Wolf Island (2 page)

The asteroid’s as uninteresting as I thought it would be, just pitted rock, not even any unusual formations. I thought this
universe was amazing when I first came. The physical laws vary from zone to zone. I’ve seen mountains floating overhead. A
world made of glass. I’ve been inside the bowels of giant demons. Squashed miniature worlds, killing billions of bacterial
demons with a well-placed foot.

I’m not so easily impressed now. It wears you down, the constant weirdness, torturing, killing. Days and demons blur. You
can’t stop and marvel at wonders all the time. You start to take them for granted. I see a demon the size of a city, with
the face of the
Mona Lisa.
Big deal. All I care about is how to kill it.

I’m not scared anymore either. I was the first few demons we fought. The old Grubbs Grady yellow streak shone through and
I had to battle hard to stand my ground and not flee like a spineless loser. But fear fades over time. I no longer worry about
dying. It’s going to happen sooner rather than later — I’ve accepted that. I don’t even give thanks anymore when we scrape
through a fierce battle.

But close fights are rare. Most of the demons we target are weak and craven. We don’t tackle the stronger beasts, focusing
instead on the dregs of the universe. I could defeat most of them single-handed. We always work as a unit, but don’t often
need to. I’ve fought thousands of demons, but I could count the number of times my life has been in danger on the fingers
of one hand.

Fighting demons and saving the world might sound awesome, but in fact it’s a bore. I used to have more excitement on a Friday
night at home, watching a juicy horror flick with Bill-E or wrestling with my friend Loch.

Kernel’s playing with invisible lights when I return. His eyes were stabbed out in Carcery Vale. I thought he’d be blind
for life, but you can work all sorts of miracles in this universe. Using magic, he eventually pieced together a new pair.
They look a lot like his original set, only the blue’s a shade brighter and tiny flickers of different colors play across
them all the time.

The flickers are shadows of hidden patches of light. Apparently, the universes are full of them. When a mage or demon opens
a window between realms, the mysterious lights cluster together to create the fissure. But only Kernel can see the patches.
He can also manipulate them with his hands, allowing him to open windows faster than any other human or demon.

Beranabus was worried that Kernel might not be able to see the lights when he rebuilt his eyes, but actually his vision has
improved. He can see patches he never saw before — small, shimmering lights that constantly change shape. He can’t control
the newly revealed patches. He’s spent a lot of time fiddling with them, without any success.

I sit and watch Kernel’s hands making shapes in the air. His eyes are focused, his expression intense, like he’s under hypnosis.
There are goose bumps on his chocolate-colored skin. Beads of sweat roll down his bald head, but turn to steam as they trickle
close to his eyes. He freaks me out when he’s like this. He doesn’t look human.

Of course he’s
not
entirely human. Nor am I. We’re hosts to an ancient weapon known as the Kah-Gash, which sets us apart from others of our
species. Together with Bec — a girl from the past, but returned to life in the present — we have the power to reverse time
and, if the legends are to be believed, destroy an entire universe. Coolio!

I’m constantly aware of the Kah-Gash within me. It’s a separate part of myself, forever swirling beneath the surface of my
skin and thoughts. It used to speak to me but it hasn’t said anything since that night in the cave. I often try to question
it, to find out more about the weapon’s powers and intentions. But the Kah-Gash is keeping quiet. No matter what I say, it
doesn’t respond.

Maybe if Kernel, Bec, and I experimented as a team, we could unearth its secrets. But Beranabus is wary of uniting us. We
couldn’t control the Kah-Gash when we first got together. It took a direction of its own. It worked in our favor on that occasion,
but he’s afraid it might just as easily work against us next time. The old magician has spent more than a thousand years searching
for the scattered pieces of the Kah-Gash, but now that he’s reassembled them, he’s afraid to test the all-destructive weapon.

I miss the voice of the Kah-Gash. I was never truly alone when it was there, and loneliness is something I’m feeling a lot
of now. I miss my half-brother, Bill-E, taken from me forever that night in the cave. I miss school, my friends, Loch’s sister,
Reni. I miss the world, the life I knew, TV, music — even the weather!

But most of all I miss Dervish. My uncle was like a father to me since my real dad died. In an odd way I love him more than
I loved my parents. I took them for granted and assumed they’d always be around. I knew they’d die at some point, but I thought
it would be years ahead, when they were old. Having learned my lesson the hard way, I made the most of every day with Dervish,
going to bed thankful every night that he was still alive and with me.

I could tell Dervish about the demons, the dullness, the loneliness. He’d listen politely, then make some dry, cutting comment
that would make it all seem fine. Time wouldn’t drag if I had Dervish to chat with between battles.

I wonder what he’s doing, how he’s coping without me, how much time has passed in my world. Time operates differently in this
universe. Depending on where you are, it can pass slower or quicker than on Earth. Kernel told me that when he first came
here with Beranabus, he thought he’d only spent a few weeks, but he returned home to find that seven years had passed.

We’ve been trying to stick to zones where time passes at the same rate as on Earth, so that we can respond swiftly if there’s
a large-scale assault or if Bec gets into trouble. But Beranabus is elderly and fuzzy-headed. If not for the emergence of
the Shadow, I think he’d have shuffled off after the fight in the cave to see out his last few years in peace and quiet. Kernel
has absolute faith in him, but I wouldn’t be shocked if we returned to Earth only to find that a hundred years have passed
and everyone we knew is pushing up daisies.

As if reacting to my thoughts, Beranabus groans and rolls onto his back. He blinks at the darkness, then lets his eyelids
flutter shut, drifting into sleep. His long, shaggy hair is almost fully grey. His old suit is torn in many places, stained
with different shades of demon blood. The flower in the top buttonhole of his jacket, which he wears in memory of Bec, is
drooping and has shed most of its petals. His skin is wrinkled and splotchy, caked with filth. His toenails are like dirty,
jagged claws. Only his hands are clean and carefully kept, as always.

Kernel mutters a frustrated curse.

“No joy?” I ask.

“I can’t get near them,” he snaps. “They dart away from my touch. I wish I knew what they were. They’re bugging the hell out
of me.”

“Maybe they’re illusions,” I suggest. “Imaginary blobs of light. The result of a misconnection between your new eyes and your
brain.”

“No,” Kernel growls. “They’re real, I’m sure of it. I just don’t know what…”

He starts fiddling again. He needs to lighten up. It can’t be healthy, wasting his time on a load of lights that might not
even be real. Not that I’ve done a lot more than him in my quieter moments. I wish I had a computer, a TV, a CD player. Hell,
I’d even read a book — that’s how low I’ve sunk!

I’m thinking of asking Kernel to open a window back to Earth, so I can nip through and pick up something to distract me, when
Beranabus stirs again.

“Was I asleep for long?” he asks.

“A few minutes,” I tell him.

He scowls. “I thought I’d been out for hours. That’s the trouble with this damn universe — you can’t get any decent sleep.”

Beranabus stands and stretches. He looks around with his small, blue-grey eyes and yawns. This is about the only time you
can see his mouth properly. Mostly it’s hidden behind a thick, bushy beard. All our hair was burnt away when we traveled through
time, but it’s grown back. I think he looked better without the beard, but he likes it. I grew my red hair the same way as
before too. I guess you always go with what you’re used to.

“I suppose we’d better —,” Beranabus begins.

“Quiet!” Kernel hisses, cocking his head. This is a new tic of his. Several times recently he’s shushed us. He says he can
hear muted whispers, hints of sounds that seem to come from the patches of light.

A few minutes pass. Kernel listens intently while Beranabus and I keep our peace. Finally he relaxes and shakes his head.

“Could you make out anything?” Beranabus asks.

“No,” Kernel sighs. “I’m not even sure it’s speech. Maybe it’s just white noise.”

“Or maybe you’re going crazy,” I throw in.

“Maybe,” Kernel agrees.

“I was joking,” I tell him.

“I wasn’t,” he replies.

“Well, whatever it is, it can wait,” Beranabus says. “We’ve had enough rest. Open another window and we’ll go find a few more
demons.”

Kernel sighs, then concentrates. Roll on the next round of inquisitions and torture.

W
E’RE
chasing a flock of terrified sheep demons. Each one is covered with hundreds of small, woolly heads. No eyes or ears, just
big mouths full of sharp demon teeth. All the better to eat you with, my dear.

Beranabus thinks the sheep might know something about the Shadow. Stronger demons prey on these weak creatures. He’s hoping
they might have heard something useful if any of the Shadow’s army struck their flock recently. It’s a long shot, but Beranabus
has devoted his life to long shots.

As we close in on the frantic demons, Kernel stops and stares at a spot close by.

“Come on!” Beranabus shouts. “Don’t stop now. We —”

“A window’s opening,” Kernel says, and Beranabus instantly loses interest in everything else.

“Start opening one of your own,” the magician barks, moving ahead of Kernel to protect him from whatever might come through.
I step up beside the ancient magician, heart pounding hard for the first time in ages.

“Wait,” Kernel says as Beranabus drains magic from the air. “It’s not a demon.” He studies the invisible lights, then smiles.
“We have company.”

A few seconds later, a window of dull orange light forms and the Disciple known as Shark emerges, quickly followed by Dervish’s
old friend, Meera Flame.

“Shark!” Kernel shouts happily.

“Meera!” I yell, even happier than Kernel.

Beranabus glares suspiciously at the pair.

Meera wraps her arms around me and I whirl her off her feet. We’re both laughing. She kisses my cheeks. “You’ve grown,” she
hoots. “You must be eight feet tall by now!”

“Not quite,” I chuckle, setting her down and beaming. Meera used to stay with us a lot and helped me look after Dervish when
he was incapacitated a few years back. I had a big crush on Meera when I was younger. Hell, looking at her in her tight leather
pants and jacket, I realize I still do. She’s a bit on the old side but doesn’t show it. If only she had a thing for younger
guys!