Demon Apocalypse

The rain of bombs lessens, then stops. Dust swirls below, momentarily masking the hordes of demons. Shark roars commandingly at the pilot. We drop.

SPARTANS

The demons attack before we touch the ground, screaming hatefully, hurling themselves at us viciously. More pour out of the cave entrance, all ma

The soldiers bear the brunt of the assault. They spill out of the helicopters and absorb the rush of demons, firing off round after round of bullets which they know will only delay the beasts, buying precious seconds for those of us in the three central helicopters, laying down their lives to help us.

As the bloodshed begins, Beranabus claps me hard on the back. Almost before I know what’s happening, I’m out of the helicopter and ru

For several seconds we glide through the ranks of Demonata as if they weren’t there. A few challenge us, but the Disciples brush them off without slowing, sending them tumbling out of our way, interested only in clearing a path to the cave. The demons are hell-bent on butchering the soldiers—easy targets for the magical monsters—delighted to have so many new victims drop in on them at once.

Then a familiar demon master rises into the air above the cave entrance. My hands clench into fists, nails breaking the flesh of my palms, and the hope that had been forming within me quickly dwindles away.

It’s Lord Loss.

“Demonata!” my old enemy cries, the word piercing my skull and those of everyone and everything around me. “Beware the Disciples! Block their path or we’ll be returned to our own universe!”

In an instant the battle changes. Every demon shrugs off the attentions of the soldiers and focuses on our small band. Impossible to tell how many there are… a couple of hundred or more. As if breathing in unison, they all snarl at once, then converge.

A wave of demons breaks over us sickeningly fast. One moment they’re metres away. The next we’re surrounded. Claws flash, jaws snap, at least a dozen demons to each of us. Three Disciples perish immediately, wrestled to the ground, ripped to pieces. The rest are stranded, cut off from one another, reduced to fighting isolated, individual battles.

Shark disappears beneath three lumpy monsters, then reappears a second later, throwing them off with a ball of magical energy, laughing maniacally.

Sharmila’s muttering spells frantically, gently touching the demons around her, setting them on fire.

The woman with the cane is using it like a gun, shooting bursts of magical bullets at the demons, crushing the heads of others with her mace.

Beranabus presses on, ignoring the carnage, intent on making it to the cave. Kernel runs behind him. So do I, legs working automatically, leaping over the struggling demons, Disciples and soldiers, panting hard. I want to flee. The coward inside me wails and pleads with me to retreat. But I think of Dervish and Bill-E, and cling to the belief that they’re alive, that I can save them. That gives me the strength to ignore the craven cries and follow Beranabus and Kernel.

A rabbit-shaped demon leaps up in front of Beranabus. I recognise it from the massacre on the plane. It’s Femur, one of Lord Loss’s familiars. It vomits acid at Beranabus’s face. But the magician is prepared and deflects the acid back at Femur. It drenches the demon and eats through its fur and skin. Femur screams and rolls away, tiny paws frantically trying to wipe the burning liquid away from its cheeks and eyes before its head melts down to the bone.

The hell-child known as Artery appears, grabs Beranabus’s left leg with his mouth-encrusted hands and bites hard. Beranabus grunts, then kicks Artery as if he was a football, sending him flying over the heads of several other demons.

Beranabus staggers on. The cave entrance is within sight. So is Lord Loss, still hovering in the air, all eight arms extended, smiling sorrowfully.

A tiger-headed demon latches on to my waist and whirls me around, fangs snapping in search of my throat. The magic within me instinctively sends a wave of electricity through the monster. It turns black, then collapses, synapses sizzling, eyes melting in its sockets.

“Nice work!” Shark yells, popping up beside me. He’s bleeding from several cuts and one of his ears has been bitten off. “Came to help, but it looks like you don’t need me.”

“Beranabus!” I shout at him. “You have to help Ber—”

Before I can finish, Shark’s gone, ripped away by a gaggle of demons who swarm over him, antlike. I see a hand… his teeth as he bites… I hear a laugh… then he’s on the ground, covered completely, and I see nothing more of him.

I take a stu

Kernel slides to his master’s side and joins the fight. But just as he fires off a few pinkish bolts of his own, the scorpion demon from the plane—Spine—leaps on to his bald, brown head and aims its stinger at his right eye. With a pop the stinger goes in, then comes out wet and glistening. Shrieking with delight, the demon spits out a mouthful of eggs, filling Kernel’s pulpy socket.

Kernel screams with agony as the eggs hatch and maggoty insects gnaw at what’s left of his eye, before working their way through to his brain. He wheels away from Beranabus, losing all sense of direction. Spine strikes again and Kernel’s left eye pops too.

Something hits me hard in my upper back and I slam to the ground. Claws dig into my flesh. I’m momentarily stu

“Nobody touches the boy!” Lord Loss bellows, and I realise I’ve been rescued by the demon master. He catches my eye and his smile broadens. “I’m saving you for myself, Grubitsch. You escaped on the aeroplane, but you will not wriggle free again.”

The fighting clears around me, demons giving me a wide berth, turning aside to finish off the Disciples and the few remaining soldiers. The path to the hole clears—but it’s also the path to Lord Loss. For a long second I stare at the demon master, hovering, waiting. I want to run away. No point trying to push on—Lord Loss will kill me before I get anywhere near the cave. The wise thing would be to turn tail and—

“No!” I yell, deciding not to be a coward, to die with everyone else if that’s my destiny, to perish slowly and awfully at the hands of Lord Loss if that’s the cost of failure. But I’m not going to flee. I’m through ru

I lurch ahead, summoning all my reserves of energy, speaking quickly to the magic within me, saying I know I’ve let it down in the past and held it back, but promising it a free rein now. We’re in this together and I won’t stop until I’m dead or we’ve won. Will it help me?

The magic screams back its answer—Hell, yes!—and I feel power grow in the pit of my stomach, greater than any I’ve unleashed before. I don’t know if I’ll prove a match for Lord Loss and his companions, but right now I feel like I can’t be beaten, like I’m the most powerful player here.