“No,” Beranabus grunts. “Lodestones need blood. They were feeding it.”

“What’s a lodestone?” Kirilli asks but Beranabus waves at him to continue. “Balint and Zsolt— the mages—remained up top. They did their share of killing but nothing to compare with the demons. Not long before you lot arrived that woman… that thing crawled up from below.” He shudders. “I wasn’t sure if she was human or Demonata. I’m still not certain.”

“I doubt if she knows herself anymore,” Beranabus says softly.

“She barked orders at the demons and they killed the last few survivors,” Kirilli goes on. “Then they retreated through the window and the woman said a spell to close it. Balint and Zsolt were grinning, mightily pleased with themselves, but she turned on them. Melted them into twin pools of bloody goo. Laughed as they screamed for mercy. Told them they were fools to trust the word of a monster. She lay down and wallowed in their juices when they were dead, then went below deck. That’s when I climbed into the lifeboat.”

“Interesting,” Beranabus murmurs. Then he winks at Sharmila. “This definitely stinks of a trap.”

“So we will leave?” Sharmila asks eagerly.

Beranabus chuckles. “I’ve walked into more traps over the centuries than I can remember. The Demonata and their familiars think they’re masters of cunning but they haven’t got the better of me yet. Let Juni and Lord Loss spring their surprise. I’ll blast a hole in it so big, you could sail this ship through.”

“Are you sure?” Dervish asks uneasily. “Juni was your apprentice. She knows all about you. Maybe you have a weak spot which she plans to exploit.”

Beranabus shrugs. “I love a challenge.”

“I really do not think we should—” Sharmila begins.

“We’ve no choice,” Beranabus snaps. “She’s our only link to the Shadow. It’s a gamble, but this is a time for gambling. I don’t think you understand the stakes. This is the end game. We don’t have the luxury of caution. If we don’t risk all and find out who the Shadow is and what its plans are, the world will fall.” He waves at the corpses around us. “A world of this, Sharmila. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not,” she mutters.

“Then trust me. We’re precariously balanced and I might be testing one trap too many, but we can’t play safe. It’s all or nothing now.”

“You truly believe matters are that advanced?” Sharmila asks.

“Aye.” Beranabus’s eyes glitter. “The Disciples have exercised caution over the years because there have always been other battles to fight. But this could be the final battle. Ever. Better to risk all on a desperate gamble than play it safe and hand victory to the Shadow. Aye?”

Sharmila hesitates, then smiles shakily. “Aye. If we fail, at least I will have the pleasure of saying, ‘I told you so’.”

“That’s the spirit,” Beranabus booms and heads for the nearest door. Without any sign of fear he leads us down into the bowels of the ship in search of the vile viper, Juni Swan.

We progress in single file, Beranabus leading, Sharmila second, then me and Kirilli, with Dervish bringing up the rear. As we start down the first set of steps, Kirilli whispers, “Care to let me know what’s going on? I caught some of it but I’m in the dark on a lot of issues.”

“There’s a powerful new demon called the Shadow,” I explain. “We need to find out more about it. Juni—the mutant you saw—possesses information.”

“And all that talk of a trap…?”

“We think Juni or Lord Loss may have lured us here, that they might be trying to trap us. This could all be a set-up.”

“The plot thickens,” Kirilli says, trying to sound lighthearted, but failing to hide the squeak in his voice. “Any idea what the odds are? I’m a gambling man, so I knew where Beranabus was coming from when I heard him talking about the need to take risks. But I like to have an idea of the odds before I place a bet.”

“We honestly don’t know,” I tell him.

He makes a humming noise. “Let’s say two-to-one. Those are fair odds. I’ve bet on a lot worse in my time.”

He’s trembling. This is a new level for him. The wholesale slaughter on the deck shook him up and now he’s being asked to disregard Disciple protocol—run when the odds are against you—and fight to a very probable death.

“You don’t need to come with us,” I murmur. “We left someone up top to keep our escape route open. You could wait with him.”

Kirilli smiles nervously. “I’d love to, but I’ve always dreamt of standing beside the legendary Beranabus in battle. I was never this scared in my dreams, but if I back out now I won’t be able to forgive myself.”

We start down a long corridor. There are bodies lying in tattered, bloodied bundles at regular intervals. I wonder how many people a ship this size holds. Three thousand? Four? I’ve never heard the death screams of thousands of people. The noise must have been horrible.

“Have you fought before?” I ask Kirilli, to distract myself.

“Not really,” he says. “As Sharmila said, I’m a spy. Excellent at sniffing out intrigue and foiling the well-laid plans of villainous rogues like Zsolt and Balint. But when it comes to the dirty business of killing, I’m more a stabber in the back than a face-to-face man. Never saw anything wrong with striking an opponent from behind if they’re a nasty piece of work.”

“I doubt if Juni will turn her back on you. The best thing is to trust in your magic and try not to think too much. If you’re attacked, use your instincts. You’ll find yourself doing things you never thought possible.”

“And if my instincts come up short?” Kirilli asks.

Dervish snorts behind us. “That’ll be a good time to panic.”

Kirilli frowns over his shoulder at Dervish. “It’s rude to eavesdrop.”

“I’m a rude kind of guy,” Dervish retorts. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Hang back when we get there, fire off the occasional bolt of energy—at our opponents, not us—and try not to get in anyone’s way.”

“I can tell you’re a true leader of men,” Kirilli says sarcastically.

“Quiet,” Beranabus snarls. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Sorry, boss,” Dervish says, then sticks his right hand under his left armpit and makes a farting noise. We all giggle, even Beranabus. It’s not unnatural to laugh in the face of death. It’s not an act of bravery either. You do it because you might never have the chance to laugh again.

We descend slowly, exploring each level, wary of booby traps. But there are no secret windows, no army of demons, no humans packing weapons.

We pass a mound of bodies, mostly uniformed crew. They armed themselves with axes, knives, flares—whatever they could find—and tried to block off the corridor with bulky pieces of furniture. The demons ripped through them. They never stood a chance.

The lights suddenly snap off. Kirilli gasps and grabs my hand. I get images of his previous, limited encounters with demons, his stage act, the tricks he performs. He wanted to be a famous magician when he was young. Practised hard, but didn’t have the style. Good enough for clubs and cruisers, but he never had a real crack at the big time. He was pleased when he joined the Disciples, proud of his talent. But he’d have much rather succeeded in showbiz, where the worst he’d have ever had to face was being booed off stage.

Emergency lights flicker on. There’s a harsh metallic ripping sound somewhere far below. It echoes through the ship. The floor shudders, then steadies.

“Turbulence?” Beranabus asks.

“You only get that on planes,” Dervish says. “It could be the roll of the sea but I doubt it. Have you noticed the lack of movement? We haven’t tilted since we came aboard. The ship’s been steady, held in place by magic.”

“I knew there was something strange,” Kirilli growls. “I get terrible seasickness. I have to take pills to keep my food down. But I’ve been feeling fine for the last few hours. I thought I’d found my sea legs at last.”