Slawter by Darren Shan Read Free Book Online Page A

quick search — no sign of him. That means he either went out...or down to the cellar.
    Before descending, I go to the kitchen and make sure Dervish hasn’t broken into the cutlery cupboard and stocked up on knives. Then I head down the stairs, automatic lights flickering on as I hit the bottom steps. The cellar is where Dervish stores his wine. I don’t come down here much. Nothing of interest for me.
    Listening to the hum of the lights, watching for shadows, trying to pinpoint Dervish’s position. After a minute I take the final step and explore the rows of wine racks, fists clenched, anticipating an attack.
    I don’t find Dervish in the cellar. Search complete, I want to go back upstairs and try the area outside the house. But there’s one place still to look. It’s the last place I want to try — which makes me suspect that’s where Dervish is.
    One of the walls houses a secret doorway. I head for that now. It’s covered by a giant wine rack, mostly containing normal bottles. But one’s a fake. I find it and press hard on the cork with a finger. It sinks in. The rack splits in two, and both halves slide away from each other, revealing a dark, narrow corridor.
    “Dervish?” I call. My voice echoes back to me, unanswered.
    I start down the corridor, breathing raggedly. The halves of the wine rack slide back into place. I’m plunged into darkness. But it’s temporary. Moments later, lights flicker on overhead, the glow just strong enough to see by.
    The corridor runs to a secret underground cellar. It’s where Dervish keeps his most magical and dangerous books, where he goes if he wants to practice magic. It’s where we fought Lord Loss all those months ago. Where I almost died.
    I come to a thick wooden door with a gold ring for a handle. The door stands ajar, and there’s a pale light coming from within. “Dervish?” I call again. No answer. I
really
don’t want to go in, but I have to.
    I push the door all the way open and enter, heart pounding.
    A large room. Wooden beams support the ceiling. Many torches set in the walls, but none are lit. A steel cage in one corner, the bones of a deer lying on the floor within. Two broken tables. A third in good repair. Chess pieces, books, charred pages, and other bits of debris brushed up against the walls. A stack of weapons close to the rubbish, lined with dust, riddled with cobwebs.
    And Dervish, squatting in the middle of the room, a candle in one hand, a book in the other.
    I approach cautiously. Freeze when I catch sight of the book. There’s a painting of Lord Loss on the cover. Just his face. And it’s
moving.
His awful red eyes are widening, his lips spreading. Dervish is muttering a spell, bending closer to the book. Lord Loss’s teeth glint in the light of the candle. His face starts to come off the page, like a 3D image, reaching for Dervish, as though to kiss him.
    I hurl myself at Dervish. Knock him over and punch the book from his hand. The candle goes out. We’re plunged into darkness. Dervish screams. I hear him scrambling for the book. I thrash around, find Dervish, throw myself on top, and pin him to the floor, yelling at him, keeping him away from the book, calling his name over and over, using all my weight to keep him down.
    Finally he stops fighting, pants heavily, then croaks, “Grubbs?” I don’t reply. “You’re squashing me,” he wheezes.
    “Are you awake?” I cry.
    “Of course. Now get off before . . .” A pause. “Where are we?”
    “The secret cellar.”
    “Damn. What was I...?”
    “You had a book about Lord Loss. You were chanting a spell. His face was moving. It looked like he was coming alive — coming
through.
”
    “I’m sorry. I... Let’s get some light. I’m awake. Honest. You can get off me. I promise.”
    Warily I slide aside. Dervish gets to his feet. Stumbles to the nearest wall. I hear him rooting through his pockets. Then he strikes a match, finds the nearest candle, and sets the wick aflame. The