by Derek Landy
It was like she’d been out drinking and lost control and did something horrendously stupid from which there was no recovery. Except she didn’t drink, and she had no one to blame but herself. Her phone remained silent. No messages. No calls.
He was OK. She was sure he was OK. She hadn’t blasted him that hard – she didn’t think.
No, he was fine. She knew he was. The reason he wasn’t calling to check up on her was undoubtedly because he was furious with her. Or he hated her. Or he was disappointed in her. She didn’t know which one was worse.
She moaned into Xena’s neck. Xena licked her face.
Valkyrie gathered the embarrassment and shame and guilt and self-loathing and, as she always did, wrapped them in a ball and kicked them into a corner of her mind. They’d roll back again the moment she weakened, but she couldn’t afford to feel them right now. She had to meet Caisson.
She patted Xena, went up to her bedroom and instead of pulling on some fresh clothes she went straight to the music box and opened the lid.
The tune washed through her mind. That ball of guilt and whatever else was swept out to sea. She wouldn’t be seeing it any time soon. She smiled. She was breathing normally again. This was good. This was nice. She could have stayed there all evening, listening to that music. It was a shame she had to give the box to Caisson.
Valkyrie frowned. Caisson. Something to do with Caisson.
Her eyes snapped open wide. She checked the time, staring at her phone in disbelief. She’d been standing there for two hours. Impossible. That was impossible.
She closed the lid. The music stopped. She was going to be late.
She pulled on fresh clothes, grabbed the music box, and jumped in the car.
By the time she got to the Fangs, she was very late. Music box in hand, she jumped out of the car, but instead of running up the stairs she blasted off her feet, landing on the theatre roof.
It was empty. She’d missed him.
Bizarrely, she didn’t panic. This was a problem, yes, a serious one, but she could still hear the tune from the music box in her head, and it kept the panic at bay.
Options. She had options. The obvious one was to find Dusk and see if he had any way of contacting Caisson. Failing that, she’d wait. It wasn’t the most dynamic of strategies, but she had something that Caisson needed, and he would find a way to approach her again. And if he didn’t? She’d find Nye herself, and hang on to the music box. Which wasn’t a bad consolation prize.
“You’re late,” said a voice from behind her.
Valkyrie hadn’t even heard him approach. The music in her head had possibly made her too calm. Smiling at that, she turned.
“Sorry,” she said. “But I’m here now.”
If it was possible, Caisson looked even more frazzled now than he had when she’d first seen him. Poor guy. He’d feel better soon, though, yes, he would.
“Did you do it?” he asked. “Did you find out where it is?”
“Of course I did,” said Valkyrie. “It wasn’t easy. I mean, the whole process, from beginning to end, it was – and I do not use this word lightly – fraught.”
Caisson tugged at his sleeve. “Where is it?” he asked. “Tell me where the asylum is.”
“I can do better than that,” said Valkyrie, holding up the music box.
Caisson looked at it for no more than a moment, then his eyes flickered to hers. “What’s that?”
“It’s your cure,” she said. Such a silly boy. “This is what they use to soothe the voices in your head. It’s what you wanted.”
“I don’t want that,” Caisson said, frowning. “My cure isn’t a … it isn’t a music box.” That familiar rage gripped him and he screamed, “It’s not something you can hand me!”
“Whoa!” said Valkyrie. She was starting to panic. “Wait a second here. Calm down, all right? This is what I found. This is … this is it – it has to be! It soothes the mind!”
“That’s not what I need!”
“But I took this from K-49!”
His eyes widened. “You found it?” he asked, his voice suddenly soft. “You were at Greymire? Where is it?”
“I … I can’t tell you.”
“It’s what we agreed.”
Valkyrie didn’t understand this. She shook her head. “I thought if I brought you the cure, you’d—”
“There is no cure!” he roared. “There is no music box or antidote that can help me!”
“I can’t tell you,” she repeated, trying to be calm. “It’s too dangerous for someone like you to know. The patients in that place … If they got out …”
Caisson came forward quickly, both hands closing around her left wrist. He was suddenly so calm, but he talked really fast. “I thought you wanted to help your sister,” he said.
“If you … if you tell me where Nye is, I’ll—”
“No more deals,” said Caisson. “We had a deal and you broke it. That makes you a deal-breaker. I can’t trust a deal-breaker. That Crengarrion you want. I’ll get a message to it, tell it you’re closing in, tell it to move on. You’ll never see it again. Never ever.”
“There’s got to be something else I can do for you.”
“I’ve spent decades being tortured, Valkyrie. My needs are simple. There is nothing you can give me that I could possibly want – except for Greymire Asylum.”
He released her wrist and stepped back.
“Don’t go,” she said.
He started to walk away. “Say hello to your sister for me.”
“What’s the cure?”
Caisson turned.
“If it’s not the music box,” she said, “or it’s not a serum or an antidote or whatever … then what is it?”
“It’s a person.”
“A doctor?”
Caisson shook his head.
“A patient, then. The woman.”
He didn’t respond.
Valkyrie chewed her bottom lip. “If I tell you where Greymire is,” she said at last, “you’ll only break her out?”
“I have no interest in any of the others.”
“I have your word on that? You let that one woman out? The rest stay where they are?”
“You have my word.”
“And you’ll tell me where Nye is?”
“I promise.”
“OK,” she said. “OK, I’ll tell you.”
Valkyrie sat on the roof and listened to the music box.
She had panicked. That was unlike her. It was understandable, of course. She had a lot on her plate. And a lot on her mind. And a lot everywhere. Plus, she was still fragile. Greymire Asylum had done a number on her, and no mistake.
But it was fine now. The music box was making it all fine now.
Valkyrie took out her phone and called Skulduggery. Waited for him to answer.
“Hello,” he said.
She closed the music box so she could think properly. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“OK.”
“No,” she said, “I’m really sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to do it. It just … it just flashed out of me and I couldn’t stop it.”
“That’s OK,” he said. “I should have let you leave when you wanted to leave.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
“It looked like I hurt you.”
“Only a little bit.”
“Are you around? Can I see you? I’m in Roarhaven.”
“I’m still at home.”
“Ah, right.” She sighed. “I messed everything up, didn’t I?”
“Not everything,” he said. “I take it you met Caisson? Was the music box what he wanted?”
“No. Skulduggery, I … I had to tell him where Greymire Asylum was.”
He paused. “OK,” he said. “OK. We’ll say Abyssinia broke into your mind. You’ll have to reinforce that idea in your head because China will be using the best Sensitives she’s got to find out what went wrong, so your defences better be in place.”
“I don’t really have any defences, though.”
“Then you need lessons. I know some people who can—”
“Skulduggery, I’m telling you, it’s not as bad as you think. Caisson just wants to break the old woman out.”
“What old woman?”
“The old woman in the tower. She’s all he wants.”
“Who is she?”
“He didn’t say. Can you … can you forgive me?”
“Of course.” Without hesitation.
“Thank you,” she said, and then put some energy in her voice. “Because I’m going to need your help.”
“You definitely are.”
Valkyrie smiled. “I know you’re freaking out about this, but I really don’t think it’s going to be that big a deal. Why would China even think it was me who told him where the asylum was? I know I shouldn’t have, I know you told me not to, but, I mean … OK, so what? I think you’re worrying too much.”
“And what about Nye?”
The smile turned to a grin. “I know where it is. You’ll never guess. Try, though. You’ll never get it. But try.”
“I’m really not in a guessing mood.”
“Go on, try.”
He sighed. “OK, let’s see … is it—”
“An underwater lab!” she shrieked.
“What?”
She jumped up. “An underwater laboratory! Under the water! In the ocean! Can you believe it? Isn’t that so cool? Have you ever been to an underwater lab before?”
“I’ll be honest with you,” Skulduggery said. “I have not.”
“And haven’t you always wanted to?”
“Very much so.”
She twirled on the rooftop. “Then tomorrow we’re going to an underwater lab! Don’t we have just the coolest job ever?”
The whole class was silent and sat in twos, staring at each other, straining to broadcast a single word into the mind of their partner. A metronome tocked. Miss Wicked stood and watched.
Tock. Tock. Tock.
Omen sat opposite his brother. Auger’s left eye was bruised. He had a cut along his cheek that was already half healed. Some of his hair appeared to be singed. None of that mattered. What mattered was the word. The word was Hello.
Miss Wicked clicked her heel against the floor. Everyone’s eyes immediately closed. Omen breathed slowly, in and out. He visualised a tunnel opening in his mind. On the other end of that tunnel was his brother. There was nothing else. There was only the tunnel.
Tock. Tock.
The metronome.
The tunnel.
Tock.
The tunnel.
Hands went up. Omen heard the rustling of movement. He ignored it. He focused. He could do this. All he had to do was broadcast the word.
Hello. Hello. Hello.
More rustling. More hands going up.
Omen ignored them. It didn’t matter to him how many other people in the room were managing to do what they’d been assigned. It only mattered what Omen managed to do.
The tunnel. Auger sat at the other end of it, Omen knew. He was just sitting there, waiting, his mind open, ready for Omen to throw that word in there.
That was a little bit of pressure, Omen wasn’t going to lie. And the pressure was actually a little distracting. Kind of made it hard to focus on what he had to do.
But he ignored it, just like he was ignoring the rustling of movement and the idea that everyone else in the class had already done this and they were all waiting for him. Just like he was ignoring his itchy ankle and his itchy cheek. That was maddening. The itchiness. The more he avoided thinking about it, the more the need grew.
Tock.
Breathing. That was important. Breathing was as important as emptying the mind. Maybe more important. Whether the mind was empty or full, you still needed to breathe. Of course, too much attention could be paid to the breathing. Right now, for instance, all of Omen’s concentration was on taking air into his lungs and then blowing it back out again. This wasn’t what he needed to be focusing on. He needed to be focusing on the task at hand. He needed to be focusing on the fact that Miss Wicked expected him to do well.
Miss Wicked.
No. No. He focused on the tunnel. On the tunnel. Not on Miss Wicked. On the tunnel. On telepathy. On the word. Not on Miss Wicked. Not on—
Dammit.
“Auger,” Miss Wicked said, “are you receiving anything?”
“Um …” said Auger.
“Any words?” Miss Wicked pressed. “Any images, even?”
Omen opened his eyes. The whole class was looking at him, Auger included. Auger’s eyebrows were raised slightly, but he suppressed a grin as he turned to Miss Wicked. “Not really, miss. Almost, though. We’re getting closer.”
“OK,” Miss Wicked said, stopping the metronome. “We’ve done enough for today. We’re going to be continuing with this for the rest of the week, until every one of you can broadcast at least a couple of words. Once that’s done, we shall venture out of the classroom and continue somewhere that is not a controlled environment. It all becomes a lot trickier when you have distractions all around you. Any questions?”
Axelia raised her hand. “Will we be taught how to stop people from reading our minds?”
Miss Wicked nodded. “Yes, but not in this module. First, you learn how to do it, then you learn how to stop it. Anyone else? No? Good. Dismissed.”
Omen picked up his bag as everyone started filing out. He turned to Auger. “What?” he said, a little more defensively than he’d intended.
“Nothing,” Auger responded.
“Then why are you grinning?”
“I’m just happy,” Auger said. He passed Omen, put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in. “I will never look at Miss Wicked in the same way again, I swear to God.”
Omen sagged and Auger walked out, grinning even more broadly. Omen followed him, aware that Miss Wicked was watching him leave. He glanced up, saw the unimpressed look on her face, and hurried on.
Skulduggery was waiting for her on the pier in Haggard.
Valkyrie was feeling better this morning. Less manic. She’d had the music box on all night as she slept, and as a result she was a lot more … steady.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know I apologised, but I am sorry for yesterday.”
“It’s OK.”
“I didn’t mean to do it.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t want to do it. It just happened.”
“You lost control of your magic,” Skulduggery said. “I understand that. You don’t have to apologise. I’ve already forgiven you.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Can I have a hug?”
“Of course you can,” he said, and they hugged. “Feel better?”
“Much,” she said, and looked at the sea. “So where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“This boat you said we’re getting. I assume it’s a boat, and not a submarine or something? I don’t think I’d like being in a submarine. Very … enclosed.”
“It’s a boat,” Skulduggery said, nodding. “Or a ship, to be more precise. They’re very touchy about things like that.”
“Who are?”
“Pirates.”
She gaped at him. “We’re getting a lift with pirates?”
“It’s a pirate ship. It stands to reason that there’ll be pirates on it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of pirates? The modern kind, or the—”
“The old-fashioned kind.”
“With the eyepatches and the cutlasses and the parrots?”
“Yes. Also they’re ghosts.”
“It’s a ghost ship?”
“It’s a cursed ship, and they’re ghost pirates. A cursed ship is different to a ghost ship for a variety of reasons, but mostly because we wouldn’t be able to travel on a ghost ship. We’d just fall right through the deck.”
“Are they friendly?”
“Ghost pirates? As
a rule, no. As a matter of fact, I’m a little surprised that they agreed to do this. I always thought they hated me.”
“Why would they hate you?”
Skulduggery shrugged. “We all do things in our youth that would not be considered wise. I’m no different.”
“What did you do?”
“I was sixteen years old. In London, William Shakespeare was putting the finishing touches to Romeo and Juliet. France had declared war on Spain. The steering wheel had just been invented, but wouldn’t come into common usage for another three hundred and two years. And I had stowed away on a merchant ship in search of adventure – as was the custom at the time.”
“Wait,” Valkyrie said, “is this where you first met Ghastly?”
“It is indeed,” Skulduggery replied. “We were both arrogant, brash young men back then. Insufferable, really.”
“Wow. You’ve changed so much.”
He ignored that. “Bonds are formed when you stow away on the same ship, you know. Friendships are forged.”
“Get to the pirates.”
“Three weeks into our voyage, we were set upon by the King’s Fury – the most feared ship on the seven seas, captained by Edgar Dudgeon, a man with a heart as black as coal. The ship and its crew had been cursed – they needed to find the Treasure of Bravo Cortes within a year or they would spend eternity as wraiths upon the waves. By the time they boarded our little merchant vessel, they had eleven days left in which to find this treasure. They were desperate, raiding every ship they passed, killing everyone they found if they didn’t know anything that could help them. And nobody did.
“Ghastly and I managed to convince Captain Dudgeon that we knew where the Treasure of Bravo Cortes was hidden. In exchange for our crew’s freedom, we’d take them there.”
“And where did you actually take them?”
He shrugged. “Left a bit, right a bit, straight on. Essentially, we led them nowhere for eight days. On the ninth day, however, we performed a spectacular escape, after which we were promptly recaptured.”
Valkyrie frowned. “Can it really be called an escape if you’re caught again immediately?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think it can.”
“This is my story, Valkyrie. You can have your own story where things can be called whatever you want them to be called. Right now, this is mine, and this is how it happened. So, on the tenth day, we escaped for a second time, and were recaptured once more. There are limited places to run on a ship. On the eleventh day, when it became clear that we didn’t know anything, Captain Dudgeon prepared to kill us.”