“You know what I mean. Right now he likes biting people. Will he want to do worse things when he’s older? Will he be more demon than human? A man on top, a monster beneath?”
“What a way you have with words.” Lord Loss shrugs. “I think the true Artery will shine through. Cornelius has the power to shackle him, but not rid him of his origins. He’ll want to do terrible things and will probably find a way to act on his desires. But he will never harm Cornelius, of that I am certain.”
Dervish comes over to stand beside Sharmila. He looks at me seriously. “It’s your call, Kernel, but I don’t think you should take him back. You’ve seen the way demons behave. You couldn’t change him.”
“I could try!” I cry. “If I can change his shape, why not his heart?”
“Demons don’t experience emotions like we do,” Beranabus says softly. “Sometimes they give the impression that they can feel as we feel, care as we care. But they’re monsters, all of them. It’s their nature. We cannot alter that.”
I’m crying hard. I look at Art again, wanting so much to hold him, play with him, grow up with him. It’s not fair, having to choose. I’d have been happier if I’d never had a brother. To have him for a year...to come through so much to find him... only to be faced with this ... having to go back to the loneliness... tell Mom and Dad I couldn’t protect him...
“Maybe I don’t care if he kills!” I shout. “Maybe I just don’t want to be lonely anymore, and having a brother matters to me more than anything else. What if that’s the case?”
Beranabus sniffs. “Then good luck to you. Just don’t call on my Disciples when the bodies start mounting up. And you might want to tell your parents to stay out of Art’s way. They should be safe on the other side of the world.”
I howl at Beranabus, Dervish, Lord Loss, Art — the entire world, and all the worlds beyond. I hate this universe, both universes, life itself. I wish I could destroy it all, the whole damn thing, myself as well. One burst of almighty energy and — bang! No more worries or pain.
Then I catch sight of Lord Loss smirking. And Art, smiling innocently, just the slightest twinkle of wickedness in the corner of his eye. I think about Mom and Dad, how they loved me and gave up everything, risking imprisonment and who knows what else, to protect my dark secret and keep me happy. Sure, they did it for themselves too, but I think — believe — they mostly did it for my sake.
And I know I can’t do this to them. I can’t take a demon in human form into their home and leave it free to strike. I’d be as demonic as Lord Loss if I did that.
“To hell with your rotten familiar!” I moan, turning my back on Lord Loss and the baby-shaped demon. Tears over-whelm me and the world becomes a watery, salty sea. I’m aware of Sharmila hugging me tight, leading me away, the others solemnly following. Lord Loss says something, mocking my misery, but we ignore him. Pass out of the main room, through the other webby chambers, past the room of chess sets, to the drawbridge. Where we pause, just a moment. And I hear, during a gulp between sobs, from deep within the castle, one final childish giggle from the demon Artery — my lost never-brother, Art.
GOOD-BYES
OUTSIDE the castle. At the point where we entered this world. Beranabus claps my back and says, “Let’s go find Cadaver.” Sharmila groans. Dervish looks at Beranabus as if he has two heads. Even Shark fidgets as though a terrible curse had been uttered. “What?” Beranabus snaps, frowning at his Disciples. “We have to capture him, squeeze out whatever he knows about the Kah-Gash. That’s what we came here for.”
“It is over,” Sharmila says. “Nadia was wrong about the Kah-Gash. Or we already came upon it and failed to recognize it. Either way, Cadaver’s real purpose was to bring Kernel into this universe, so he could learn the truth about the theft. Now it is time for him to return to his parents and —”
“No!” Beranabus shouts. “His brother never mattered. This is about the Kah-Gash and always has been.”
“To you, perhaps,” Dervish says softly. “But not to Kernel. And not, I think, to the rest of us. Sharmila’s right — it’s over.”
Beranabus glares at us. An angry red flush creeps up his neck. He starts to say something but Shark steps forward, halting him. “I’ll serve if you want me. If you think I can help you find this demon-destroying weapon, I’m yours for life. But I doubt I’ll make a difference. I don’t think any of us will. I agree with Dervish — this was about Kernel and his search. That’s what brought us here. It doesn’t seem like much, and it’s crazy that Raz and Nadia had to die because of it — but that’s life.”
Beranabus growls. “Think you’re smarter than me, do you?”
“No. But I can see the truth when it’s sitting before me plain as day. I don’t know anything about the Kah-Gash. Maybe you’ll find it later, maybe you won’t. Maybe Cadaver can lead you to it, maybe he can’t. But it’s time to let Kernel go. He doesn’t belong here. He’s not part of this. Not anymore.”
It’s the most I’ve ever heard Shark say. I want to thank him, but my throat’s as tight as when I was being strangled by Cadaver’s hairs.
Beranabus scowls at his three Disciples, lets his gaze linger on me, then gives a disinterested sniff. “So be it. I’m not going to argue with all of you. I’m starting to think it was a fool’s errand. I’ll look for Cadaver anyway, just in case, but there’s no reason for you to come with me. The fighting’s over. And the deaths.”
He turns away, takes a deep breath, starts muttering the words of a spell.
Sharmila, Shark and Dervish exchange uncertain glances.
“That’s it?” Dervish asks. “We can go?”
“Aye. Get the boy to open a window for you. Return to your normal duties. I’ll be in touch later. If I need you.”
Dervish laughs. Sharmila and Shark smile. Then all three look at me.
“Where do you want to go?” I ask them.
“Drop us off at your place,” Shark says. “We’ll make our own way from there.”
I nod slowly, then face the patches of light. They surround me as usual, now that I’ve come out of the Board, glowing in the air around me. Half eager, half afraid, I think about Paskinston.
It doesn’t take long. I slot the patches of pulsing lights together. The window opens. Clean blue light. The doorway out of all this craziness. I take one last look back before stepping through, at the castle, the demon-laced sky, Beranabus.
“Thank you,” I mutter. “I know you only helped me because you wanted to find the Kah-Gash. But I couldn’t have discovered the truth without you.”
“Much good it did you,” Beranabus grunts. He looks at me with his grey-blue eyes. Cocks his head. “Home isn’t always where you expect it to be. It can change, as life changes. If you ever need me, you know where to find me.”
“He won’t,” Dervish says shortly, then pushes me through the window of light, out of the universe of demons.
Night. We’re in a field outside Paskinston. Where Mrs. Egin exploded and Cadaver crossed. The four of us standing beneath a half moon, looking at each other, breathing in the delicious smell of our own world.
“We are a sight,” Sharmila laughs, nodding at our torn clothes, ripped flesh and bare feet.
“At least we’re not a stench,” Shark says. He sniffs a sleeve and his face turns green at the memory of the gory pool.
“Thank you,” I whisper, eyes lowered, suddenly shy, feeling like a child again, the way I did before I crossed universes. I was their equal over there. Here, I’m just a boy.
“No need for thanks,” Dervish smiles. “We had the adventure of a lifetime.”
“I would not call it an adventure,” Sharmila says thoughtfully. “More like a nightmare, that I hope never to experience again.”
Dervish smiles. “Be truthful. Now that we’ve come through alive, don’t tell me you aren’t a bit sorry that it’s over. It was wild but magical. Right?”
“No. It was horrible. I hated every minute of it.”
?
??Shark?” Dervish asks.
“I hated the pool of slime,” he grunts, and we all laugh. “Otherwise it was a buzz. But that’s because we survived. I’m sure Raz and Nadia had a different view of it.”
I feel a jolt of guilt when he mentions Nadia. I should tell them about her. But I gave my word. Besides, she said she wouldn’t hurt them. The only one she hates is Beranabus.
“What was Raz like?” Dervish asks, smile fading.
“A gentleman,” Sharmila says.
“Yeah,” Shark agrees. “I knew Raz. A top cat. But let’s not talk about him. In our business, it’s best to forget about death and focus on living.” He stretches and groans. “I’m off to find a lake to soak in. How about you all?”
“I’ll come with you,” Dervish says. “I still have a lot to learn about being a Disciple.”
“I’m not so sure,” Shark murmurs, then raises an eyebrow at Sharmila.
“I want some time off,” the Indian lady says, gazing at the moon. “I have been a Disciple for many years. I am due a break. Maybe I will go to the village of my parents and pray to their memory. They were killed by demons.” She sighs and lowers her eyes. “I will pray for Raz too. And Nadia. And the others who died in the course of this quest.” She looks at me. “And I will pray for Kernel. And maybe for Art, even if he did not ever really exist.”
I smile at Sharmila thankfully, then stretch out my arms for a hug. As she wraps her arms around me, she whispers in my ear. “It was strange that you could not find the Kah-Gash.”
“Maybe it doesn’t exist,” I reply.
“Or maybe.. .” She hesitates, then releases me. “I wonder what would have happened if you tried to open a window to one of us when we were with you in that universe.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
She smiles cryptically in answer, kisses my cheeks, then steps back.
“We can stay with you a while,” Dervish says, as I hover uncertainly at the edge of the village. “Help you readjust and explain all this to your parents.”
I laugh. “You really think you can explain Lord Loss to my Mom and Dad?”
“You have a point,” Dervish chuckles.
I shake Shark’s hand, admiring his tattoos one final time. He salutes sharply when I let go. Then I shake hands with Dervish. “Your spikes have gone floppy,” I note.
“I feel floppy all over,” he says, grinning.
The four of us share one final glance that says more than any words. With a tired wave, I turn away from the three Disciples, face the village lights, steady myself and wonder what Mom and Dad will say when I step through the door. With an excited but nervous shiver, I start on the short walk home.
HOME ALONELY
IT wasn’t a glorious homecoming.
Nearly seven years had passed since I stepped through the window in search of Art. I found it almost impossible to believe, even though Lord Loss had warned me. Seven years of change, births and deaths, the world moving on — and I missed every minute of it.
Mom and Dad looked a lot older than I remembered. Wrinklier, greyer, a sadness in their eyes that hadn’t been there before.
They thought I was a ghost. Although seven years had slipped by, I looked exactly the way I did when I disappeared, even dressed in the same clothes. Mom screamed. Dad too. They spun away from me, covering their eyes, panting with terror.
I hadn’t expected such a reaction, or prepared myself for the experience of having Mom and Dad scream at me with horror. I fell apart. Collapsed in tears. “It’s me!” I kept wailing. “It’s me! Me! Me!”
Eventually, shaking with fear, Dad edged forward. Maybe he wouldn’t have been so brave if I hadn’t been crying like a baby. He poked my bald head, finger trembling, expecting it to slide through me. When it didn’t, he frowned and poked me again.
“I’m real,” I moaned, looking at him, wanting him to hold me, hug me, tell me he loved me. “It’s me. Kernel. I’m real, Dad. I’m back.”
“Kernel?” he croaked, shaking his head softly. “It can’t be. You’re...no...it can’t . . .”
Then he fell on me, folded his arms around me, bellowed my name and burst into tears. Moments later, Mom was beside me too, the pair picking at me, poking me, clutching me. Crying and laughing at the same time.
I spent ages trying to explain. I told them about the lights, the window, the kidnapping, stepping through after Cadaver, Beranabus, my journey between worlds, Lord Loss, Artery. They didn’t believe me. Couldn’t. But they had no other explanation for how I’d turned up unchanged (except for lots of cuts, scars and bruises).
“We should take him to a doctor,” Dad said. “Have his body and mind looked at by experts. They might be able to uncover the truth.”
“No!” Mom hissed before I could insist that my story was the truth. “He’d be a freak. There’d be questions we don’t want to answer. They’d take him away. We might never see him again, lose him like Annabella and.. .” She didn’t say the name of her third child. She refused to discuss Art not being real. Dad didn’t probe either. It was the one part of my story neither asked to hear a second time.
With no other option, they reluctantly accepted my outlandish tales. But they didn’t tell the neighbors about me. Dad said we’d be treated like lunatics if I repeated my demonic stories. Also, a lot of the people of Paskinston had lost children when Cadaver attacked. He wasn’t sure how my reappearance would affect them.
They hid me inside the house while they tried to think of a way to introduce me back into village life. Mom wanted to pretend I was an orphaned cousin who just happened to look a lot like their supposedly dead son. Dad entertained a deep-freeze theory — he thought he could convince people that I’d been kept on ice by scientists for the past seven years.
When they realized how weak those explanations sounded, they decided to simply leave without saying anything. Running away had worked once — why not a second time? Pack our bags, move to where nobody knew us, start anew. Mom and Dad loved Paskinston, but they loved me more. Stealing away like thieves in the night, saying nothing to any of their friends, seemed like the only solution. So that’s what we did.
After trying out some small towns, where Mom never felt comfortable, we ended up in a city. Dad found work on a construction site, Mom in a fast-food restaurant. They teach me when they come home at night. During the day I stay in-doors, watching television, reading, playing games, making model airplanes. Not safe for me to go out and interact with other people. Mom and Dad are afraid I’ll be taken from them if the truth emerges.
I’m not enjoying this life. It’s not how I thought it would be. I did a brave thing, risked all to save my brother, went through torments and overcame obstacles that most people couldn’t even imagine. But I’m not allowed to talk about it. I have to keep it hidden, like something shameful. We don’t even talk about Art, what happened to him, the fact that he was a demon in disguise. I tried discussing it with Mom once, but she clapped her hands over her ears and shrieked at me to shut up and never mention his name again.
Mom and Dad aren’t happy either. They don’t say so, but I can see that secretly they wish I’d never returned. Losing me and Art was hard, but after seven years they’d learned to deal with it. They’d found peace in Paskinston, were getting on with life, grateful to have each other and a place to call home.
I’ve wrecked all that. Turned their world upside down and inside out. Forced them to abandon their home and friends, take to the road, live a life of secrets and fear.
I didn’t want to ruin their lives. I wanted to save Art, bring him home, be a hero. I wanted Mom and Dad to hold me and love me, for everything to be all right after that terrible universe of monsters. I wanted my life back.
Instead I’ve returned to lies and disguise, a nightmare every bit as awful as the one I hoped to escape forever when I left the universe of the Demonata.
The loneliness is worse than ever. Trapped indoors most of the time, nobody to play with or speak t
o. It was bad enough when I felt like an outsider, but at least I could mingle with other children, go to school, act like I fit in. Now I’m totally alone. I can’t even talk to Mom or Dad. They’re always uneasy around me. They love me because I’m their son, but I’m sure they wonder sometimes and ask themselves, “Is that really Kernel? Can it truly be the boy we thought we’d lost? Or is it some monster pretending to be him?”
They have nightmares. I’ve heard them moaning in their sleep. Sometimes one will wake screaming, and sob for hours, held by the other, comforted.
But they never hold or comfort me.
Out of boredom, I start experimenting with the patches of light. Curious to see if I can manipulate them. Trying to get them to pulse. I don’t want to open a window. I just want to see if I have the power here.
For a long time I make no progress. But eventually I find a way. I have to think about a specific spot in the Demonata’s universe, somewhere I’ve been. That gets the lights pulsing, though it takes hours of concentration. Once they’re going, if I think of another place or person, other patches pulse, but slowly, in small numbers. I’m sure I could get more of them to pulse if I pushed myself, and gradually build a window. If I wanted to. Which I don’t. Why would I ever return to that universe of vicious, magical insanity?
A dark, wet day. Mom and Dad are out at work. They were awake most of last night, crying and talking. I hate seeing them unhappy. I’ve tried everything I can to cheer them up and make it easier. Told jokes, avoided mention of demons, worked hard at my studies, kept up a smile whenever they’re around.
But nothing works. They were delighted when I first returned, but that quickly gave way to a confused sadness, and they’re getting sadder every day. They don’t know how to deal with me or this new life they’ve found themselves part of. It’s too complicated.
They’re starting to resent me. I can see it in their eyes, just a flash, every so often, when they think I won’t notice. A look that says they wish I’d never come back. That look strikes at my heart every time I catch it. Makes me want to break into tears and throw myself at them for a hug. But I hold my smile. Pretend not to notice. Act like everything’s fine. And only cry when they’re not around.
The clouds part shortly after midday, for a few minutes. Then they roll back together and rain comes down more heavily than before.
Thinking about the universe of the Demonata. I hated it there, but I