Hell’s Heroes

First published in hardback in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2009

First published in paperback in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2010 HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 77-85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London, W6 8JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk

HELL’S HEROES. Copyright © Darren Shan 2009. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Darren Shan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.

EBook Edition © FEBRUARY 2011 ISBN: 9780007435371

Version: 2014-10-29

Find all these hellish heroes and more at

www.darrenshan.com

For:

Liam, Biddy and Bas — the Father, the Mother and the Holy Bust!!!

OBEs (Order of the Bloody Entrails) to:

Geir, Wiedar, Jon and all the other nocturnal Norwegian Shan crew

Road Managers:

Geraldine Stroud — the ripper skipper! Mary Byrne — the tipsy first mate!

Editor-in-chief:

Stella Paskins — 10 rounds, not out!!

Apocalyptic agents:

the Christopher Little chorus line

And an extra special thank you to all of my demonically

delightful Shansters, especially those of you who have kept me company on the web through the run of the series. But take heed — if you desert me at this point, heads will roll!!!

“What happens when you lose everything?

You just start again.

You start all over again.”

‘Apply Some Pressure’ by Maxïmo Park

Copyright

Epigraph

The Last Laugh

Clocking Off

Mr Grumpy-Puss

In Dreams I Walk With You

Executive Board

Home Sweet Home

Rock On

Shark Attack

Who’s That Girl?

Unstill Waters

Knights in Slimy Armour

Soulful

An Unholy Quartet

Lights Out

Tunnelling Through

Bigger, Better, Badder

À La Moses

The Missing Link

The Wink

With a Bang

Ah Yes, I Remember It Well

Devilment

Once More, with Feeling

Start Me Up

Other Books by Darren Shan

Credits

About the Publisher

→ “I miss Cal,” Dervish says. “We fought a lot when we were young, like all brothers, but we were always there for one another.”

We’re lying in the mouth of a cave, admiring the desolate desert view, sheltered from the fierce afternoon sun.

“It’s strange,” Dervish chuckles. “I thought I’d be the first to go. The life I chose, the risks I took… I was sure I’d die young and nastily. I pictured Cal living to be eighty or ninety. Funny how things work out, isn’t it?”

I stare at the hole in the left side of Dervish’s chest. Blood is seeping from it and I can see bone inside. “Yeah,” I grunt. “Hilarious.”

Dervish shifts and grimaces. He’s in a lot of pain, but he won’t have to suffer much longer. My uncle was in bad shape before we took on an army of demons. Now, having come through hell, he doesn’t have a prayer. He’s finished. We both know it. That’s why we came up here from the underground cave, so he could die in the open, breathing fresh air.

“I remember one time,” Dervish continues, “not long after Cal married your mum. We had a huge row. He wanted me to quit being a Disciple, marry and have kids, lead a normal life. He thought I was crazy to do what I did.”

“He wasn’t wrong,” I snort.

“You love it really,” Dervish grins. Blood trickles down his chin.

“Save your breath,” I tell him, trying not to shudder.

“What for? I won’t need it where I’m going.” He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can survive, do you?”

“Of course not. I’m just sick of listening to you whine.”

Dervish laughs softly. The laugh turns into a blood-drenched cough. I hold him as he shakes and moans, spewing up blood and phlegm. When the fit passes, he asks me to move him out of the cave. “I don’t think I need worry about sunburn,” he murmurs.

I pick up my dying uncle and carry him outside. He doesn’t weigh much. Thin and drawn, overstretched by the world. He rests his head on my chest, like a baby cuddling up to its mother. I prop him against a large rock, then settle beside him. His eyes stay closed. He’s dozed off. I study him sadly, memorising every line of his creased face, brushing the wilting spikes of hair back from his forehead, remembering all the nights he comforted me when I’d had a nightmare.

With a jolt he wakes and looks around, alarmed. When he sees me, and the hole in his chest, he relaxes. “Oh, it was only a dream. I thought we were in trouble.”

“Nothing can trouble us here.”

Dervish smiles at me lopsidedly. “I loved having you live with me. You were like my son. Billy was too, but I never got to spend the sort of time with him that I did with you.”