Darren Shan
Hell's Heroes
For:
Liam, Bidely, and Bas—the Father, the Mother, and the Holy Bust!!!
OBEs (Order of the Bloody Entrails) to:
Geir, Wiedar, Jon, and all the 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!!!!
THE LAST LAUGH
“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 funny,” 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. Strange 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.