but the lights don’t change.
My stomach’s tight with fear. Are they both dead, slaughtered by demons? They must be. Otherwise why wouldn’t the lights pulse and lead me to them?
I have another thought, just before panic sets in completely. I visualize Cadaver’s horrible features and say the demon’s name, time and time again. Nothing.
The fear drains out of me as I realize the lights work differently here. They don’t pulse when I think of a person or place. The magician and my brother might still be alive.
Relief floods through me — then drains almost immediately. Because if the lights don’t work the same way here, how will I find Beranabus or Art, or open a window to the universe of the Demonata?
I can’t get back.
PUNKS
W ANDERING the streets of the city. It’s been a long time since I was in a place this crowded and noisy. I missed city life when I was living in Paskinston. I remembered only the good things — movies, swimming pools, parks, school. I forgot about the traffic, the towering buildings that cut out the sunlight, the isolation.
I was always with Mom or Dad when I lived in the city, or with a teacher or babysitter. But one day, on a school trip to a museum, I got lost. It was an hour before I was found. I remember now what that felt like, how scary it was, how I believed I’d be lost forever. I was sure I’d have to sleep on a park bench or underneath a bridge like a homeless person. It was terrifying.
This is scarier. At least then I knew what city I was in, but this could be anywhere. None of the street names or buildings are familiar. I think about asking an adult where I am, but I don’t want to appear out of place. If I go up to a stranger and they learn that I’m lost, that I don’t even know what city I’m in, they’ll take me to the police. And while part of me would love that — the police would arrange for me to be sent home — I can’t go down that route. If the police take me into custody, I won’t be free to search for Art.
I haven’t given up on my brother. The lights might not work the same way as in that other universe, but I can still see them. There must be a way for me to start the patches pulsing. I just have to figure it out.
While I’m puzzling over the problem, I continue walking. I listen carefully to people talking. Most speak the same language as me, but the accents aren’t familiar. I wish again that I could ask where I am, but it isn’t possible.
I’m growing hungrier with every step. I’ve drunk plenty of water from drinking fountains, but I’ve had nothing to eat. I pass a stall selling hot dogs and pretzels. I root through my pockets but I don’t have any money. I think about trying to steal a pretzel, but if the owner catches me it could mean
big
trouble.
Stomach growling, tears tickling the corners of my eyes, I walk on.
My watch is working again. I’ve been here at least two hours, wandering without direction. The sun is starting to set. It will be night soon. Where will I sleep?
Time to sit and think this through. I find a bench in a small park. I’m shivering. Though it’s not especially cold, I’m only wearing a T-shirt, no sweater. There aren’t many people in the park. One woman who passes looks at me closely. I think she’s going to stop and ask if I’m OK. I’m not sure what to say if she does. I was never a good liar. But then she carries on, deciding I’m not her business.
I try to lay all my problems out nice and simply, so I can think them through one at a time. My main priority is getting back to the Demonata’s universe. But that will have to wait. Things I have to settle first — Where am I? Where will I sleep tonight? How will I find food?
Take them one at a time. Location. I can’t find out by asking passersby, but there must be alternatives. A library, perhaps, except I don’t know where to find one. But now that I set my mind to it calmly, I see there are other ways. I can look in a telephone book
My stomach’s tight with fear. Are they both dead, slaughtered by demons? They must be. Otherwise why wouldn’t the lights pulse and lead me to them?
I have another thought, just before panic sets in completely. I visualize Cadaver’s horrible features and say the demon’s name, time and time again. Nothing.
The fear drains out of me as I realize the lights work differently here. They don’t pulse when I think of a person or place. The magician and my brother might still be alive.
Relief floods through me — then drains almost immediately. Because if the lights don’t work the same way here, how will I find Beranabus or Art, or open a window to the universe of the Demonata?
I can’t get back.
PUNKS
W ANDERING the streets of the city. It’s been a long time since I was in a place this crowded and noisy. I missed city life when I was living in Paskinston. I remembered only the good things — movies, swimming pools, parks, school. I forgot about the traffic, the towering buildings that cut out the sunlight, the isolation.
I was always with Mom or Dad when I lived in the city, or with a teacher or babysitter. But one day, on a school trip to a museum, I got lost. It was an hour before I was found. I remember now what that felt like, how scary it was, how I believed I’d be lost forever. I was sure I’d have to sleep on a park bench or underneath a bridge like a homeless person. It was terrifying.
This is scarier. At least then I knew what city I was in, but this could be anywhere. None of the street names or buildings are familiar. I think about asking an adult where I am, but I don’t want to appear out of place. If I go up to a stranger and they learn that I’m lost, that I don’t even know what city I’m in, they’ll take me to the police. And while part of me would love that — the police would arrange for me to be sent home — I can’t go down that route. If the police take me into custody, I won’t be free to search for Art.
I haven’t given up on my brother. The lights might not work the same way as in that other universe, but I can still see them. There must be a way for me to start the patches pulsing. I just have to figure it out.
While I’m puzzling over the problem, I continue walking. I listen carefully to people talking. Most speak the same language as me, but the accents aren’t familiar. I wish again that I could ask where I am, but it isn’t possible.
I’m growing hungrier with every step. I’ve drunk plenty of water from drinking fountains, but I’ve had nothing to eat. I pass a stall selling hot dogs and pretzels. I root through my pockets but I don’t have any money. I think about trying to steal a pretzel, but if the owner catches me it could mean
big
trouble.
Stomach growling, tears tickling the corners of my eyes, I walk on.
My watch is working again. I’ve been here at least two hours, wandering without direction. The sun is starting to set. It will be night soon. Where will I sleep?
Time to sit and think this through. I find a bench in a small park. I’m shivering. Though it’s not especially cold, I’m only wearing a T-shirt, no sweater. There aren’t many people in the park. One woman who passes looks at me closely. I think she’s going to stop and ask if I’m OK. I’m not sure what to say if she does. I was never a good liar. But then she carries on, deciding I’m not her business.
I try to lay all my problems out nice and simply, so I can think them through one at a time. My main priority is getting back to the Demonata’s universe. But that will have to wait. Things I have to settle first — Where am I? Where will I sleep tonight? How will I find food?
Take them one at a time. Location. I can’t find out by asking passersby, but there must be alternatives. A library, perhaps, except I don’t know where to find one. But now that I set my mind to it calmly, I see there are other ways. I can look in a telephone book
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