I step forward. I’m shaking like a rattlesnake’s tail but I speak clearly. “If you think I’d say this to trick you, you don’t know me at all.”

Grubbs stares into my eyes. He wants to find deception, but he can’t, because I’m telling the truth. His shoulders slump and he backs away. He shares a scared look with Dervish, who’s been hit just as hard by the news.

Bec could crow but she doesn’t. She merely waits.

“I killed him to free him,” Grubbs finally croaks. “It was the hardest thing I’ve done. I murdered my own brother. I wouldn’t have done that to save the world, the universe, or anything else. But I couldn’t bear to let him live in torment at the hands of the Demonata. I killed him to spare his suffering, to set him free. Now you’re telling me I didn’t, that the Shadow has him?”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Tears of blood trickle from Grubbs’s eyes. Raising a hand, he wipes them away, then covers his face with his hand and moans softly.

“We have to free them,” Bec says. She crouches by his side and reaches out to embrace him.

“Don’t touch me!” he barks, pulling away from her.

“Don’t be silly,” she smiles. “I absorbed your secret when we linked outside. I know what Juni predicted. But I don’t believe her. She’s insane. You would never do what she claimed.”

Grubbs cries out and wraps his arms around the little girl, hugging her like a doll, weeping while we stare at the pair of them, bewildered. When he finally stops crying, he releases Bec and grins shakily at her, then casts his gaze over the rest of us, his features firm.

“Show of hands. Who’s going to help me and Bec kick some Shadow ass?”

Five arms rise immediately. Kirilli is the only dissenter. “You’re all crazy,” he grumbles.

“Overruled,” Dervish laughs, then twists his spikes into place and drawls like a gangster. “I always wanted to be part of a jailbreak!”

THE CARRIAGE HELD…

I try opening a window to Beranabus, then Bill-E, but enjoy no luck. It’s too difficult on this world. The lights are few and scattered. I need more power to piece them together. I need the magic of the demon universe.

We cross to a realm we know is safe, where we’ve based ourselves in the past. Grubbs brings his pack of werewolves along (“For fun,” he grins bleakly) but we leave the soldiers behind. I choose a place where time operates like it does on Earth. That way we should be back to face the next assault. Assuming we survive our brush with Death. Which is a pretty big assumption.

As the others prepare for battle, I use the lights to pinpoint the position of our enemies. I still can’t get a fix on Death, even though I now know its identity. But I find Lord Loss and Juni Swan easily enough. They’re on a world I’ve never been to, surrounded by thousands… no, millions of demons. The thought of entering the midst of such an army is terrifying.

I think of telling the others, but what’s the point? We have to do this. Bec, Dervish, and Grubbs for personal reasons, me because I believe—hope—Beranabus can reveal something about Death which will give us the power to defeat it. If all goes well, we won’t have to face the demons, just their shadowy master. If it goes poorly…

Best not to dwell on that.

I turn my thoughts away from demons. Breathing calmly, I focus on Beranabus. Lights begin to pulse, but there aren’t many of them and I have a tough time piecing them together. Normally lights flock to me when I summon them but these patches resist. I have to focus harder than I’ve ever had to, and even then they only drift towards me sluggishly, reluctantly.

Gritting my teeth, I bully the patches into place, slotting them together as if they were pieces of a crudely carved jigsaw puzzle. I’m aware of time ticking, the others growing impatient, especially the werewolves, who howl and hammer the ground with their fists, eager for action.

I push the distractions from my mind and focus on the lights. Normally I can multitask, chat with others while I’m working on a window. Not now. This will take everything I have. I’m doing something no one has ever done before, breaching the barriers of life itself.

Eventually, after hours of fierce concentration, when I’m starting to think it’s impossible, a small window opens. It’s an unimpressive, jagged panel of brown light, and it flickers alarmingly at the edges. But I don’t care. It shouldn’t by rights be open at all, so I’m more proud of it than any window I’ve ever created.

“Come on,” I shout, reacting quickly to push the outermost lights back in place before they can buckle. “This will only hold for a few seconds.”

“Where does it—” Grubbs starts to ask.

“No time!” I yell. “We have to go now or not at all.”

“Then let’s go,” Grubbs grunts and dives blindly through the window.

The werewolves rush after him. When the last of the sixteen has vanished, a nervous Meera crosses, followed by Bec. Kirilli steps forward but hesitates.

“I really don’t want to do this,” he mutters.

“Too bad!” Dervish laughs and pushes the startled stage magician through.

“Hurry,” I gasp, feeling the window start to disintegrate.

Dervish ducks past my whirring arms. As soon as he’s out of sight, I throw myself after him. I sense the window collapse as I sail through. Whatever happens next, whatever dire mess we wind up in, there’s no quick way out. We’re in this to the end, whether we like it or not.

I find myself in a realm of shadows, dark and swirling. The shadows whip at me and then flit away as if blown by a strong wind. But there’s no wind here, just the ever-circling shades of the dead.

I was expecting cries and moans of torment, but it’s silent. That surprises me. At the least I should be able to hear the howls of the werewolves. But when I open my mouth to call for the others—I can’t see any of them—I realize why it’s so quiet. Sounds don’t carry. Though I shout at the top of my voice, nothing emerges.

I hunker down, fighting the dark wisps which threaten to bowl me over and sweep me away. There’s no floor, just banks of shadows all around. I’m not floating. It’s more like being stuck in a pool of mud.

I try to create a ball of light but nothing happens. There’s magic here, waves of energy washing between the shadowy souls and binding them, but it’s a different type of magic and I’m unable to channel it.

As I try again, something solid strikes my left shoulder. Cringing away from my assailant, I peer through the streams of shadows masking my eyes. I spy a bulky shape bearing down on me. Impossible to tell if it’s friend or foe. I back up, desperately scouring the space around me for a trace of magic I can use. Then a pair of huge hands grasps my arms and tugs me to a halt. A face thrusts up next to mine. It’s a fearsome, demonic face, and my first instinct is to lash out. But as a veil of shadows whisks away from over the creature’s eyes, I realize it’s Grubbs.

He says something. I shake my head and mouth back the words, “I can’t hear.”

Grubbs narrows his eyes. Nothing happens for a few seconds. Then I hear his voice inside my head. “—me now? Can you hear me now? Can you—”

“Yes,” I stop him, replying silently, thinking the words instead of voicing them.

“Are you able to channel the magic?” he asks.

“No.”

He tuts, then grins. “I couldn’t either. Nobody could. But Bec adapted swiftly and showed the rest of us. Come on.”

He leads me through the shadows, half-staggering, half-swimming. The others aren’t far away—they’re grouped together, Bec at the center, the rest huddled round her, lit dimly by flickering balls of light which she has generated. They all look scared, especially Kirilli. Even the werewolves are subdued, whining silently and glancing around uneasily.