personal touch. But my uncle’s been through a lot these last few years. He looks as strong as ever, but looks can be deceiving. Maybe he doesn’t feel he has the strength to deal with me if I turn.

I don’t like the Lambs either. I’ve only met one of them, but she was a cold, creepy woman, and the whole idea of letting strangers put me down like a wild dog fills me with distaste. Dervish has made it clear in the past that he would put me out of my misery if such a drastic step was ever called for. I can understand why he might want to retract that promise now, but understanding doesn’t make it any easier to accept. As childish as it might seem, I feel like he’s betrayed me.

Bill-E manages to come over on Thursday, after Dervish argued hard on the phone for a couple of days to persuade Ma and Pa Spleen to let him out of the house. He looks shell-shocked. Pale and sickly. His lazy left eyelid flutters so much it looks like worms are wriggling beneath the flesh. He doesn’t say much, which is unusual for Bill-E. Listens numbly while Dervish explains about the cave and why we had to move the body. Doesn’t seem too bothered by the threat of a demon invasion.

“I rang Loch’s house,” Bill-E says when we’re alone in the TV room. I stare at him, not sure how to respond. I wanted to ring Reni all week but didn’t dare. “His father answered,” Bill-E continues. “I could tell he’d been crying. I wanted to say sorry, ask how they were, if there was anything I could do. But I couldn’t speak. My mouth dried up. In the end he put the phone down. He didn’t get angry. He just sounded sad.”

Bill-E’s staring off into space. The way this has hit him, you’d think it was his best friend who’d died, not a bully he didn’t like. But maybe that’s why it’s harder for him than me. Guilt’s mixed up with grief. I think he’s sorry for all the bad thoughts he had about Loch, the foul names he no doubt called him behind his back, the times he probably wished his tormentor was dead.

“I’m going back to school on Monday,” I tell Bill-E. “What about you?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“You should. It might help.”

“Gran and Grandad don’t want me to. They said I could stay at home as long as I want. Said they’d hire a private tutor.”

The meddlesome, selfish old buzzards! I probably shouldn’t be too hard on them. They’re old and lonely. Bill-E’s all they have. I can understand why they want him to themselves, locked up safe where they can fuss over him twenty-four seven. But they should know better. He needs to be out in the real world, getting back to normal as soon as possible.

“I remember you telling me about when your mum died,” I say softly. Bill-E looks at me, eyes coming into focus. “Your gran and grandad kept you indoors for a year. You didn’t speak to anybody else. You fought with other kids who tried to talk to you.”

“Then I got whacked in the jaw by a boy in a shop,” Bill-E laughs jerkily.

“And that put you straight.” I sit beside him. I think for a moment of putting an arm around him but decide against it—no need to go overboard. “Don’t cut yourself off from your friends, Bill-E.”

“Do I have any?” he asks sadly.

“You know you do,” I snap. “Maybe not as many as you wish, but there are plenty of people who like you and feel sorry for you, who’ll help you through this. But they can’t if you shut yourself off, if you let your gran and grandad smother you. Come back to school. Move on. You know it makes sense.”

“Loch can’t move on,” Bill-E sighs.

“No,” I agree stiffly. “He can’t. But we didn’t die in that cave. We’re alive. Loch isn’t and that’s a wretched shame. But life goes on. Loch goes to a grave, we go back to school. That’s how it has to be.”

Bill-E nods slowly. “Are you going to the funeral?”

“I don’t want to but I think I need to.”

“I can’t,” Bill-E whispers. “I can go back to school but not…

“That’s OK,” I smile. “School will be torture enough.”

Bill-E returns the smile briefly, then stares off into space. “I can still hear his scream,” he mutters. “And I can see his face. His eyes… He didn’t know he was going to die. There wasn’t terror in his expression, just worry. And a bit of anger. He should have looked more terrified. If he’d known…”

We sit there for hours after that, TV off, sniffling occasionally, but otherwise as silent as Loch must be.

Friday. The funeral. It’s horrible. And that’s all I’m saying about it.

Monday. School. Everyone staring and whispering. Kids scurry out of my way. It’s like the Grim Reaper’s walking alongside me.

I spot the gang in one of our usual hangouts behind the cafeteria, sheltering from the rain. Talk dries up as I approach. When I stop, they stare at me, I stare at them, and for a few long seconds nothing is said. Then Charlie breaks the silence with, “Loch must have been mad as hell, looking down on his funeral—he hated flowers. And having to wear a suit as well!”

Everybody laughs.

“You’re an ass, Charlie,” Frank giggles.

“Don’t say anything like that in front of Reni,” Shannon warns him.

“Please,” he huffs. “I’m not a total screwball.”

The laughter fades. Frank clears his throat. “Was it really bad?”

“Crapville,” I say tightly.

“Did he say anything before he… you know?” Mary asks.

I nod soberly. “His last words… I had to strain to hear them… he…” I cough and everyone leans in close to listen. “He said… his voice a painful croak… fighting for breath… eyes locked on mine… ‘Mary Hayes has a face like a cow’s dirty rear.’ ”

Mary roars with fury and clubs me with her bag. The others laugh. Then the bell goes and we march into class. Back to normal—or as much as it can be.

A rumour at lunchtime. Misery Mauch has gone on sick leave. A mental breakdown. Some say he was overcome with grief when he heard about Loch, but that’s rubbish—Loch never went to see Misery. Apparently he’s been replaced by a woman. They say she’s quite young, though nobody’s had a good look at her yet—she’s been in Misery’s office most of the day. I don’t see Bill-E during lunch. He’s with the new counsellor. I hope she’s got more of a clue than old Misery. Bill-E needs professional help, not some over-eager do-gooder. I’ll have to check her out, make sure she’s not going to mess him up even further. Grubbs Grady—rooter-out of frauds!

Halfway through geography, a kid from a lower year delivers a note to my teacher. The new counsellor wants to see me. Guess I’ll get to give her the once-over a bit sooner than I thought.

I’m kept waiting outside the office for a few minutes before I’m called in. The counsellor is standing by the side of Misery’s desk when I enter, her back to me. When she turns round, I almost drop through the floor. A slender woman of medium height, in her late thirties or early forties. Smartly dressed, more like a businesswoman than a teacher. Pretty but not gorgeous. Very little make-up. Pure white hair tied back in a pony tail. Extremely pale skin. Pinkish eyes. She’s an albino. But that’s not what knocks the wind out of my sails. It’s the fact that I know her and last saw her a year ago in Slawter, frying the brains of a demon collaborator called Chuda Sool.

“Juni Swan!” I cry.

“That’s Miss Swan to you, young man,” she says with a little smile. Then steps forward and wraps her arms around me, hugging me tight while I stand frozen, stunned, staring down at the top of her pale white orb of a head.

Juni was one of film producer Davida Haym’s assistants. A psychologist, it was her job to make sure the children on set were being well treated. Dervish fell for her and I think she had a thing for him too. I doubt the pair got beyond fond looks and holding hands, but I bet they would have if life hadn’t gone crazy on us all.

When hell hit the fan and the demons ran wild, Juni helped us break a hole through the barrier which Lord Loss had erected around the town. Without that gap, everyone would have perished. She was knocked out during the fighting and only recovered when the barrier had closed again, trapping hundreds of members of the cast and crew inside. Like the rest of us, she was helpless and had to stand by, watching and listening as the demons tortured and killed them.

She lost herself to fury and found that like me she could tap into the magical energy in the air. In a fit of rage she used this power to kill Chuda Sool, a demon collaborator who’d slipped through the gap. She regretted it afterwards. Snuck away in the night, leaving a note for Dervish saying she was confused and filled with sorrow. Said she might contact him one day if she sorted her head out, but not to expect to hear from her again.

Now here she is, filling in for Misery Mauch, looking a bit more strained than when I previously knew her, but otherwise no different.

“Why are you here?” I gasp once I’ve recovered from my initial shock. “How?”

“That’s what Billy asked,” she chuckles. We’re sitting in front of the desk, chairs close together. Juni’s holding my hands. “Aren’t you pleased to see me?”

“Of course. But it’s been so long. I never thought… And how did you wind up here, in our school? You’re not a school counsellor. Are you?”

“Not precisely.” She sighs and lets go of my hands. “It’s not a long story or particularly complicated. My head was in a mess after our experiences on the film set.” She pauses. Her eyes make flickering contact with mine and I get the message—don’t mention the demons or the slaughter. Please. “It took me some months to recover,” she continues, “but not as long as I feared. I realised early on that work would help, that I needed to be busy, that by helping others with their problems, I could help myself too.

“A friend offered me a job involving school work. I became an advisor to a network of counsellors. I supervised them, provided them with guidelines, helped out with their problems, organised meetings and conferences. The school network I initially covered was far from here. Then, a couple of months ago, I was given an opportunity to relocate. I knew your school would be part of my new network. To be honest, that’s largely what drew me to it.”

She smiles weakly. “I’ve been wanting to get in touch with Dervish since the day I ran off. I haven’t because of fear, guilt, shame. This was a way to take a step closer. I meant to ease myself into his life, observe from a distance for a while, work up the courage to face him again. Then William Mauch fell ill at the very time you and Billy most needed a compassionate and understanding ear. As his superior I was expected to step in for him. As your friend I felt compelled to. So…” She shrugs, embarrassed. “Tah-dah!”

“Dervish will be well pleased,” I grin. “He’s missed you.

Her face creases. “Please don’t tell him. Not yet. Not until I’m ready.”

“But—”

“Please,” she stops me, sharp this time. “I’ll see him soon, but not right now. Not until I’ve had time to settle, get my bearings and finish what I came here to do.”

“What do you mean?”

She leans forward, eyes warm but serious, and says, “I want to talk about your friend, Loch Gossel.” Puts a small, slim hand on one of my large, knobbly ones. “I want to discuss his death and how that hurt you.”

We talk for almost an hour about my friendship with Loch, what he was like, how he died, what I felt, how I’ve coped since then. I feel awkward at first, but Juni listens patiently, asks all the right questions, never pushy, always sensitive. She doesn’t pretend we’re not old friends, but at the same time she treats me like a patient, the way a professional should. No falseness, no charade, no smarm. I find myself opening up to her, telling her things I haven’t even told Dervish, about my pain, my nightmares, my loss.

We talk about Bill-E a lot. She spent most of the morning with him and she’s worried. “I can’t tell you all that we discussed,” she says. “I have to respect his privacy. But I got the feeling there was animosity between him and Loch. Would you say that was an accurate assumption?”

“They didn’t get on,” I admit.

“Did they ever fight?”

I smile. “No.”

“Why the smile?”

“Loch was almost as big as me. A wrestler. It wouldn’t have been much of a fight.”

“But they argued?” she presses.

“Loch…” I hesitate, not wanting to say anything bad about my dead friend.

“He teased?” Juni guesses.

“Yeah. He picked on Bill-E. Sometimes he was cruel. I didn’t like that, but I couldn’t do anything about it. It was Bill-E’s problem, not mine.”

“Was Loch teasing Billy on the day of his death?” Juni asks. She’s not afraid to talk about death openly. Doesn’t hide behind softer terms like ‘incident’ or ‘mishap’. I like that.

I think back. “A little bit, yeah. But we were tired from di—I mean, from climbing in the quarry. We were all a bit snappish.”

“They didn’t fight?”

“No.”

“You didn’t argue with Loch or try to stop him from teasing Billy?”

“Not really.”

“You’re sure?”

I shrug. “I don’t remember everything that was said. The hour or two before he fell is kind of blank. I’m not blocking it out. I just… it’s like, when I look back, I’m looking through a mist. Do you know what I mean?”

Juni nods. “I know exactly what you mean. Part of my job will be to help you pierce that mist.”

“Does it matter that much?” I frown.

“Absolutely. It could be a mist of guilt. If you said something ugly to Loch which you now regret, you might have buried it. If you don’t deal with that, it could lie within you for years, then work its way back to the surface, hurting you, making you feel horrible about yourself.”

“Is that what you’re doing with Bill-E?” I ask. “Piercing the mist?”

“Yes. Although it will be harder with him than you. You’re not the still-waters-run-deep type.”

“Huh?”

“You’re honest and straight. What one sees is what one gets. Loch’s death hurt but I don’t think it struck you to the core like Billy. You’re made of tougher stuff, Grubbs Grady. Tougher than Billy and tougher than me. I doubt we’ll have any serious problems. You’re too plain to be complex.”

“You might be wrong,” I mutter, annoyed at being described that way. “Maybe I just do a good job of covering up my pain and confusion.”

“Perhaps,” Juni says. “But don’t worry, I make no rash assumptions. If you are suffering deep inside, I’ll find out and help. You have my word on that.”

We talk a while longer about Loch’s teasing and what I thought of it. Then a bit more about the day he died, how long I held him, my efforts to keep him alive, my feelings when I realised he was dead. I cry at that point. Juni makes no moves to comfort me, just sits, watching, waiting. When I recover, she hands me a tissue to wipe my cheeks dry, then moves on.

At the end of the session she stands and shakes my hand. When I try to pull away, she grips tight, pink eyes seeking mine and holding them. “Billy promised not to tell Dervish about me. If you can’t make that promise or feel strange about it, please say so. I want to be the one to tell him I’m here. I’d rather do it later, when I’m ready, but if you feel like I’m putting you in an awkward situation, I’ll do it now.”

“No,” I smile. “I’ll keep it quiet. He doesn’t take much of an interest in school life. If he asks, I’ll tell him some nutty dame replaced Misery Mauch. I bet he won’t even ask for your name.”

“Thank you.” She releases me. “We’ll talk again tomorrow if you don’t mind.”

“I’d like that.”

She smiles broadly, then ushers me out, leaving me to wander back to class, head buzzing, lips lifting at the edges, feeling for the first time since Loch’s death that there might be a slight silver tinge to what previously seemed to be a bleak, black beast of a future.

HOME VISIT

Bill-E improves over the next few days. He starts talking again, loses that faraway look in his eyes, stops moping around like a zombie. He sings Juni’s praises whenever we meet. Tells me how closely she listens, how she understands him perfectly and says the right things at precisely the right moments.

“I never saw her in action in Slawter,” he says as we trundle out of school, Thursday afternoon. “I didn’t realise how cool she was. I thought it would be weeks, maybe months, before I could smile again. But look at me!” He grins widely. “She’s a miracle worker.”

I smile, slightly strained, ridiculously jealous. I’ve seen Juni every day but our sessions have been brief. She’s spending far more time with Bill-E than me, and when we meet, she talks more about Bill-E’s feelings than my own.

“I feel like I can say anything to her,” Bill-E gushes. “She’s like…” He stops. We’re about to turn a corner. There’s a tramp sitting on the pavement, his back against the wall, head low, face hidden by a bushy beard and straggly hair. Bill-E reaches into his right pocket, then his left. Finds some coins and holds them out. The tramp doesn’t respond immediately, then reaches out without looking up. Bill-E drops the coins into the tramp’s hand and smiles. The tramp doesn’t smile back. Bill-E shrugs and moves on.

“Where was I?” he asks.

“Discussing the miracle worker,” I grunt.

“Oh yes!” And he’s off again, Juni this, Miss Swan that. I want to snap at him to shut up, he’s driving me mad with his fanboy drivel. But that would be cruel and childish of me. And I’d only be saying it because I envy the hours and confidences they share.

Friday. I try getting Juni to take more of an interest in me. I tell her about my parents and Gret, what my emotions were when they were murdered and how I felt after the widescale killing in Slawter. I run her through a few of my grislier nightmares. I expect her to jump at this fresh information and pump me for all the juicy details. But I expect wrong.

“That’s ancient history,” she says. “I don’t think it’s relevant now.”

“But I thought it was all linked,” I splutter. “The past… the present… that what I felt then influences what I feel now.”

“Of course,” she says. “But I believe you’ve dealt with the past adequately. Your nightmares are natural, a healthy way of releasing tension and confronting your fears. I see no reason to reopen old wounds. Don’t you agree?” She waits, one eyebrow raised.

I shift awkwardly in my seat, blushing.

“It’s not a contest, Grubbs,” Juni says quietly. I stare at her uncertainly. “My time isn’t something you need to fight with Bill-E for. My relationship with Bill-E in school is the same as with you—purely professional. I spend more time with him because he needs me more. There are others who need me too. I’ve met with several students over the last week, including Loch’s sister, Reni, at her home.”

“You’ve met Reni?” I ask, startled.

Juni nods. “Like I told you on Monday, I’m not an ordinary school counsellor. My work takes me outside the classroom. Reni is suffering dreadfully. But she’s coping. She’ll be back at school next week. And when she comes, I’ll be spending time with her here. Which means I’ll have even less time for you. That can’t be an issue.”

“Of course it isn’t. I never… I didn’t…”

“It’s all right,” she smiles. “Jealousy is normal, even in a boy your age.”

“I’m not jealous,” I huff.

“Maybe not. But if you are, it’s OK. We can’t help irrational feelings. The important thing is to recognise such feelings and not allow them to fester. I don’t want a rift to develop between you and Billy.”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“Grubbs,” she interrupts, “I’m being blunt because I respect you. This is how I’d address an adult. If you want, I can treat you like a child and tiptoe around these issues. But if—”

“OK,” I cut in, angry but cool. “It’s no big deal. I understand. I can keep a handle on my…” I scowl, then spit it out. “My jealousy.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Juni smiles, patting my right hand. “Now we have that out of the way, let’s talk some more about Billy and what you, as his best friend, can do to help him manage his pain.”

Marching home, thinking about what Juni said. She saw through me as if I was made of glass and knew exactly how to deal with me. She’s in a different league to Misery Mauch. Every school should have a counsellor like Juni Swan, someone who can really connect with—

A man steps out in front of me and I almost crash into him. I have to take a quick step back. It’s a tramp. He’s standing in the middle of the narrow path that leads from Carcery Vale to my home. He’s staring at me with small, dark eyes. Very hairy. Smells bad. Dressed in shabby clothes which are thirty or forty years out of date. Wears a small posy of flowers in one of his upper button holes—they look ridiculously out of place.

“Excuse me,” I mutter, trying to nudge my way around him. He doesn’t react. I take a more cautious look—we’re alone, nobody in sight, flanked by trees. My warning senses kick in. I prepare to run or fight if needs dictate. But the tramp makes no threatening moves. Just stares at me, saying nothing, hands by his sides, eyes steady.

“Could you…?” I make a sign for him to shift slightly. But still he doesn’t budge. Sighing, I step off to the side, trampling down a patch of nettles. I wave sarcastically at the clear path. The tramp nods at me slowly, then walks past.

Shaking my head, I get on the path again and head for home. I’ve taken no more than five or six steps when I remember the tramp from yesterday, the one Bill-E gave money to. I turn to give this tramp the once-over, wondering if it’s the same guy. But the path is empty. No sign of him. He must have slipped back into the forest. It’s like he disappeared.

Homework. Struggling with a complicated chemistry formula when somebody knocks at the front doors. I gratefully close my textbook and go see who’s there, glad of the excuse for a break.

It’s Juni.

“Hello, Grubbs,” she says nervously. “Is your uncle in?”

“Yeah. But… um… I thought you didn’t want to see him yet.”

“I didn’t.” She laughs thinly. “Then, on my way to my hotel, I found myself taking a left instead of a right and I ended up here.” She shrugs. “I guess the part of me that makes the big decisions thinks it’s time.”

“Do you want me to call him or would you rather go find him yourself?”

“Call him, please. It would be more polite.”

“Dervish!” I bellow, then gesture for Juni to enter. “May I take your coat?” I ask as she steps inside.

“Thank you.” She takes it off and passes it to me. Her fingers tremble as we touch. I think about taking hold of her hand and giving it a friendly squeeze, but before I can Dervish comes trotting down the stairs from his study.

“There’s no need to roar,” Dervish grumbles. “I’m not deaf. I can…”

He sees Juni. Comes to a complete halt, left foot in mid-air. His jaw slowly, comically drops.

“Hello, Dervish,” Juni says, waving awkwardly. “I’m back.”

And they blink at each other like a pair of startled owls.

Two hours later. Dervish and Juni have spent the time shut inside the TV room. I’ve been in the kitchen, where I’m still stuck on the same chemistry problem. Not that I’ve been trying hard. Most of my thoughts have been devoted to Dervish and Juni, and the things they might be discussing.

Part of me wants to creep to the door and eavesdrop, but that would be sneaky and unfair. I’d hate if somebody did that to me, so I’m not going to do it to them.

About half an hour after that, when Juni’s gone to the toilet, Dervish pops into the kitchen. He sticks the kettle on, prepares two mugs, grabs some biscuits, then sits beside me. He’s grinning softly. “You should have told me,” he says but there’s no anger in his tone.

“She asked me not to,” I reply.

“I know, but…” He chuckles. “No. It doesn’t matter. Maybe it was better this way. The shock was nice. I’m just glad I didn’t fall down the stairs and break my neck.” He focuses on me. “Juni told me about the counselling—without revealing any of the confidential details. Said you’re doing great, all things considered. She thinks you’re a marvel. Said if everyone had your powers of recovery, she’d be out of a job.”

I shrug like it’s no big thing, but the compliment tickles me.

“Billy’s not so lucky.” He sighs. “I knew Loch’s death hit him hard but I didn’t realise things were this bad. I thought, after Slawter, he’d be prepared for death. He seemed to handle that OK. But Juni says he bottled up his feelings, that his reaction now reflects a delayed response to what happened then.”

“She’s the expert, I guess.”

Dervish nods slowly, then says, “Billy told her I was his father.”

“Oh?” Bill-E doesn’t know that his mother had an affair with my father, that I’m his half-brother, that Dervish is his uncle. He thinks Dervish is his dad.

“She normally wouldn’t share information like that,” Dervish goes on, “but this was one time she felt she had to. She needed to know if it was true.”

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth. Well, some of it. I didn’t mention Cal or your relationship to Billy. That’s our secret. I didn’t see the need to reveal that much.”

The kettle boils. Dervish pours water into the two mugs. Glances at me as he’s dunking tea bags. “I thought you might have told Billy about your dad.”

“No,” I say softly.

“You know that you can if you want? It’s your call, not mine.”

“I know. I want to tell him and I will. But I’ve never found the right moment. It’s the sort of news that will turn his world upside down. I’ve been waiting for a quiet, uneventful period, but we haven’t had any over the last few years.”

Dervish picks up the mugs and pauses. “I wouldn’t wait too long. You know better than most that time is precious. Waiting’s a dangerous game. Sometimes you miss the boat and end up regretting it.”

I nod thoughtfully. “I’ll give it a few months, let Bill-E get over Loch. When I think he’s ready, I’ll sit him down and spit it all out.”

“If you want any help…”

“I’ll ask. Thanks.”

We smile at each other. Then Dervish heads back to the TV room to continue playing catch-up with Juni.

Eleven. Juni’s still here. At her invitation I’ve joined her and Dervish in the TV room. They’re sitting together on the couch, not touching but very close. They’re chatting away as if they hadn’t seen each other for decades. They hardly ever toss a question or comment my way. I feel like a third wheel but I don’t mind. It’s fun watching them. I’ve never seen Dervish so gushy. Didn’t think the bald old coot had any romance in him.

They talk about all sorts of things—school, Carcery Vale, motorbikes, bands, films, TV. For a man who’s never shown any interest in music, movies or sitcoms, Dervish has become awfully knowledgeable all of a sudden.

“You were at that gig too?” Juni squeals—yes, squeals!—when talk turns to a punk band they both liked. “I don’t believe it. What a small world. I was in the pit—what about you?”

“Backstage,” Dervish says modestly. “I knew one of the roadies. He got me a pass. Actually I used to hang out with the lead singer when we were younger.”

Dervish hanging out with punk frontmen? Moshing backstage at concerts? It’s official—I’ve stepped through into an alternate reality.

“I’m off to bed,” I mutter, rising and faking a yawn. I normally don’t hit the sack before midnight but this is getting too surreal.

“Bed?” Juni blinks and checks her watch. “Goodness. How did it get so late? I have to go. I need to get up early in the morning.”

She stands. Dervish is on his feet a split second later. “Not yet,” he gasps. “It’s only eleven. That’s not late.”

“It is for me,” she laughs.

“But I haven’t shown you round the house yet.” He throws it out in desperation, as if she must see the house now or self-combust. “You said you wanted to see the upper floors, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Juni says hesitantly, looking at her watch again. “Perhaps another time?”

“It won’t take long,” Dervish smiles. “A quick tour. You can come back for a better look later.”

“Perhaps you won’t invite me back again,” Juni murmurs, lowering her lashes demurely. Yipes! What a line! You can’t get much cornier than that.

“You can visit any time you like,” Dervish simpers. I stand corrected on the corniness front.

“Well… OK,” Juni decides. “But it will have to be quick—fifteen or twenty minutes max. Agreed?”

“You can have it in writing if you wish,” Dervish smirks.

“No,” Juni says and touches his hand. “I trust you.”

Talk about love-struck puppies! This is excruciating. Any more slushiness and I might vomit.

I accompany Dervish and Juni around the mansion, hanging back a few paces, grimacing like an old crone every time one of them makes some lovey-dovey coo or comment.

Dervish is super-animated, whisking her through the maze of corridors and rooms, treating her to brief sound bites about the house’s history. She loves the cellar—she’s a big wine connoisseur too.

“You’ll have to come and uncork a few bottles with me,” Dervish insists.

“Wine is made for sharing,” Juni agrees.

“I was just about to say that,” Dervish says excitedly. “I can’t believe how much we have in common.”

“I know,” Juni smiles. “The same bands, movies, books, wine… It’s freaky.”

She sounds a lot younger when she says things like that. I’ve noticed that in adults before. People learn a new way of speaking as they grow up, but words and phrases from their childhood pop out sometimes, taking them back twenty or thirty years in the space of a couple of syllables.

Up the stairs the tour continues, although now they’re talking more about bands and books, less about the house. I think of injecting some cutting remark—“Maybe you’re really twins who were separated at birth”—but why spoil their fun? Besides, the more I let them babble, the more ammo I’ll have to tease Dervish with later.

We come to Dervish’s study. The lights and PC are still on from when he was in there earlier. The door’s ajar. Juni’s slightly ahead of Dervish and starts to go in ahead of him. Dervish doesn’t mind. He’s smiling serenely. But then he remembers the spells. (I think of them before he does but wickedly choose not to say anything, thinking how much fun it will be if she turns into an elk or a zebra.)

“Juni, no!” he barks. She stops short, surprised. He smiles shakily. “I mean, it’s a mess in there. Please let me go in first and…”

He tries to press past her but she puts up a hand and stops him. “Wait.” She frowns at the door, then takes another step towards it.

“Juni, I really don’t think…”

“It’s OK.” She looks back at him, calm and composed. “Just give me a minute. I want to try something.”

She faces the door again and closes her eyes. Raises her right hand and holds her palm up to the open doorway. I nudge up beside Dervish, wondering what she’s doing. He’s staring at her uncertainly.

Juni takes a breath. Holds it. Murmurs something softly. The light in the room dims and her fingers glow. Then the lights come back up strong again and the glow in her fingers fades.

She steps forward into the study and nothing happens.

Dervish stands outside, gawping at her as she does a twirl and smiles at him. “You… the magic… the spells… you lifted them!”

Juni snaps her fingers. A book shoots off a shelf and into her hand. “Tah-dah!” she sings, like when I first met her at school. Then she looks at Dervish seriously. “I’ve had a busier year than I led you to believe,” she says.

Then Dervish is through the door, by her side, babbling with excitement, asking about her magical abilities, what she can do, who taught her. A dozen questions a second, Juni laughing and shaking her head, struggling to answer them all.

I linger outside, staring with disbelief at my uncle and Juni Swan, bewildered and, for some reason I can’t put my finger on, oddly ill at ease.

A FAMILIAR FACE

It’s official—Dervish Grady luvs Juni Swan!

It’s only been a week since she turned up at the mansion, but she’s seen more of my uncle in that time than I’ve seen of him in three months. She spent most of last weekend at our place, four of the nights since, and they’re getting together this weekend too.

They talk about magic a lot. Juni is able to channel magical energy when it’s in the air around her. She tapped into her power in Slawter. She wanted to discuss it with Dervish and learn how to hone her talents, but she wasn’t ready to face him. So she made enquiries, found others who are part of that magical underworld, and studied with them in her spare time while she was putting her professional life back together. She made rapid advances and has blossomed into a powerful mage over the past few months.

Dervish has gone gaga over her. He was attracted to her in Slawter and thought of her a lot since then. But his feelings have gone haywire since she came back and he found out they had so much in common—most importantly, magic. He’s so dazzled by her, it’s unreal. I think if she asked him to get on his bike and ride to the other side of the world, he would.

I’m a bit dazed by it all. From being a vague friend and temporary school counsellor, Juni’s become a central part of my life. I feel like a tornado has struck and nothing will ever be the same again. I was used to just having Dervish about the house. It got to feel natural. Now that’s changed faster than I would have believed possible. I can’t get my head around it.

But I’ll have to, because these two are just warming up. I came down for breakfast this morning and found Dervish and Juni already in the kitchen, kissing passionately, and I swear if he’d had his tongue any further down her throat he’d have been licking her lungs!

Bill-E thinks the Dervish/Juni match is great. We’ve been spending more time together since Loch’s death, hanging out at lunch, having long chats like in the old days. I thought he might be jealous of all the time Juni spends with Dervish but he’s not bothered.

“It’s what Dervish needs,” he contends. “He’s been alone too long.”

“He had me,” I huff.

“Hardly the same thing,” Bill-E laughs. “It’ll be good for him. Maybe he’ll get out more and stop moping about the place.”

“Dervish doesn’t mope.”

“Yes he does,” Bill-E insists. “At least he did until Juni came along.”

Juni knows I’ve been thrown by recent developments. She hasn’t mentioned her relationship with Dervish or how her moving in might affect me. But she’s asked several times, at home and in our sessions, if there’s anything I want to talk about apart from Loch’s death, if anything else is bothering me. Each time I’ve said no and glanced away. She hasn’t pressed. Giving me time. Leaving me alone until I’m ready to discuss it with her willingly.

In the middle of all the confusion, Reni starts back at school.

I don’t know what to say when we first come face to face. Apart from at the funeral, when we didn’t speak, I haven’t seen her since Loch’s death. My first reaction—a huge bolt of guilt. I covered up the truth about the accident, helped move the body, lied to protect Dervish’s secret.

Several seconds of horrible silence. Then, “Hi,” Reni whispers.

“Hi,” I croak.

She leans towards me and rests her face on my chest. “I miss him, Grubbs,” she says, voice cracking.

“Me too,” I moan.

Floods of tears. Both of us.

It’s easier after that. Not the same as before—it never will be—but it’s OK, especially when we’re with the others. Now everyone talks openly about Loch, the accident, how hard it’s been, not shying away from the subject. We have Juni to thank for that. She’s had all of us in her office—or visited us at home—since she came, working doggedly to help us talk about and deal with our grief. Life for us would be a hell of a lot harder without her.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Shannon asks Reni on Friday.

“Nothing much,” Reni says. “Staying in. Studying. I have a lot to catch up on.”

“Scratch that,” Shannon snorts. “You’re coming to the cinema with the rest of us. I won’t take no for an answer. Grubbs, you’re coming too.”

“Yes, boss,” I grin, glad for an excuse to get out of the house—Juni’s not very big, but the place feels crowded when she’s about.

“How will we get there?” Reni asks. There’s a small cinema in the Vale but we hardly ever go to it. Much more fun going to a multiplex in one of the bigger towns nearby.

“Frank’s Dad will take us,” Shannon says. Frank’s father is a taxi driver and owns a people carrier. “Won’t he, Frank?” Shannon flutters her eyelids at him, buttering him up.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Frank mutters.

“Can Bill-E come?” I ask, eager to involve him.

“Sure,” Shannon says after a moment’s hesitation. “The more the merrier.”

The gang’s been kind about Bill-E since the accident. They don’t mind me including him in our lunch-time chats and after-school activities. But I can feel the mood shifting back to the way it used to be. Bill-E’s not one of us, and though he was temporarily accepted due to the exceptional circumstances, the natural order of the school world must soon be resumed. The day’s fast arriving when I’ll have to make a choice—Bill-E or the others.

But that’s a bridge to cross another time. This weekend’s about friends, films and fun. The more serious stuff can wait.

Dervish and Juni spend the night practising magic. It seems that Juni has quite a gift. She’s learnt a lot over the last several months and can run rings around many of my uncle’s spells.

“Have you asked her to join the Disciples?” I enquired earlier this evening, half joking, half serious. “You could head off on demon-bashing weekends together, maybe check out some punk concerts at the same time.”

“I don’t know,” Dervish muttered, not picking up on the joke. “I really don’t want to involve her. That life’s so dangerous. But I can’t stand by and let such power go to waste. We need all the mages we can get. And I think she’ll want to join. That might even be why she came looking for me—personal feelings aside, she’s seen the Demonata in action, and learnt about the Disciples when they came to Slawter to clear up. She knows what the world’s up against, the war that’s being fought. Maybe she wants to help. I’ll have to broach the subject soon but I’m not looking forward to it.”

As wrapped up as he is with Juni, Dervish hasn’t forgotten about me. He still checks on me most nights, monitoring me, quizzing me about what I’m feeling, worried about what might lie ahead. We’re halfway through the lunar month. I’m just a couple of weeks away from the madness again. Dervish isn’t treating it lightly. For all the time he’s spent with Juni, and all the excitement and hope he’s experiencing, he hasn’t neglected his obligations to me. He’s been in contact with everyone he can think of, trying to find out more about my situation, if anyone’s heard of anything like it before. Working hard for my benefit.

He hasn’t mentioned the Lambs, but I’m sure he’s thinking about them, just as I am every night, unable to turn away from the thoughts of what must be done if the beast emerges and I change.

Heading out to the cinema. I stick my head into the study, to let Dervish and Juni know I’m going. They’re sitting together on the floor, facing one another, fingers joined, eyes closed, breathing deeply. Working on a spell. They don’t hear me when I call.

I walk in and scribble a note. As I’m sticking it to the front of Dervish’s PC, my glance slides to where Juni’s sitting. I can see her eyes glowing behind her lids. She looks creepy. I exit quickly and race down the stairs, not sure what it was that freaked me so much, only knowing that I’m glad to be putting some space between us.

Eating in a 1950s style hamburger restaurant before the movie. Everyone excited and buzzing, except me. I keep thinking about Juni’s eyes, trying to pinpoint what it was about them that unnerved me.

Bill-E’s excited to be with us, though he finds it hard to join in all the talk. He’ll start to say something, then stop and think about the best way to phrase it. By the time he has the words straight inside his head, the topic’s changed. If he’d just be himself he’d be fine. But he thinks he has to be extra witty and cool around us, and by worrying and hesitating, he comes across as dumb and stumbling. I think about saying something to him, but then I fall to thinking about Juni’s eyes again.

Reni sits beside me for the film. After a while she takes my hand. I half-turn to smile at her and she smiles back. I thought Loch’s death might drive a wedge between us, but it hasn’t. She still wants to be my girlfriend. Maybe it’s even more important to her now than it was before—the more she focuses on me, the less she’ll brood about Loch.

I start to lean over, mouth dry, spinal cord tingling.

But then I think of Juni’s eyes again and it finally clicks. The glow reminded me of the fiery, eyeless sockets of one of Lord Loss’s familiars—the charmless hell-baby known as Artery.

I draw away from Reni. She stares at me, surprised and slightly hurt. I force a bitter smile. “Later,” I whisper. “I’m nervous, you know?” Letting her think I’ve gone shy. Unable to tell her that thoughts of demons have set my teeth trembling, that I’m afraid I might accidentally bite her tongue if we kiss.

Reni smiles back and gives my hand a squeeze. “I know,” she says, finding it sweet. She leans her head on my shoulder and sighs. “When you’re ready, give me a shout. I can wait.”

I lay my head on hers and close my eyes, drowning out the sounds of the film, trying to listen to her heartbeat, feeling her hair soft against my cheek—but not able to stop thinking about Juni’s eyes and demons.

As we come out of the cinema I spot a tramp sitting by the side of one of the mall’s fountains. We’re a long way off but he looks like the same one I ran into on the path home last week. As the others file to the restaurant again, for milkshakes, I halt and fix my gaze on the tramp. I’m certain it’s him—same shaggy beard, long hair, old clothes, posy of flowers in a buttonhole. And maybe it’s my imagination, but he seems to be looking back at me, returning my stare.

I start towards him, not entirely sure why, but bothered by his being here, wanting to make sure it’s the same man. Then Reni notices I’m not with the group. She calls my name. When I don’t respond, she calls again, sharply.

“Sorry,” I mutter, taking my eyes off the tramp. “Thought I saw someone I knew.”

“Who?” Reni asks.

“Nobody.” I smile when she frowns at me. “A teacher. But it wasn’t. Come on, let’s go tuck into our shakes.”

“You’re in a strange mood tonight,” Reni comments, towing me along to catch up with the others.

Just before we turn the corner, I look back at the fountain. But nobody’s there now. The tramp has gone.

Home. Troubled. Thinking about the tramp. Probably nothing, just coincidence that I’ve seen him a couple of times. But it might be something more. We’re protected here from demons, Dervish has said it dozens of times. But some demons have human assistants. What if the tramp is working for Lord Loss, waiting for the chance to knock me out and cart me away to a spot where the demon master can set his evil hands on me?

I decide to tell Dervish. I might wind up looking like a frightened fool, jumping at shadows, but it’s best not to take chances with stuff like this. I go searching for Dervish in his study, then his bedroom, but I only find Juni, sitting on the edge of Dervish’s bed, staring out the window, pensive.

“Hi,” I say. “Is Dervish about?”

“He’s gone for Chinese.”

“Oh.” The local Chinese takeaway does home deliveries but Dervish doesn’t trust them to send the correct food. He always fetches it himself. “No worries. I’ll catch him when he’s back.” I start to leave.

“Grubbs,” Juni stops me. She pats the space on the bed next to her. There’s a long silence as I settle beside her. She continues to stare out the window. She’s so slender, I feel even bigger than normal sitting next to her.

“I saw you earlier, in the study,” Juni says.

“How?” I frown. “Your eyes were closed.”

“I could see through the lids—part of the spell. You looked scared. You ran away as if I frightened you.” I fidget uncomfortably. “Are you afraid that Dervish is falling in love with me? That I’m going to steal his love for you?”

“No,” I laugh. “That wasn’t it at all.”

“Then why did you look so spooked?”

“Your eyes.” I clear my throat. “They were like a demon’s that I fought.”

Juni tenses when I mention the D word. Then relaxes. “We haven’t talked much about that, have we?” she notes softly.

“No.”

“I’m still haunted by what happened,” she whispers. “I’m dealing with it, but it’s hard. Knowing there are demons in the world… or tearing at the edges of it… wanting to grab us and destroy…”

“I know exactly how you feel. I hate them too. They terrify me.” I blush at the confession. “That’s why I ran. I didn’t realise it till later, but your eyes reminded me of a demon’s. I panicked. It was silly, but…” I shrug.

“You think I have a demon’s eyes?” Juni asks, bemused.

“No,” I chuckle. “It was just magic. Dervish told me magic comes from demons, that the energy we tap into has seeped through from the Demonata’s universe. Every time we cast a spell, we use a bit of demonic energy. I guess it makes us look like them sometimes. This was just the first time I noticed it.”

Juni nods, understanding. Then, out of nowhere, she says, “Dervish is going to ask me to move in.”

“Oh?” I blink.

“I don’t know if I should.” She looks worried. “This has taken me by complete surprise. Maybe I need to slow things down. Stay away for a while. Give us all some space and time.”

I stare at her clumsily. I can’t think of anything to say. I know nothing about stuff like this. After a few seconds, Juni laughs and lays a hand on my knee. “Sorry. I don’t expect you to decide for me. I just needed to say it out loud.”

“I… I think… I mean… Dervish likes you. Really likes you. I… I think you should say yes.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” she asks softly.

“No.”

“You’re sure?” Her fingers tighten on my knee. “Since I got involved with Dervish, I’ve noticed a change in your response to me. I wasn’t sure you approved of our relationship. I thought you didn’t like me, that you didn’t want me to—”

“No,” I interrupt. “That’s crazy. I… No.” Smiling now. “It’s been strange, having you here, but I’m not against it. Honest. I’d like it if you moved in.”

Juni smiles blazingly. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear that.” She leans over and kisses my cheek. My blush darkens and spreads. She tweaks my nose, then gets up. “Come on,” she says, heading for the door. “Dervish will be back soon. We ordered extra in case you wanted any. You can help me prepare some plates.”

Following her down the stairs, grinning to myself, delighted to find that I truly don’t mind if she comes to live with us. Figuring crowded might not be such a bad thing for this hollow old house.

Late Sunday. Juni was right. Dervish asked her last night if she’d come live with us. She agreed, but said it would have to be for a trial period. They’ll see how they get on and if things don’t work, she’ll move out again.

She made the big switch today. Didn’t have much to bring. She’s moved around a lot this year, living out of a suitcase. She had a house once, but sold it when she accepted the movie job with Davida Haym. She’s been living in hotels since then. Says she has bits and bobs in storage, which she can fetch later, but there’s no urgency.

Dervish is like a child at Christmas. When Juni left to check out of her hotel this morning, he spent the time polishing and cleaning, making sure everything would be shiny and perfect when she returned. He’s been dancing around the house like a pantomime fairy, whistling, sometimes singing out loud.

Give me strength!

They’re in bed now. It’s nearly two in the morning. They’ve probably been asleep for hours, but I can’t nod off. Worrying about lycanthropy. Magic. Juni moving in and how that’s going to change things. Loch. Reni. The tramp. (I forgot to tell Dervish about him.)

I get up and dress. Pad downstairs and let myself out. Start walking, then jogging. Soon I’m running, breathing hard, breath turning to mist on the cool night air. I develop a stitch. Ignoring it, I run until it feels as if my stomach is on fire. Finally I stop and bend over, panting like a thirsty dog. When I can breathe normally I set off again, but only jogging this time, pacing myself.

It’s hard to jog at night. The forest is dark around me. Have to be careful where I put my feet. But I’m not afraid. The sounds and smells of the night don’t scare me. I’m safe here, on home turf.

I jog without direction, simply enjoying the exercise. Letting my feet guide me. Not keeping track of my route, confident I can find my way back.

Then I round a patch of briars and spot scatterings of rocks and earth—I’m at the entrance to the cave. I stop and squint suspiciously. Dervish hasn’t had time to fill in the hole. He stuck a crate down it and covered it with soil and small stones so nobody would fall down into the cave, but that’s as far as he got.

I approach the hole cautiously, wondering if I’ve been drawn here by some external force or if it’s just coincidence. I listen closely for whispers but I can’t hear anything. Can’t sense anything either—no magical warmth within, or feeling that I’m being summoned.

I stop at the edge of the hole and stare down into darkness, thinking about Loch. It seems so long ago that we were messing about here, dreaming of Lord Sheftree’s buried treasure. Everything was simple then. You don’t recognise the good times in life until it all goes bad and you look back and see how lucky you were, how easy you had things.

I wonder where Loch is now, if there’s an afterlife, what it’s like if there is. Is he sitting on a cloud, plucking at the strings of a harp? Wrestling with angels? Being waited upon by beautiful women? Does he know the answers to all the questions in the universe? Has he come back as somebody else or as an animal? Or is there nothing when you die? I know people have souls, but do they vanish into oblivion when the body shuts down? Is life the start and finish of all that we are? Is Loch—

“You’re out late.”

A voice behind me. I whirl and spot the tramp, half-hidden by shadows, watching me with a little smile that’s hard to distinguish behind the tangled bush of his beard.

“Who are you?” I shout. “Why are you following me?

The tramp steps forward and I get my first good look at him. Dark skin, but I think the colour’s more to do with dirt than flesh pigment. Black hair streaked with patches of grey and white. Small build. Cracked fingernails, but not caked with dirt as you’d expect—clean as a surgeon’s. Small eyes, blue or grey.

“You should be asleep,” the tramp says. A deep voice. Hard to place the accent.

“Who are you?” I growl again, looking for something to defend myself with.

The tramp walks past me to the edge of the hole. Stares down, the same way I was staring moments before. “A grave fit for a king,” he murmurs, then looks at me and smiles crookedly. “Have anyone in mind for it?”

“Who are you?” I ask for the third time but my voice is trembling now. This is no ordinary tramp. There’s something powerful and dangerous about him.

The tramp doesn’t answer my question. Instead he looks up at the sky—at the moon. “Won’t be long now,” he says casually, then skirts the hole and walks off, not looking back, disappearing into the cover of the forest within seconds.

I stay where I am for a minute, shivering. Then bolt for home, to wake Dervish—the hell with his beauty sleep—and tell him about the mysterious, ominous stranger.

Almost back at the mansion, ready to scream myself hoarse about the tramp, when I slow, frown and pause.

Maybe Dervish already knows.

The tramp knew who I was. I’m pretty sure he knew about the cave too and what happened there. And he definitely knew about the moon and what it’s doing to me—that was clear by his mocking tone. If he was a servant of Lord Loss, that would have been the perfect place to ambush me. I was alone. I didn’t know he was there until he spoke. He could have clubbed me over the head or injected me with a sleeping drug. But he didn’t. So I doubt he’s in league with the demon master. If that’s the case, he could only have known all those things if he’d been told. And Dervish is the only one who could have told him.

Flashback. Dervish’s study… him on the phone… checking afterwards… finding the black folder with the numbers and names.

Figuring—the tramp must be one of the Lambs. A scout, sent to keep an eye on me. Dervish promised to summon a magician to help, but instead he called in the Lambs, to be safe, in case I turn and he can’t handle me alone. The tramp has been shadowing me ever since, ready to move quickly if needs dictate.

I enter the house and creep up the stairs. I don’t wake Dervish or ask him about the tramp. Just undress and crawl into bed. Cold. Stiff. Terrified. Alone.

A SECRET SHARED

Everything’s a blur. School, chatting with my friends, playing happy families with Dervish and Juni. Life goes on as normal around me, and I take part, the way I always have. But I’m not fully there. Always thinking about the moon, the cave, the tramp, Dervish (possibly) scheming behind my back. Waiting for the change to hit. Going to bed tense every night, lying in the dark, wondering if this is when I’ll turn. Stiffening whenever one of my fingers twitches or my stomach growls. Terror when my lips lift back over my teeth in a wolf-life snarl—then relief when I realise I’m only yawning.

I discuss some of it with Dervish but I’m reluctant to share everything. The more I think about it, the more positive I am—he called in the Lambs. I resent him for that. There’s no real reason to. It’s not like he’s washing his hands of me. I’m sure he’ll be extra careful, that he won’t let them act unless I’m beyond saving. But why summon them so soon? He didn’t with Bill-E. He kept them in the dark. Dealt with it himself while there was still hope. I was sure he’d act the same way with me.

Of course, I’m different. We can’t work the Lord Loss angle anymore. Dervish didn’t call the Lambs in last time because he planned to fight for Bill-E’s humanity. If he won, Lord Loss would have cured Bill-E. If he lost, they’d have both been slaughtered by the demon master. Either way, no need for the Lambs. I’m not that lucky. There’s no get-out clause in my case.

Also there’s the magic. Dervish can deal with a werewolf, but perhaps not one with magical powers. Maybe he’s scared, isn’t sure what I’ll be capable of when I turn, doesn’t feel he can handle me solo, wants the security of back-up. Perfectly logical if he does. I can’t blame him for that.

But even so, I feel betrayed and the feeling won’t go away. I should talk with him, tell him I know he called in the Lambs, discuss my disappointment, give him the chance to explain.

But I don’t. Afraid to bring the subject out into the open, like when I first became aware of the magic inside me and kept it secret. Ludicrously hoping that I’m wrong about the tramp, that things aren’t at such an advanced stage, that I can still be saved. Figuring if I don’t talk about it, maybe it will go away. Grubbs Grady—human ostrich!

A week to go.

Today, at lunch, when we’re alone, Reni asks if anything is wrong. I haven’t been paying her the kind of attention she expects. She wants to know if I’ve lost interest, if I’m seeing or thinking about somebody else. She puts it lightly, tries to make a joke of it, but I can see the suspicion and hurt in her eyes.

I lie. Say things are the same as always. Make excuses. Tell her there’s a lot of confusion in my life—Loch dying (not that I put it so bluntly), Juni moving in with Dervish. I even mention exams and the future, pretending I’m worried about the direction I’m taking.

She buys it. Thinks I’m going through a mid-teen crisis, that it’s nothing to do with her. Willing to wait for my mood to improve. Confident I’ll be back looking to put the moves on her once I sort through my problems. Never guessing that they might be the ripping-her-throat-open-with-my-teeth type of moves—if I turn into a werewolf next weekend.

Walking home slowly, watching for the tramp. I’ve caught glimpses of him since that night at the cave, hanging around school, on the streets of Carcery Vale, once in the trees across from my bedroom window. But he’s kept at a safe distance. No follow-up contact. Slips away if I try to approach.

I’m surprised he even spoke to me that once. Maybe it was an accident—late at night, standing guard in the forest, at the scene of a tragedy. Perhaps the mood affected him and he spoke without meaning to. I’m sure even the executioners of the Lambs are prone to human slip-ups every now and then.

Thinking about the tramp and the Lambs as I let myself in. Wondering how they kill the werewolves. I imagine it’s clinical and undramatic, probably a powerful poison, injected humanely. But I can’t help playing out shock-horror scenes—hordes of Lambs dressed as tramps surrounding me, attacking me with machetes and clubs, a slow, humiliating, painful death.

“Grubbs,” Dervish calls as I’m heading up the stairs, disrupting my train of morbid thoughts. “Could you come see me when you’re ready?”

“Sure.” Up to my room. Toss my bag into a corner. Out of my uniform swiftly, into jeans and a baggy sweater seconds later. Jog back down in my socks to find Dervish and Juni sitting on one of the couches in the TV room, looking edgy and stern.

I take a seat, wary. I look at them and they stare at me. A long, ragged silence. Then Dervish speaks quickly. “I’ve told Juni about you. About us. The family curse. What’s been happening with you recently.”

I blink slowly and glance at Juni. Can’t tell what she’s thinking. Wearing her most enigmatic counsellor’s face.

“I thought long and hard about this,” Dervish says, leaning forward. “It would have been easy to ask Juni to go away next weekend and keep her out of the loop. Easy and safe.” He looks at her. She smiles briefly and lays a hand on his. “But we need her help. I don’t know why, but you’ve stopped talking to me. This last week or two, you’ve been withdrawn, moody, sullen. Maybe it’s just fear. But I think there’s more to it. You’ve cut me out as if you have issues with me and that’s not good. I need to know what you’re thinking and feeling. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on inside your head.”

“You think Juni can open me up,” I say stiffly. “Stick me on a couch, get into my brain, worm out the truth.”

“Maybe,” Dervish mutters.

“We only have your best interests at heart,” Juni says. “This is a troubled time for you. Dervish wants to help. I do too. If you have problems with your uncle—or with me—you should lay them out in the open. Or, if it’s something you don’t want to discuss with Dervish, perhaps you can tell me in private.”

“Patient to counsellor?” I sneer.

“If you like,” she says calmly. “I’d rather talk informally as a friend, but if you prefer we can do it professionally, with the guarantee of confidentiality.”

“I don’t mind,” Dervish says. “I just want to help you survive the next week. If I’ve upset you and you don’t want to tell me about it, fine. But you don’t have to cut Juni out. Surely you can talk with her if not with me.”

“What if there’s no problem?” I mumble. “What if I’m just scared to death that I’m going to turn into a werewolf and don’t feel like talking about it?”

“That would be entirely understandable,” Juni says. “But unless you’re sure that’s the case, you should discuss it with someone. Talking about your fears can be a highly positive experience. You know that, Grubbs. You’re not an innocent child. Going through this alone is a bad call.”

“Especially as you might not even be going through it,” Dervish says. I look at him with a raised eyebrow. “You mightn’t be turning. Juni thinks…” He stops and looks at her.

“Just because people in your family are victims of a disease which alters their bodies—I refuse to refer to them as werewolves, since that’s a hysterical term—it doesn’t mean you are going to change,” Juni says. “From what you’ve described, it sounds as if you’re in trouble, but it’s by no means certain. This might be a mental problem, not a physical one.”

“You think I’m imagining things?” I growl.

“Perhaps,” Juni says. “The mind can play tricks on the most ordinary people—and you’re far from ordinary! To come through what you have… to see so much of the world—and other worlds—at such a young age… to lose your loved ones in a grisly fashion, then fight for your brother’s life… what happened to us in Slawter… Your resilience amazes me. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met and I’m not saying that to stroke your ego. You’re incredible, Grubbs.”

I smile crookedly, blushing, tears coming to my eyes. Part of me wants to leap up and hug her. Another part wants me to wave her compliment away and act cool. In the end I just carry on smiling, blushing and crying lightly.

“But even the strongest of us has a breaking point,” Juni says. “Maybe Loch was yours. Or perhaps there’s something else, a small upset you’re not even aware of. It’s possible you’re turning—but it’s also possible you’re not. I want to try and find out. In a week we’ll know for definite. But we can cover a lot of ground in a week. It could make a real difference if you’re wrong about the change.”

“And if I’m right?” I ask tightly.

Juni beams. “We’ll just have to fire a silver bullet through the middle of your forehead.”

I laugh loudly. Dervish does too.

“My sense of humour’s rubbing off on her,” Dervish chuckles proudly.

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“Boys, boys,” Juni tuts. “Let’s not get sidetracked. Grubbs, will you accept my offer of help? Talk with me privately if you have something you don’t want to say to both of us? Accept me as a counsellor if not a friend?”

I almost blurt it out and tell them I know about the Lambs, which is why I’ve been so surly. But that would mean a confrontation with Dervish, admitting to his face that I feel he betrayed me. I can’t do that, not after all the good things he’s done for me. If I’m wrong, it would hurt him to hear me speak that way.

So I take Juni up on her offer, lower my head to hide my thoughts, and mutter, “Yeah, talking with you sounds good.”

“Thank you,” Juni says.

“Nice one,” Dervish adds.

And we pretend for a while that everything’s fine and all our problems have been solved.

Long talks with Juni at school in the day and at home in the evenings. Not just about Loch. We cover all kinds of ground—my past, parents, Gret, Lord Loss, the institute, life with Dervish, Bill-E changing into a werewolf, Slawter. All the things we didn’t discuss before, when she was only interested in helping me deal with Loch’s death.

We spend a lot of time on magic, the buzz of energy I sometimes feel in my gut, what I’ve done with it, my mind-set when the magic was flowing through me. With Dervish’s permission, Juni runs some tests, trying to tap into my magical core, to find out what’s going on inside, what I might be capable of doing. But she comes up blank. If the magic’s still there, it’s buried too deep for her to find.

She also spends a lot of time researching the Demonata, pumping Dervish for information, finding out all she can about them. She’s especially hot on Lord Loss—if he’s able to cure our lycanthropic curse, she doesn’t see why we shouldn’t be able to do it too.

“We’re not powerful enough,” Dervish tells her.

“Maybe it’s just a matter of knowing the right spells,” Juni suggests.

“I don’t think so,” he says. “If that was the case, Bartholomew Garadex would have discovered them. He was dogged in his determination to end the curse but he got nowhere by himself. It takes a demon master to overturn the spell.”

“But—”

“No,” Dervish insists. “Bartholomew was the world’s most powerful magician of the last couple of centuries. If he wasn’t able to do it, none of us can. We’d be wasting our time if we went down that avenue.”

“What if we tried Lord Loss?” she asks. “Maybe you’re wrong about him not accepting the chess challenge again.”

“No,” Dervish laughs shortly. “That isn’t an option.”

“But if he’s the only one who can turn Grubbs back…” Juni persists.

“It’s not an option,” Dervish says again. Firmly. End of discussion.

I’m enjoying my time alone with Juni. She’s different than when she was merely counselling me. Magic is her thing, what really interests her. She’s more open when we’re talking about spells and demons. She lets her guard down and stops treating me like a patient. Sometimes it seems we talk more about her and magic than we do about me and my problems, but that’s fine. She still sees Bill-E and some of my friends in her professional capacity, but not as much as before. She’s due to finish at our school at the end of the week. Misery’s not returning but he’s being replaced by another counsellor. Juni’s done what she set out to. Time to move on to another job, another challenge. But she’s not thinking about that until after the weekend. First she wants to see what happens to me when the full moon rises.

Thursday. Testing for magical potential again. In the TV room. Dervish is in the kitchen, keeping out of the way. Juni’s trying something new. Up to this point she’s probed carefully, gently, just scratching the surface. Tonight she wants to go deeper.

“Relax,” she says, standing behind me as I squat on a stool. “Clear your mind.” She puts her hands on my head. “I’m going to provoke you.” Her fingers slide to my neck and her nails scratch the flesh there, lightly. “I’m going to pick and poke at your flesh while I jab magically at you. It will be more irritating that way. I’m hoping something will stir within you in response, drive me out and stop me hurting you.”

“ ‘Hurting’?” I repeat uneasily.

“Don’t worry.” I sense her smile. “I won’t really hurt you. Trust me.”

She massages my shoulders. At first it’s nice but then she digs her thumbs in. Works her way down my arms, pinching, scratching. Nothing too severe. Just irritating, like she said.

She mutters spells while she works. I feel magic seep into me, a weird sensation beneath my skin. It’s like having a dead leg, only I’m itchy all over.

Minutes pass. Juni works. Down my back, my chest, my legs. Very prickly now, twitching and jerking, wishing she’d stop, wondering if I should say something or just grit my teeth and bear it. Finally, when I’m on the point of calling it quits, she releases me.

“Nothing,” she says, sounding disappointed. She puts a couple of fingers on my left cheek. “You can open your eyes.”

As I blink my eyes open, I catch her looking at me. A strange look. As if she thinks I’m lying and disapproves of me. There’s even a shade of hostility in it.

“It was definitely there before,” I tell her as she takes her fingers away.

“I’m sure it was,” she says, the suspicious look disappearing.

“Maybe it’ll come back tomorrow or the next night. When the moon…” I nod towards the window, where the curtains keep out the light of the almost full globe.

“Perhaps,” she says. “Magic is certainly affected by lunar movements. Most mages experience a surge of extra energy around the time of a full moon. But it’s strange for you not to be showing any signs.”

She sits beside me. Brings a hand up and ruffles my hair. Smiles fondly, then whispers, “Tell me your secret. The thing you won’t talk to Dervish about. I haven’t asked before and I won’t ask again if you don’t answer. But I think you want to reveal it.”

Mouth dry. Heart beating hard. I wasn’t going to tell her. I meant to keep it secret. But now that she’s asked, I realise she’s right. I want to share it with her. Hell, I’m suddenly longing to spill the beans.

“He called the Lambs,” I croak.

“Lambs?” she frown. “What have sheep to do with this?”

“No. Family executioners. The Lambs. When one of us turns… if the parents can’t bear to keep them alive, but can’t kill them by themselves, the Lambs do it.”

“Ah. I remember. The dream in Slawter. Their laboratory.” Her frown deepens. “You think Dervish summoned them? That he’s plotting against you?”

“Not plotting,” I mutter. “But if I turn and he can’t control me, I think he wants them to kill me. He said he was going to ask a magician for help, but he didn’t. He called in the Lambs instead. And that’s… y’know… not fine, but I know why he did it. I just wish he’d waited. Or told me he was summoning them.”

“He hasn’t told you?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

I explain about his conversation on the phone, the black folder, the tramp. She asks me to describe the tramp but I can only give her a very general description.

“You’re certain he’s a lamb?” she asks dubiously.

“Pretty sure.”

“He never said?”

“No. But he’s been hounding me. I’ve seen him outside this house. And at the cave.” We’ve told her about the cave, how Loch really died. Dervish took her there to get a sense of it. One magical whiff of the place and she agreed he’d done the right thing, that it needed to be hidden from the world. “Why would he be following me if he wasn’t one of the Lambs?” I ask.

“There are all sorts of people in the world,” Juni says. “Some follow boys for dark—but very human—reasons.”

“I know.” I shift uncomfortably. “But it’d be an awful coincidence, this tramp taking an interest in me at this precise time.”

“I sometimes think the world runs on coincidences.” Juni pats my hand. “Don’t worry about the tramp. I’ll keep an eye out for him. And I’ll do a bit of work on Dervish and find out if he really contacted the Lambs.”

“You won’t tell him what I said, will you?” I ask, alarmed, not wanting him to think I’ve been bad-mouthing him behind his back.

“I’ll be discreet,” Juni vows and gets up to leave.

“Juni,” I stop her. “When you find out… if he did call them in… will you tell me the truth?”

A long pause. Then, “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“You can handle it if he did?”

“Yes.”

She smiles and touches my cheek again. “You’re so brave,” she whispers, then draws the fingers away. “I’ll tell you what I find out. I promise. No lies. You can trust me always, Grubbs, about everything—even if you can’t trust Dervish.”

SHAKE DOG SHAKE

The shakes. Bad. Dervish and Juni keep me pressed down on the bed, talking constantly, wiping sweat from my face with a series of fresh towels, Juni muttering calming spells which don’t make the slightest difference.

Friday. The night before the full moon. The sickness struck at school, in the middle of physics. I had to rush for the toilet. Didn’t make it. Was violently sick against the classroom door. Lots of cheers from the boys, gasps of disgust from the girls. Didn’t stop to catch an earful from Mr. Clifford. Bolted for the toilet and spent the next ten minutes hugging a hard plastic seat.

Juni drove me home. I threw up twice into a bag along the way. I’ve had the dry heaves since then, though Juni makes me drink lots of water, so sometimes I vomit clear, acidic liquid.

“You’re going to be OK,” Dervish lies, grasping my shoulders as I cry out in pain. It feels as if there’s a second body growing within mine, forcing its way out.

“I could try a sleeping spell,” Juni says.

“Don’t be stupid,” Dervish barks. “The only reason he hasn’t turned is because he’s fighting so damn hard. He can’t fight if he’s asleep.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just hate to see him in so much agony.”

I scream hoarsely, sure my head is about to split down the middle. Dimly aware of a heat in my stomach, the magical heat which was there last month. It’s battling the wolfen change, keeping me human, denying the demands of the beast. Unable to tell Dervish and Juni about it. Incapable of speech. Only screams.

Later. The moon starting to dip. Moments of quiet after hours of madness. The sheets of the bed are ripped in many places. Dervish is cut above his left eye and both his cheeks are bruised.

“Did… I do… that?” I groan.

“No,” he deadpans, carefully pouring water down my throat. “I walked into a wardrobe.”

“We thought we’d lost you,” Juni says, squeezing my hand. I’ve scratched her forehead but it’s not a deep cut.

“The… magic,” I gasp. Both of them pause. “Did you… feel it?”

“No,” Dervish says.

“It was… there. That’s how… I fought. Would have… turned… otherwise.”

“Juni?” Dervish asks.

“I sensed something,” she says hesitantly. “I wasn’t sure if it was magic or the energy generated by the… the alteration.”

“The werewolf,” I grin weakly. “Go on, say it, just once.”

“There’s no such creature,” Juni huffs.

I start to reply but pain strikes again, deep in my gut. I double over. The water comes up almost as quickly as it went down. Hits Dervish hot in the face. He ignores it and pins me to the bed, talking fast again, trying to comfort me, his words only a dim murmur above my endless, wretched screams.

The beast snarls and claws at my skin from the inside. It can’t speak—it’s a wild animal—but I can sense its feelings and translate them into words. Release me, it would demand if it could. End the pain. Set me free. Become what you must. We can run as one and take the night.

“No!” I howl back, clubbing it down with fists of a magic I don’t understand.

You can’t deny me.

“Get stuffed!” is my eloquent response.

The internal battle rages on but I have the sense that I’m winning. The pull of the moon is fading. The creature has lost the fight. But there’s another night to come and it will be stronger then. Perhaps too strong.

You can’t deny me, the beast hisses again from somewhere deep inside me, deeper than it should be. This is what we are. It’s our fate.

“I’ll choose my own fate,” I mutter, staying on guard, ready to fight again if it launches a last-minute attack. But it doesn’t. The sun is rising. The moon’s losing its lustre. I’ve won—for now.

Wearily sitting up. Dervish and Juni regard me suspiciously. Both exhausted. Cut, bruised and scratched in many places.

“What happened to you two?” I quip.

“Now he gets cocky,” Dervish growls. “For the last eight or nine hours it’s been screams and agony, hell on Earth. But now, with the sun rising, you feel like you can joke, regardless of the agony you’ve put us through.”

We regard each other coolly—then laugh.

“We survived!” I shout.

“You beat it!” Dervish chortles, hugging me tight.

Juni just smiles tiredly, watching us.

When Dervish releases me, I collapse backwards and stare at the ceiling.

“How do you feel?” Dervish asks. “Or is that a stupid question?”

“No,” I sigh. “I don’t feel so bad. Tired, but not as beat as you or Juni look. To tell the truth, I’m hungry.”

“If you’re expecting breakfast in bed, you’re in for a nasty surprise,” Juni snaps. Dervish and I giggle.

“It was strange,” I mumble, recalling my battle, especially the end when I imagined the beast speaking to me. “Like I was wrestling with another person—a thing—inside myself. But really wrestling. Like it was there physically. My body was a ring and there were two of us inside the ropes. It was the hardest fight of my life.”

“No piece of cake for us on the outside either,” Dervish says, touching his bruised cheeks. “You put us through the wringer. I know you’re a colossus in the making, but I wouldn’t have credited you with that much strength.”

“It would have been worse if the beast had won,” I tell him quietly. “I could feel it. So strong. Without the magic, it would have walked all over me, burst loose, torn into you. Tonight… when the moon’s full…”

“Don’t think about that. We’ll take this one fight at a time. Focus on the victory now. Deal with the next bout when we’re faced with it.” He stands, stretches and groans.

“Go to bed.” Juni smiles. “You worked hard and took most of the blows. We both need to get a lot of sleep today, but you more than me.”

“I’ll be fine,” Dervish says, then wobbles on his feet and almost falls.

Juni steadies him, then says firmly, “Bed!”

“Yes, miss,” Dervish sighs. “You coming?”

“Soon. I want to sit with Grubbs a while longer.”

Dervish leaves, rubbing the small of his back and groaning. Juni watches him go, then examines her wounds. Murmuring spells, she brushes her fingers over the light cuts on her arms. They heal swiftly, the flesh closing neatly, only the slightest lines of red giving away the fact that she’d been scratched at all.

“Neat trick.”

“A useful spell.” She works on her neck and face. “It’s no good on deep gashes but it’s perfect for little rips like these. Better than plasters or bandages. I’ll tidy Dervish up later.”

Finishing, she turns her attention to me. Wipes hair back from my eyes. Heals the scratch on my forehead. Rubs the flesh to make sure it’s OK, then says softly, “He was terrified. I was too, but not as much as Dervish. He really loves you.”

“I know.”

“He’d give his life for you if it would change anything.”

I stare at her silently. There are tears in her eyes. I instinctively know why she’s saying this, defending him when there’s no apparent need. “He called the Lambs,” I whisper.

She nods miserably. “I got him to admit it. He didn’t want to involve them. But if you turn, you have to be killed. He can’t do that, not kill his own nephew. So, as much as he hates them…”

“It’s OK,” I tell her, forcing a weak smile. “He didn’t have a choice.”

“I suppose.” She sighs, lowering her gaze. “I had a son once.” I blink, not sure how to respond to this startling, unexpected confession. “A darling boy. He was my world. Died in his sleep a few months before his second birthday. A brain defect. There were no warning signs. Nothing anybody could have done about it.”

She breaks down in tears. I pat her back clumsily, wishing I could wash her hurt away with words, feeling as useless as I’ve ever felt. Finally she regains control and wipes her cheeks dry.

“It almost destroyed me,” she croaks. “I survived, but only just. Became a child psychologist so I could be close to other children, ease my pain by helping them with theirs.” She laughs hoarsely. “I once said you were psychologically plain. Well, I’m an open book too. Whenever anything goes wrong in my life, I hide behind work, use it to haul myself out of whatever dark hole I’ve fallen into.”

She takes hold of both my hands and squeezes, stronger than I imagined. “When Dervish asked me to move in, I was delighted, not just because I love him, but because it meant I could become a mother to you.” She lets go of my left hand and strokes my cheek, smiling warmly. “I’ve always wanted another son to mother but it never quite worked out until now.”

The smile fades. She lets go of my other hand and stands. “I won’t abandon you,” she says, her voice throbbing with surprising menace. “I won’t give you over to the Lambs, not unless there’s no hope at all. I’ll stand by you until the very, very end. Even if Dervish doesn’t.”

Then she’s gone, leaving me to stare after her, jaw slack, senses whirring, not quite sure what to make of her fiercely supportive vow.

A day of rest. We all sleep until early afternoon and lounge around after that. Juni’s oddly distant, withdrawn and quiet. Doesn’t look at me straight. Or Dervish. Almost as if she’s ashamed of what she said. Or is planning something and doesn’t want us to know.

Evening. The shakes again. Throwing up everything I’ve eaten. I fight my vomitous body, sitting on the grass out back, taking the warm evening sun, determined to enjoy what might be my final sunset. Dervish and Juni are close by. Dervish asks if I want to go in. I shake my head. Don’t want to abandon the outside world. Afraid that once I do, that’s it, game on… game over… doomed.

Bill-E rang earlier. Wanted to come and hang out. Dervish made my excuses. Said I’d caught a nasty bug. Told Bill-E to stay away in case it was contagious. Bill-E wasn’t suspicious. Why should he be?

Thinking about my brother. Wishing I’d told him about us. Dervish was right—I waited too long. I wanted to spare him the emotional roller-coaster ride of the truth, but I was wrong to stall. If I change tonight and the Lambs exterminate me, he’ll only think he lost a friend. He’ll never know how close we really were.

I consider phoning him, telling him the truth while I’m still capable of speech. But that would be lunacy. If I survive, beat this thing or at least delay my transformation for a month, I can tell him then. Phoning now would be pointless. Worse—dangerous. He might come over. Get in the way. Fall victim to the blood-crazed beast I might by that stage have become.

“Do you still have the cage?” I ask suddenly. Dervish stops talking to Juni and stares at me. “The cage in the secret cellar. Is it still there?”

He nods slowly.

“Put me in it.” I thought my voice might quaver but it holds firm. I stare at him unflinchingly.

“If you start to change, we can—” he begins.

“No,” I interrupt. “Do it now. Before I turn. I made a mess of you last night. I hurt Juni too. She was able to fix us up, but I’ll be stronger tonight. Wilder. Maybe I’ll inflict damage she can’t cure.”

Dervish is silent. He exchanges a look with Juni.

“That could be detrimental,” Juni says softly. “You believed in yourself last night. That belief gave you the strength to fight. If you allow yourself to be caged like an animal, perhaps you’ll start thinking of yourself as one. You might stop believing… stop fighting.”

“I won’t.”

“It might be for the best,” Dervish mutters. “If he does turn, I’m not sure we can control him.”

“You have drugs,” Juni says. “You can subdue him if you have to.”

“Remember Meera?” I say before Dervish can answer. “When Bill-E changed, he got to her. Knocked her out before you could inject him. Almost killed her. If that happens to Juni…”

Dervish’s jaw stiffens. “You’re right. It has to be the cage.” He takes Juni’s hand. “It doesn’t mean we’re giving up. We’re just being safe.”

She nods reluctantly and looks at me. Her expression communicates the same thing that she promised earlier—“Trust me. I’ll stand by you. Even if Dervish doesn’t.”

I rise quickly. “Best do it now.” I take one last look at the sun. “The moon will be up soon.” I put my hands on my growling stomach. “I can feel it.”

The cage. Howling. Screaming. Battering the bars. Dervish and Juni on the other side, roaring encouragement, telling me I’m winning, calling to the human within, the one who’s rapidly disappearing, giving way to something new, deadly, beastly.

I fight but it’s much harder than last night. The beast is stronger. It assaults me without pause, snapping and growling, hurling itself against the ball of magic that is my only protection, ripping into it, howling bloody murder, hell-bent on breaking free to run wild and kill.

I grip my head between my hands and scream, veins in my neck stretched, fingers curling inward into claws. I keep shouting my name, trying to hold on to my voice, but all that comes out is a jumbled snarl. And the light around me is changing, becoming darker, the shades more limited, colours fading to grey.

“Not… going… to… turn!” I bellow, having to fight for each word. I let go of my head. Clutch the bars of the cage. Lock gazes with Dervish, then Juni. “Not… going… to…” The last word becomes an inhuman shriek.

“That’s right,” Dervish shouts desperately. “You won’t turn. You’re Grubbs Grady. You’ll win this fight. Gradys never lose.”

“Keep fighting,” Juni pleads. She puts her hands over mine. “You can do it. I know you can.”

I fall away from the bars, shaking my head, roaring with pain. The beast cackles. The battle continues. Torment claims me whole.

I’ve been fighting for hours. At least I think it’s hours. Maybe it’s just been minutes. Maybe I’m so far gone that I’ve lost track of time. Perhaps, for me, this night will last an age, never-ending, an eternal fight between humanity and a force of wolfen evil.

I slump on the floor, leaning against the bars of the cage, staring around with wide, wild eyes, seeing the main desk, the key to this cage, candles, books, a chess piece in one corner, left over from my last fight here. My skin feels like it’s rippling. I want to let it. I’m tired. I can’t go on.

You must.

A new voice. Not my own and not the imagined voice of the beast. The voice of magic. It speaks quickly, softly, telling me we can beat this thing if we work together. It starts to explain how I can use it, the spells I need to cast, the words I must chant—but the beast picks that moment to yowl violently, filling my head with white noise, causing me to jam my hands over my ears and scream.

When the noise passes and I lower my hands, the voice of the magic is gone, or is so quiet I can’t hear it. I’m not alone. I still sense it there. But I no longer feel like it can help me. I’m losing this battle. Maybe I’ve already lost and just don’t know it yet.

More fighting. Pain. Terror.

Another rare moment of rest and understanding. On the opposite side of the cage this time, but in the same slumped position as before. Dervish and Juni are crouched close by, telling me how well I’m doing, how proud they are, I’m going to win, I just have to ride it out.

I turn my head a fraction and smile sadly at Dervish. “Sorry,” I croak.

“No,” he snaps. “You can’t give up. You have to beat this thing.”

“Sorry,” I mutter again, head dropping, panting hard, crying, tears hot on my cheeks, not feeling like they’re mine.

“He’s slipping from us,” Juni says. She sounds much calmer than my uncle.

“No!” Dervish barks. “I won’t let him. We have to—”

“Quiet,” Juni commands.

“But we can’t—”

“We won’t.” She reaches in and tilts my head back. It takes a few seconds but my eyes finally focus. She’s studying me coolly. “He’s losing concentration. We have to help him regain it. Jolt him back into action and spur him on to fight.”

“How?” Dervish asks tightly.

“A spell. One to act on the magic within him. It will be like injecting him with adrenaline—only it’s magic we’ll inject into, not flesh.”

“What spell?” Dervish growls. “I don’t know any—”

“I’ve been preparing one,” Juni cuts in. “Just in case.” She looks away from me and trades gazes with Dervish. “It’s dangerous. If it doesn’t cure him, it will kill him. I didn’t want to use it unless absolutely necessary. I still won’t, not unless he slips further and concedes more ground to the… werewolf.” She smiles fleetingly as she says it. Then her expression firms again. “I won’t do it if you object, but I want you to know it’s there if we need it. And I have to know if you’ll consider letting me use it, so I can finish preparing.”

Dervish looks lost, like he wants to cry. For a moment I don’t think he’s going to respond. But then, with a wrenching effort, he nods stiffly. “But only if there’s no other choice,” he wheezes.

“Of course.” Juni touches his cheek lovingly. “You’ll need to go to the house. If I proceed with the spell, there are things I’ll need.”

“What?”

Juni closes her eyes. A couple of seconds pass. She opens them again. “Got it?”

“Yes.” Dervish laughs crazily. “You’ll have to teach me how to do that.” Then he stumbles for the door leading to the wine cellar.

Juni waits till he’s gone, then hurries to the desk, grabs the key to the cage and inserts it in the lock.

“What are you doing?” I mumble, backing away from her as she opens the door and enters my lair. “Get out. It’s not safe. I could—”

“The Lambs are outside,” Juni says, stooping beside me, taking my hands, helping me to my feet. “Dervish was in contact with them earlier. They have the house surrounded. Ready to finish you off when Dervish gives the word.”

I shrug wearily. “Maybe it’s for the best. I can’t be helped. They—”

“No!” Juni hisses and slaps my face. “I won’t let you sacrifice yourself. I don’t believe you’re lost. We can get through this but only by thinking positively, only if you fight. Dervish doesn’t understand. He called this wrong. He loves you but he underestimates you. He doesn’t know how strong you are.”

“No. I’m weak. I can’t fight anymore. I just want to let it happen. Simpler that way. I’m sick of all the pain.”

“I don’t care how sick you are!” Juni snaps. Then her voice changes. “I’m not doing this just for you. I want you to live for me too.”

She grabs me by the front of my jumper, pulls me in close and kisses me. It starts innocently, the way my Mum used to kiss me when I was little and woke up scared in the middle of the night. But then it changes into something deeper and I kiss her back, the way I kissed Reni when we played spin the bottle.

The beast within me howls as we kiss. The magic surges and seethes. Around us the bars of the cage turn red, then crack and melt, tumbling away. The roof of the cage falls upon us. I swat it aside with a single powerful hand.

Juni releases me. She’s breathing hard. “Run, Grubbs,” she says, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. “Get away from the Lambs. Go the cave. Wait for me there.”

“The cave? But… if I turn…”

“You won’t,” she vows and kisses me again, quickly this time. “Go!”

Without thinking, I bolt. Leaping over the bubbling bars of the cage, I race to the other exit, the one that leads away from the house. I tear the door open and flee up the stairs. Juni cheers encouragingly behind me, then laughs, her laughter trailing me, staying with me, comforting me, urging me on.

The top of the stairs. The way ahead blocked by a pair of doors, locked from the other side by chains, covered by a sheet of corrugated iron. I pause for the briefest of seconds, then set my right shoulder to the doors and thrust sharply. The chains snap. The doors explode open. The sheet of iron flies clear.

I emerge into moonlight.

Standing in the open, chest rising and falling rapidly, staring around, seeing the world with eyes one third human, one third animal, one third magic. Picking out shapes, even if they’re hidden from direct sight by trees or the house. Nine… ten… eleven… twelve. The dirty dozen. But not dirty enough to hold Grubbs Grady—über-escapee!

The beast in me wants to attack, rip them open, teach them not to mess with the Grubbster. But tempting as that thought is, I push it away and break for the forest instead.

There are three members of the Lambs back here. The unexpected shattering of the doors stunned them. But they recover quickly. Their training kicks in and they move to intercept me. Large men with clubs, stun guns, nets, rifles.

“Halt!” one of them shouts, aiming a rifle. I snarl at his gun and it turns bright red. He screams and tries to throw it away. Fails, because it’s burnt into his flesh and welded itself to the bones in his hand.

The second Lamb rushes me, tries to bring me down with a rugby tackle. I grab him as he leaps, spin him round in the air, then slam him down hard, knocking him out—a perfect wrestling move. Loch would be proud. If I had time, I’d pin him for a three count. But as powerful and playful as I feel, I can’t linger. If the rest of the Lambs converge, things might not go so smoothly. I think I could take them all on and beat them but it would be stupid to put myself to the test.

The third of the rearguard has fumbled out a walkie-talkie and is barking into it. I growl in his direction. Metallic claws sprout from the hard plastic and dig into the flesh and bones of the Lamb’s face. Roaring with shock and pain, he tries jerking the walkie-talkie loose but the claws have dug in too deep, wiring the device to his jaw.

I leave the Lamb stumbling around, screaming, tugging at the walkie-talkie, blood pouring from his ear and cheek. I race for the cover of the trees, moving swiftly, surely, feeling more alive than ever before.

As I reach the forest I spot the tramp standing nearby, watching me. I laugh at him—he saw what happened to the others and is too scared to tackle me. I think about turning his legs to jelly or setting his clothes on fire, but since he’s not interfering with my escape, why bother? The spineless creep isn’t worth the effort.

I want to shout, “So long, sucker!” but my vocal cords are twisted and words won’t form. I settle for a mock salute instead. He stares back silently, face impassive.

Then I’m gone, sheltered from the moon and hidden from the remaining Lambs by the trees. Running with the ease of a wolf. Fast and slick, leaving no trail for anyone to follow. Heading for the cave and my reunion with Juni.

SAVAGE

For a couple of minutes I feel like a superhuman. Legs of steel, iron lungs, running faster than any normal person ever ran, obliterating records. Where are the Olympic judges when you need them?

But then I slow. Pain sweeps through me. I stumble. The beast snarls. Writhing on the cold, hard forest floor. Sobbing. Trying to fight. I raise my head and try…

Next thing I know, I’m in the hole that leads to the cave, tugging at the crate which Dervish left there, ripping it to splinters, clambering down into the dark abyss. Part of me hesitates. Grateful to still be human, eager to reach the safety of the cave, happy to wait for Juni, but remembering Dervish’s warning—this cave is dangerous, a place of evil magic. Perhaps I should…

In the cave. I’m howling, the howls echoing eerily. With an effort I make myself stop and the echoes die away. Then all I can hear is the waterfall and the super-fast beating of my over-worked heart.

How long have I been unconscious, howling, the beast thinking it had won, only for me to somehow scrap my way back and regain control? Impossible to tell but it doesn’t feel like a lot of time has passed.

The dark is absolute. It scares me. The feeling of invulnerability and supremacy which drove me through the cordon of Lambs has passed. The magic’s still there and so is the beast. But mostly it’s just me now, human and cold, alone in the dark, thinking with horror how close I came to killing the three Lambs, hoping I didn’t hurt them too much, wondering if I did the right thing by running.

I slide to the floor and huddle my knees to my chest, clasping them tight, trying to see something—anything—through the darkness. Remembering Juni’s kiss with confusion and shame, wondering what prompted it, or if I just imagined the adult passion. What I definitely didn’t imagine—she said she’d stand by me even if Dervish gave up. She set me free and promised to meet me here.

It’s wrong. Her intentions were good, but we shouldn’t be doing this. I should have stayed and took what I had coming. Let Dervish handle the situation the way he thought best. He knows more about these matters than Juni or me. I’ve passed a fatal point. Split from Dervish. Crossed swords with the Lambs. Made a pact with Juni that’s cut me off from everybody else. What if she doesn’t come? What if she changes her mind and leaves me here? What if…

A light. I start to rise, thinking it’s Juni. But then I see that it’s coming from the wall of the cave, close to where the waterfall flows, just to the left of the crack I created in the rock. A strange, soft light, not of natural origin. It comes from within the wall. Circular but jagged round the rim. And in the centre, forcing its way out of the rock and into shape—the girl’s face I saw when Loch died.

The jaw, cheekbones and forehead bulge outwards, illuminated by the light. The face looks like a cross between rock and flesh, neither one nor the other but a splice of the two. When it’s jutting out as far as it can—I can see the tips of its ears—the eyes open. A moment later the lips move.

She speaks with urgency, words tripping off her tongue. I can tell it’s important—her need to communicate something vital is clear—but I can’t understand what she’s saying. The language isn’t like any I’ve ever heard.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” I moan, shaking my head helplessly. In response she raises her voice and speaks even quicker than before—as if that will help. “I can’t understand you!” I shout, losing my temper.

Then the pain hits again. The beast howls. Magic flares. I sink to my knees, moaning. The girl’s voice rises. She yells, harassing me, repeating the same sharp phrases over and over. But I couldn’t make sense of her words the first time and I can’t make sense of them now. I want her to leave me alone.

“Stop,” I groan, but she doesn’t. “Stop.” Firmer this time, glaring at her, letting her see the anger in my eyes. I need peace and quiet if I’m to fight the beast and drive it back into its den. Doesn’t she realise how hard this is and that she’s only making it harder?

No, she doesn’t. Or if she does, she doesn’t care. She keeps on jabbering, voice rising, words coming faster and faster. Then a pair of hands grow out of the rock and she points at me accusingly, at the cave in general, at the crack in the rock.

“Shut up,” I hiss, feeling the beast scrape the inside of my skull with its claws. “I can’t take anymore. Stop it. Stop it! STOP!”

With the final cry I lunge to my feet, throw my hands wide and scream.

A sharp snapping sound—the crack beside the waterfall widens and lengthens. The girl’s face and hands disappear. And the waterfall freezes. It turns to ice. A solid stretch of crystal from top to bottom, glistening beautifully, caught in full motion, an image no artist could ever hope to replicate.

I stare at the ice, mesmerised. How the hell did I do that?

Then the light where the girl’s face was fades. I’m plunged into darkness again. Moments later, while my head’s still spinning, I notice the glow of another light behind me. I turn, expecting the face again. But this is the flickering of a torch. And it’s coming from overhead, from the shaft to the forest above.

“Grubbs?” someone calls—the most welcome voice in the world.

“Juni!” I cry, stumbling towards the spot where she’ll enter the cave. “Come quick. You’ll never believe—”

Agony. A flash of total torment. The beast, closer to the surface than ever. Incredibly powerful. The magic flares in response. The pair wrestle, spitting flames, fighting for possession of my body and soul.

I collapse, screaming. Juni shouts my name again. The world dims around me. My thoughts go thin. I try to call and warn her to stay away. But it’s too late. I go under. The beast drives me down. I vanish.

Returning to my senses. Indescribable relief. When I felt myself lose control that last time, I thought I was finished. No more Grubbs Grady. Lost forever. Werewolf in command from this night till doomsday. It’s good—delicious!—to be back.

But relief fades as quickly as it swelled. I’m no longer in the cave. I’m in a house and there’s blood everywhere. A couple of mauled, gutted bodies on the floor. Juni stands across from me, beaten and bruised, bleeding freely from her arms, head, neck. She’s facing me, talking rapidly, hands outstretched and making frantic gestures, trying to calm me down.

I’m growling at her, my bloodstained fingers curled into fists, keeping her away from the corpses—apparently the beast wanted them all for himself.

I manage to stop growling and lower my hands.

“Grubbs?” Juni croaks nervously. “Is that you?”

“Uhrs.” I cough. Clear my throat and try again. “Yes.”

“Thank god,” she weeps, collapsing. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

“I’d never…” I stop and look around. I know this house. And now that I look past the layers of blood, I know the people.

Ma and Pa Spleen!

“No!” I cry. “Not Bill-E! Tell me I didn’t—”

“Behind you,” Juni says through her tears.

I turn slowly, expecting the worst, ready to rip my own heart out if I’ve killed my brother. But he’s alive. Lying on his stomach, unconscious, bleeding from a blow to his head. But his body’s moving with his breath. I go to him quickly, turn him over on to his back, make him comfortable, check that the cut to his head isn’t serious.

“You changed,” Juni moans. “I couldn’t stop it. I thought I could tap into the magic of the cave and help. But you became a monster and tried to kill me. I managed to ward you off. Quenched the light. Hid in the darkness. Masked my smell using magic.

“Then you left. I tracked you here. You burst in before I arrived. Killed the old pair. You would have killed Billy too, but I fought and stalled you. I don’t think I could have held you off much longer. If you hadn’t turned back when you did…”

She breaks down. I stare at her, then at Bill-E. Then at the butchered Ma and Pa Spleen. I never liked them. They were cranky, selfish busybodies. Always interfering, trying to keep Bill-E and me apart. But they didn’t deserve this—ripped to pieces in their own home by a savage animal of the night.

“What have I done?” I cry, sinking to the floor, burying my head in my hands. “I killed them. I’m a murderer.”

“No,” Juni sobs, crawling across, trying to prise my hands away. “It was the beast… the werewolf. You didn’t do this, Grubbs. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Of course it was!” I scream, head shooting up. “I knew what was happening. I knew I had to be locked up, what I could do if unleashed. I should have stayed in the cage and let the Lambs slaughter me.”

“Don’t say that,” Juni pleads.

“It’s true,” I cry. “I should be dead now, not the Spleens. It should be…” I stop, frowning. “But why did I come here? Why pick on them and Bill-E?”

“You didn’t like them,” Juni reminds me.

“But I didn’t hate them. And Bill-E’s my best friend. Why…?”

“Does it matter?” she interrupts sharply. “You were jealous of Billy, or you wanted to kill his grandparents, or the beast just came to somewhere it knew, to a familiar place it stole from your memories. It could have been your home, school, another friend’s house. It happened to be here. What of it? Just be glad you regained consciousness before… before…” She can’t continue.

I pat Juni’s head as she cries. The tears have dried in my own eyes. I’m staring at the dead bodies again, but calmly, detached, knowing what must be done.

“Phone Dervish,” I tell Juni. “Give him our position. Ask him to bring the Lambs. I won’t fight. They can have me. I’ll surrender.”

“No!” Juni gasps. “They’ll kill you.”

“They’ll exterminate me,” I correct her. “And that’s what I need. This can’t go on. I was wrong to run. I…” A thought. “Dervish doesn’t know you helped me, does he?”

She shakes her head. “I told him you broke out, that I tried to stop you but couldn’t. He took off with the Lambs to track you down. I stayed behind, then sneaked out once they’d gone. He doesn’t know anything.”

“Good. Forget about ringing him. I’ll do it. Go home and clean yourself up. Say nothing about this to him. You don’t have to be involved.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes I do. This has gone far enough. Too far. I killed tonight. Whether it was me or the beast doesn’t matter. We both know that, if I carry on, I’ll kill again. That can’t happen. I won’t allow it.

So go. Thanks for everything, but I’m past helping.” I reach for my phone and start tapping in numbers.

Juni gently takes the phone from me. “Come away with me,” she whispers. “We’ll go where nobody can find us, where you can’t hurt anybody.”

“What are you talking about?” I frown, trying to get the phone back.

“We’ll run,” she hisses, holding the phone out of reach. She’s stopped crying. Sounds more like her old self. I can imagine her brain whirring behind her eyes. “Head for somewhere secluded and remote. When the next full moon comes, we’ll go up a mountain or into a cave. I’ll tie you up and sedate you with magic and drugs to make sure you can’t kill anyone. I’ll only set you free when the moon has passed. We’ll stay in that place and carve out new lives for ourselves. Keep the world safe from you… from the beast.”

“You’re fantasising,” I sigh. “It wouldn’t work. You saw what I did to the cage. I’d escape and kill again.”

“No,” she insists. “I can control you. I’m sure I can.”

“And if I change forever the next time?” I ask. “If the beast takes over?”

“Then I’ll do what the Lambs tried to do tonight,” she vows. Takes my hands and squeezes. “Don’t doubt my conviction. If I have to kill you, I will, regardless of how much that would hurt me. But I don’t want to harm you if I don’t have to. I still believe you can be saved. The werewolf should have taken you over tonight, but it didn’t. You fought it and won. You can win again, I’m sure you can. If I’m wrong… if you lose…” Her jaw goes firm. “So be it. But we have to try. Life’s too precious to throw away needlessly.”

“I don’t know.” I look at the bodies again, at Bill-E. “The risks…”

“There’ll be none,” she promises, standing and pulling me up. “We’ll leave immediately and find a place where you can’t hurt anyone.”

I hesitate, torn between knowing the right thing to do and wanting to live.

“If not for yourself,” Juni says softly, “do it for me. I love you, Grubbs. Please. Stay alive. For me.”

I don’t know what to say. I want to go with her. But the beast… the magic… the murders. I open my mouth, meaning to ask for the phone again, making up my mind to act bravely, selflessly, for the welfare of those I care about.

But what comes out is a weak, “OK. But you have to promise to keep me away from people. And, if necessary, you’ll stop me the next time, any way you can.”

Juni crosses her heart and smiles. “I promise.” She goes to the back door and opens it, then pushes me ahead of her, out into the night. I stumble through the doorway meekly, silently cursing myself for my cowardice, head low, crying again. Once I’m out, Juni quietly closes the door on the bloodshed and carnage, leaving Bill-E sleeping, to awaken later in the morning to horror and chaos.

FLY ME TO THE MOON

Juni finds a car parked close by. She mutters a quick spell and the doors open. Another spell and the engine fires. She smiles at me through the window and nods for me to get in.

Sitting numbly beside her as she drives. Thinking about the last twelve hours. Studying the blood caked to my hands. Wondering if Bill-E saw me kill his grandparents, if he recognised me behind the mask of the beast. If not, will Dervish tell him? Will he hate me or understand? I think hate. If I was in his shoes, I’d despise the monster who let this happen. No excuses. No forgiving.

Running away is wrong. I’ve killed Bill-E’s grandparents, let Juni wreck her relationship with Dervish, and now… what? Drive off into the sunrise, find a sweet little cottage where we can settle down and live happily ever after? Play a warped mother and son game? Let Juni tie me up like a rabid animal every time the moon grows round? Madness. I should call an end to it now, make Juni stop, hand myself over to Dervish, accept what I have coming.

But instead I sit quietly, staring at the blood or out the window. I try to tell myself I’m doing it because of Juni, that I don’t want to hurt her. But that’s a lie. I’m running because I’m terrified of being killed. I don’t want to let myself be executed. Even though I know, for the safety of everyone I love, that I should.

The car comes to a stop. Juni leans back and sighs, massaging her temples, eyes closed. I look around. We’re in a car park. Hundreds of cars. A roaring overhead. My gaze lifts and I see a plane come in to land. It clicks—we’re at an airport.

“Juni?” I ask quietly.

“Yes,” she says, not opening her eyes.

“What are we doing here?”

“We have to get out. They’d find us if we stayed. We need to go somewhere they can’t track us. Fly far, far away. It might take three or four flights before we’re really safe.”

“But I don’t have a passport. Luggage. Clothes. Money.”

Juni lowers her hands, opens her eyes and smiles twistedly. “You want to go back to pack a suitcase?”

“Of course not. But how…?”

She rubs her fingers together. “Magic.”

Inside the airport. Nobody pays us any attention, even though we’re bruised and cut all over, covered in blood. A masking spell. Not that difficult to perform. Even Bill-E’s able to cast a lesser masking spell. One of the first tricks any wannabe mage learns.

Juni sends me to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Says she’ll meet me by the main departures board in fifteen minutes. Tells me to be careful, not to talk to anyone.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, eyes dark and ravaged. The hopeless expression of the lost, the damned. Dervish has often said I’m a natural survivor, able to wriggle out of any sticky situation. But sometimes it’s not worth wriggling free. What’s the point of being alive if you have to live with memories and guilt as crushing as this?

I run hot water and splash it over my face, washing away the worst of the blood. The sink’s soon a streaky, pinkish mess. I squirt liquid soap into my hands, clean around the sink, then set to work on myself, scrubbing my hair, taking off my jumper and T-shirt, throwing them into a bin, washing my upper body and arms. I should get rid of my trousers too but I don’t like the idea of wandering around in just my boxers. Crazy, considering all that’s happened, but some habits are hard to break.

Waiting for Juni. Nervous. Shivering, not from cold but shock. Wanting to call this off. Wanting her to take charge, be a responsible adult, talk me into giving myself up. It’s strange how she’s acting more irrationally than me. I always assumed a mature adult could control themselves better than a child, regardless of the pressures. Juni’s proving me wrong with every bad call she makes.

“Sorry I was so long,” Juni says, popping up beside me, smelling of soap. She looks rough but not desperate. Her eyes are no match for my wild pits of fear.

“Juni, this is crazy, we should—” I begin, but she puts her fingers to my lips before I can continue. Shakes her head lightly.

“Just go with it,” she whispers. “I know it’s wrong. I know what we should and would do if things were different. But they’re not. So let’s give ourselves over to madness and see where it takes us.”

Before I can think of a suitable argument, she glances at the departures board, then leads me to one of the sales desks. I stand behind her as she requests two one-way tickets. No money exchanges hands. Instead, a quick spell and the sales assistant is smiling, handing Juni a pair of tickets, telling her where to check-in, wishing her a safe flight and pleasant holiday.

Queueing for check-in. I don’t know where we’re going—I wasn’t paying attention at the sales counter. I think about asking Juni, but can’t be bothered. What does it matter? We’re probably just going to hop straight on to another plane at the next airport anyway. And another after that. Throw the Lambs off our scent. Keep moving until we’re safe.

We nudge forward. Soon we’re at the front. Juni handles the practicalities. No passport? No worries! Not when you use a Juni Swan Confusing Spell!

Just over an hour’s wait once we breeze through security. We spend half of it shopping, replacing our ruined clothes and shoes. I suggest buying extra clothes to change into when these are dirty, but Juni says we can restock at the next airport. It’ll give us something to do while we’re waiting for our connecting flight.

The new clothes feel stiff. The jumper itches, the trousers dig into my stomach, the shoes pinch. But I don’t complain. A bit of discomfort is small punishment for the crimes I committed last night.

Sitting on the hard airport chairs. Juni works healing spells, mending the worst of the damage I caused while on the rampage. Her fingers are gentle on my flesh, her voice soft in my ear. Warmth as my cuts stitch themselves closed. Nice.

We’re called to board and shuffle on with the rest of the passengers. A large plane. We’re twelve rows from the front, seats A and B. When nobody sits in 12C, Juni edges over just before takeoff, so we both have more room. She smiles at me as I stare out the window at the runway, glistening in the early dawn light. I catch her smile in the glass. Turn and smile back. She holds out her hand and I take it.

“All alone now,” she says.

“Yes.”

“I’m terrified but strangely exhilarated.”

“Me too.” I give a sickly grin, lying through my back teeth. I’m not the least bit excited, only scared, confused and disgusted with myself for running.

The engines howl. We’re pressed back in our seats. Arrivederci, terra firma.

Exhaustion kicks in before we reach cruising altitude. My eyelids flutter shut. My brain and body scream for sleep. I try denying myself the pleasure—I want to stay alert in case Juni needs me—but I’m fighting a losing battle.

“It’s OK,” Juni says, touching my cheek. “You can sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

“But what if you…” I mutter groggily.

“I’ll be fine,” Juni says. “We both will. Nothing can hurt us now. Not here.”

She’s right. We’re thousands of metres above the earth and rising. The Lambs can’t touch us, not until we land. And with Juni’s cunning, I doubt they’ll catch us then either. No need for the unease I’m feeling. Better to give myself over to my body’s demands and… sleep… just for a few…

Dreams of the cave. The girl’s face. Screaming at me. Trying to communicate, to warn me. Frustration in her expression as she realises it isn’t working. I want to understand her, if only to calm her down. But the words make no sense, even in my dream.

Then her face changes. The voice stays the same, but it’s Juni’s face now. She leers at me. A look of vile hatred. It frightens me. I turn to run but Ma and Pa Spleen are there. “You stay away from our Billy,” Pa Spleen says, blood gushing from the hole where the right side of his face used to be. “We’ll come back and haunt you if you don’t,” Ma Spleen adds, trying to jam some of her guts back into her stomach.

Whirling away from them. Stumbling for safety. I find Dervish sitting on a stalagmite, looking glum. “You’re a fool,” he says sadly. “I thought I taught you better. Running away never solved anything. Especially when you don’t know what you’re running into.”

His face changes. He becomes a werewolf. Growls wickedly and leaps. I cringe away from him. Before he strikes, Juni appears and slides between us. She knocks Dervish flat. I rise, shaking, to thank her. But when she turns, there’s fire in her pink eyes. “Grubbs,” she says, and the word comes out garbled, ragged, as though the lips which formed it aren’t entirely human. The ground rumbles beneath my feet.

I snap awake but the rumbling continues. I sit bolt upright in my seat, not sure if I’m still in the dream, heart racing as it does when I have an especially bad nightmare. I look for Juni, but she’s not there. The rumbling again. My seat is trembling as if it’s about to snap loose from the floor. My insides clench. I feel like something terrible’s about to happen. We’re in trouble. Where’s Juni? I have to find her, save her, get her away from…

Nervous laughter. “I’m glad I’m not flying on a full stomach,” someone jokes.

“I doubt if anyone will have a full stomach if this keeps up,” somebody else replies.

I chuckle and relax. It’s only turbulence. We hit another blast of rocky air—bump! Groans throughout the cabin. People buckle up their seat belts and sit down if they were standing. Another blast and the whole plane shakes roughly, as if a giant has caught it by the tail and is trying to shake the passengers out. Even the air hostesses and stewards make for their seats. That’s worrying—it’s always a horrible feeling on a plane when you see the professionals acting like there’s trouble in store. But it’s a normal, human type of worry. No big deal after what I’ve come through.

I sit back, smiling as kids cry and adults curse. Nervous fliers don’t get any sympathy from me. They’ll be fine when we pass through this patch of turbulence. Laughing and grinning when we set down. Telling their family and friends about the rough flight, an amusing story in retrospect, fear forgotten by the time they reach home. You’re never as safe as when you’re in the air. Everybody knows that, even if they temporarily forget at moments like this. I bet not one person on this plane will hesitate to fly again, regardless of how much rattling and shaking—

The door to the cockpit blows off its hinges and slams into the people in the first set of seats. Screams of shock and pain. Passengers further back crane their necks to see what’s happening.

Some take their belts off and stand, despite the turbulence. Panic is setting in but not taking over. Not yet.

I snap my belt open and slide across to the aisle seat. Where’s Juni? Probably in one of the toilets. I have to find her immediately. Something bad is happening. I need to get to her so we can face it together.

I’m halfway to my feet when I freeze. I can see into the cockpit from here. Pillars of smoke fill the cabin. My first thought—fire! That would be terrifying enough. But it’s not normal smoke. There are strands running from floor to ceiling, left to right, all sorts of crazy angles. Smoke doesn’t form in strands. In fact, now that I focus and my brain catches up with what my gut knew the instant I saw it, I realise the pillars inside the cockpit aren’t smoke at all.

They’re webs.

Something small shoots out of the cockpit and attaches itself to the face of a man in the second row. It’s the shape of a very young boy, but with too large a head and pale green skin. His scalp crawls with living lice—or it might be cockroaches, hard to tell from here—instead of hair. Fire in the bare sockets where his eyes should be. Mouths in the palms of his hands.

“Artery!” I gasp, taking a few automatic steps towards the hellchild, numb with shock.

People are really screaming now. Those close to the front can see the demon, his teeth, the fire in his eye sockets. Artery rips the man’s face off. Blood gushes. Chaos erupts. All the passengers around that row leap to their feet at the same moment and pile into the aisle, getting in each other’s way, fighting to race clear of the monstrous baby.

Another demon emerges from the cockpit. This one crawls across the ceiling and drops on to a lady’s head. It looks like a giant scorpion but has a face that’s almost human. It’s bigger than the woman’s head. Her neck breaks under the weight. The demon hisses, then strikes the person next to it—a man—with the stinger in its tail. The stinger hits the man’s eyes and gouges them out. The demon turns and spits spawn-like eggs into the vacant, bloody sockets. As the man pushes to his feet and screams, some twisted breed of demonic insects hatch from the eggs. They quickly set to work on the flesh around his eyes, spreading like wildfire. Moments later there’s not much left of his face and the demon is striking again, this time at a child.

Two more demons spill out of the cockpit, the general shape of humans but covered in boils, gaping sores and pus. They roar mutely, arms flapping, horrible beasts. They seem to be threatening even more bloodshed and terror than Artery and the other demon—but then they fall to the floor, moaning and thrashing. And I realise they’re not demons at all. They’re the pilot and one of his crew.

Something leaps over the stricken humans and those milling around the aisle. It lands on top of the seats of the fourth or fifth row. It looks like a rabbit, except with a huge, ugly bulge on its back and claws that are much bigger than they should be. (“All the better to slice you up with, my dear,” a detached part of me giggles hysterically.) The people in the row stare at it, more bewildered than scared. Then it opens its mouth and sprays liquid over them. They fall back gasping and spluttering. Then choked screams as the liquid eats into their flesh, bubbling and boiling, transforming them into mockeries of the human form, just like the pilot and his mate.

I’m standing in the same spot, frozen with fear. Not just fear of what’s happened but what I know will happen next. Thinking numbly—how? The Demonata shouldn’t be able to cross between universes like this. And how did they know I’d be here?

While I’m searching desperately for answers, and the cabin around me fills with bodies and screams, a new demon glides out of the cockpit. This one is worse than all the others put together. Tall and thin. Pale red skin covered in smears of blood which oozes from a system of cracks in his flesh. Eight arms with mangled hands—like something a young child might draw—and strips of flesh where his lower legs end. Bald. Dark red eyes with even darker pupils. No nose. A hole where his heart should be, filled with dozens of small, hissing, constantly slithering snakes.

A year after Slawter, making good on his vow to track me down and wreak revenge, timing it perfectly for maximum impact and shock, Lord Loss has found me.

“Children,” the demon master says, his voice exactly as I remember it, slow and miserable, like he’s experienced all the pains of the world. Although he doesn’t speak loudly, the word echoes through the plane, right back to the last row of seats. Everyone stops rushing, struggling, fighting and screaming. All eyes fix on the terrible spectacle hanging in the air just outside the door of the cockpit.

Lord Loss smiles weakly at us as though we’d come to a funeral, only to discover we’re the ones due to be buried. “Such a tragic way to die,” he murmurs. “Above the clouds. Cut off from the Earth from which you sprang. Most of you without your loved ones. Although isn’t it worse if they are with you? The pain of dying alone versus the torment of seeing one you love die too.” He sighs. “Such a tragedy.”

He drifts forward. People slide back into their seats, clearing the aisle, almost hypnotised by the sight of the demon floating towards them. He stops at the third row. There’s a young woman in the aisle seat, no more than five or six years older than me. He reaches out with one of his eight clammy hands and strokes her cheek, then gently clasps her jaw.

“If it is any comfort, in this time of great sorrow, I promise your suffering will be short,” Lord Loss says, smiling at the young woman. I can see tears in her eyes. His fingers squeeze together tightly. He rips the lower half of her face away and tosses it to Artery, who catches it with the mouths in his hands, snapping it in two and devouring it, yapping like a dog being thrown a tasty tidbit. “But it will be painful,” Lord Loss adds with morbid relish.

A child tries to scream. Its father puts a hand over its mouth and cuts the cry short. Everyone’s staring at the demon master, transfixed. This is the calm before the storm. Within seconds this cabin will be a place of riotous abandon. But nobody wants to be the first to break the spell. Maybe they—we—think that if we stay this way, motionless, barely breathing, the nightmare will pass. The demons won’t go wild. We won’t all be slaughtered and bled dry by these creatures of evil.

Then—movement behind Lord Loss. Somebody steps forward and looks down the cabin, leaning sideways to see past the demon master. My stomach tightens another notch but I find my voice at last.

“Juni!” I shout. “Get away from him! Quick! Before he—”

“Why, Master Grubitsch,” Lord Loss cuts in, unable to mask his delight. “You? Here? What a delightful coincidence.”

Juni slips around the floating demon. Lord Loss takes no notice of her. He only has eyes for me, leering, puffing up his chest, snakes hissing wilder than ever. For a moment I think Juni’s cast another masking spell, that he can’t see her. Hope flares within me, just the faintest flicker. Then dies just as quickly when she says, “I summoned him, Grubbs.”

A chill which is colder than ice. “You…?” I gasp. “Why?”

“He’s the only one who can cure you,” Juni says. “Remember what I said to Dervish? I told him the challenge should be made again. I said you’d be fools not to try.”

“What have you done?” I shriek. “We can’t bargain with Lord Loss. He won’t help us. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill you. He’ll kill us all!”

“Do you know something?” Juni mutters, frowning and nodding slightly, as if the thought just occurred to her. “I think you’re right. With one exception.”

There’s a man holding a child on Juni’s left. Juni reaches across and tries to take the child from the man’s arms. He doesn’t let go. She tugs, but he holds firm. She shrugs, leans in close and kisses him. I gawp at her, bewildered. But confusion quickly turns to terror when I see the man’s skin turn grey, then peel away, revealing the blood vessels and bones beneath. He shakes madly but still doesn’t let go of the child, who has started to cry.

Juni kisses him relentlessly until there’s a sharp snapping sound. She brings her mouth up and his face is attached to hers, head severed at the neck, the remains of his lips snagged between her teeth.

She turns her head aside and spits. Sends the man’s head flying to the floor.

Panic erupts. People go crazy and surge down the aisle. The demons snicker and lay into the humans around them with renewed relish. Carnage flowers.

I stand my ground, frozen, more horrified than ever, staring at Juni. She leers at me and wipes her lips clean. Then Lord Loss drifts up beside her. He wraps four arms around the albino and picks her off the floor. She smiles at him and pecks his cheek, licking a drop of blood clear of the corner of his mouth. Points to me. Grins like a tiger and says, “He’s all yours now—master.”