“You don’t understand,” Kernel says. “We can’t control this.”

“You just said there were limits,” Shark growls.

“To this tunnel, yes,” Kernel snaps. “But there are more powerful lodestones. I’m sure they’ll open a new tunnel soon, one of unlimited energy. The demons who cross will be able to go anywhere. And masters will be free to cross too, hundreds of demons as strong as Lord Loss, if not stronger.”

“Can’t we stop it before it opens?” I ask.

Kernel tuts. “I don’t have a magic wand. I can sense a tunnel as it’s opening, usually in advance. We can be on the scene within minutes, but what if they open two at the same time? Three? More? Demon masters will establish a toehold. If we weren’t able to break through the defenses of this mediocre lot, what sort of hope do we stand when we’re up against the real deal?”

There’s a long silence. Slowly, each of them turns to look at me, placing the burden on my shoulders, leaving me to make the fatal call. I don’t blame them. I’d pass the buck too, if I could. But if the buck has to stop here, so be it.

“Get your soldiers to move out the survivors,” I tell Shark, “then come back. We’ll rest up. Kernel will watch for tunnels. When another like this one is due to open, we’ll contact those close to it and give the order to retreat. There’s no point fighting the stronger demons. We’ll tell everyone to run. The fast will survive. The slow…” I shake my head.

“We’re not going to try and help them?” Kirilli whispers.

“We’ll save ourselves.”

“For…?” Shark asks.

“The big guys.” I crack my knuckles. “That’s my plan. We ignore the smaller, weaker tunnels. We summon the most powerful Disciples and mages, then wait. When a permanent tunnel opens, through which demon masters can cross, we hit with everything we have. If we close it, we relax and wait for the next one, then go through it all again. If we fail, there’s no plan B. We triumph or perish.”

“Our last stand,” Timas murmurs.

“It’s come to that?” Shark asks quietly.

“Yes.”

“Good!” he booms, thrusting himself out of his chair. “I hate pussyfooting around. I’ll pass on the word, then grab some shut-eye. Make sure you call me in time for the big show—I don’t want to miss this one.”

Then he strides out of the tent, leaving the rest of us to smile ruefully, wait nervously, and prepare as best we can for the end of the world.

Four days of waiting. We’re all restless and itching to go into battle. It would be easier to join one of the many wars raging around the globe than sit here and twiddle our thumbs. But as bloody as the battles are—we see and hear all about them on the constant news reports—they fall short of the apocalyptic mark. Six tunnels have been opened, but all are limited, and though millions of people have fallen to the demon invaders, the world struggles on.

I spend most of the time with my werewolves. I prefer their company to that of humans. I don’t have to think when I’m with my wolfen pack, merely growl every so often to keep them in line. I lead them on occasional forays into demon-controlled territory, so they can pull out a few zombies to snack on. But apart from those welcome diversions, we mostly rest from the sun in a tent, relax beneath the moon at night, and pant and scratch a lot.

I don’t have much contact with the others. I’ve seen Shark and Timas going from one meeting to another with a variety of politicians and army officers. They’re putting some sort of emergency campaign together, acting like we have a plan, trying to keep panic to a minimum.

Kernel and Kirilli have gathered an army of mages and Disciples. They’ve two hundred or so lined up and ready for action. Many refused to answer their call, preferring to fight the demons who’ve already crossed, defending areas and people close to their hearts. Kernel and the ex-stage magician run the volunteers ragged, testing them in every way possible, toughening and sharpening them for the mother of all battles. I don’t think it will make any real difference, but if it keeps them occupied, I guess it serves a purpose.

Finally, when I’m about to go stir-crazy, Kernel sticks his head inside my tent. “It’s time.”

I snap to attention immediately. “A new tunnel’s opening?”

“Yes. Not too far from where you used to live. On the coast.”

“It’s the big one?”

He nods soberly. “Massive. It hasn’t opened yet, but already the lights are going crazy, even from this distance.”

“Tell the others,” I mutter, the many hairs on the back of my neck rising. “And Kernel?” He stops and looks back. “It’s been nice knowing you.”

He smiles bitterly. “No, it hasn’t,” he says, and goes to summon the troops, leaving me to ready the werewolves for what will probably be our final fight.

Kernel creates a window of orange light and we step through onto a grassy cliff. The tunnel is being opened in a cave beneath, but we wanted to get all of our troops assembled on this side before facing our foes. I stride to the edge of the cliff as the rest of the mages, Disciples, and werewolves cross in orderly file. We didn’t bother bringing soldiers—they couldn’t do anything against the more powerful Demonata.

It’s a wild stretch of coastline, the water dashing against the rocks far below, a sharp drop to a quick, messy death. Rain falls steadily and winds rip in off the ocean, which stretches as far as I can see. The land is barren all around. I doubt if anyone ever lived in this beautiful but desolate spot.

I feel magic building in the air. It’s almost the same as being in the demon universe. I let animal-shaped streams of steam trickle from my fingertips and watch as they dissolve in the rain. There are thudding vibrations from deep underfoot, as if goblins or trolls were hammering drums in the bowels of the earth, in preparation for battle.

Shark and Timas have been holding a hushed conversation. Now they move away from the cliff and Timas takes up position, partially sheltered behind a jutting rock. He’s brought a stack of laptops with him and quickly sets them up. Shark stabs a few umbrellas into the earth and opens them over the technical genius to provide him with cover. Curious, I amble across to see what they’re up to.

“This isn’t the time for video games.”

Timas looks at me gravely. “No game.”

“We had an interesting debate,” Shark grunts.

“What sort of a debate?” I frown.

“About the future of the planet and what happens if we lose today.”

“And?” I cast a troubled eye over the laptops.

“My way of reckoning,” Shark says thickly, “is if we get creamed, the people of Earth are better off dead than left to the vicious devices of the Demonata. We got clearance from most of the relevant authorities, but it wouldn’t have mattered if they’d objected. Timas could have cracked the security codes.”

“Maybe,” Timas mutters. “Not definitely. It would have been an intriguing challenge, but one that it is better not to have to face.”

“What are you talking about?” I snap.

Shark taps a small camera set in the shoulder of his uniform. “Several of us are wearing cameras like this. Timas will be watching. If the demons get the better of us, he has orders to press the button.”

“What button?”

“The nuclear button,” Timas says softly.

I gape at him, then at the grim-faced Shark. “Are you trying to wind me up?”

“Don’t be a child,” Shark snarls. “You said it yourself—this is our last stand. If we fall, the planet falls. I’d rather it fell to us than them. Quicker, cleaner, more humane. And we might take some of them with us.”

“But…” My head spins. Maybe this is what Juni foresaw. Perhaps Timas won’t be able to push the button, and the task will fall to me, and that’s how I’ll destroy the world.