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Waiting while the Disciples cleanse the hospital of demons. I should help them, but this will probably be the only private time I get with Dervish. Things have a habit of moving swiftly when Beranabus gets involved. Once they finish off the last demon, talk will turn to the werewolf attack and there might not be any time to sit with my uncle and chat. I’ve devoted a huge chunk of my life to Beranabus’s cause. I’m due a few minutes of down time.
“I told you healthy eating wasn’t worthwhile,” I say, nudging Dervish in the ribs (but gently — he looks like blood mixed in with lumpy porridge). “You told me I should watch my diet. But who had a heart attack first?”
“As illogical as ever.” Dervish scowls. “I thought you might have matured while you were away, but obviously you haven’t.”
“Seriously, how have you been?” I ask.
“Apart from the heart attack?”
“Yeah.”
He shrugs, looking older than I’d have thought possible. “I’m about ready to follow Billy into the wide blue yonder.”
My face stiffens. “Don’t say that, not even joking.”
“No joke,” he sighs. “I was given a single task by Beranabus — guard the entrance to the cave — and I screwed it up. I told Billy’s mom I’d look after him — some job I did of that. I took you in and promised you’d be safe with me, then…”
“I was safe with you.”
“Yeah, I really protected you. Lord Loss and his familiars didn’t get anywhere near you on my watch, did they?”
“That wasn’t your fault,” I tell him heavily. “You did the best you could. For me and Bill-E.”
“Then why is he dead and why are you lost to me?” Dervish moans.
“Because we live in a world under siege,” I say. “Life sucks for mages and magicians — you taught me that. Bad things happen to those of us who get involved, but if we didn’t fight, we’d be in an even worse state. None of it’s your fault, any more than it’s the fault of the moon or the stars.”
Dervish nods slowly, then arches an eyebrow. “The moon or the stars?”
“I always get poetic when I’m dealing with self-pitying simpletons.”
We laugh. This is what I love best about my relationship with Dervish — the more we insult each other, the happier we are. I’m trying to think of something disgusting and hair-curling to say when Beranabus appears. He’s using baby wipes to clean his hands.
“Still alive?” he asks Dervish.
“Just about.”
“We’re finished here. Time to go.”
It’s not fair. We’ve only had a few minutes together. I want to ask Dervish about Bec and how they’re coping. How he explained Bill-E’s disappearance to our neighbors. What’s happening with my friends. I want to complain about my life with Beranabus and boast about all the action I’ve seen.
But those are childish, selfish wishes. We’re in the middle of a maternity ward. I’ve seen several dead and dismembered bodies already — nurses, mothers, babies. There are probably dozens more scattered throughout the hospital. I’d be the shallowest person in the universe if, in the face of all that tragedy, I moaned of not having enough time to spend with my uncle.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“The roof,” Beranabus says. “We need to discuss the situation before moving on. It’s more complicated than we thought. Bec says the demons who struck were led by Juni Swan.” Dervish and I stare incredulously, then we both start to shout questions at him. “Not now!” Beranabus stops us. “We’ll talk about it on the roof.”
“I don’t think I can make it
that far,” Dervish says.
Beranabus mutters something under his breath — it sounds like, “I hate the damn Gradys!” — then picks up Dervish.
“I can carry him,” I say quickly.
“No,” Beranabus grunts. “Keep watch for any demons we might have missed.”
Settling Dervish on his back, the magician heads for the stairs. I follow a few feet behind, eyes peeled for monsters all the way up the blood-drenched steps to the roof.
