Part 13 (1/2)

She nods. ”If you prompt me, I will do my best. But I cannot start without your help. You would have to show me the way, like you did before.”

”Grubbs,” Beranabus says, ”you can't go back again.”

”Why not?” I shout. Dervish looks up, startled by the ferocity of my tone. ”Why the h.e.l.l can't I?”

”The Kah-Gash reversed time because the world faced annihilation and there was no other way,” Beranabus says calmly. ”But it was a ma.s.sive, perilous undertaking. If it had gone awry, the result would have been chaos, timelessness, maybe the destruction of both universes. You can't take such a risk again, just for the sake of one boy.”

”That one boy one boy means more to me than all the others in the world put together,” I snarl. means more to me than all the others in the world put together,” I snarl.

”Maybe,” Beranabus replies, ”but he means nothing to the Kah-Gash. If he did, you wouldn't be sitting here arguing-you'd be spitting out spells, trying to find the energy to take you back. You You set events in motion last time. You were the first to act. If you want to do it again, go ahead.” set events in motion last time. You were the first to act. If you want to do it again, go ahead.”

”I don't know how!” I howl.

”Ask the Kah-Gash,” Bec says. ”It spoke to us before and directed us. It's like a person. You're able to talk to it. Ask and see how it responds.”

”I don't think -” Beranabus begins.

”Let him,” Bec insists. ”If he feels he must do this, and if he can, it's not our place to stand in his way.”

I stare at her uncertainly, then close my eyes and focus. I search for the magic and quickly find it, an energy and consciousness. There are no barriers between us now. I'll never have trouble finding it again. It's as much a part of me as the oxygen in my lungs.

I tell the magic-the Kah-Gash-what I want. I beg it for help. But there's no answer. I guessed there wouldn't be. Now that we're one, I've begun to understand that other, mysterious part of myself. Beranabus is right. It won't let me smash the structures of time just to save Bill-E.

”Even if you could phrase the spells,” Beranabus says as I open my eyes, tears flooding my cheeks, ”there isn't a source to track back to. In this time, the tunnel hasn't been opened. There's no river of energy to ride back on.”

”We could find another place where demons broke through,” I moan.

”No,” Beranabus says. ”You'd need an open tunnel, but there aren't any.”

”Maybe it doesn't have to be open,” I whisper-one final, desperate attempt. ”We could try a tunnel that's been closed. The energy might be trapped there, held in place, like in a battery or power cell.”

”Maybe,” Beranabus agrees. ”But even if the energy was present and you could unlock it, you'd have to follow the unleashed river of power back to its origin. I doubt it's possible to set limits, to travel back just a day, a week, or a month.”

”So what?” I sob. ”We'll ride it back to the start and wait. I don't care.”

Beranabus smiles softly. ”The last tunnel that was anything near to this in size was closed more than three hundred years ago.”

”Three . . .” I mutter, feeling the last sliver of hope die within me.

”Let it go, Grubbs,” Beranabus says. ”Your brother's dead and you can't bring him back. There's no way around it. You'll drive yourself mad if you can't accept that.”

”Maybe that wouldn't be so bad.” I sigh, then sit there, crying, saying my silent farewells to poor, unfortunate Bill-E Spleen-R.I.-b.l.o.o.d.y-P.

One Small Step for Man.

DERVISH'S bedroom. He's sitting on the end of his bed, expression blank. He hasn't washed the dirt and blood from his face and hands yet. I haven't either. Too weary for such mundane tasks. Life will go on, I'm sure-it always does. But right now we're a pair of zombies, capable only of the simplest movements. bedroom. He's sitting on the end of his bed, expression blank. He hasn't washed the dirt and blood from his face and hands yet. I haven't either. Too weary for such mundane tasks. Life will go on, I'm sure-it always does. But right now we're a pair of zombies, capable only of the simplest movements.

”See you later,” I mumble, turning to go to my own room.

”Wait,” Dervish says. ”I don't want to be alone, not now. Stay. Please?”

With a weary nod, I start to pull at the leaves of my magical suit. It's hanging off me in shreds and will be simple to remove. But after picking at a few leaves, I lose interest and crawl onto the bed beside Dervish. I put my arms around him and we hold each other tight. He often held me like this when I first came to live with him, whenever I awoke from a particularly brutal nightmare. But this time the nightmare is reality and there's little comfort to be found in the embrace.

”You had to do it,” Dervish whispers.

I break into fresh tears. ”He was my brother,” I moan. ”What would Dad have said?”

”The same thing I'm saying,” Dervish croaks. ”You did what had to be done. It should have been me. I was his guardian-yours too. The responsibility was mine. But I couldn't find the strength. I failed. If you hadn't been so brave, we'd have all died and Bill-E would have suffered terribly. You did what was best. You should feel proud, not wretched.”

I laugh bitterly. ”Proud! Yeah, sure.” Yeah, sure.”

Dervish sighs. ”Wrong word. You should feel . . . I don't know . . . maybe there isn't a word for it. But you did the right thing. That has to be enough. It has to keep you going. Because if you let this destroy you-if you let the madness take you-I'll lose two nephews, not one.”

”But it's so tempting,” I mumble. ”I want out, Dervish. I know what it's like to be mad. It's easier than this. Anything's easier than this. this.”

Dervish is silent a minute. Then he says, ”I'll make you a deal. If you fight the temptation . . . stay sane, no matter how painful it is . . . so will I.”

”You feel it too?” I ask, surprised by his admission.

He nods. By the way he trembles, I know he's not just saying it. ”Like you said, anything would be easier than this. But we have each other. If you fight, so will I. I'll stay sane for you if you stay sane for me. Agreed?”

I hug him tighter, loving him more than I ever did before. ”Agreed.”

Dervish blinks at the ceiling. ”It sounds crazy, but I'm sad about Juni too. I know she was evil and I hate her for what she did, but I loved her. I really thought we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. She had to die, and I'm glad I killed her, but . . .”

”I know what you mean. I miss her too. I was surprised Lord Loss took her body. I guess he plans to bury or cremate her.”

Dervish snorts. ”Eat her, more probably!”

We laugh softly, painfully-the first step back toward something that might one day pa.s.s for a normal life. And then, holding each other, we close our eyes, listen to the sounds of the mansion and the world outside, and slowly drift off into a nightmare-laced but nonetheless welcome sleep.

It's dark when I wake. Dervish is snoring lightly. I lie still for a few minutes, enjoying the nearness of my uncle, remembering Bill-E and Loch, my lost brother and friend, trying not to cry, just about managing to hold back the tears.

I ease myself off the bed, careful not to disturb Dervish. My suit of leaves has disintegrated entirely. I brush the last of the flaky patches off, then pad to my bedroom to shower and dress myself in more normal clothes. Thinking about all that's happened while I dress, the night when I almost became a werewolf, the plane, Beranabus, fighting the demons, traveling back through time, killing Bill-E.

Is it just me or does all that seem a bit much for a teenager to have to deal with? Most of my friends have nothing more catastrophic than acne or bad breath to overcome. Wouldn't it have been fairer to spread the craziness around? Couldn't Charlie have been stuck with the werewolf curse, and Frank with being a magician? Couldn't Leon have been betrayed by Juni, and Robbie recruited by Beranabus? And let's not leave the girls out. Reni did her bit, losing Loch, but Mary could easily have had to kill one of her brothers, and Shannon could have done the whole trip through time stuff.

I chuckle (nice to see I still can). I'm being ridiculous, but there's a nugget of truth there. It's been a heavy burden for a single person to bear, especially one as young, inexperienced and . . . h.e.l.l, let's say it . . . cowardly cowardly as me. It wasn't fair. as me. It wasn't fair.

But the universe isn't isn't fair. Things don't work out neatly, pain, hards.h.i.+p, and challenges divided equally among those best equipped to deal with them. Sometimes individuals have to be Atlases and carry the weight of the world alone. It shouldn't happen that way, but it does. fair. Things don't work out neatly, pain, hards.h.i.+p, and challenges divided equally among those best equipped to deal with them. Sometimes individuals have to be Atlases and carry the weight of the world alone. It shouldn't happen that way, but it does.

At least I have the crumb of comfort of not having fallen. I stumbled and wished all the time that I could bail out. But I kept going. I did what I had to. I came through. It would have been sweet to do it unscathed, Bill-E and Loch alive and well. But in the grand scheme of things, I don't have too much to complain about. That's how Beranabus would see it. And he's right. But that doesn't make me feel any better. The devastation of having killed Bill-E is all-consuming. I don't think any amount of reasoning will ever ease that pain.

Dressed, I go looking for Beranabus, Kernel, and Bec. Trying to focus on their needs, since it helps me not brood about Bill-E. Beranabus was badly wounded in the fight and might need help. Kernel will be in a lot of pain. He said he'd have to go to a hospital. I can arrange that. And Bec . . .

I'm not sure what I can do for a girl who's been dead for sixteen hundred years, only to find herself slap bang in the middle of the modern world. Guide her around the house for a start, I guess. Teach her how to open and close doors and windows, explain what TVs, computers, and CD players are. No . . . they can come later. First teach her how to run a bath and use the shower. Give her some clothes to tide her over until she can go shopping in the Vale. Explain where everything is in the kitchen, what a fridge is, how to open a can, that water comes from a tap and not a well.

I'm padding down the stairs when I hear her. No . . . not hear, exactly. I sense her. In the hall of portraits. Changing direction, I go to check that she's OK. I find her studying the faces of dead Gradys and our various relations, slowly moving from one painting or photo to the next, eyes steady, head c.o.c.ked slightly to one side.