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Beranabus chuckles. “Hell, most likely.”
Webs everywhere. Strand after strand, some the thickness of several trees placed together, others as fine as a length of thread. A gloomy, silvery, moonless sky, dotted with giant meteorlike demons. Nothing but blackness when I look down through the many layers of web. I wriggle my bare toes over the moist, sticky fabric of the strand. It’s like standing on cotton candy.
There’s a demon close to us, a nightmarish beast. He has the body of a child but the head of an adult. Pale green skin. No hair, but a wiglike cluster of lice scuttle around his scalp, feeding on his flesh, digging holes through to his brain. No eyes — instead, a ball of fire burns in either socket. A large mouth full of sharp teeth, no tongue. Two smaller mouths set in his palms, one in either hand.
The demon hisses when he sees us, turns and races away at a great speed, crisscrossing the network of webs, leaping from one level to another. Nobody gives chase, not even Shark. We’ve just spotted the castle that the demon is running towards.
A castle of webs, set amidst a cluster of extra thick strands. It looks like a medieval castle, except ten times bigger. Taller than any skyscraper I’ve ever seen, wider than a couple of street blocks in the city where I used to live. Towers and turrets galore. Several huge drawbridges. Everything spun out of webs. Glistening and forboding, even from this distance.
There’s a moat around the castle. The hell-child leaps across it with ease, but instead of waiting for the drawbridge to be lowered, he scales the outside wall of the castle like a spider. Disappears through a narrow window.
“This is bad,” Beranabus says.
“You know this place?” Sharmila asks.
“It’s the home of a demon master called Lord Loss.”
“I like his style,” Shark grunts, then looks around. “So,
where’s the demon we’re meant to be chasing?”
“Where else?” Beranabus points to the castle.
“How do you know?” Dervish asks.
“No demon can set foot here without Lord Loss’s permission,” Beranabus says. “Only his familiars and those he chooses to shelter are welcome. Cadaver isn’t one of his slaves, so I’m guessing he asked for sanctuary and it was granted — otherwise he would have fled from here already.”
“Company’s coming,” Nadia says, smirking at us crookedly.
I spot scores of demons wriggling through the windows of the castle and over the tops of turrets. A couple of the drawbridges are lowered and more of the monsters advance over them.
Dervish glances back at the orange window, still open behind us. He looks at Beranabus questioningly.
“No,” the magician says after a moment’s hesitation. “We can’t defeat Lord Loss on his own territory. But maybe we can bargain with him.”
“Bargain with a demon?” Sharmila frowns.
“He’s not like other demons. He prefers suffering to execution — he feeds on the misery of the living rather than the bodies of the dead. He won’t kill us swiftly. If we can find some way to amuse him... give him something that Cadaver can’t ... maybe he’ll turn the thief over to us. And let us go.”
“You really believe that?” Sharmila asks.
“No,” Beranabus chuckles dryly. “But it’s the only hope we have.”
Then the demons are upon us.
FLY ON THE WALL
FIGHTING desperately. Swamped by demons of every mutation imaginable. Some are small, like the one we saw when we arrived. Others tower above us. Many are strange hybrids — mixtures of animals, lizards, birds, even fish. Others look like nothing I’ve ever seen, lumps and blobs, teeth and claws, shadows and blood.
We fight in a tight circle, back to back. Sharmila sets the demons on fire when they come within reach. Shark rips heads and limbs loose, using the severed arms and legs as clubs to beat back other demons — he’s loving this. Dervish uses bolts of magical energy where he can, his fists and feet when a demon closes in. Nadia has magically grown her nails and is using them as swords, ten deadly blades. Beranabus uses a mix of spells and punches to shatter the bodies of our enemies, fighting calmly, controlled.
I lash out with my fists, punching wildly, trying to be as much of a nuisance as possible. I’m not terrified. Scared, but in control. Panting hard, but not roaring. Maybe it’s because I know this is a fight which can’t be avoided. Even if I ran away, I’d have to come back and face these demons again. Unless I abandon Art. Which isn’t going to happen.
The demons should have overwhelmed us by now. There are so many, of different sizes, shapes and powers. We shouldn’t be able to stand up to them. But they don’t take advantage of their strength and numbers. They snap and bite at us, inflicting minor wounds, but don’t pile upon us all at once.
“What’s going on?” Dervish yells, wiping a demon’s yellow blood from his face and kicking an otterlike beast away. “Why are we still alive?”
“Like I said,” Beranabus grunts, “Lord Loss wants to play. He must have given orders not to kill us.”
