Something flares within me. I scream at the tree, set my teeth on the nearest branch to my face and bite hard. The tree screeches. I chew through the branch, snapping it loose. Another. My left arm comes free. There’s heat in my palm. I grab a branch and feel power shoot through my hand, into the wood.

The tree howls with pain, then abruptly releases me. I drop, hit the water, go under, come up spluttering and thrashing. I dip under again. This time I stay there, feeling the water drag me down. I realise the water’s alive too, like the trees. Just as hungry and eager to kill.

I fight the panic. Force my legs to stop kicking wildly. Direct the power in my palm down towards my feet. I imagine myself as a rocket, blasting off, breaking free of the pull of the water. For a few seconds nothing happens. My lungs tighten. My mouth twitches.

Then, in a sudden burst, I explode upwards, out of the water, coughing, shivering, but free. I land on my feet and this time the surface of the water holds. There’s terrible pain in my broken arm as I land, but I quickly use the power to numb myself to it.

I face Beranabus, furious at him for launching me at the tree and nearly killing me. Ready to attack him, to use my power to smash him to pieces.

He’s laughing. The others are staring at me, stunned, but Beranabus is laughing. “I thought so!” he cackles. “I guessed there was more to this one than mere flesh and bone. Ordinary children don’t step out of their own world into the universe of the Demonata. You need to be one of us to be that crazy. We’ll hold on to him.”

“No!” Sharmila cries.

“But… master… he’s only a child,” Raz mumbles.

“This is a bad idea,” Nadia adds.

“I don’t care,” Beranabus says, waving away their protests. He grins at me, but it’s the smile of a cut-throat pirate. “You want to stay and help us find Cadaver? You want to search for your brother and rescue him like a knight of old? Very well, boy, you’ve got your wish.” He sticks out an arm, even though we’re too far from each other to shake hands. “You’re one of us now, Kernel Fleck. A demon hunter. Welcome to the Disciples!”

Beranabus is still working on his spells. Trying to find Cadaver and open a window which will lead us to the creature. According to Nadia there are thousands of demon worlds like this. Cadaver could be on almost any of them.

I’m squatting with the Disciples in a semi-circle. We can’t sit down because of the water. They look tired and upset. Sharmila argued with Beranabus for a long time, insisting he send me back. She said he was irresponsible and vile. He just swore and told her not to tell him his business. He said when she’d lived as long as he had, and seen all the things he’d seen, she could lecture him— but only then.

I study the Disciples while Beranabus works. Sharmila’s the eldest, fifty or more (though I’m not very good at guessing ages). She has a painted red spot in the middle of her forehead. I should know the name for it, but I can’t remember. Wrinkly skin. Dark, soft eyes. A long sari, many colours, ripped in several places and stained round the edges with blood and dirt.

Raz is fat and black. His skin’s incredibly dark. If it was night, no moon and he shut his eyes, he’d be invisible. Tight, curly hair. Not overly tall. Maybe in his thirties. He wears a very fine suit. I think he’s wealthy—he looks like someone who hasn’t worked with his hands a lot. No shoes— none of the Disciples wears shoes or socks.

Nadia is in her late teens or early twenties. She has short blonde hair, blue eyes and very bad skin. Lots of spots and acne scars. A hard, plain face. She wouldn’t be especially pretty even if she had the clearest skin in the world. Plump, but with bony legs and arms. She wears jeans and a dark green jumper. Looks unhappy, as though she’s suffered a lot.

Nadia catches me watching her and smiles. Her whole face changes. She looks a lot prettier. “Strange days, huh, Kernel Fleck?”

“I still don’t understand it all,” I mutter. “Actually, I don’t really understand any of it.”

Nadia laughs. “At least you’re honest.” She chews a fingernail, considering what to say. Eventually, she gestures at the elderly man on his feet. “That’s Beranabus. He’s a magician. There aren’t many of them in the world. Lots of people can do some magic if the situation is right, but only a few are born with full magical powers.”

“He is our master,” Raz says, gazing at Beranabus adoringly. “He unites us, gives us direction, shows us the way.”

“He is an egotistical, reckless fool!” Sharmila disagrees, snorting harshly. “He cares nothing for any person’s life. He claims to be on a greater mission to save the world, but I have my doubts. I do not trust him and I advise you to be cautious also, Kernel.”

“But isn’t he your leader?” I ask, confused.

“Yes. But we follow him reluctantly, not out of choice.” She looks at Raz and smiles. “Well, some of us do.”

Raz and Sharmila start arguing about Beranabus’ faults and strong points. Nadia listens for a while, then shuffles away from them and nods for me to follow.

“They’re new to this,” she says quietly when we’re out of earshot. “Beranabus has always been a legendary figure to them. They haven’t spent time around him, so they’re not sure how to respond to his… peculiarities. Raz over-idolises him. Sharmila criticises. But he doesn’t care what people say or think, as long as they obey his orders.”

“You’ve been with him a long time?” I ask and she nods. “Is he your father or something?”

Nadia laughs. “No, he’s just…” She pauses and chews another fingernail. “We’ve all been where you are now. Sharmila, Raz and I led normal lives once. We sensed we were different, not completely like other people. But we had families and friends, jobs and dreams. We were ordinary. Happy. Then, one way or another, we found out about the Demonata.”

“The demons?”

“Yes. That’s their proper name—Demonata. They exist in a multi-world universe of their own. They’ve been around as long as mankind, maybe longer. Evil, murderous creatures, who revel in torment and slaughter. They try to cross over into our world all the time, but most are either too weak or too strong.”

“Too strong?” I frown.

“You stepped through a window to get here,” she explains. “Windows are the most common way of moving between universes, but they’re limited in size. Larger, stronger demons can’t squeeze through. There are other ways to cross—tunnels can be created—but they’re rare.

“Anyway, demons are real and they like nothing better than to cross into our world and murder humans. They’re usually unable to stay in our universe more than a few minutes, so they only have time to kill a handful of people. They’ve slaughtered hundreds of thousands over the centuries, but for the most part we’ve escaped pretty lightly, protected by the laws of physics.”

Nadia glances at Beranabus, still working to find Cadaver. The patches of light have stopped gliding towards him, but there are lots in the air around the magician, pulsing at different speeds. As he chants spells, pieces slot together, joining in a panel forming in front of him. It’s strange that only I can see the lights, but I don’t comment on that in case I break Nadia’s train of thought.

“Centuries ago, a few mages—people with magical talents, but not true magicians—decided to actively combat the demons,” Nadia continues. “They studied the disturbances created in advance of a demon crossing to our universe. If they could predict their coming, they could stop the beasts or fight them when they entered our world. They recruited other mages, then approached Beranabus and tried—”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupt. “You said this happened hundreds of years ago.”

“Yes.”