Demonata #4: Bec by Darren Shan

Author:Darren Shan [Shan, Darren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

52

“They’ve seen Fintan,” Fand says when we’re seated, after a few seconds of uneasy silence.

“Good,” Torin grunts. “That saves some time.” He collects his thoughts, glances at me, then tells

us their sorry tale— my tale.

Several generations ago their ancestors bred with the Fomorii. They thought the semi-demons

were going to conquer this land and threw in their lot with them. When the Fomorii were defeated,

the MacGrigor were hunted down and executed as traitors. But some survived and went into hiding.

“Though if they’d known what was to come next, I think they’d have stayed and accepted

death,” Torin says bitterly.

Some of the children of the human-Fomorii couplings were born deformed and demonic, and

were immediately put to death. But most were human in appearance. These lived and grew, and for

many years all was well.

“Then the changes began,” Torin sighs. “When children came of a certain age—usually on the

cusp of adulthood—some transformed. It always happened around the time of a full moon. Their

bodies twisted. Hair sprouted. Their teeth lengthened into fangs, their nails into claws. The change

developed and worsened over three or four moons. By the end, they were wild, inhuman beasts,

incapable of speech or recognition. Killers if left to wander free.”

The affected children were slain, while the others grew and had children of their own. They

thought they were safe, that they’d survived the curse—but they were wrong. Some of the children

of the survivors changed too, and their grandchildren, and those who came after.

“It strikes at random,” Torin says. “Sometimes four of five children of any generation will

change, sometimes only two. But always a few. There’s never been a generation where none of the

children turned.”

The family sought the help of priestesses and druids in later years, when their treachery had been

forgotten and they were free to live among normal folk again. But no magician could lift the curse.

So they struggled on, moving from one place to another whenever their dark secret was discovered,

living as far away from other clans as possible, sometimes killing their beastly young, other times—

as here—allowing them to live, in the hope they might one day change back or be cured by a

powerful druid.

“It’s no sort of life,” Torin mutters, eyes distant, “waiting for our children to turn. Having to

feed those who’ve fallen foul of the curse and look upon them as they are, remembering them as

they were. I’d rather kill the poor beasts, but…” He glances at Fand, who glowers at him.

“And Bec?” Fiachna asks, sensing my impatience, speaking on my behalf. “Her mother was of

your clan?”

“If her mother was Aednat, aye,” Torin says. He looks at me and again his face is dark. “Aednat

had six children. All turned. When she fell pregnant for the seventh time, years after she and her

husband, Struan, had agreed not to try again, Struan was furious. He couldn’t bear the thought of

bringing another child into the world and rearing it, only to have to kill it when it fell prey to the

ravages of the moon.

“Aednat argued to keep the child. She thought she might be lucky this time, that the gods would

never curse her seven times in a row.

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