Free Death's Shadow by Darren Shan Page B

loved to observe the torment of others, he had no wish to become one of the tortured.
    That was when he discovered his gift of speed. He could run faster than any demon that chased him. So, on the occasions where he could not tame a demonic beast, he fled, laughing gleefully as he ran, safe in the knowledge that the demon would soon lose interest in him and abandon the chase for easier pickings. In the Demonata’s universe there was always something else to kill.
    Windows were plentiful. Although demons could only cross to the human world with the aid of a malevolent magician or mage, many could travel from one zone to another in their own foul realm. Their universe was an endless parade of blood-drenched worlds and galaxies. Some of the stronger demons could even create infinite self-contained zones of their own, which somehow nestled within the larger unified demon universe.
    Whenever Beranabus tired of a realm, he searched for a window and usually found one quickly. He never worried about what he would encounter on the other side. Uncertainty and potential peril all were part of the delight of his life.
    Eventually, inevitably, he stepped through a window to the human world. He knew he’d crossed universes as soon as he sniffed the air — it was less charged with magic. Instinct urged him to retreat, but curiosity tempted him on. A long time had passed — he could tell from the buildings around him — and he wanted to see what the people were like, how they varied from those he’d known, whether they died any differently.
    In the demon universe, windows could remain open indefinitely. He assumed that was the case here as well, but he was wrong. He spent only a handful of minutes in the town — just enough to realize that demons were far more interesting than humans — but when he returned to the spot where the window had stood, it was gone. He was stranded, a captive of the world where he had first begun.
    When Beranabus discovered to his dismay that windows of magic were incredibly rare on this world, he traveled with fiery intent, hitching lifts with armies and traders, riding and sailing to the farthest reaches of civilization. He was desperate to return to the universe of the fantastical demons.
    This was the first time Beranabus’s brain stirred actively. Until then he had wandered neutrally, observing whatever he chanced across. But now he went in search of something specific and moved with a purpose, carefully choosing those he traveled with, deliberately setting out to explore fresh locations full of promise.
    As his brain took its first developmental staggers forward, he unconsciously learned a few words and mimicked the speech of those he hitched rides with, although most of the time he only uttered gibberish. His mind was still a confused, chaotic country, full of storms and whirlpools. But he had taken the first steps towards understanding and intent, and the world — the universes — would never be the same for him again.
    Some years later the boy found himself on an island, set at the westernmost limit of the known world. Demons had broken through and established a permanent tunnel. Thousands of monsters had flooded the land. They were terrorizing the locals, laying siege to the villages and towns, slaughtering all in their path.
    Beranabus eagerly trudged around the country in search of the tunnel, admiring the torments perpetuated by the Demonata. But as he moved from one village to another, a dim sense of unease grew within him. He felt nothing substantial for the dead humans he saw every day, nor the terrified living who would soon be butchered by the demons. But something about their plight troubled him. He had changed inside, and although the change was slight, it had altered his view of slaughter.
    Human suffering was different from what he’d seen in the demon universe. On this world, those who survived mourned for the dead. Demons laughed at death, but people here cared about their