Slawter (22 page)

How do you explain away a massive demonic killing spree? Easy — by covering it up and pretending it was an accident.

Dervish spends the rest of the evening making calls, to the Disciples, police, politicians, journalists, firemen, doctors, and nurses. The Disciples have a network of contacts, ready and waiting to smooth over the cracks when something like this happens. It’s how they’ve managed to keep previous crossings quiet in the past. They come in droves, the first arriving late at night, setting up camp close to the barrier around Slawter, so they can move in swiftly and mop up when the time is right.

They keep the survivors together for four days, in vans and tents brought to the site by more of Dervish’s contacts. Nobody’s allowed to leave or make a call. Counselors work hard, making the most of the time, trying to help people stave off nightmares and come to terms with the deaths of relatives and friends.

Waiting for the demons to finish off the last few victims and return to their own universe. I often feel like going back to the barrier, to view the devastation, to curse Lord Loss or just stand there and let him curse me. But I don’t.

The barrier finally dissolves when the last of the Demonata take their leave. Dervish and a team of volunteers enter the town and demolish the magical lodestone in the D warehouse, closing the tunnel between universes. When the threat of a follow-up invasion has been averted, they retrieve the bodies (and body parts), stack them in buildings around the town, then set the place on fire. It’s a gruesome end for the unfortunate victims, but necessary to mask the demonic marks and trick the outside world into believing they died in a ferocious fire.

That’s the official story, built on the bones of Bill-E’s gas leak rumor — there was a massive explosion and a wave of fire swept through the town with brutal speed, killing most of the cast and crew. I doubt if all the survivors will stick to it. I’m sure a few will protest in the months and years to come, tell their friends, go to the media, try to spread the truth. But who’ll believe them? If anyone goes on a TV show, prattling on about demons, the audience will think they’re a maniac.

The teams destroy the film reels too. Davida’s notes. The models, props, costumes. A thorough job, leaving nothing behind, removing all traces of the Demonata, planting fake evidence in its place. The only people who knew what the film was about were all in Slawter. As far as the rest of the world will ever know, Davida Haym’s last movie was going to be a departure from her earlier movies — a love story with a touch of science-fiction.

I think, if Davida is watching in some phantom form, that will hurt the most. Not the deaths, the betrayal by the demons, her own grisly slaughter. But that her film was destroyed and all traces of her masterpiece removed.

Good! I hope her ghost chokes on it.

Standing beside Dervish as the fires rage, the night sky red and yellow, thick with smoke. Watching Slawter disappear forever. Most of the survivors and emergency crew are with us. Silence reigns.

“It’s over,” Dervish says as the roof of a large building — maybe the D warehouse — caves in with a raucous crash, sending splinters of flames flickering high up into the sky. “In the morning we can leave. Everyone can go.”

The sweetest words I’ve ever heard.

Juni is gone before we awaken. She leaves a note for Dervish. She’s been quiet and withdrawn these past few days, not saying much, refusing to discuss the mayhem or her killing of Chuda Sool.

In the note she says she’s confused. She knows Chuda was guilty, deserving of punishment, but she can’t believe she acted so callously. Her whole world has changed. She knows about demons now, and she’s seen a side of herself that she doesn’t like. She needs time alone, to reflect, consider, explore. She says she has strong feelings for Dervish, but doesn’t know if she ever wants to see him again. Tells him not to look for her. Promises to visit him in Carcery Vale one day —
if.
That’s the last word —
if.
I think she meant to write more, but couldn’t.

Dervish doesn’t say anything when he reads the note. Just hands it to me and Bill-E once he’s done, then goes for a long, lonely walk. I’d help him if I could, say something to make him feel better. But I don’t know what to say. Bill-E doesn’t either. So we don’t say anything when he returns, only stay close in case he needs us.

The evacuation proceeds smoothly, people leaving without a fuss, driven home or to train stations, airports, wherever. Some of the counselors travel with the worst affected, not only to comfort them, but to make sure they don’t harm themselves or wind up in trouble.

I think some of the survivors won’t be able to live with what they’ve witnessed. This will haunt all of us, but it will hit some harder than others. I think there will be a few more deaths in the years to come.

I’d like to do something to help the worst afflicted, but I can’t. It’s not possible to save everybody. Even heroes have their all-too-human limits.

By four in the afternoon the last cars are leaving. The media has been told of the supposed fire, and news teams begin to arrive, eager to scour the ashes of Slawter — renamed Haymsville for the benefit of the rest of the world. They’re angry to find none of the survivors here, and they hit the roof when they learn that the emergency crews were on the scene so long before them. But there’s nothing they can do about it except moan.

I watch with little interest as the reporters circle the skeletal remains of the town. I’ve had enough of the place. I just want to forget about it. Put it behind me and move on.

Bill-E is beside me, silent as a corpse. He’s kept himself busy in the aftermath, spending a lot of time with the other children who made it out alive, talking about what happened, trying to help. That’s been his way of dealing with the tragedy. He doesn’t want time alone to think about it, to remember, to fear. At night he wakes screaming, but in the day he fights the memories. What will he do when we’re home and he has nothing but ordinary life to occupy his time? What will
I
do?

“They didn’t find all the bodies,” Bill-E says. “I heard Dervish talking about it with another Disciple. The demons took some people back to their universe. Maybe Bo was one of them. Maybe she’ll escape and return. I’m sure it’s possible. I mean, Dervish did it, right?”

I grunt negatively in reply, knowing in my heart that Dervish would have told us if there was even the slightest glimmer of hope.

I turn to face Bill-E. I instinctively know that this is the right moment, the one I’ve been waiting so many months for. Time to tell him that we’re brothers.

“Bill-E . . .” I begin, but before I get any further, Dervish appears.

“Hey,” he says with forced good humor. “You want to stay here all night or are you coming with me?”

“Coming where?” Bill-E asks, turning, and the moment is lost. I won’t make the great revelation, not now. Later. When another good time comes around.

“Yes — where?” I ask, turning like Bill-E, so we’re both looking at our uncle.

“Where else?” Dervish says with a thin, weary smile. “Home.”

A Little Chat

I
T’S strange, trying to settle back into everyday life, not telling anyone about Slawter, acting like normal people who’ve merely survived a very human tragedy. Bill-E and I lie to our friends, make up stories about the filming, describe the fire and how we were lucky to escape. Not a word about demons.

Bill-E stays with us the first few nights, despite the objections of Ma and Pa Spleen. Nightmares galore, both of us. Remembering. Screaming. Crying. Talking with each other and Dervish, trying to cope. Ironically, considering how this all started, Dervish sleeps like a baby. The confrontation was a tonic for him. It blew the cobwebs from his head, helped him out of the bad patch he’d been stuck in. The fighting, the cover-up, getting in touch with the other Disciples, discussing ways to keep the truth secret... all of that was nectar to my uncle. It fired up his engines. He was in his element dealing with the demonic fallout. I’m not saying he enjoyed it, but he needed it. That’s his real work.

I wish it was so easy for me, that I could go off, find a demon, have a fight, purge myself of the bad memories and fears. But I took nothing positive out of what happened in Slawter. I’m just disgusted, tired, and afraid. I’m sure it will be years before I can sleep properly. If ever.

But the show must go on. The charade has to be maintained. So Bill-E returns to Ma and Pa Spleen. We go back to school. We force ourselves to focus on homework, friends, sports, TV, music, day-to-day life. We pretend that’s all there is to the world, that there’s nothing more frightening in life than a surprise test or saying something stupid in front of your friends and having them laugh at you.

And sometimes — just sometimes — I almost believe it, and for a little while I forget about Lord Loss, Davida Haym, Bo Kooniart, Emmit the demons, the dead. And life is the way it should be, like it is for most people. But the sensation never lasts. It can’t. Because I know the truth. I’ve seen behind the curtain of reality. I know that monsters
are
hiding underneath a billion beds across the world. And I know that sometimes... more often than we imagine... they come out.

“Time for that talk.”

We’ve been home for nearly three weeks after our return. I’m in the TV room, some comedy show playing on the big screen, not really concentrating. When Dervish sits beside me and speaks, I’m not sure what he’s talking about. Then, as he switches off the TV, I remember. In the middle of the madness he said that if we got out alive, we’d have to have a chat about my magical prowess.

“You were amazing in Slawter,” Dervish says. “Magic was pumping through you and you had complete control over it.”

“I just tapped into the power in the air,” I shrug uneasily. “No biggie.”

Dervish smiles. “Modesty’s becoming, but let’s not bull ourselves — you were on fire. You did things I can’t even comprehend. When I was fighting Lord Loss, I noticed some of the demons trying to get through the hole in the barrier. You kept them back. How?”

“I established a second barrier around the hole. Demons couldn’t get through it but humans could.”

Dervish chuckles. “Do you realize how difficult that is? I couldn’t do it. Even when I was in Lord Loss’s realm, at my most powerful, I couldn’t have pulled off something like that. I don’t know many who could.”

“It wasn’t like I planned it,” I say, for some reason feeling edgier the more he praises me. “I reacted to what was going on around me. The magic told me what to do. I wasn’t in control. I couldn’t do any of it again. I don’t even remember most of what I did.”

Dervish studies me closely, his expression serious. I sense his reluctance to continue — and with a jolt, I guess the reason why, and instantly understand why I’ve been so nervous.

“The Disciples are few in number,” Dervish says quietly. “We’re always on the lookout for new recruits, but most mages never realize their magical potential. It lies dormant unless they have an encounter with the Demonata. Even then there’s no guarantee that it will develop, that we’ll be able to make use of them.”

“No,” I say softly.

Dervish frowns. “I haven’t asked you anything.”

“I know what’s coming. And the answer’s no. Please don’t ask me.” I look away, trembling, fighting hard not to cry. “I hate it, Dervish — the demons, the battles, the madness. I don’t want to face Lord Loss or anything like him again. I don’t want to become a Disciple.”

A lengthy silence. Finally Dervish sighs. “I’d spare you if I could. But there are so few of us and we’re so limited. From what I saw in Slawter, you could be one of the most powerful Disciples ever. You might even . . .” He clears his throat. “You might even be a true magician. Like Bartholomew Garadex.”

“No way!” I cry. “You told me I wasn’t. You said magicians are born that way, that their powers are obvious from birth.”

“I know. But the way you handled yourself . . . Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there are late-developing magicians. But even if you’re not a magician,” he says quickly as I start to protest, “you
are
part of the world of magic. No normal person could have done what you did. You have a very powerful, important talent, and it would be a crime to deny it. I know you don’t want to involve yourself with the Disciples, but you have to. Some of us believe that the universe creates champions, that a few humans in each generation are given the gift of magic in order to protect this world from the Demonata. If you’ve been chosen by the universe . . .” He smiles shakily. “You can’t say no to a calling like that, can you?”

“Just watch me,” I snap.

Dervish’s expression darkens. “You’re acting like a child.”

“Well, duh! Haven’t you noticed? I
am
a child! Big for my age, but don’t let size fool you. Try me again when I’m old enough to vote.”

“I can’t wait that long,” Dervish says. “Magic must be nurtured. Every day we hesitate is a day wasted. When you face your next demon, you might —”

“There won’t be a next!” I shout. “Weren’t you listening? I don’t want to join your band of do-gooding Disciples! I said
NO!
”

“Unacceptable,” Dervish replies flatly. “You have a responsibility. I know it’s hard — I’ve gone through it myself — but you have to be who you are.”

“You don’t know anything!” I hiss. “You didn’t lose your family to demons. You didn’t have to fight Lord Loss when you were my age. You haven’t felt the terror of...of...” I’m breathing hard, hands clenched, tears in my eyes.

“You can’t let fear rule your life,” Dervish says. “Everyone’s afraid when they face a demon. We learn to mask our fear, but it’s always there, chewing away at us. Fear... doubt... wishes that we weren’t magical, that we didn’t have this cross to bear. I can help you overcome that fear. I can show you the way.”

I stare at him heavily. There’s no point arguing. He really doesn’t understand. I’m not just afraid — I’m horrified. In Slawter I did what I had to. It was an unreal situation and I had no choice but to let the magic wash through me and use it to fight my way out. But I hated the whole experience and I have no desire to repeat it. I’m through with the universe of demons. I’ve done more than my fair share. Gotten the better of them — and saved lives — twice. That’s enough.