by Derek Landy
Caelan reached for her. “I’ll just take a little sip…”
There was an electric flash and Caelan jerked and then slumped, and the men dragged him out.
Bruno smiled at Valkyrie. “I don’t know how you managed to keep him away from you, girl, but you’re back on the menu tonight.”
He grabbed her shackles and shook the torch from her hand, then pushed her out of the cell. The men dragged Caelan on ahead, but Bruno took Valkyrie another way. Already she could hear the chanting of the crowd.
He took her through a narrow passageway that linked to a larger tunnel. She glimpsed the night sky, but she was forced in the opposite direction. The chanting got louder.
Eventually, they came to a set of large wooden doors that sealed off the tunnel. Valkyrie could hear the crowd on the other side, working itself into a frenzy. Like the cells, these doors had hatches, and Bruno opened them and pushed Valkyrie forward.
They emerged into a fenced-off area in the stands, the pit opening out below them. There were two doors opening on to the arena, both shut. Valkyrie looked at the crowd. They were wrapped up in coats and hats and a lot of them had colourful umbrellas, anticipating rain from the clouds that were blocking out the stars. They sang and chanted and laughed like they were at a football game.
This was insane.
The crowd grew quiet, and Valkyrie shifted her position to watch a tall man walk into the centre of the pit.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he called, his voice carrying, “welcome to the fights!”
That drew an appreciative roar from the stands. Valkyrie figured they were an easy crowd to please.
“And what a night we have in store for you,” the Promoter continued. “Vicious animal against vicious animal. Inhuman killer against inhuman killer. Monster against monster. And we have a surprise or two. Oh, yes, ladies and gentlemen, we can see that you’re growing complacent up there. We can see that you have your favourites, and you’re betting accordingly.
“There’s a lesson we have to teach you, my friends and neighbours. When it comes to monsters, you can take nothing for granted. Am I right?”
The crowd roared, and the Promoter nodded.
“They’ll sneak up on you, won’t they? They’ll steal through the night to your open window, girls and boys, and what will they do then? They’ll bite your neck and drain your blood!”
Some of the audience squealed in horrified delight.
“When it comes to vampires, especially, expect the unexpected. That’s the only way we’ll ever rid our lands of these parasites. And so our first fight of the evening is the rarest of the rare. There’s a code that vampires live by, to never harm another one of their kind. And yet, here tonight, we have two vampires who have forsaken this code. Ladies and gentlemen – place your bets!”
The doors to Valkyrie’s left opened, and a man was led through, shackled hand and foot. He wore blood-splattered tracksuit bottoms, cut off just below the knee. His body was a map of pain, criss-crossed with scars both old and new. His head was badly shaved, like he’d done it himself, in the dark, with a blunt razor. His eyes were black, his sharp teeth splitting his gums.
“Victor,” the Promoter said, drawing down a chorus of booing. “Eight fights in, he’s proving himself to be a capable little monster, aren’t you, Victor?”
Victor didn’t respond. He was trapped halfway through his transformation into full vampire. Valkyrie could see it by the pain on his face, by the way his body twitched. She’d seen it before with Dusk, when he’d been jabbed with vampire serum in the middle of a change. That time, Valkyrie herself had been responsible.
The doors to her right opened, and the Promoter swung round, pointing to the newcomer as he was led out into the light.
“And tonight, for your sporting pleasure, for your entertainment and your education, Victor will be facing… Caelan!”
The crowd roared their cheers. Caelan stumbled, and the man behind him poked him in the side with the barrel of a shotgun. Valkyrie glimpsed the claws that tipped his fingers. He, too, was caught halfway between his two natures.
The fighters were brought to opposite sides of the pit, where their shackles were taken off as the Promoter left the pit. The men, half a dozen for each fighter, backed off warily to the doors, sealing Caelan and Victor in.
The Promoter appeared in the stands, sitting down in a chair that could only be described as a throne.
“Vampires,” he shouted, “begin the slaughter!”
Caelan and Victor started circling each other, knees slightly bent, shoulders hunched. Victor bared his fangs and attacked and Caelan spun him away, keeping the space between them.
Victor moved in again, forcing Caelan to retreat and cutting off his avenues of escape. Victor was bristling with energy – every movement was sharp. Caelan’s movements were tempered with a controlled wariness, and he looked positively sedate compared to the other vampire.
Valkyrie hoped this was a deception. She hoped he wasn’t really as weak as he’d said. If he was, she had a feeling that this would be a very short fight.
Victor came in and this time Caelan had no room to manoeuvre, and the blow caught him across the jaw. He stepped back and Victor’s claws slashed open his chest.
The crowd roared its approval.
Caelan managed to hook an arm round Victor’s body, then heaved and twisted, slamming Victor to the ground. He kicked him while he was down there and Victor spun on his back and swept Caelan’s feet out from under him.
Both fighters scrambled up, but Victor was noticeably faster – they collided and Caelan was thrown hard against the curved wall of the pit.
Above them, bets were being shouted, and there were people wearing bright sashes across their jackets, furiously scribbling into notebooks. Bruno was shouting, too, struggling to have his voice heard. Valkyrie tried to wriggle from his grip, but he was far too strong.
Victor pummelled Caelan, knocking him round the arena, only letting him get up just so he could have the pleasure of knocking him down again.
When they broke away from each other again, the Promoter’s voice came blasting through the speakers. “How’re you enjoying the spectacle, folks?”
The crowd roared.
“This is indeed a special night, isn’t it? This night could not get any more special, now, could it? What’s that? It could?”
The crowd went almost quiet in anticipation.
Valkyrie could hear the grin in the Promoter’s voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight, for our main event, we are not only giving you, for your viewing pleasure, a rare and thrilling vampire versus vampire match-up, but we’re also throwing a third party into the mix! Friends, family, colleagues, you’ve heard about them, you’ve heard the stories, you’ve heard what they can do, but you’ve never seen one in action… until now! Patrons of the arena, she’s young, she’s beautiful, she’s magical… I give to you our third and final fighter – the Sorceress!”
“What?” said Valkyrie, and then Bruno kicked her right in the ass, sending her stumbling over the lip and falling into the arena.
She landed on her knees, the sheer volume of noise from the crowd threatening to overwhelm her. She looked back at Bruno, who gave her a smile and tossed her a key. It glinted in the bright lights as it fell, and she caught it, spun immediately, making sure Victor and Caelan weren’t making any moves. The two vampires stood on the opposite side of the pit, both staring straight at her.
Her hands were trembling so much the key scraped against the lock of the shackles for an eternity before it slid in. One twist to the right and both wrists were freed, and she felt the magic flood her body. But the sound of the shackles hitting the dirt-packed ground was all the signal the vampires needed.
They sprinted for her and Valkyrie pushed at the air, sending Caelan tumbling backwards. Victor dodged around, came at her, and she whipped the shadows at him, taking him off his feet. He hit the arena wall, landed in a crouch, shaking his head to clear it. H
is snarls were drowned out by the roar of the crowd.
Caelan burst at her. She went down, rolled, staying away from his claws and fangs. She tried to kick him off her, but it was like kicking a wall. Sharp nails dug into her leg, drawing blood, and he dragged her close. She turned over, clicking her fingers and shoving a fistful of fire into his face. Caelan lurched away, yelping like a wounded dog. Valkyrie scrambled up.
Victor thudded into her from behind. His claws raked her shoulder blade. She cried out, twisted, stumbled and fell, Victor getting tangled in her legs. He fell on top, snapping at her. She held him back. Barely. He pushed her head to one side, exposing her throat, but as his head darted in she filled his mouth with shadows. He recoiled, gagging, and she sat up, but in his blind panic he kicked out and found her jaw and the world sparked and tilted and Valkyrie was lying on her back, blinking slowly in sudden silence.
Gradually, the sounds from the arena soaked back into her hearing.
Without moving, she looked over at Caelan and Victor as they thrashed around in the dirt, snarling and biting and punching. Groaning, she rolled over, looked up.
The Promoter was leaning forward in his throne, watching the contest with an eager, greedy delight on his face. The wall of the arena was lower where he was, allowing him a better view. It wasn’t low enough for a vampire to jump, but maybe if there was a sorcerer nearby willing to give a little boost…
Valkyrie got up, clutching her left arm. Blood ran freely down her back, and her leg was pretty bad. She ignored the pain, ignored the snarling, snapping vampires beside her, and limped towards the throne. When she was close enough, she turned back to the vampires, put two fingers in her mouth, and blew a short, shrill whistle.
The vampires stopped fighting and looked over. The audience stopped roaring and peered closer.
The vampires bolted for her. Valkyrie waited until they were close enough and then swept her arms in and up, lifting them off their feet so that they hurtled over her head. All she heard was the Promoter’s panicked cry before all hell broke loose.
The audience stampeded. People screamed and shouted and scrambled over each other. Extra lights snapped on over the stands. Doors that should have been closed were opened, and doors that should have been opened were closed. Behind the screams of panic were screams of pain, of people getting torn apart. Valkyrie wasn’t the least bit sorry.
She found a door in the arena wall, used shadows to smash the lock. She hurried through, gritting her teeth against the pain. Men with guns passed and she shrank back till they’d gone. She could hear gunshots now. A lot of them.
Ahead was the tunnel out of here, the tunnel to the outside. Two men were guarding it, arguing among themselves about what they should be doing. They had guns, too.
Valkyrie hurled a fireball at the ground between them. They cried out and jumped back, and the shadows slammed them into the walls. They collapsed. Dead or just broken, she didn’t know and she didn’t care. She ran out, between the rows of parked cars. Headlights swooped all around. Panicking people crashed into other panicking people. Horns blared. There were gunshots closer now – outside the arena.
Someone grabbed her, tugged her, and she was on her knees before she even realised Caelan was beside her. Up close, his fangs were ragged things that split his gums. He wasn’t looking at her. He was trembling. Resisting.
They stayed low, moving quickly. Around them, excited voices and angry shouts. Accusations and orders. Valkyrie heard Bruno organising the search, telling people to get in their cars and spread out. They stayed in the dark while people ran through the rows on either side. Bruno’s voice got closer.
Valkyrie shrank back as Bruno hurried to a jeep just ahead of them. Someone called to him and he called back, and as he did so he looked her way and frowned. He took a single step in their direction, and then his eyes widened. He opened his mouth to alert the others.
Caelan’s hand wasn’t closed round Valkyrie’s wrist any more, and he wasn’t by her side. Instead, he was a dark blur, rushing Bruno, dragging him down into the space between the jeep and another car. He went for the throat, and Valkyrie saw Bruno’s arms spread wide in shock, and then scrabble madly against Caelan’s shoulders and back. But Caelan was locked on, and there was nothing that could shift him now.
She watched in horrified fascination as he fed.
Headlights swarmed her and she rolled from her position, then the car reversed and the headlights swept away again. She was going to be seen. Any moment now, they were going to find her.
She looked back at Caelan. Bruno’s arms were limp. His legs were twisted beneath him, like he’d been trying to push himself up, right until the moment his life left him. Caelan dug inside Bruno’s pockets, found what he was looking for. The serum. Without hesitating, Caelan jabbed the syringe into his skin and a moment later he straightened, his back arched, his muscles rolling beneath his moonlit skin. She saw his hands go to Bruno’s head and he wrenched it to one side. She heard the pop of bone.
“We have to go,” she said softly.
Caelan pulled on Bruno’s coat and used the sleeve to wipe his mouth. Valkyrie was glad it was too dark to see much. He found the keys for the jeep in the jacket pocket. They got in and kept their heads low, waiting for the van in front to pull away. They followed the trail of cars to the road, and the first chance they got they broke away and sped on.
There was a phone charging on the dash, so Valkyrie called Ghastly, told him what had happened. A truckload of Cleavers and a truckload of sorcerers were on their way before she’d even hung up. Valkyrie and Caelan waited down a side road for the cavalry to arrive.
When it did, they returned to the arena. A dozen dead. Another dozen injured. The Promoter was found ripped to pieces. He had a ledger in his jacket with the names of the people who’d paid in it. Sorcerers visited each one of those people. Some were convinced to never speak of any of it. Others were taken away to places mortal lawyers couldn’t help them.
The creatures, vampires and various fighters in the cells were released. There was no sign of Victor.
Caelan was human again. His scars were already beginning to heal. Valkyrie talked to him, but got the barest of responses back. He was different, she realised. His rediscovered freedom was unnerving him. Back in that cell, with death so close it could happen at any moment, he had nothing to lose. Despite the chains, he was free. But now that the chains were off and his world had expanded, he himself was shrinking away from it. By morning, she had forgotten what his smile looked like.
“The Murder Skull,” he said, breaking the silence between them. “You want it.”
“Yes,” she said. “I know you don’t owe me anything – I got you free, but you saved my life, so we’re even – but if you can help out at all, I’d be—”
“We’re not even,” he said. “I still owe you.”
“For what?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at the Cleavers and the sorcerers and then he looked back at her. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, and walked away.
Valkyrie watched him go. He was a dangerous one, of that she was sure. Attractive, though. There was no denying that. But she wasn’t a girl to fall for the cliché. She wasn’t going to be won over by brooding good looks and a tortured soul, not when the risk was so obvious.
She was a teenage girl and she made stupid decisions sometimes – but she wasn’t a complete idiot.
In 2011 Derek ran a competition for German fans to come up with a new character who would feature in a one-off Skulduggery short story. The response was staggering, making it especially difficult to pick a winner – however, there was something special about Myosotis Terra that made her stand out from the rest.
Here is how Alena Metz described her character’s abilities:
“… Her magical quality is more of a curse than a gift. The ability to make everyone forget her immediately after meeting her makes her feel very lonely. However, it is a very useful gift for spies and thieves,
and at least it helps her to earn her bread and butter. People will only be able to remember Myosotis if they have got an item which belongs to her or if they get the chance to touch her. However, dementia sufferers are able to remember her perfectly.”
aves,” Valkyrie Cain muttered. “I hate caves.”
She reached the bottom of the stone steps, stepping into the light cast by the flame in Skulduggery Pleasant’s hand.
“This isn’t a cave,” he told her. “At least, not a natural one. This has been carved out of the rock. Manmade. From what I can gather, we’re about to enter a series of interlocking caverns that could stretch on for as much as tweleve miles. Quite impressive when you think about it.”
“And do I have to think about it?”
“Well, no, not really…”
“Good,” she said. “It’s freezing down here. Far too cold to be thinking about things.”
She clicked her fingers, summoning her own flame, and started walking through the darkness. “So we’re here on a rescue mission?”
He sighed as he walked after her. “Yes.”
“What was that? What was that sigh? Why are you sighing?”
They walked side by side. “Do you remember who we’re here to rescue?” Skulduggery asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Wait. No. I mean, I do, it’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t… I just can’t…”
“We’re here to rescue Myosotis Terra.”
She shook her head. “No, we’re not. That’s not the name. I’ll know the name when I hear it, but that’s not it. I’ve never heard that name before.”
“That’s not strictly true. She’s actually a friend of yours.”
“Nope. I think I’d know if I had a friend called Myo-Something Whatsit.”
“Myosotis Terra. And you wouldn’t know, actually. Or to be more precise, you wouldn’t remember.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“I’m used to it.”
Rock walls appeared in the gloom around them, signalling the narrowing of the cavern. They headed for a gap and Skulduggery went first, squeezing through.