AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I can’t,” I say stubbornly. “Art’s alive and I’m going to find him.”
“You’ll go back?” she asks mockingly. “Face the demons? Die like Raz? You didn’t know what you were stepping into when you followed us through the first window. Now you’re better informed. Do you really have the courage to cross universes freely?”
“I have to,” I mutter. “For Art.”
“I don’t think so,” Nadia says coldly. “You ran. The time to fight has passed. You feel guilty because you didn’t stand by Beranabus, and you want to put things right. But if you think it through, you’ll see that’s madness. You don’t want to go back. And you won’t. You’ll stay in this universe, where you’re safe. Like me.”
I stare at the ground, tears creeping down my cheeks. Everything she says is true. I am afraid. I don’t want to go back. I’m a coward.
But despite all my weaknesses, I have to return. Because I love Art more than I fear demons.
“Come with me,” Nadia says, taking my hands. She’s smiling, looking prettier than normal, hair shining in the sun. “I’ll take you back to your parents if you want, or you can stay with me. I’ll be a sister to you. We can travel the world together. I’ll use my gift to make money. We’ll stay in the best hotels, sail the seas on mighty liners, fly through the sky on aeroplanes. Anything you want, I’ll give you. It will be a precious life. No worries, no fears, no demons.”
I shake my head slowly. “I can’t,” I croak. “Art’s my brother. I can’t abandon him.”
Nadia sc
owls and releases my hands. “Have it your own way, fool! But when you’re dying beneath some hideous demon, watching it reel your guts out like a cat playing with a ball of string, remember what I offered you.”
She turns on her heel and marches away.
“Nadia!” I cry. “Where are you going?”
“There,” she says, waving a hand at the world in general.
“Don’t leave me,” I wail. “I don’t know where we are. You have to help me find Beranabus. You can go after that, but...”
She turns a corner and storms out of sight, leaving me in the alley. Alone.
I’m sitting on the dusty ground. Hands on my knees. Head on my hands. Crying. It’s been maybe an hour since Nadia left. I kept thinking she’d come back, that she’d decide she couldn’t desert me. But there’s been no sign of her. And the more I think about what she said, and her face when she said it, the less chance I think there is of her returning. Nadia hated her life with Beranabus. She went along with him because she had no other choice. But then I gave her a way out and she leapt at it.
Eventually, when the tears stop, I get to my feet and look around. I feel hungry now that I’m back in my own world, but there’s no time to eat. I have to find Beranabus — if he’s still alive.
There are dozens of patches of light hanging in the air around me, but none are pulsing. I wipe my cheeks clean, then focus. “Beranabus,” I mutter, thinking about his face, his shabby suit, the flower in the button hole, his clean hands. I repeat his name, over and over, waiting for the lights to pulse.
Nothing happens. The lights maintain their steady glow.
I go cold — maybe that means he’s dead!
“Art,” I say quickly, fixing my brother’s features in my mind. I concentrate on his name and face, but the lights don’t change.
My stomach’s tight with fear. Are they both dead, slaughtered by demons? They must be. Otherwise why wouldn’t the lights pulse and lead me to them?
I have another thought, just before panic sets in completely. I visualize Cadaver’s horrible features and say the demon’s name, time and time again. Nothing.
The fear drains out of me as I realize the lights work differently here. They don’t pulse when I think of a person or place. The magician and my brother might still be alive.
Relief floods through me — then drains almost immediately. Because if the lights don’t work the same way here, how will I find Beranabus or Art, or open a window to the universe of the Demonata?
I can’t get back.
PUNKS
WANDERING the streets of the city. It’s been a long time since I was in a place this crowded and noisy. I missed city life when I was living in Paskinston. I remembered only the good things — movies, swimming pools, parks, school. I forgot about the traffic, the towering buildings that cut out the sunlight, the isolation.
I was always with Mom or Dad when I lived in the city, or with a teacher or babysitter. But one day, on a school trip to a museum, I got lost. It was an hour before I was found. I remember now what that felt like, how scary it was, how I believed I’d be lost forever. I was sure I’d have to sleep on a park bench or underneath a bridge like a homeless person. It was terrifying.
This is scarier. At least then I knew what city I was in, but this could be anywhere. None of the street names or buildings are familiar. I think about asking an adult where I am, but I don’t want to appear out of place. If I go up to a stranger and they learn that I’m lost, that I don’t even know what city I’m in, they’ll take me to the police. And while part of me would love that — the police would arrange for me to be sent home — I can’t go down that route. If the police take me into custody, I won’t be free to search for Art.
