Demon Thief. Darren Shan

“I could do it while you search for Cadaver.”

      “You’re not very skilled at finding your way around,” Beranabus says. “What makes you think you could locate the right place?”

      “I could try,” she insists. “And even if I don’t find the exact spot, I can return him to our world. He could make his own way home from there.”

      Beranabus thinks a moment, then shrugs. “So be it. Waste your time if you wish. But keep out of my way, so you don’t interfere with–”

      “I’m not going!” I shout. “I came to find Art and I’m not going home without him!”

      “Kernel,” the black man – Raz – says, “you don’t know what is happening. This is not a place for children. You must go home. Mustn’t he, Sharmila?”

      “Yes,” the Indian woman says, glaring at me like an angry teacher. “I gave you my word that I will return your brother to you if we find him alive. That will have to be enough.”

      “Trust me,” the younger woman – Nadia – says with a sad smile, “you don’t want to stay here. You’ve followed us into a different universe — the home of the Demonata. It’s a hell-hole. This part isn’t so bad, but we’re going to encounter far worse very soon. You don’t want to be with us when that happens. I wouldn’t be here if I had a choice.”

      “I don’t care,” I say, close to tears. “Art’s my brother. Mum told me to look after him. I’m not going back alone.” Softly, voice cracking, I add, “I can’t.”

      Sharmila’s eyes go soft with pity. “I am sorry, Kernel. We have spoken harshly. But you have to understand — it is impossible. You cannot stay. You could do no good here. You must go home. Your parents will be frantic, thinking they have lost you both. That is not fair, is it?”

      “No, but…” I can’t find the words to explain.

      “Enough talk,” Beranabus grunts, losing his patience. “The boy wants to stay… you lot want to send him home… this is easily decided.”

      He flicks a hand at me. Suddenly, I’m flying through the air. I smack hard into a tree and cry out with shock and pain, mostly from my broken arm. As I fall to the ground, the branches of the tree move quickly. Catch me. Wrap themselves round me. Squeeze.

      I catch sight of Sharmila darting to my rescue. Beranabus waves a hand, stopping her. The branches tighten. The tree howls louder than ever. I’m lifted up. The holes in its bark are expanding. It means to crush and swallow me. A few seconds more and I’ll be dead, killed and eaten by this monstrous sham of a tree.