Skulduggery Pleasant: Mortal Cole

by Derek Landy

  She brushed the snowflakes from her hair. “It lightened my mood. I still have tomorrow off, right?”

  “That’s our deal.”

  “No matter what happens, Christmas Day is off-limits. It’s a day for presents under the tree, turkey for dinner, and dozing off on the sofa while we watch Indiana Jones on TV.”

  “Sounds lovely.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “The same, except completely different.”

  Valkyrie managed a smile. “I love Christmas. I’ll never understand anyone who doesn’t.”

  “Plenty of people don’t enjoy Christmas. It can be a lonely time of the year.”

  “But it’s when all the family gets together,” she said, speaking too fast to stop herself. Skulduggery dipped the headlights as a car passed in the opposite lane, then flicked them back up.

  “Sorry,” she said quietly.

  He turned to her slightly. “What for?”

  “You know. The family thing.”

  “Oh,” he said. “You mean because my family is dead.”

  She winced. “Yeah.”

  “You know, I’d completely forgotten about all that until you brought it up.”

  She stared at him, horrified. They passed a sign for Haggard.

  “I’m joking,” he said at last.

  “Oh, my God. That was mean.”

  “You shouldn’t feel guilty about enjoying something that other people don’t. Well, apart from torture, but that’s probably the only exception. You love Christmas, and that’s wonderful. Keep in mind that not everyone does, but don’t let that take away from how you feel.”

  “Wow,” she said. “It’s like you’re teaching me something and being all wise.”

  “You are not easy to get along with,” Skulduggery said.

  They got to the pier in Haggard and Valkyrie unbuckled her seatbelt. “Tomorrow is off-limits and everything, but… you’re still going to drop by, aren’t you?”

  “Of course. I have to give you your present, don’t I?”

  She grinned. “Yes, you do. Merry Christmas, Skulduggery.”

  “Merry Christmas, Valkyrie.”

  She got out, and ran home through the snow.

  19

  CHRISTMAS MORNING AT THE MIDNIGHT HOTEL

  Anton Shudder knocked on the door to Room 19 as he unlocked it. He waited a few moments, and then the door opened and the vampire looked out, wearing its human skin.

  “Good morning,” Caelan said. “Did I… I’m sorry if I was loud last night.”

  “Not at all,” Shudder said. “The walls are still sealed. No sound escapes.”

  “I’m afraid I broke some furniture. The chain snapped and, well… I’ll pay for it, of course. Some of the walls are scratched, too.”

  “We’ve discussed this. Snapping your chains or damaging the walls means nothing if you can’t leave this room – and once I’ve locked this door, you don’t even have the option. You’re safe in there, and everyone else is safe out here. You are a guest in the Midnight Hotel. You have no need to apologise.”

  “Thank you. Where are we, by the way?”

  “Scotland.”

  “Are we scheduled to appear in Ireland today?”

  “In just under an hour. You have business there?”

  “Some,” Caelan said.

  “I’ll let you know when we arrive.”

  “Thank you, Mr Shudder.”

  Shudder walked to the stairs, nodding to a guest coming the opposite way. He climbed to the second floor on his usual morning rounds. All but two of the rooms on this floor were occupied, but none of the guests were awake yet. He stopped outside Room 24, as he always did, and tested the handle. It turned, but didn’t open. Locked tight, as it always was.

  Satisfied, he returned to his office on the ground floor. He busied himself with paperwork, barely noticing the location shift. Had anyone been standing outside, they would have seen the Midnight Hotel suddenly come apart, and then sink into the earth within the space of a few seconds. For those within the hotel, however, there was a slight tremor and nothing more.

  He reached for the phone and called the vampire’s room as another tremor passed, and the hotel sprouted and grew in a wood just outside Dublin. He told Caelan they’d arrived, and a minute later, the vampire left the hotel.

  Shudder worked for another hour, then took the keys for the car he kept parked here and walked out. He needed supplies, food and cleaning materials. Also, some new furniture for the vampire’s room. And some decent chains.

  The forest was chilled as he passed through the trees. Twigs cracked dully under his weight, his steps tossing wet leaves from his path. He got to the clearing beside the road that acted as the hotel car park, and stopped.

  A man lay unconscious on the ground in front of him. Despite the cold, he was only wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He had tattoos and piercings.

  Something caught Shudder’s eye, and he turned just as the Remnant flew at him. He stumbled back, tried in vain to stop it from prying his mouth open and slithering in. He gagged, throat bulging as the Remnant forced its way down. Shudder fell to his knees, feeling it spread out inside him, rushing through his body, its darkness seeping into his bloodstream. The pain stopped. His fingers and toes were buzzing.

  Shudder got to his feet. He looked over at Finbar Wrong, who lay unconscious in the wet grass and leaves. He remembered being Finbar, and he remembered all the things he’d seen in the vision. Before Finbar, Shudder had been Kenspeckle Grouse, and before that… Well, before that he’d spent a long time trapped in a room in the Midnight Hotel, with all the other Remnants.

  Shudder took the key from the chain around his forearm, and walked back to the hotel to free his brothers and sisters.

  20

  ’TIS THE SEASON

  There had been a time, not too long ago, when Christmas morning was a big deal. A morning when Stephanie Edgley would wake up and rush to her parents’ room, practically dragging them out of bed. Her father would go downstairs first, to check that Santa Claus was gone. When he gave the all-clear, Stephanie and her mother would hurry into the living room, and all three of them would dive under the tree, squealing with delight as each present was torn open. Her dad squealed the loudest, for some reason, especially when he got packs of brand-new socks. Her dad loved new socks. It was almost disturbing how he looked forward to slipping each pair on.

  Her mother found each and every Christmas morning hilarious. Some of Valkyrie’s fondest memories were of her mother, doubled up with laughter upon receiving her gift from her husband. Like the year she’d been given a hammer. Valkyrie could still see her dad’s face, proud that he had managed to get his wife a present without help from anyone, and then the look of puzzlement that crept over his features as his darling Melissa slowly collapsed to the carpet, laughing so hard she was completely silent.

  Valkyrie hadn’t missed a Christmas Day yet. With all the time she spent away from home, she felt it was important to spend this day with her family, doing normal Christmas things like a normal daughter. Skulduggery would usually drive up in the evening, and she’d slip out to meet him at the pier. They’d exchange presents as the sea crashed beside them.

  His presents were always much better than hers. Last year she’d given him a mug with a picture of Betty, a neighbour’s one-eyed mongrel (and officially Ireland’s Best-Loved Dog after she won a competition), printed on the side. Valkyrie feared she may have inherited her dad’s dreadful present-buying prowess, but Skulduggery didn’t seem to mind too much.

  For so long, she’d been an only child at Christmas, and it was fair to say that she’d been a little spoiled by it all. But the idea that next year she’d have a little brother or sister made her smile as she lay in bed thinking about it. Having a kid around to get excited, to whoop and squeal like she had done, would ensure that Christmas stayed as special as the ones she remembered. They’d have to alter the routine, of course. The kid would have to wake her
first, then they’d both wake their parents, drawing out the excitement, prolonging the anticipation. She couldn’t wait.

  Her mother knocked on her door and peeped in. “Steph?”

  “Mum.”

  Immediately, her mother broke out into a smile and came in, her dressing gown closed over her round belly. “Happy Christmas, sweetheart,” she said, sitting on the bed and leaning down to kiss Valkyrie’s cheek. “Are you getting up? Desmond got impatient. He’s downstairs, waiting to check that Santa is gone.”

  Valkyrie chuckled. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ve just been lying here.”

  “Thinking heavy thoughts?”

  “Thinking about the baby we’ll have around this time next year.”

  Her mum grinned, patting her bump. “It’ll be fun, won’t it? You promise you won’t get jealous, now?”

  “I think I can manage that.”

  They heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, and her dad appeared in the doorway. “Hurry up!” he whined.

  “Speaking of babies,” her mum muttered. She heaved herself off the bed and walked over to him as Valkyrie threw off the covers. Even as they were flying from her she remembered the massive bruises all over her body, and she yanked the covers back and held them tight against her.

  “Didn’t see anything!” her dad cried, his eyes squeezed shut. “Didn’t see one little thing! Not one!”

  Valkyrie laughed as her mum shooed him away. His eyes still shut, he allowed himself to be manoeuvred through the door.

  “Please God,” she heard him say, “let the next one be a boy.”

  Once she heard them on the stairs, she let the covers fall and examined herself. The bruises were angry purple and yellow and blue, but they looked more painful than they felt. She pulled on a T-shirt and grabbed her dressing gown, rooted out her fluffy bunny slippers and hurried downstairs, just in time to watch her father lunge into the living room.

  “He’s gone!” he proclaimed. “Santa Claus has gone, and he left me presents!”

  Valkyrie got clothes, and a little money, and a new music device that was smaller than her thumb. She opened an envelope and a card slipped into her hand. She frowned at it. “Gym membership?”

  “For a year,” her mother said. “It’s the good place, beside the Pavillions. They have a pool, and a sauna, and you can take in one guest for free. And I really like saunas.”

  “And I really like pools,” her dad smiled.

  Her mother looked at him. “She can only take in one guest at a time.”

  “I know, so what’s…? Oh. You mean you. So… what am I going to do?”

  “You’re a big boy, Des, you can make up your own mind. Maybe you can stand outside and listen to the splashing.”

  “I can listen to splashing in the bath,” he pointed out, somewhat sulkily.

  “Excuse me?” Valkyrie said. “Um, the gym. Why?”

  Her mother shrugged and smiled. “You’re working out somewhere, so we thought why not do your training where all the instructors know first aid and everything’s clean and nice?”

  “I’m not working out, Mum. I’m… I play sports in school, that’s all.”

  “What kind of sports?” her dad asked. “Badminton? Rugby? Cage-fighting?”

  “Just sports. I run a lot. And swim.”

  “The gym has a pool.”

  “Yes, Dad, I know.”

  “If you don’t want it, that’s no problem,” her mum said, reaching out to take the card back.

  Valkyrie held it close to her chest. “Oh, God, no,” she laughed. “I’m using this!”

  Her parents smiled, turning to the next present on the pile, and Valkyrie wondered why she’d been so defensive. She was fine about accepting observations concerning her physique from sorcerers, from anyone in that part of her life, but apparently she wasn’t so relaxed about it out here. Maybe she didn’t want her family noticing how different she was. She liked the idea of blending in once she was home, of sinking into the background and becoming something unexceptional. Here, she wasn’t a potential Death Bringer. Here, she wasn’t Darquesse, the World Killer. Here she was Stephanie Edgley – daughter, schoolgirl and soon to be big sister.

  In the weeks following the glimpse of her future self, she had hated the thought of getting older, of getting stronger. The older and stronger she got, the more like her future self she’d become. But when she’d realised there was a way of sealing her name, of making sure she would never turn into the monster who would go on to kill her own parents, all that had changed. She was back in control and looking forward to becoming more like Tanith. Toned. Streamlined. Efficient.

  She didn’t need a gym membership to do it, either, but it was a nice gesture from her folks. It showed they were taking an interest without interfering. She appreciated that.

  They went visiting. At midday every Christmas, her mother’s side of the family would meet up at Valkyrie’s grandmother’s house over in Clontarf. Valkyrie used to dread this visit, but now she loved it. Her cousins were so much more interesting than they had been as children, and her aunts and uncles revealed personalities that all their head-patting and cheek-pinching had obscured over the years.

  Her nana reminded her of a silver-haired Tasmanian devil, whirling from group to group, making sure everyone was enjoying themselves, or at least had a paper plate piled with food in their hands. Valkyrie chatted and laughed easily, feeling like a normal sixteen year old.

  After an hour of good times, it was time for the bad. They drove from her mother’s side of the family back into Haggard, to her father’s side. They found a parking space on the road outside, and walked like condemned prisoners up the garden path to the front door.

  “Knock,” said Valkyrie’s mother.

  Her dad shook his head. “Don’t want to.”

  “They’ re your family.”

  “I can’t knock. I have no hands.”

  “Stephanie, would you be a good girl and knock on the door, please?”

  But Valkyrie was busy pretending she was deaf.

  Her mother sighed, said “Fine”, and raised her knuckles. She hesitated. Her hand lowered. “Would they miss us?” she wondered.

  “They wouldn’t,” Valkyrie’s dad said immediately.

  “It’s probably packed in there,” his wife continued. “It’d be pretty difficult to see anyone. We could be in there an hour and not get through half of them. I doubt we’d even be noticed.”

  “We should go home and wait for the turkey to be ready.”

  And then the door opened, and Beryl looked out at them, and any hopes of escape were dashed.

  “Happy Christmas,” Beryl said, her mouth twitching into a rigid smile. “Won’t you come in?”

  Valkyrie let her parents go first, and trudged in after them. The heat in the living room was on full blast. That, and the hot air being emitted from the assembled guests, was probably eating a hole in the ozone layer. There were some Edgleys here, but most of the crowd were Beryl’s lot, the Mullans. They talked long and they talked loud, and Valkyrie guessed that half of the adults were already on their way to full drunkenness.

  She headed for a gap in the crowd near the Christmas tree, gaudily decorated in different-coloured lights and streams of tinsel. It wasn’t a particularly big tree, nor was it particularly nice. It was lopsided, lacking that ideal Christmas tree shape that her father always managed to find, no matter how late he left it.

  Carol and Crystal broke through the crowd, practically stumbling into her.

  “Oh,” said Carol.

  “Ah,” said Crystal.

  Perfect. “Merry Christmas,” Valkyrie said.

  They responded in kind, with as much enthusiasm as Valkyrie had mustered. They had changed so much since the last time she’d seen them. They were almost nineteen, and Carol was heavier, looking like she’d been insulated and left to wander around on her own. Her dress was designed to seize as much of that extra weight as possible and shove it out in front. The result was
possibly not what she had intended.

  Her twin had gone the other way. From what Valkyrie’s mother had told her, Crystal had become obsessed with counting calories, and flitted from one diet to the next, gradually getting skinnier and skinnier. She was close to losing all shape except straight. Carol was still bottle-blonde, Crystal was a redhead, and neither looked healthy.

  “You’re looking well,” Valkyrie lied.

  Carol nodded and Crystal grunted, and Valkyrie prepared for the sarcastic comments to start flying.

  Instead, Carol sighed, and said, “Get anything nice?”

  “Uh… mostly clothes. You?”

  “Same. We got money too.”

  “Dad said he’ll buy us a car,” Crystal added. “He says as soon as the economic climate picks up a little more.”

  “Right,” Valkyrie said. “Can you drive?”

  “Like, right now? No. But when we have the car, we’ll have a reason to learn.”

  “Makes sense. How’s college?”

  “Boring,” said Crystal.

  “It’s not too bad,” said Carol.

  Valkyrie nodded. She hadn’t a clue what to say. They’d never gone this long without flinging insults before. And then she saw it, the looks the twins were getting from their other cousins. She saw smirks and sneers, right behind their backs. The twins were doing their best to ignore it all and concentrate on the one person who wasn’t mocking them.

  Valkyrie felt a sudden, and quite surprising, need to protect them, so she plastered a big smile on her face and forced herself into conversation. She laughed and joked, and basically acted like Carol and Crystal were the two most interesting people alive.

  It was quite a performance.

  When it was time to go, she said her goodbyes and hugged the twins, promising to meet up soon, and then she allowed herself to be dragged out of the house. Her parents stared at her as they walked to the car.

  “Do not ask,” Valkyrie sighed.

  They got home, and she helped her mother with the turkey and ham and roast potatoes while her dad lit the fire. They sat down to Christmas dinner, pulled crackers and told the awful jokes they found inside. Valkyrie was stuffed after dinner so turned down the offer of Christmas cake. Her phone rang and she walked into the kitchen as she answered.