by Derek Landy
Bennet didn’t answer. He wiped a tear from his eye and sniffed loudly, then cleared his throat. He looked up. “What do you need?”
“Sorry?”
“You said if you helped me, then I’d help you. You helped me. It didn’t work out the way I wanted, but you still helped me. So what do you need in return?”
Sebastian took off his hat, held it in both hands as he took a seat. His chin itched beneath his mask. “There are two types of people in this world,” he said. “The type who fear Darquesse, and the type who worship her. I don’t fear her.”
Bennet nodded. “So you want to be part of our club, is that it? You didn’t have to help me out to do that. You just have to turn up. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there isn’t exactly a line of people clamouring to join. We meet once a week. We pray. We share stories.”
“Do you try to contact her?”
Bennet laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“She’s gone, Mr Plague Doctor. She’s not coming back. The Sanctuary people hit her with an illusion, made her think she’d killed everyone, and she left us for another dimension. She’s not coming back because she doesn’t think there’s anything to come back to.”
“So why do you pray to her?”
Bennet went quiet for a moment. “Because I saw first-hand what she can do, and when you witness something like that you … you understand what it’s like to see God. You understand your own insignificance. Your place. And … and something else too. You … you …”
“You fall in love,” said Sebastian.
Bennet looked up. “Yes. I suppose … I suppose, compared to that, Odetta didn’t have a chance, did she? She was right to leave me. This is all my fault.”
“Have you heard of Silas Nadir?” Sebastian asked. “Do you know what he did?”
“The serial killer?”
“That’s him. He shunted Valkyrie Cain back and forth between this reality and the Leibniz Universe.”
“The what?”
“The universe where Mevolent is still alive.”
“Oh,” said Bennet, “yes. So?”
“The pathway is open still. The Shunters here can now get over there relatively easily. And the Shunters there can come over here. More Shunters are being trained, probably in both realities.”
“So? What does this have to do with Darquesse?”
“We’ll need a Shunter and a way to track her,” Sebastian said. “Getting a Shunter will be easy because of all this recent activity. That’s our first step.”
Bennet sat a little straighter. “You’re telling me that there is an actual chance that we could communicate with Darquesse?”
“I haven’t worked all of it out yet, and I’ll need time and a lot of luck – but, if I’m right, we can do more than communicate with her. That’s why I need your help, Bennet. I need your help to bring her back.”
70
Omen sat on the edge of the fountain, facing the clock monument, listening to the splash of water and letting it overwhelm the distant sound of evening traffic. It was cold and dark, but the Circle was lit up prettily. The High Sanctuary looked majestic from this low angle, a cross between a fairytale palace and heaven’s lobby.
The Dark Cathedral was also lit up, but this only served to accentuate its severe lines and intimidating splendour. If the High Sanctuary was the first step into heaven, the Dark Cathedral was surely the first step on the way to hell.
Someone sat beside him, and Omen shuffled over slightly.
“They’re worried about you,” Skulduggery Pleasant said.
Omen looked up in surprise. Skulduggery was wearing a façade. Omen had never actually seen one in real life. The clean-shaven face looked real.
“Your headmaster was about to send out a search party,” Skulduggery continued. “I asked him to give me a little time, let me look for you. I told him you’d been through a lot in the last few days.”
“Thank you,” said Omen. “Can I, uh, ask you a question? About your façade?”
Skulduggery smiled. “Sure.”
“When the Supreme Mage did it, when she carved the sigils into your bones, what did she use? Was it her fingernail or a scalpel pen or one of those heat-knives?”
“A scalpel pen,” he said. “You have an interest in the languages of magic?”
Omen nodded. “Though we don’t really get to carve anything in class. It’s mostly just working out angles and depths and stuff. Can she really carve sigils with her bare hands?”
“China? Yes, she can.”
“Wow. I’ll never be as good as her.”
“Probably not,” said Skulduggery, “but it won’t be because you don’t have the talent. You’ll never be as good as her because she’s over four hundred years older than you and she never stops learning how to be better. When she first gave me the façade, it could only be used for a half-hour each day, and it only covered my face. But she’s been adding to it, improving it over the years.”
“It changes each time, right?” Omen asked. “That’s what I heard. Every time you activate the façade, it’s a new face. Why don’t you just get your old face, the one you had when you were alive?”
“I’m not that man any more,” Skulduggery said. “Wearing his face would be no different to wearing the face I have on right now. They’re all masks.” His gloved fingers tapped his collarbones through his shirt, and the face flowed away, disappearing under his collar.
Now that his skull was on show, people glanced at him as they passed. They were probably wondering who Omen was, maybe thinking he was someone important. He felt that charge of pride and then, inevitably, the emptiness that followed. He was used to this. He was the Chosen One’s brother, after all.
“Do you know if there’s been any sign of Jenan and the others?” he asked. “It’s been two days and the teachers won’t tell us anything.”
“Still missing,” Skulduggery said. “Every Sanctuary around the world is searching for them, and for Lilt, and we’re all keeping a watch for Coldheart to reappear. We’ll find them. Eventually.”
“Why does she want them?” Omen asked. “Abyssinia, I mean. She has her gang of psychos and a prison full of convicts. What does she want with a bunch of schoolkids?”
“I don’t know,” Skulduggery said. “That is annoying, I’ll grant you, and it’s not a sensation I am either familiar or comfortable with. Do you mind if I ask you a question now? Why are you out here? It’s cold and you’re shivering.”
Omen shrugged. “I kind of get the feeling that everyone’s mad at me.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because everyone’s mad at me.”
“Not everyone, surely.”
“The teachers are mad that Never disobeyed the Supreme Mage because of me. They see that as reflecting badly on the Academy, and they blame Never and Never blames me and they also blame me, I think.”
“Well, yes,” said Skulduggery, “I suppose that’s true.”
“And my parents are mad because of, well, all of it, and Auger’s mad because I didn’t tell him what was going on and I could have got myself killed.”
“Fair enough.”
“And then, even though none of the kids in school know I’m involved in any of this, they’re still mad at me because they just don’t like me.”
Skulduggery nodded.
“And that’s it, really,” said Omen.
“That’s not so bad!” Skulduggery said cheerfully. “I thought it’d be much worse! That’s only a dozen or so people! Plenty more have been mad at me over the years. You’ll be fine. Best thing to do is just not think about it.”
“Right.”
“See? Isn’t that better?”
“I don’t know. I’m still thinking about it.”
“They’ll forgive you,” Skulduggery said. “You did a good thing. A brave thing. They’re mad because they don’t want you risking your life. They’re mad because they care. Because they love you. Obviou
sly, I’m not talking about your classmates or your headmaster here. They have legitimate reasons to be mad at you. But family, Omen … family forgives.”
“Yeah. I hope so.”
“If it makes any difference,” Skulduggery said, “I’m proud of you.”
“You are?”
“Absolutely. Although I sincerely thought you’d be a better fighter.”
Omen smiled awkwardly. “Yeah.”
“I was right to think you trained with your brother, wasn’t I?”
“Oh, yes,” Omen said, nodding quickly. “I was there, every single time. They brought in experts from loads of martial arts, loads of other combat systems … I was on the mat, same as Auger, for every one of them, and I’d leave the mat at the end of the day battered and bruised and exhausted.”
“So you were taught to fight?”
Omen nodded again, then shook his head. “Well, no. You’ve got to understand that all of my parents’ attention was on Auger, and everything was geared towards him. So, while I was there for every moment of his fight training, I was really only needed to … get hit.”
Skulduggery tilted his head. “I’m sorry?”
“A few of the instructors, they called me the Human Punchbag. That’s kinda what I did.”
“You stood there and got hit?”
“Yes.”
“For years?”
“Yes. Auger didn’t like to do it, but the instructors always needed someone to demonstrate on, so …”
“That’s quite an extraordinary way to be raised, Omen.”
“Life in the Darkly household was pretty unconventional,” Omen admitted. “Do you, uh, think I can get better?”
“At being hit? I’m not sure. You seem pretty good at it.”
“And what about the other part? The hitting back?”
Skulduggery observed him for a moment. “I think you can improve,” he said at last. “And I don’t think it’d take you long. Even as the Human Punchbag, you’d have picked up on how to move, how to fall, how to absorb damage and keep going. I’d say the biggest obstacle to overcome would be a change in mindset.”
He leaned in. “You think of yourself as the weak one, Omen. You think of yourself as unimportant. That’s got to change. You need to figure out your own value. You need to face up to your own worth. The first step in winning a fight for survival is understanding why you deserve to survive. You haven’t done that yet. Just because your brother is the Chosen One doesn’t mean you’re any less vital.”
“OK.”
“And saying OK does not mean you understand.”
“Sorry.”
“And stop apologising.”
“OK.”
“You’ve got some excellent combat instructors,” Skulduggery said, “and some wonderful teachers in your school, but only you can decide who you want to be in life.”
Omen nodded, and Skulduggery stood up. “You’d better get back to school, Omen. You’re probably in a lot of trouble right now.” He nodded, and walked away.
Omen jumped to his feet. “What do I do?” he blurted.
Skulduggery turned.
“I don’t want to go back to being ordinary,” Omen said. “I want to do this. I want to help you. I want to help people. I know I’m just fourteen, and I’m not like Valkyrie was, I’m not a warrior or whatever, but you wanted me to start valuing myself, so … so I was not useless.”
“Of course you weren’t,” Skulduggery said. A woman walked by, gawking at him, and Skulduggery ignored her. “The fact is, we couldn’t have done this without you. You identified Parthenios Lilt, you rescued Temper Fray, you brought us Lethe’s true identity.”
“Really?” said Omen. “I did all that?”
Skulduggery straightened his tie just a fraction. “You still have a lot to learn, you have classes to attend, and I’m not going to throw you head-first into danger like I did Valkyrie. But you’re one of us now, Omen, and we’ll call you when we need you.”
Omen stood there and blinked, a big dumb smile growing across his face as he watched Skulduggery walk to his car. A City Guard was there, pointing at the car and then pointing at the sign that said NO PARKING. Omen heard Skulduggery laugh as he got behind the wheel.
You’re one of us.
He was one of them. He was part of it all. He was part of the group. The gang. The team. He wasn’t useless or pointless. He wasn’t a waste of space or a waste of skin or a waste of perfectly good air. He may have been the Chosen One’s brother, but he wasn’t the Chosen One’s Brother. Not any more.
He was Omen Darkly. He was whoever the hell he wanted to be.
71
Skulduggery pulled up outside Grimwood House. Valkyrie opened the front door, let Xena bound out into the cold night to greet him while she headed upstairs. Her phone buzzed when she reached the landing.
She stood still as she read the message, feeling the love and the warmth in every one of her mother’s words. She thought carefully about her reply, started writing, then deleted it and started again.
She deleted that, then hesitated, fingers hovering over the keys.
Finally, she just wrote Looking forward to it! and pressed SEND.
Skulduggery stumbled in, Xena doing figures of eight round his legs.
“Good God, dog,” Valkyrie heard him say as he closed the door behind him. “Calm down. Calm down, I said. How can you expect us to have a cordial relationship if you can’t stay still for one second? Sit. Xena, sit.”
Xena cocked her head at him, and sat.
Skulduggery brushed dog hair from his suit. Another glorious three-piece. “Good girl.”
“I’m impressed,” Valkyrie said, and both Skulduggery and Xena looked up. “She only ever obeys my instructions. She must have accepted you as some sort of authority figure.”
“In much the same way that you have.”
Valkyrie grinned. “Yeah. Totally.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Grand,” she said. “Fine. Shoulder’s healed. Not even a scar.”
“And your other injury?”
“Having some of my life force sucked out? I have no way to gauge my levels, but I feel fine.”
“Good,” Skulduggery said, and gestured to a small pot on the hall table. “Is that new?”
“I picked it up earlier today,” she said. “I was thinking about what you said, y’know, regarding the whole redecorating the house idea, putting my own stamp on the place. So I visited a few furniture stores.”
“You visited a few furniture stores, and all you bought was this pot?”
“Baby steps, Skulduggery.”
“Indeed.” He crouched beside Xena, scratched under her chin and then pointed up at Valkyrie. “Xena. Xena, fetch!”
Xena’s ears pricked up and she stood on all fours, and Valkyrie gasped at her, locking eyes for a moment before breaking into a run. She heard Xena sprinting up the stairs after her, and made it to the bedroom before falling to the floor and curling up, hands over her head.
Xena charged in and climbed all over her, jabbing her snout underneath Valkyrie’s arms, licking her face while Valkyrie laughed. Valkyrie wrapped her arms round the dog and dragged her to the floor, kissing and petting her, and Xena rolled on to her back, four paws in the air, waiting for her belly to be scratched.
Valkyrie dutifully scratched it as Skulduggery walked into the room.
“I’ve missed that sound,” he said.
“What sound?”
“You. Laughing. I haven’t heard you laugh in … a while.”
“Maybe you should try being funnier.”
“Oh, I sincerely doubt that it’s my fault.”
“Of course you do,” Valkyrie said, smiling, and got up. Xena stayed exactly where she was.
“Am I keeping you from anything?” Skulduggery asked. “I just thought I’d fill you in on the latest goings-on in Roarhaven, but if you’re busy …”
“You can fill me in while I get changed,” said Valkyrie
, walking to her wardrobe. “Did you speak with Omen?”
Skulduggery nodded. “I know you’re not entirely convinced of the wisdom of his continued involvement, but I believe he’ll surprise you.”
“He’s already surprised me,” Valkyrie said, picking out her clothes and dropping them on to the bed. “As did Never. I don’t mind involving them – I just don’t think we should put them in any actual danger from here on out. Would you agree?”
“In theory.”
She sighed. “Skulduggery …”
“You saw the Darkly boys in your vision, which means Omen has some trouble in store over the next few years, with or without us. I think the least we can do is help him prepare. Denied the proper guidance, he’s not going to be ready. He needs us, Valkyrie.”
She gave a reluctant murmur. “But we’re going to try to keep him alive, aren’t we? He’s a really good kid. I don’t want to see anything bad happen to him.”
“We’ll try our best.”
“Fair enough. Turn round.”
Skulduggery turned his back to her, and she started undressing.
“How’s Savant?” she asked.
“Recovering,” he said. “He only started to regain his independence this morning. He’s got a lot of work ahead of him, a lot of rehabilitation. He’s got to reconnect with who he was. Doctor Melior is helping him, as you would expect. It’s going to be hard on both of them. Aside from the extraordinary circumstances of their situation, to lose somebody for that long and then to get them back …”
“You think they’ll make it?”
“They love each other. Love conquers all.”
“That’s surprisingly upbeat of you.”
“I have had my faith restored, Valkyrie. Humanity will do that to you, every once in a while. Beneath Lethe’s mask was a good man clouded by other people’s darkness. He’ll step into the light again, I have no doubt.”
“Love conquers all,” she echoed. “Is that what’s going to happen between you and Abyssinia? Next time we meet her, are you going to run into each other’s arms in glorious slow motion while music swells in the background?”
“Seeing as how the last time we spoke I was cutting her heart out, I sincerely doubt it.”