Slawter by Darren Shan Page A

really being attacked. Now the moment has passed and they’ve remembered — this is make believe, horrific fun, a movie. They’re embarrassed at having been faked out, but since so many of the others reacted the same way, they’re not left feeling
too
red-faced.
    “I told you!” Dervish laughs, clapping loudly. “Wasn’t that the most vicious, coolest thing you’ve ever seen?”
    “My heart!” Juni gasps, fanning her face with one hand. “I didn’t expect it all to happen so fast!”
    “That was amazing!” Bill-E exclaims. “Did you see it all, Grubbs? That spray of blood — like it was coming from a fireman’s hose! It was... Grubbs? Are you OK? Hey, Dervish, I think there’s something wrong with Grubbs. He looks like...”
    I block out Bill-E’s words and the other sounds. I experienced the same sense of terror that many of the people around me felt. The same jolt of fear. The same moment of belief that this was real. But whereas they’ve gotten over that moment, I can’t.
    Because I’m remembering the look of the demon. Its movements. The hate in its eyes. The effect it had on me.
    And I’m staring at the open manhole cover, all the blood around it, no sign of Emmet or the monster.
    And I’m thinking... every part of me is insisting...
    That was no damn guy in a suit.
    That demon was
real!

The Laughingstock
    “I T was just a movie monster,” Dervish says.
    “No. It was real. It killed Emmet.”
    We’re still in the alley. The blood’s being washed away, and people are chattering about the big scene with the demon. I grabbed Dervish as soon as I could move. Told him what I thought. He thinks differently.
    “Grubbs, come on, I said it was going to be realistic. You’re —”
    “I know what I saw!” I retort, voice rising. “That was a demon, like Lord Loss! It killed Emmet!”
    Juni looks at me oddly. Bill-E is gawping openly. Dervish smiles crookedly at them, takes hold of my elbow, and marches me out of earshot. “Are you insane?” he hisses as we turn a corner. “We’re on a film set. That was a guy in a costume. A very convincing costume, but just —”
    “Don’t tell me you thought that wasn’t real,” I moan. “Didn’t you feel it in your gut, the same thing you felt when we faced Lord Loss? The magic in the air?”
    Dervish glares at me. Starts to say something. Stops, his expression softening. “I’ve been a fool. I thought you’d gotten over the Lord Loss incident, but I guess you haven’t.”
    “Of course I haven’t ‘gotten over’ it!” I snort. “You don’t ‘get over’ demons murdering your parents and sister! But I’ve dealt with it. Moved on. This isn’t delayed shock. I know what I saw, and that was a
real
demon.”
    “You’re hysterical,” Dervish says.
    “No,” I snarl. “Look at me. Look into my eyes. I’m not being a big kid. That. Was. A. Demon. Nobody can mimic the look and movements — the aura — of a real demon. I don’t care how many special effects artists work on it. Some things can’t be replicated, by anybody, ever.”
    “Grubbs . . .” Dervish can’t think of anything else to add.
    “Where’s Emmet?” I challenge him. “If he was acting, why didn’t he come out when Davida yelled ‘cut’?”
    “They took him away to wash the blood off,” Dervish says.
    I shake my head. “I bet you’re wrong. I bet we can’t find him.”
    Dervish sighs impatiently. “OK. Let’s go look for Emmet. But!” He raises a finger. “When we find him, and you see that he’s unharmed, I want you to accept it. I don’t want you saying it’s not really Emmet, it’s a changeling, or any nonsense like that. OK?”
    “Fine,” I smile bitterly.
    Grumbling sourly, Dervish leads me away in search of Emmet Eijit, even though I know in my heart that the only place we’ll find him now is amidst the bones and scattered shreds of skin in some dirty demon’s den.
    Emmet’s not in any of the trailers. Nobody has seen him. I shoot Dervish