Hell’s Heroes

The original plan was for the three of us to unite, unleash the power of the Kah-Gash, destroy the Demonata and ride off into the sunset, champions of the universe, the greatest heroes ever. Easy.

Then Death came along and complicated matters. Death used to be a force, the same as gravity or light, without thought or form. Now it has a mind and it created a body from the souls of the dead that it reaped. We christened it the Shadow before we found out its true identity.

Death doesn’t like us. Life’s too abundant in this universe. It wants to go back to the way things were, when only demons and the Old Creatures were around. It’s thrown its support behind the Demonata. Under Death’s guidance, the demons have banded together and launched an assault on Earth. Their reward if they triumph will be the obliteration of mankind, control of our universe and immortality. Not a bad little package!

One of the ancient Old Creatures took Kernel on a trip to the centre of the universe, explaining the origins of life along the way. Apparently there was one universe to begin with, divided into sixty-four zones, half white and half black, like a chess board. The Kah-Gash held it all together, keeping the demons and Old Creatures apart. Then law and order broke down, the Big Bang shattered everything and life as we know it began.

The Old Creatures protected us from the Demonata as long as they could, but they’ve been fighting a losing battle. Unlike the demons, they can’t reproduce, so when the last one dies, we’ll be left to the devices of the inhuman armies. That spells curtains for this world and all the others in our universe.

To deny the demons their triumph, the Old Creatures created an ark. Like Noah’s, only this is an entire world, staffed by a variety of the universe’s more magical creatures. They want Kernel to captain the ark. As the eyes of the Kah-Gash, he can find shortcuts between any two points in the universes. By keeping him alive forever, the Old Creatures hope that he can steer the ark one step ahead of the pursuing Demonata, ensuring that a small section of our universe survives until the end of time.

It would have been easy for Kernel to accept their offer. But he came back and pitched in with us for one last assault. The Old Creatures said we couldn’t beat Death, that it’s invulnerable, but Kernel refused to write off our chances. He joined with Bec and me, and we confronted the Shadow.

We managed to destroy Death’s body, but it’s only a matter of time before it returns, bigger and badder than before, to lead its followers to victory. Seeing this, Kernel chose to return to the ark. I asked him to stay and fight. Bec had been captured by Lord Loss and I wanted us to free her, then unleash the full force of the Kah-Gash on Death when it returned.

Kernel refused. He thought Bec had switched allegiances and sided with Lord Loss. Even if she hadn’t, he couldn’t see any way of defeating Death. He got ready to open a window and take off for pastures unimaginably distant.

That’s when I lost my cool and tore out his eyes. I needed Kernel to find Bec for us to stand any sort of chance against Death. If I had to blind and imprison him to force his hand, so be it. The human Grubbs Grady could never have acted so viciously, but the new, wolfen me… Well, I don’t sleep with an easy conscience, but I can live with it.

“How does he look?” Kernel asks Kirilli. “Ashamed? He should. What he did to me, I wouldn’t have done to a dog. Or a demon. Not even a werewolf.”

“He looks tired,” Kirilli says, offering me a slight smile.

“Poor Grubbs,” Kernel sneers. “Are you overworked? You should take a week off, treat yourself to a holiday.”

“That’s right,” I sigh. “Go on hating me. It’s not like you’ve got anything else to hate, is it?”

“The Demonata?” Kernel shakes his head. “I don’t hate them. They’re doing what they were born to. Nature spat them out as foul, heartless killers. That’s the way they are. You, on the other hand, chose vileness over humanity. We were friends. I trusted you. But then you did this to me and keep me here against my will, even though you know it’s wrong. I despise you more than I ever thought possible.”

I sniff away his insults. “Whatever,” I deadpan, echoing the girl with the yo-yo. “We’re staying here the rest of the night, then moving out at ten in the morning. If you want anything, ask a nurse.”

“I want new eyes,” Kernel snarls. “Can a nurse fetch me those?”

I start for the door.

“Grubbs,” Kernel stops me. I glance back wearily, preparing myself for more insults. “Why are we still here?”

I frown. “I told you, we’re staying overnight, then–”

“I mean on Earth,” he interrupts. “When you blinded me, you said you needed me to find Bec, that we’d wait for our wounds to heal, then rescue her. But it’s been a month and we haven’t gone after her. Why not?”

I’m surprised Kernel hasn’t mentioned this before. I kept waiting for him to ask and had all sorts of responses lined up. But now my tongue freezes. I flash on the dreams I’ve been having, think about sharing them with him, then shake my head.

“We’re not ready. We’ll go for Bec when the time is right. We can do more good here at the moment.”

“We?” Kernel replies archly. “All I do is wait around in hospitals for you to return from the killing fields. If you’re not going to use me, set me free.”

“I will use you,” I mutter. “When it’s time, I’ll take you back to the demon universe and let you build new eyes.”

“And then?” Kernel prompts.

“We’ll find Bec.”

“Find her?” He pounces like a cat. “Not rescue her?”

I gulp, then nod at Kirilli. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Not if I see you first,” Kernel calls after me, then raises his voice as I exit, to make sure I hear his parting shot. “Not that that’s very likely!”

→ I find an unoccupied room on an upper floor of the hospital and make a bed out of some balled-up surgical gowns. I’d rather not sleep, but rest is vital, even for a creature like me. I have to be at my sharpest to keep on fighting demons.

I think about my conversation with Kernel, and about Dervish, Juni, Lord Loss, Bec. I recall the prophecy again, the way Juni cackled, her delight as she described seeing the world explode, the universe burning beneath my twisted hands.

It’s too much. Guilt, fear and loneliness overwhelm me. I’m not in close touch with my human emotions these days. I’ve become a detached, brutal excuse for a person. But tonight, for a few brief minutes, my defences crumble. I become an awkward teenager again. I feel the weight of the expectations that ride upon me… the awful price the world will pay if I fail… those who’ve been lost… the lives I’ve taken, like the confused little girl tonight… the fear of what might be waiting for me when I cross to Lord Loss’s realm… Juni’s prophecy.

As my face contorts and becomes more human, my chest heaves and I weep. Hot, thick, salty tears run down my cheeks as I sob and beg for help from the dead — Dervish and Beranabus, Mum and Dad, Meera and Bill-E. I’ve blinded a friend. Hidden terrible truths from those who’ve placed their trust in me. Killed and lied. And, if Juni’s to be believed, there’s worse to come.

I wail and mumble madly, biting into the gowns to stifle my cries, pounding my chest and face with my fists. I curse the universe, God if he exists, the Old Creatures, the Disciples, Lord Loss and all the demons. But most of all I curse myself, poor, pitiful, apocalyptic Grubbs Grady.

Then, as the tears dry… as the werewolf regains control and my features harden and transform… as I bury my humanity deep again… as the Kah-Gash whispers and tells me I’m not alone and to stop behaving like a child… I gradually calm down.

I turn and readjust the gowns. Make myself comfortable. Breathe more slowly. Mutter a short spell. And fall into what should be a pure and dreamless sleep — but isn’t.

IN DREAMS I WALK WITH YOU

→ The spell I use when I want to sleep is meant to stop me dreaming. It’s designed to provide me with a good night’s sleep, free of nightmares, so I can wake fresh and bright in the morning. But it hasn’t been working since Bec was abducted. I’ve tried different spells, having asked a number of Disciples for advice, but nothing keeps the dream at bay. The same disturbing scenes unfold every time and they’re the real reason why I haven’t tried to rescue Bec.

As the dream kicks in again, I flow along with it as usual. I’ve tried fighting, struggled to change the sequence or details, but without success. Tonight I accept my lack of control with as much grace as a savage beast like me can muster.

I’m in a room made of cobwebs, staring down at a sleeping girl — Bec. She lies on a bed of thick webs, covered by a blanket of much finer strands. She looks pale and exhausted, but bears no wounds and breathes easily, calmly.

Her left hand moves upward and brushes her cheek, as I knew it would. Her nose twitches and again I’m not surprised. I’ve seen it all a dozen times. When you experience the same dream over and over, you start paying attention to the details, to stop yourself going mad. I try to find something new tonight, a little movement or quiver that I missed before, but everything is exactly the same as before.

Bec’s eyelids flutter open. A moment of panic – “Where am I?” – then her look of alarm fades and she rises. She’s dressed in a beautiful nightgown, the sort I’ve only seen in old movies. It’s not made of webs. I guess Lord Loss took it from one of his victims — I can’t imagine him going shopping for it.

Bec walks to a small, round window and gazes out over a landscape of cobwebs. This is Lord Loss’s realm, a world of countless sticky strands, a massive network of despair and sorrow. The air is thick with misery and suffering. I can sense that thousands of people have died here, crying out for their loved ones, alone and separated from all they’d ever known.

Bec turns to a table and chair, both carved out of webs. There’s a mirror set in the wall over the table. The girl sits and studies her reflection. She looks tense, but not scared. She reaches out to touch the face in the mirror, as if she’s not sure it’s really hers, then pauses and lowers her hand.

Standing, she walks to a wardrobe on the other side of the room. The doors open as she approaches and a clothes rack slides out. Long, frilly dresses hang from it, the sort a princess or movie star would wear. I don’t think they’d suit a plain girl like Bec. She must think the same thing because she smiles at the dresses and shakes her head.

“You do yourself a disservice, Little One,” says a voice. Bec stiffens, then turns slowly and regards Lord Loss. He’s hovering in the doorway, blood seeping from the many cracks in his pale red skin. His dark red eyes are as kindly as I’ve ever seen them. Even the snakes in the hole where his heart should be look harmless, hissing playfully, seeming to smile at the young girl by the wardrobe.

“Of course you deserve such finery,” Lord Loss continues, floating into the room and running a couple of his eight arms over the dresses. “You are a priestess of high standing. You should expect only the best from your world and its people. They exist to serve your pleasure and revere your beauty.”

“You flatter me,” Bec says shyly.

“No,” Lord Loss says. “Power is beauty, and as you are the most powerful of all humans, you must be the most beautiful. Wear these dresses and think of them as rags. We shall find finer robes for you later.”