by Derek Landy
China pursed her lips. “Risky.”
“Oh, yes,” said Skulduggery. “Hugely risky. Possibly suicidal. But we should probably get started on finding a reality to shunt him into.”
China sighed. “Very well. And the second way?”
“That’s a little trickier, but it’s also more straightforward. We don’t have to track her – we just have to track the people with her.”
“You mean Tanith Low.”
Skulduggery nodded. “Yes I do. Tanith Low and Billy-Ray Sanguine.”
5
TO WATCH THE WORLD BURN
e watched her standing in the air, her eyes closed, hovering just above the wooden floor. She was wrapped in darkness, from each individual toe right up to her jawline, a darkness so tight he could see the muscles in her legs, the tightness of her belly. She’d been like that for days. Hadn’t opened her eyes, or said one word. Just hovered there.
Sanguine took off his coat, dumped it on a straight-backed chair, the only piece of furniture in the room. It was cold outside, but hot in here, all that heat generated from the eighteen-year-old girl slowing rotating in mid-air. What was going on inside her mind, he had no idea. Were they human thoughts she was thinking, or something else? Something beyond human?
Someone that powerful, he reckoned, would only take a short while to start thinking thoughts that had no place in a human head.
A whisper of leather behind him, but he didn’t turn. Tanith Low was quiet when she did her patrol of this little house in this little ghost estate. Were he to glance out of that window, he’d see a dozen identical houses to this one, but all hollow and empty. Years back, they were set to be sold to the affluent Irish and the lucky immigrants who came here for a better life. Then the money went away and immigrants sought better lives elsewhere, took a good chunk of the Irish with them.
Sanguine was tired of Ireland. It was coming to the tail end of winter, but the winds were still bitter and the rain was still mean. He wanted to go home, back to the heat of East Texas. He was sick of living the life of an outlaw. He wanted to sit on the porch in the evenings and not have to worry about the world ending, or how to play his part in it.
He watched Tanith slip out of the window and walk up the outside wall towards the roof. She had binoculars up there she could use to sweep the full 360. She hadn’t said much since they’d arrived here, and she barely slept. The Remnant inside her kept her going, kept her strong and alert. Sometimes he’d catch her looking at him and wonder if today was the day she’d kill him.
Because she had to kill him. He knew that much.
Darquesse, that god-in-a-girl’s-body that had once been known as Valkyrie Cain, was the Remnant’s messiah, destined to decimate the earth and reduce civilisation to cinders for some reason yet to be discovered. When Darquesse had asked Tanith to look after her while she “hibernated” – her words – Tanith had been overjoyed. Sanguine had tagged along, of course he had. Tanith was his fiancée, after all. He loved her. But no matter how much he loved Tanith, Darquesse had never been his messiah, and he had no wish to see the world burn.
Tanith knew that, given enough time, he’d go on to do something drastic to avert that apocalypse, and the only reason she hadn’t killed him yet was because she obviously didn’t think he’d be up to it. But even now there was a dagger tucked into his belt, one of four God-Killer weapons he’d hidden away from her that were more than capable of ending this god-girl’s life. He’d heard what Darquesse could do. He’d heard her head had once been pulled off, and she’d put herself back together in those last few moments before brain death.
Yet Darquesse was killable. Darquesse was very killable. But in order to kill her, he needed to plunge this dagger into her before she had a chance to formulate any thoughts on the matter. He could do it now. Tanith was on the roof, Darquesse had her eyes closed, and here he was, standing with one hand already sneaking round behind his back to the dagger. He lifted it from his belt with great care, and when he held it he pointed it down and away from his body. These weapons killed whatever they nicked, and if they could kill a god they could certainly kill Momma Sanguine’s favourite son.
The dagger felt good in his hand. Well-balanced. Three steps and he’d be next to her, then all he’d have to do would be to reach up, drive the blade through her skull. It’d be the easiest kill of his life, and the most important. Hell, he’d be saving the damn world. How many other hitmen could say that? Course, by killing Darquesse he’d be destroying the dreams of Tanith Low, the only woman he’d ever loved, and in doing that he’d be inciting her rage to the point where he’d have to kill her before she killed him.
Darquesse hovered there, head down and eyes closed, turning ever so slowly, and Sanguine put the dagger back in his belt. He reckoned he could allow his warm and fuzzy feelings to stay alive a little longer.
6
MY NORMAL LIFE
ome.
It always made her smile to go home. Those awkward days filled with awkward silences and occasional, maddening bursts of friendship were made bearable by the fact that Stephanie had a home to go to at the end of it all. The smile began when she got out of the Bentley, and it broadened to a grin when she pushed open the front door.
Comfort.
No, more than comfort. Belonging.
Her dad was in the living room, her mum moving round the house, and at this time of night Alice was already in bed. Her whole family, alive and safe. Shoving the knowledge of their possible fates into a dark corner of her mind, Stephanie went up to her room, changed into jeans and a hoody, and stowed the Sceptre and the stick under her bed. In her bare feet, she crept into Alice’s room, looked down at her as she slept.
“Hey there,” she whispered. “Sorry I didn’t get to play with you today. Doing important stuff. When it’s all done, I’ll be able to play with you every single day, I promise.”
Alice lay there, eyes closed and mouth open, looking beautiful. Stephanie felt such an overwhelming sense of love and, not for the first time, sheer thrilling excitement that this was her life now. She had a family. Parents and a sister. She was a normal girl living a normal life. Or it would be a normal life, just as soon as she escaped all the weirdness.
She crept back out and went downstairs. Her first stop was the kitchen. She’d been starving for hours, but hadn’t bothered to tell Skulduggery. She’d started to feel that these biological needs of hers – to eat, to pee – were complications he could do without knowing about. Things were fraught enough between them as it was – she didn’t want to annoy him any further.
She heated some leftovers in the microwave and washed them down with a glass of cold milk. Her belly no longer rumbling, she cleaned the plate and took her glass into the living room. Her dad didn’t even glance up from the TV.
“Muh,” he said, waving a hand.
“Hi, Dad. Whatcha watching?”
“TV.”
“What’s on?”
“Film.”
“What’s it called?”
He didn’t answer.
“Dad? What’s it called?”
“Three Days of the Condor.”
“Is it good?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Is it complicated?”
“Very.”
“What’s it about?”
“Not sure,” he said. “I think it’s about a bird.”
Stephanie left him to his movie, and picked up a sealed envelope from the side table. Someone had written Edgleys across it, in handwriting she didn’t recognise. Something slid around inside. She dug a fingertip in, ripped it open, and a memory stick fell out on to her palm.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“What’s what?”
She turned, showed him.
“Oh, that,” he said, looking back at the TV. “I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s a memory stick,” she said.
“If you knew, why did you ask?”
“It was in an envelope
addressed to us.”
“Was it?” her dad asked. “That’s odd. That’s very odd. Well, it’s sort of odd, but not really.” He paused the movie. “I have no idea what’s going on in this film.”
“Who sent the envelope?”
“Hmm? Oh, someone knocked on the door, handed it over, said something and walked away. The strangest thing I’ve ever seen except, again, it wasn’t really.”
“Who was it?” said Stephanie.
“Haven’t the foggiest.”
“What did he say?”
“Can’t really remember. It was weeks ago. He stood there and I remember thinking, This is unusual. It looked like he was about to cry, or hug me, or both. I think he said something like, It’s an honour to meet you. Which, of course, it is, though most people don’t usually say it out loud.”
“And you didn’t open the envelope?”
“I was going to,” said her dad, “but I got bored. Is that the only thing in it? It didn’t come with a covering note?”
“Just this.”
“Are you going to see what’s on it?” he asked. “I don’t know if that’s wise. It might be a virus, or an artificial intelligence like Skynet who just wants to usher in nuclear war so that our robot overlords can take over. I don’t know if I’d like the responsibility of setting all that in motion. I mean, I probably would, because at least then I’d be famous, but seeing as how it would lead to everyone dying … I don’t know. I’m conflicted.”
“I doubt it would usher in Armageddon.”
“But you can’t be sure, can you? I’m not equipped to survive Armageddon, Steph. Maybe once upon a time I could have led the resistance, but I’ve gone soft. I’ve lost my edge. I wear slippers now. I never used to wear slippers.”
“What’s this about slippers?” Stephanie’s mum said, walking in.
“Dad’s just saying he could never lead the resistance against a robot army because he wears slippers.”
“This is very true,” her mum said.
“Then it’s decided,” Stephanie’s father said. “When the robot army makes itself known, I will be one of the first traitors to sell out the human race.”
“Wow,” said Stephanie.
“Now that’s an about-turn,” said her mum.
“It’s the only way,” said her dad. “I have to make sure my family survives. The two of you and that other one, the smaller one—”
“Alice.”
“That’s her. You’re all that matter to me. You’re all I care about. I will betray the human race so that the robot army spares you. And then later, I will betray you so that the robot army spares me. It’s a dangerous ploy, but someone has to be willing to take the big risks, and I’ll be damned if I’m about to let anyone else gamble with my family’s future.”
“You’re so brave,” Stephanie’s mum said.
“I know,” said her dad, and then, quieter, “I know.”
Stephanie grinned, left the memory stick on the side table and went to the couch, sank into it and curled her feet up under her. They all watched the rest of Three Days of the Condor and then Stephanie and her mum explained the plot to her dad. When he was satisfied, they said goodnight and Stephanie went up to bed. She climbed beneath the covers and closed her eyes, and a few seconds later her phone beeped. She read the text, sent back an answer and turned on her bedside lamp as she sat up, holding the covers close.
Fletcher Renn emerged from thin air in the middle of her room. “Hi,” he whispered.
“Hey.”
He sat on the bed. He looked good and strong and healthy. He looked tanned. His hair was awesome. He leaned in and they kissed.
“You taste yummy,” she said.
“I’ve just been in New Zealand, eating strawberries. Do you want some? We could pop over …?”
“I’m in bed,” Stephanie said, smiling. “It’s bedtime now. And Skulduggery’s picking me up early to drive over to Cassandra Pharos, so no quick jaunts for me.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Were you in New Zealand with the Monster Hunters or just for the strawberries?”
“Strawberries,” said Fletcher. “There’s a little shop in Wellington that I love. They always have the best strawberries, for some reason.”
She leaned back against the headboard. “So how is life as a big, bad Monster Hunter? Is it official yet?”
He grinned. “It is, and I’m actually enjoying it. Donegan and Gracious are pretty cool. Gracious is such an unbelievable geek, though. It’s like everything he’s ever loved is now on a T-shirt. They asked Dai Maybury to join, too, did you hear that? He said he couldn’t, he was too much of a lone wolf – those were his exact words – but he agreed to be an Emergency Monster Hunter, to be called on only when needed. And now he just won’t go away.”
Stephanie laughed softly. “Sounds like you’re all getting on well.”
“We are,” said Fletcher, nodding. “It’s nice to be a part of something that … changes things, you know? We go after the renegade sorcerers with all their supercharged powers, and we beat them, we shackle them, we throw them in a cell. We stop them from killing innocent people, we stop them from exposing magic, and we move on to the next one. It’s just … it’s a wonderful feeling. To be useful.”
“Look at that,” Stephanie said. “My boyfriend is taking pride in his work.”
“Boyfriend, am I?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
Her smile vanished. “Aren’t you?”
“I don’t know. Do you want me to be?”
“Well … yes.”
He leaned closer. “OK. Then I suppose I’m your boyfriend. Are you my girlfriend?”
“That’s usually how these things go.”
He kissed her again. “Good.”
7
VISIONS
kulduggery was at the pier on time the next morning, because Skulduggery was always at the pier on time. Stephanie was always a few minutes late. Valkyrie had rarely been late, but then Valkyrie had enjoyed this stuff a lot more.
“Sorry,” Stephanie said, buckling her seatbelt. “Dad wouldn’t get out of the shower.”
Skulduggery nodded, didn’t answer, and they pulled out on to the road. Stephanie sat back in her seat. Great. Another one of those days.
Cassandra Pharos was ready for them when they arrived. The door to her cottage was open, and Skulduggery led the way inside. They went down into the cellar, where the coals beneath the floor grille were already glowing orange, filling the chamber with a close, muggy heat. Cassandra sat on the chair, umbrella open and held comfortably over her head. Her lined face, framed by a cascade of grey hair, broke into a smile when she saw them.
“Hello there,” she said brightly.
Stephanie liked Cassandra. She was one of the only people who didn’t treat her like a poor replacement for a real person.
“There have been a few changes to the last vision I showed you,” she said. “Skulduggery, be a dear and turn the water on, would you? Now, while it’s still fresh in my mind.”
Skulduggery turned the valve on the wall, and water sprinkled from the pipes in the ceiling. The coals hissed and steam billowed. Skulduggery waited until Cassandra was lost to sight, then turned the water off.
The first time Valkyrie had come down here, she’d witnessed Cassandra’s vision of the future. The second time had revealed greater detail, and yet there were some aspects that were different. Knowledge of the future changes the future, Cassandra had said. The second time, the vision had begun with Erskine Ravel in his Elder robes, his hands shackled, screaming in agony. That future had already come to pass with two tiny differences – Ravel hadn’t been wearing his robes, and the room in which it occurred wasn’t the room in the vision.
This time, with Stephanie down here instead of Valkyrie, the vision was different again. It didn’t start with Ghastly running by. It started with Tanith staggering through the fog, one hand at a wound in her belly, the other gripping her sword. It wasn’t a ruined
city that materialised around her this time, but one of the Sanctuary corridors. She stumbled against a wall, waited there a moment to catch her breath.
“Suppose it’s fitting,” she said, looking up at someone just over Stephanie’s shoulder, “that it comes down to you and me, after all this time.”
A figure walked right through Stephanie and she jumped back, disrupting the steam.
Tanith did her best to stand upright. “Come and have a go …” she said, but her words faded along with her image, and the steam swirled and Stephanie saw herself standing in the city.
Because that’s who it was. It was Stephanie. When Valkyrie had seen this, she hadn’t been able to understand how there could be a Valkyrie Cain and a Darquesse in the vision at the same time. But of course there had never been a Valkyrie Cain. It had always been Stephanie and Darquesse. From the very beginning, that’s how it was meant to be.
The Stephanie in the vision wore a torn and bloody T-shirt, black like her trousers. No jacket. The Deathtouch Gauntlet was on her right forearm, and on her left arm she had a tattoo. There was a bag on her back, the strap slung across her chest, the same bag Stephanie was wearing now to carry the Sceptre.
“I’ve seen this,” her future self said, looking up to stare directly into Stephanie’s eyes. “I was watching from … there. Hi. This is where it happens, but then you know that, right? At least you think you do. You think this is where I let them die.”
“Stephanie!”
The voice was so real and so sharp that Stephanie forgot for a moment that it came from the vision, and instead looked around for her father, her heart lurching. The panic passed as suddenly as it had arrived – it wasn’t real, not yet – and she watched her parents, her mother carrying Alice, searching the ruins.
Her future self shook her head. “I don’t want to see this. Please. I don’t want this to happen. Let me stop it. Please let me stop it.” She took something from her pocket and looked at it, tears streaming. “Please work. Please let me save them.”