Free Dark Calling by Darren Shan Page B

can to counter the burns breaking out across
     my flesh. “They can’t follow us into the human universe, can they?”
    “No,” Art says. “But We Will Not Make It. The Demon Will Catch Us. We Have To Open The Window From Here.”
    “Can you do that?” I ask.
    “In Theory,” he says, doing nothing to calm my frayed nerves.
    Art is struck again but pushes on, concentrating on the small patches of light that I glimpse through the flicker of the flames.
     I try to create a barrier to help but there isn’t a strong supply of magic here, at least not the sort I can tap into. The
     best I can do is cool my skin and quench the worst of the flames.
    The demon looks nothing like those I’ve fought in the past. It’s huge, a mass of bulges, not shaped like any animal I’ve ever
     seen. I’m not even sure where its face is. All I know is that it’s utterly evil, determined to kill us, and closing quickly.
    “Art…” I mutter.
    “We Know,” he replies. “I Have Almost…”
    A window of red light forms in the distance, almost impossible to see against the fiery backdrop. I give a shout of triumph,
     but it’s drowned out when another blast of magic hits us. Art screeches. The bolt of energy drives us closer towards the window,
     but Art’s scream cuts out midway and the lights around me shatter.
    I realize with horror that Art has been killed, but there’s no time to mourn. My flesh erupts, fire exploding from every pore.
     I scream silently, consumed by flames. In a mad fury I try to slap them out. It’s a hopeless task, but before the fire can
     finish the job, I hit the window and plunge into the sub-universe of multicolored lights without anyone to protect or guide
     me.

NEW FACE, OLD STORY

    T HERE’S no oxygen, so the flames die away. The pain doesn’t, but I’ve no time to focus on that. It’s freezing and there isn’t any
     air. If I can’t construct a shell around myself, and soon, I’m finished.
    I search for magic, but there’s nothing I can make use of. This zone of lights contains even less magical energy than there
     was on Earth. I thrash about like a fish on dry land, lips shut, eyes bulging. I feel my skin tighten from the cold, but that
     doesn’t bother me. I’ll suffocate long before I freeze to death.
    As my lungs strain for air that isn’t there, my limbs go still and a calm wave spreads through me. In a way this is fitting.
     I was always a lonely child. I often felt out of place, not in sync with the people around me. Now I’m going to die in true
     isolation, more alone than any human has ever been.
    A gloomy mist crosses my eyes. I think it’s the shades of death drawing over my face, but then I blink and realize it’s a
     dark green window that has opened ahead of me. As I stare at it numbly, a ball of light shoots through and envelops me from
     head to toe. I’ve just enough time to marvel at the warmth it brings. Then my eyelids flutter and I fall unconscious.
      I awake on a grey, cold, ashen world. I sit up, groaning. My skin is blistered. Parts feel raw. But I’m alive.
    Something moves nearby.
    “Art?” I call.
    “No.” A tall black man steps into view. He’s fat, with very dark skin, dressed in an expensive-looking suit.
    My eyes widen.
“Raz?”
I gasp.
    “Only in appearance,” the man says solemnly.
    “I don’t understand.” I start to rise but pain prevents me. Grimacing, I frown at the fat man. Raz Warlo was a Disciple. I
     met him when I first joined Beranabus. He was killed during the quest to find my baby brother. “Why change?” I wheeze.
    “The one you knew as Art is dead,” Raz says. “Although shapes mean nothing to us, we know you need them to make sense of the
     universe. We felt it would be easier for you if I took a different form.” He looks down at himself and frowns. “The suit was
     a difficult touch.”
    “What happened back there?” I ask.
    “The panels of the Kah-Gash reacted to your presence,” Raz says. “The demons