by Derek Landy
She tried smiling. “I kinda wish you wouldn’t.”
“Don’t do that,” he said, and took a step forward. “Don’t pretend. It’s me, OK? It’s still me. You can be yourself around me, Valkyrie. I’ve been trying to get you to be yourself since you came home. Nothing’s worked, has it? You still won’t come back to me.”
“I’m doing my best.”
“I don’t think you are. I think you’ve given up.”
She didn’t say anything.
Skulduggery looked at Smoke. “You should have seen her, back in the good old days. She sparked. She met every challenge head-on. She was fearless.”
“No,” she said, “I wasn’t.”
“You were fearless in every way that mattered,” he responded. “You were magnificent. You were funny, and tough, and confident, and amazing. You did things no one else could do. You survived what no one else could survive. Just being around you made me a better person. And now look at what you’ve become. This apologetic … shell. Meek. Timid.” His head tilted up. “Ordinary.”
“If I’m not worth your time,” she said, “then go spend it somewhere else.”
“I care for you too much to let your suffering continue,” Skulduggery told her. “I thought you’d come back. I thought you’d wake up, find that old spark again … but now I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“So … what? Are you going to put me out of my misery?”
He looked at her and didn’t answer for a moment. Then he said, “I think I’ll have to.”
She looked into his eye sockets to the shadows within and her gaze locked there, like he was pulling her towards him. She almost didn’t notice Smoke passing her, reaching out to take Byron’s arm.
“Come on, kid,” he said. “Parthenios Lilt wants a word.”
Byron shook his head. “I don’t … I don’t want to.”
“Let him go,” Omen said, trying to pull Smoke’s hand away.
Smoke shoved Omen back and Valkyrie caught him before he fell.
“Screw this,” Smoke muttered, tapping Byron’s arm. Byron gasped, and Valkyrie didn’t need her aura-vision to know he’d just been corrupted. “Let’s go, kid.”
Byron stared at him, and nodded, then stopped and glanced back at his house. “Can you give me a minute?” he asked. “I’ll be real quick, I swear.”
Smoke sighed. “What, you want to kiss your mommy goodbye?”
“No,” Byron said. “I want to kill her. Please?”
“Fine,” Smoke said. “But be quick about it.”
Byron grinned, and Omen broke free from Valkyrie’s hold and stood in front of him.
“Don’t do it,” he said.
“Out of my way,” Byron snapped, trying to shove past.
Omen wrestled with him. “I can’t let you. I can’t. She’s your mum, Byron. You just told us that you love her.”
“Hey, Byron,” Nero called. “Kick his ass.”
Byron stopped wrestling and looked at Omen, and Omen’s eyes widened. “Now, just wait a second …”
Byron hit him.
“Hey!” Valkyrie shouted, and went to pull Byron back, but Smoke was in her way.
“Let them scrap,” he said, eyes on the fight, not even looking at Valkyrie, like they were in the playground or something. Like this was nothing more serious than a game.
Valkyrie turned sideways and slammed her foot down on to Smoke’s knee with such force that she heard the sickening snap-crunch of bones breaking. Smoke screeched and fell, clutching his leg, rolling over and screeching some more.
Someone grabbed her hair, yanked her head back and she went stumbling. It was Nero, cursing at her, hissing in fury, and she twisted, took hold of his jacket with one hand and rammed the other into his throat. He staggered, gasping, his eyes wide, and her knee sank into his belly. She hammered a fist down on to the base of his skull when he folded over and he dropped, and she kicked him in the head.
Omen and Byron rolled across the ground, Omen trying to talk him out of it the whole time.
Valkyrie turned to Skulduggery as he hung his hat on the rotary dryer.
“I don’t want to fight you,” she said.
“Of course you don’t,” he replied.
He darted forward and she moved, absorbing the blow on her upper arm.
He circled her. “The fourth time we met, you fainted. Do you remember how I caught you? That’s where our friendship began, with you in my arms. That’s how it’ll end.”
“Third,” she said.
“Sorry?”
“It was the third time we met. We’d only spoken twice up until that point, at the wake and the reading of the will.”
He shook his head. “We had met years earlier, when you were just a baby. This was before things got strained between your parents and Gordon, and he was babysitting and I visited. You were adorable.”
“I still am.”
He laughed. “There you go,” he said. “A flash of the old Valkyrie.”
He tried to grab her and she swatted his hand away, moving to his right as she did so.
She could see Omen and Byron throwing punches, bloodying each other up.
“Remember that wig you used to wear?” she asked. “Before you got the façade?”
“I still have it.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s a good wig.”
“It’s a terrible wig. It’s way too fuzzy.”
“Fuzzy was in that year.”
“Did Ghastly approve?”
“I can’t recall.”
“That’s a no.”
He laughed, reached for her, then whipped his hand up when she went to block, catching her with a backhand across the face. She stumbled, hand to her stinging cheek, blinking back sudden tears.
“Help!” Smoke roared. “Somebody help me! I need medical attention!”
“I think you’ve damaged my friend,” said Skulduggery.
“He’s not your friend,” Valkyrie said. “I’m your friend. Dexter and Saracen, they’re your friends. Ghastly was your friend. Smoke—”
“Smoke’s a bad influence,” Skulduggery said. “He’s that child your mother always warned you about, the one who brings out your worst side.”
“That’s right,” said Valkyrie. “And I can’t believe you’re letting it happen. I can’t believe you’re letting someone else dictate how you behave. I’m not the only one who’s changed, you know. Back in the old days, your ego would never have allowed this.”
“Are you saying I’ve become more humble?” he asked, amused.
“No,” she said. “Just more ordinary.”
A moment passed, slow and heavy.
She turned her head a millisecond before he struck her, and he was grabbing her jacket to make sure she didn’t fall back out of range. His elbow jabbed into her shoulder, deadening her left arm. She didn’t know what hit her then, a fist or another elbow, but her head snapped back and the world blurred and suddenly she was falling to her knees.
He retrieved his hat while he waited for her to recover.
Smoke was alternating now between screaming and sobbing. Nero gave out the occasional moan. Omen and Byron were back on their feet but not fighting. They panted for breath and glared at each other.
Slowly, Valkyrie stood up. Skulduggery punched her and she went down again, flattened on to the grass, the world growing mute and grey.
He crouched over her and snapped a pair of cuffs on to her wrists. She felt her magic drain.
“Goddammit!” Smoke shouted. “Skulduggery! Stop wasting time with her and help me!”
“But of course,” Skulduggery said instantly. He walked over to Nero, hauled him to his feet. “Take us to Coldheart,” he said. Nero tried to push him away and Skulduggery wrenched his arm behind him. “I’m under orders, remember. I will break you into bits if you do not teleport us all in the next five seconds.”
“I can’t!” Nero yelped. “I think I might have concussion! She kicked me in
the head!”
“Then just the four of us.” Skulduggery took out his gun, pressed it to Nero’s temple. “Three. Two. One.”
“OK!” Nero cried, and the grey sky turned into a grey ceiling. They were inside, in a cavernous room.
Skulduggery looked at her. “Welcome to Coldheart.”
59
Skulduggery and Valkyrie and Smoke and Nero vanished, leaving Omen and Byron all by themselves.
“They left me behind,” said Byron. He sounded disappointed.
“This is your chance,” Omen said. “Get out of here. Run.”
Byron frowned. “Why?”
“Mr Lilt wants you dead, Byron. You split from them. He’s going to want to kill you.”
“Lilt’s not going to kill me,” Byron said.
“He was going to kill you anyway, even before you split. I heard him say it.”
Byron considered it for a moment. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe I’ll run after I kill my mother.”
“What? No. Come on.” Omen stood in front of him. “You have a chance to get away. You don’t want to kill her.”
“Yes, I do,” said Byron. “I hate her. I hate them both. They’re small and weak and grubby and they hate me.”
“No, they don’t. They love you.”
“They’ve never loved me,” Byron said. “Why are you trying to help them? Your parents are the same.”
“What? My parents don’t hate me, Byron.”
Byron sneered. “Yes, they do. Everyone in school knows it. Your parents love Auger. They love the Chosen One because they can be proud of him. When was the last time they were proud of you?”
“You’re wrong. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re so dumb,” Byron said, and laughed. “You’re so stupid. Axelia Lukt’s parents know your parents. She told me ages ago that your folks go out of their way to avoid mentioning you in conversation. All they talk about is Auger. They’re trying to forget you even exist.”
Omen shook his head.
“Face it. They hate you, and you know it, and you’d kill them, too, if you had the chance. So let me pass, or I’ll kill you first.”
Slowly, Omen unclenched his fists and stood aside. Byron shouldered him out of the way. He’d almost made it to the trees when Omen wrapped an arm round his throat and pulled him back. They went down, but Omen had the choke on tight, and squeezed tighter. Byron struggled for a lot longer than he should have, and Omen knew he was doing something wrong, but he dared not let go. Eventually, Byron’s struggles weakened, and Omen waited two seconds after he’d gone limp before releasing him.
Omen lay there, getting his breath back, keeping his eyes on the unconscious boy. He felt bad about what he’d had to do, but proud that he’d been able to do it. If only Axelia had been here to witness it. Or his parents.
He sat up slowly. His face was swollen and his ribs were sore. He got to his feet, groaning as he did so. His tongue probed each of his teeth, checking that none of them had been knocked loose during the fight. He checked his nose next. Byron had whacked it with his elbow as they were rolling around. It hurt like hell, but didn’t appear to be broken.
He took out his phone, and didn’t know who to call. When it suddenly buzzed to life, he almost dropped it.
“Hello?” he said, bringing it to his ear.
“Omen!” It was Temper. Thank God. “What’s going on? Where is everyone?”
Omen puzzled over how to express this. “Things have happened,” he said eventually.
“Valkyrie isn’t answering.”
“She’s been taken prisoner by Skulduggery.”
“Aw, man …”
Omen nodded. “I know. And I was in a fight.”
“Who with?”
“A boy in my class.”
“Did you win?”
“Well … he’s unconscious and I’m not, so I suppose I didn’t lose.”
“Well done!”
“Thank you. What do we do now?”
“I’m still in New York, so I’m going to need Never to come get me. I have a way to stop all of this. I just need to talk to Richard Melior.”
“But he’s about to kill Valkyrie.”
“Why’s he going to do that?”
“To resurrect Abyssinia.”
“How much did I miss?”
Omen looked around. “Like, a lot.”
“Come get me, Omen.”
“But they’re all in Coldheart Prison, and we don’t know where it is.”
“I’ll call the High Sanctuary, see if maybe they’ve managed to track it down. In the meantime, you call Never.”
“I don’t know if he’ll answer,” said Omen. “Last time I spoke to her, he was really mad with me.”
Temper said, “Be your charming best, slick. Valkyrie’s life depends on it.”
60
Omen stepped off the bus just as his call was answered. “Never, thank God, you have to help us!”
“I can’t,” Never whispered. “I’m in the High Sanctuary. Surrounded by Cleavers.”
“What?” said Omen, colliding with a crowd of people hurrying the other way. “Why?”
“The Supreme Mage brought me in.” Never sounded nervous. Very nervous. “At first, I thought I was in trouble, y’know, for all of us going to San Francisco? And I thought, I swear to God if Omen Darkly has got me expelled I’m going to kill him. But it wasn’t that. The Supreme Mage needs me to bring a bunch of Cleavers to help your friend.”
Omen started walking. “What friend?”
“Your only other friend apart from me. The murderous one.”
Omen’s eyes widened. “Valkyrie? Do they know where she is?”
“I think they know how to find her, yeah. The Supreme Mage is going to draw a sigil on my arm to link me to an auxilium on Valkyrie, whatever that is, and then we wait around for her to activate it. Apparently, all I have to do is close my eyes and teleport and I’ll end up right beside her. That’s blind teleporting, Omen. I haven’t done that before. I don’t think anyone has. I’m terrified.”
“Never, you’re going to be fine. You can do this. You’re a natural – Mr Renn is always saying that. I believe in you.”
“Yeah,” said Never. “Thanks, Omen. That actually … that actually helps.”
“But I’m going to need you to not do it.”
He could hear Never’s scowl. “Why would I not do it, Omen?”
“Because arriving with a bunch of Cleavers might not be the best idea,” Omen explained. “I was just talking to Temper. Apparently, he can fix everything – he just needs to talk to Doctor Melior, and Melior will probably be with Valkyrie. So, when the Supreme Mage draws that sigil on your arm, I’m going to need you to come get me, then pick up Temper in New York, and then we can all do the blind teleporting thing.”
“No way. No way, Omen. The Supreme Mage herself asked me to do this.”
“And I’m asking you to do something else.”
“She’s the Supreme Mage.”
“And I’m your friend.”
“She outranks you!”
“And you’re my best friend, Never. I wouldn’t ask you to do this unless I thought it was the best thing to do.”
Never’s voice was hushed but somehow loud. “You don’t know the best thing to do! You don’t know anything! Name me one class you’re doing well in! Name me one piece of homework you didn’t have to copy off me! You cannot ask me to do this, Omen, because you are an idiot and I can’t trust that you’d know a good idea if it hit you with a brick!”
“I’ll be on O’Connell Street,” Omen said. “Outside Eason bookshop. I hope you’ll come get me.”
“I’m not going to do it, Omen. I’m not going to do it.”
“I hope you do.”
Omen hung up.
61
She hurt.
She was sitting up on the bunk, her back against the wall, her legs stretched out, and her mouth open. Her lips were burst. She’d
washed some of the blood off at the sink, left the cracked porcelain stained with red handprints. Her jaw hurt like hell, but they’d removed her packet of leaves when they’d taken her phone.
She wasn’t shackled any more, though her powers were still bound and the auxilium sigil, invisible upon her skin, was useless. The cell saw to that. Skulduggery stood outside, still as a statue, looking in at her. His hat cast a deep shadow, hiding his skull.
“They’re going to kill me, are they?” she asked, her voice dull.
“Everyone dies,” Skulduggery responded. “You might get lucky and come back as a skeleton like me. Wouldn’t that be fun? We could have all sorts of adventures.”
“We already have all sorts of adventures.”
“Skeleton adventures are different. There’s more room for puns.”
She talked carefully with ruined lips. “You don’t have to guard me, you know. I have no idea how to escape from a prison cell.”
“I’m not guarding you,” Skulduggery said. “I’m protecting you. Cadaverous Gant is eager to end your life.”
“Why? Because Jeremiah Wallow fell when he tried to kill me? How is that my fault?”
“I mentioned this to Cadaverous. He didn’t seem to care. Some people like revenge too much. It is a potent source of strength.”
“Fair enough. Thanks for protecting me, though.”
“Smoke told me to do it, in case you think my attitude towards you may be softening. I still very much want to kill you.”
“You’re not going to kill me.”
“Is that so?”
“You’re fighting back.”
His head tilted, shifting the shadow slightly. “You can’t see my aura.”
“I don’t need to. I can tell. You’re fighting Smoke’s influence.”
“I’m not sure you’re right, to be honest. You may be in for a disappointment. If you like, I could punch you to keep your expectations low. That way, if I do end up killing you, it won’t come as too much of a surprise.”
She smiled, but the smile made her lips hurt so she stopped, waited for the pain to pass. When they had returned to their former throb, she spoke again. “Do you think I’ve wasted my time?”
“On what?”