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Cadaver treads on one of the longer wormlike monsters. It squeals and writhes beneath him, knocking him over. He screeches with his newly created mouth, hairs on his arms lengthening. Lashes out at the worm, slicing open a long gash down its side. Coiled layers of guts ooze out, adding to the ghoulish stew around it. The worm thrashes wildly, knocks Cadaver down again, pins him beneath its fleshy carcass. Cadaver slashes at the worm with his hairy arms and chews his way through strands of guts that have ended up wrapped around his snout. He soon wriggles free — but by then I’ve caught up with him.
I grab Cadaver’s ears and slam him down on top of the dying worm demon. I’m roaring triumphantly. Cadaver yowls and tries slapping me away. The hairs of one hand graze the side of my face, slicing my right cheek open. But the blood only drives me on with more passion. I grab his throat and throttle him, forgetting what Lord Loss said about naming the thief, intent only on killing this vile beast.
The hairs of Cadaver’s hands snake around my neck and tighten, forming a lasso. We’re strangling each other, face to face, snarling. The first to weaken will be the first to die.
My fingers begin to relax. I glare at them, willing them to close again, to finish the job they started. But they don’t obey. I’m losing — perhaps I’ve already lost. Cadaver is grinning. The hairs tighten another notch, biting into the flesh of my throat, cutting off the last of my air supply. I feel my mouth gasping, eyes bulging, fingers scrabbling at the hairs instead of Cadaver’s throat, trying to undo them.
Then a dripping, stinking Shark is beside me. A tattooed fist smashes Cadaver between the eyes. The demon grunts and the hairs loosen. Shark hits him again. The hairs slip away. I topple. Dervish catches me and props me up while Shark pummels Cadaver, beating all the fight out of the demon.
I breathe again, painfully, oxygen trickling through to my lungs. It feels like my throat has been crushed to splinters. Dervish places my hands on my wounded flesh and says, “Magic.” I repair the damage. It doesn’t take long. I’m getting used to fixing up my body.
When my throat’s working normally, I check on Shark and Cadaver. The exsoldier is still hitting the demon, but with less force, just to keep him in place. Shark catches my eye and winks. “You can take him off my hands, or leave him to me for a few hours. I don’t mind either way.”
“It’s OK,” I tell him. “You’ve done enough. Thanks.”
Shark steps away and I take his place. Cadaver glowers at me, his face bruised and bloody. I hear Shark complaining about the stench and how he doubts he’ll ever be able to wash himself clean. I tune him out and focus. Recall Lord Loss’s words. Touch Cadaver’s forehead. Start to call him the demon thief.
Then stop.
Is this really the one who stole Art? Maybe it’s another demon in disguise, and Lord Loss is trying to trick me. I look for the marbles and find them floating a few feet above us. “Locate Cadaver,” I mutter, and they immediately strike at the demon beneath me, causing him to yelp and turn his head aside. I grab the marbles, stick them in my pocket, then — with one hand still on Cadaver’s forehead — shout, “This is the demon thief!”
Nothing happens. I was expecting a flash of lightning, a peal of thunder or an earthquake, something suitably dramatic. But there’s no difference. I start to shout it again, in case I wasn’t heard the first time. But somebody claps before I get the words out. I whirl and spot Lord Loss, floating in the air thirty feet above us, smiling sadly, applauding sarcastically.
“Such courage and imagination, Cornelius,” the demon master murmurs. “The marbles were an excellent idea. They’re only ordinary marbles, but you made them a catalyst for your magic, channeled your power through th
em. That spoiled my fun slightly — brought us to this juncture sooner than I anticipated — but I cannot bear a grudge. You are a true Disciple and master of magic.”
He stops clapping and sighs. “But you miscalled the name of the thief. Cadaver is not the guilty party. One chance gone — you have two more.”
“No!” I scream as Cadaver shuffles backwards, sneering at me. “He stole Art! It’s him, not a demon in disguise! It’s Cadaver!”
“Yes,” Lord Loss agrees pleasantly. “It is Cadaver. But he is not the true demon thief.”
“But...he must be...he...”
Inspiration strikes. Lord Loss said I had to find the true thief. Cadaver was a hired stooge. A puppet in the hands of his employer. He carried out the actual theft of Art, but he wasn’t the brains behind it. The real thief must be the one who planned it, gave the order and paid the bounty.
I crouch, directing magic into my legs. Fix on Lord Loss. Adjust my aim. Then launch myself at him, flying through the air, leaping like a frog or cricket, covering the thirty feet in the flash of an eyelid.
Lord Loss is taken by surprise. He brings his eight hands together to ward me off, but too late. I have hold of him before he can repel me. Digging my fingers into his lumpy flesh — doughlike in feel as well as appearance — I scream at him, sure I’m right this time. “You’re the true thief!”
Lord Loss throws me down. I hit a bulging sac of intestines. It explodes, showering me with blood, an acidy liquid and fragments of guts. I laugh carelessly, wallowing in the mess as though taking a bath, jeering at Lord Loss, smug at having beaten him at his own game. Dervish and Shark are staring at me uncertainly. They don’t have my insight. They’re not sure I’m right. But I am. As sure as I’ve ever been of anything. All that’s left now is for Lord Loss to...
“Very clever, Cornelius,” he says, cutting short my celebration. “But not clever enough, my poor young friend. I am not the true thief.
“Two chances gone — one remains.”
His smile is chilling.
THE TRUE THIEF
“YOU’RE lying!” I scream.
Lord Loss shakes his head slowly. “I do not lie.”
“You have to be the thief! You gave the order for Art to be stolen! If Cadaver isn’t the thief, it can only be you!”
“But it isn’t,” he says calmly. “Doubt my word if you wish, but Beranabus knows it is sacred. He is watching this now. If I lied to you, he would have cause to seek revenge. And while I do not fear Beranabus, I would rather not promote him, especially when there is no need.
