by Derek Landy
“Oh, really?” Darquesse said. “Well then, what am I?”
“You’re a bit of her,” Valkyrie said. “You’re a splinter of the real Darquesse. What, you really think I wouldn’t have worked it out? You’ve been hanging around me for five years.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re a stray thought she left behind,” said Valkyrie. “She abandoned you, and you don’t have the power to go after her. You barely have the power to exist.”
“That’s a cosy explanation,” Darquesse said. “I bet it’s more comforting than the idea that you’re going insane.”
“Maybe I can see you because we’re connected, or maybe it’s because I can see across the magic spectrum. I don’t know. But what I do know is that you’re flesh and blood. You’re not a figment of my imagination and you’re not a symptom of my insanity. You want to know how I know?”
“Dearly.”
Valkyrie punched her, snapping her head back, buckling her legs from under her.
“See?” Valkyrie said, looking down at her. “Real.”
Valkyrie left her there.
Around the corner and halfway down the next corridor, she pushed open a door and stepped in.
Fletcher lay sleeping, hooked up to an IV and a monitor. He was pale. His hair, distressingly, was sensibly brushed back from his forehead. He looked almost respectable, like someone who hadn’t known him had prepared him for his coffin.
Valkyrie realised her hands were shaking. She clenched her fists to stop it.
For five years, she hadn’t had to visit anyone in hospital. For five years, she’d been away from beatings and stabbings, from murders and plots. She hadn’t missed any of it, and yet she’d come back. She’d walked back into this world of violence and pain and death and suffering, and she’d done so fully aware of what could happen. She couldn’t explain why.
“Hey,” Fletcher said. He was smiling.
She walked closer. “How’re you doing?”
“Good.” His voice was weak. “But the knife did a lot of damage, so I have to stay very still for everything to settle back into place. I am so incredibly bored.”
“I’d say so.”
“How are you? I heard what happened to Skulduggery.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m OK. I’ll get him back.”
“I don’t doubt it. Who was it stabbed me?”
Valkyrie sat on the chair beside his bed. “His name is Nero. A Teleporter. I don’t know how he did it, how he followed you. I’ve never even heard of that before.”
“Me either,” Fletcher said, “and I’ve read practically every book written about Teleporters. Not that there are many. There are, like, four.”
“You’ve read four books?”
“I’ve changed,” he said, and smiled again.
“Thanks, by the way,” she said. “For coming to get us like you did. You saved our lives.”
“I’d blush, but I doubt I have enough blood for it. Besides, I didn’t have a choice. The call came in that Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain were in trouble and what was I going to do, ignore it? You were my first love. I had to go charging to the rescue.”
“My hero.”
“Yeah, I’m awesome. Hey, hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you look … sad.”
“I’ll be fine. Skulduggery being gone … it’s temporary. That’s all.”
“He’ll come back to you,” said Fletcher. “If anyone can snap him out of whatever it is that’s affecting him, it’ll be you.”
“Yeah.”
“How you doing, Val? Really?”
She looked away, then back. “Not good,” she said.
41
She said her goodbyes to Fletcher and walked towards the exit. She was almost there when the doors opened ahead of her and Temper Fray and Omen Darkly hurried in from the street. She stared.
“I heard what happened,” Temper said, his face still puffy from a recent beating. “What’s the plan?”
Valkyrie blinked at him. “What?”
“The plan,” he repeated, like he was talking to a four-year-old. “To stop them from resurrecting Abyssinia. What is it?”
“I don’t … I don’t know what … Temper, how are you still alive?”
“Omen rescued me,” Temper said.
“Omen’s supposed to be in school.”
“I’d never have thought Skulduggery would shoot you,” Temper said. “I mean, not actually shoot you. Not you.”
Valkyrie shook her head. “Wait, stop, we’re not finished talking about this. I’m glad you’re alive and everything, but Omen, Skulduggery told you to stay out of it from now on, didn’t he?”
Omen nodded, like the guilty schoolboy he was.
“Again, I’m glad Temper isn’t dead, but this isn’t a game we’re playing.”
“I know,” Omen murmured.
“I don’t think you do. Look at me. Look at the fear in my eyes. You think any of this is fun?”
“No.”
“This isn’t your fight. It isn’t your job to deal with these psychos and it isn’t your job to rescue people, as pleased as I am that Temper is alive.”
“You keep saying that,” Temper said. “I don’t think I believe you any more.”
“I’m sorry I disobeyed Skulduggery,” said Omen, “but I really want to be a part of this. It’s my one chance to be someone.”
“You’re fourteen,” Valkyrie said. “You have plenty of time to be someone. You don’t belong out here. You belong in school.”
“Hey,” said Temper, putting an arm round Omen’s shoulders, “show my boy here some respect. He saved me, Valkyrie. He hitched a lift with Nero, came into the lion’s den, sneaked by all the nutcases, freed me from my prison cell and then saved me from getting my ass kicked. It’s because of him that I got back in one piece. He can handle himself, OK? Which is more than either of us have done lately.”
“He’s a kid.”
“So were you.”
“And look at me now. Seriously. Look at what all that action and adventure has done to me. I’m a frickin’ basket case. My best friend has been taken from me and I’m barely holding it together. I’ve got parents who worry about me and a little sister I never see because I don’t deserve her love. My life is a mess, Omen. For the last five years, I’ve cried myself to sleep and practically every morning I’ve woken up screaming. I feel myself dip into these pits of sadness and I can see it coming, but I can’t do anything about it, and every time it takes me just a little bit longer to climb back out. Is that what you want? Is this the kind of adventure you’re looking for?”
Omen didn’t respond.
“Have a normal life,” Valkyrie said. “Please. Just walk away. Leave it all behind. Leave magic behind. Live as a mortal. That’s what I’d do, if I could do it all over again.”
“I don’t believe that,” said Temper.
“And it’s a good thing I don’t care what you think.”
“We could do with his help, Valkyrie, seeing as how we are so vastly outmatched as it stands.”
“Well, why stop there?” she asked. “Why stop with a fourteen-year-old? Why not get a couple of toddlers to draw enemy fire? Why not have an entire brigade of babies and idiots?”
“I’m starting to feel a little insulted,” Omen said quietly.
“And where did this we business start, anyway?” Valkyrie demanded. “We’re not a team, Temper. Skulduggery and me, we were a team. But I barely know you, and I hardly trust you.”
“Skulduggery trusted me.”
“Did he? You sure about that?”
She brushed by them both, heading for the exit. Her leg was getting better, her limp less pronounced.
“Lethe told me that Smoke’s power corrupts the soul,” Temper said, “not the mind. I couldn’t tell the difference, to be honest, but that’s how they got Skulduggery, in case you were wondering.”
Valkyrie stopped. “He got you, too?”
/>
“Of course,” said Temper. “Why torture me for information when they can turn me and just ask? I told them whatever I knew, which wasn’t a whole lot, and then they put me in chains.”
Valkyrie turned, switching on her aura-vision, taking in the glowing warmth of Temper’s aura. “You’re clean,” she said.
“Sorry?”
Her vision returned to normal. “Smoke’s corruption, it’s not affecting you any more.”
Temper frowned. “I know. It only lasted two days or something. Wait, you can see that? You can see my soul?”
“I can see … something,” she said. “An aura. It’s colour, mostly.”
“What colour do you see?”
“Orange.”
“Is that good?”
“I don’t know if it’s good. But it’s normal.”
Temper came forward. “I’m sorry that you don’t trust me, and maybe you’re right not to. I’ve done some pretty questionable things in my life. But I don’t need to see auras to know I can trust you. I know they’re looking to use Doctor Melior to bring back someone called Abyssinia, and I doubt that’d be good news for anyone but her, so I’m here to help however I can.”
“I’m here to help, too,” said Omen. “I know you think I’m a kid, and I know you want me to go away, but I can be useful. I need to do this. You said your parents are worried about you. Mine barely even notice me, and when they do it’s to criticise me and call me names. I’ve never been a part of something like this. Please, let me continue. I’ll stay out of trouble, I swear. I’m not going to get hurt.”
“You don’t know that,” Valkyrie said. “For all you know, this is the first step on a journey that will end with you dying in a street somewhere, in your brother’s arms.”
Omen swallowed. “If that’s my destiny, then that’s my destiny. But at least I’ll have one.”
“You’ve got our help,” Temper said, “whether you want it or not. So what do we do?”
She frowned. “Why are you asking me?”
“You’re Valkyrie Cain, aren’t you? If Skulduggery Pleasant isn’t here, you’re in charge. What do you think, Omen? Does that appear to be the hierarchy?”
“It does,” Omen said, his voice cracking as he came forward. He blushed, and cleared his throat. “I mean, yes. It does. Skulduggery, then Valkyrie, then you.”
Temper nodded. “And then you.”
“Me? Really?”
“Of course. You’ve earned your place as fourth in command.”
“Wow.” Omen beamed. “Thanks.”
“You’re fourth in a group of four,” Valkyrie pointed out. “You’re in charge of no one.”
Temper slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t you listen to her, slick. You’re in charge of yourself and, in the grand scheme of things, that’s the only authority worth having. So, Valkyrie, what’s our next move?”
Valkyrie took a deep breath, and let it out. “I don’t know. What would Skulduggery do? He’d kick down a few doors until a lead presented itself.”
“And where’s the first door we kick down?”
“I suppose … San Francisco? Maybe? If we can find out where Richard Melior and Savant Vega lived while they were there, we might find someone who knew them, and knew Lilt, back when they were all friends. If we find a lead to Lilt, we’re closer to finding a lead to the anti-Sanctuary.”
“Huh,” said Temper.
Valkyrie sighed. “It doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
“No, it does.”
“But it won’t work, will it?”
“There’s no reason why it shouldn’t.”
“Listen, if you two have any better ideas, please share them. Any ideas at all. In the slightest. Either of you. But maybe not you, Omen.”
“Yeah,” Omen said.
“You probably wouldn’t have anything useful.”
“Probably not.”
“Don’t want to be rude.”
“It’s not rude if it’s true.”
“Temper? Do you have anything?”
Temper shook his head. “Nothing better than what you got. Kicking down doors sounds good to me.”
“It’s a terrible plan.”
“It’s our only plan.”
“On the bright side,” said Valkyrie, “China’s people might locate Coldheart Prison any moment now, and when they do they’ll storm it and it’ll all be over and none of this will matter.”
“Exactly!” Temper said. “The fate of the world might not be resting on our shoulders. We just have to keep reminding ourselves of that.” He looked at them both and smiled. “I don’t know about you two, but I am pumped for this. Really. I’m not even being sarcastic. Not even a little. At all. In the slightest.”
42
Whatever disagreements Skulduggery had with China meant little or nothing now, and Valkyrie sat with the Supreme Mage on the highest balcony overlooking Roarhaven and told her everything. China listened and nodded and asked clarifying questions, and when Valkyrie was finished a silence settled and Valkyrie felt relief. Relief that she had unburdened herself, relief that the problem was shared and relief that someone else could take charge from this point on.
It was raining. From up here, the streets looked slickly smooth, the rooftops polished to a slippery gleam. People hurried, wearing coats or carrying umbrellas or manipulating the rain to divert around them. She could hear the faint splashes of cars driving through puddles. It was wet and cold everywhere but on the balcony – on the balcony it was warm and dry.
“Abyssinia,” China said. “I never thought I’d have to speak that name again.”
“Skulduggery said you were friends.”
China’s eyebrow raised a fraction. “That’s a strong word. But maybe, yes. How much did he tell you about her?”
“Enough to scare me.”
“If you’re only scared, he must have left out some of the more unsavoury aspects of her story.”
“She was that bad?”
“She was worse.”
“Has Lilt said anything about her?”
A flicker of annoyance passed across China’s flawless face. “He is proving to be most obstinate,” she said. “Our Sensitives are having trouble getting past his defences. He’s already sent the City Guards into a booby-trapped apartment – it was a miracle no one was killed. I can arrange for you to see him, if you want. Maybe he’ll talk to you.”
“You’ve got trained investigators,” Valkyrie replied. “You should stick with them.”
“Lilt won’t even talk to them any more. He knows about Smoke turning Skulduggery. Maybe he’ll want to gloat about it. It might be an opening you can use.”
“China, I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”
China stood up, walked to the edge of the balcony and looked down, then turned. “What’s wrong with you?”
Valkyrie blinked. “I’m sorry?”
China waved a hand at her. “This. You. What’s wrong? What happened to turn you from the feisty warrior I knew and loved to the nervous, apologetic woman I see before me?”
“I quit,” said Valkyrie. “That’s what happened. I walked away.”
“Why?”
“How can you ask me that? You know why. You were there. You saw what Darquesse did to this city.”
“Yes,” China said. “I saw what Darquesse did. Not you. Darquesse.”
“Everything she did is on me.”
“You don’t believe that. You can’t. If you believed that, you wouldn’t be able to get out of bed in the morning. The guilt would have already hammered you into the ground. Do you bear some responsibility? Yes. But not all of it. Not even most of it.”
“Even some of it is enough.”
“You’re lying.”
Valkyrie stood up. “Excuse me?”
“You’re lying,” China repeated. “What else happened? What did you do that made you walk away?”
“Being responsible for the deaths of over a thousand people whose na
mes and faces I will never know … that isn’t enough for you?”
“It isn’t.”
“Then I don’t know what to say to you, China. I don’t know how I can—” Her voice caught suddenly, and tears came to her eyes.
China waited.
Valkyrie swallowed and looked away again, feeling the sting in her throat that warned her she was about to cry. She growled instead, and that made China smile.
“That’s a little of the old Valkyrie,” she said. “You always did hate to show weakness.”
But Valkyrie shook her head. “Wasn’t weakness I hated,” she said. “It was losing control.” She swallowed again, took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “It wasn’t the thousand faces I didn’t know. It was the one face I did.” Valkyrie put her hands through her hair, fixing it, recognising even as she did so what a transparent attempt at nonchalance it was. “I needed the Sceptre of the Ancients to fight Darquesse, but it was bonded to my sister.”
“And you couldn’t use it until it was bonded to you,” China said slowly. “So you …”
“I killed her,” Valkyrie said. “She was dead for a few seconds, long enough for the bond to be severed. I used the Sunburst to revive her, the Sceptre bonded with me and I used it against Darquesse. All’s well that ends well.”
“It must have been an unimaginably difficult thing to do.”
“To murder my sister? I’ve done easier things.”
“But you revived her.”
“But I murdered her. You can say your part as much as you like – my part will always be louder. That’s why I walked away.”
“And yet you came back.”
“That may have been a mistake.”
China folded her arms, her chin dipping to her chest. “What you had to do, for the greater good, was horrible. So, if you’ve lost your nerve, tell me. Just tell me and get it over with. I’ll hug you and send you on your way. I’ll give you a squad of Cleavers to protect you until all this is over, and we’ll stop them from resurrecting Abyssinia ourselves.” She raised her eyes. “Is that what you want, Valkyrie?”
Valkyrie looked away. “Might be for the best.”
China shrugged. “If that’s true, say the word and it’ll be done. Say yes.”