by Derek Landy
Militsa vanished from the window and lunged out of the swirl and wrapped her arms round Valkyrie and then they were falling and the darkness was everywhere.
They fell from the darkness on to the street outside. When they hit the ground there was no life-ending jolt of electricity – there was just a thump and a groan and a little bit of pain.
Valkyrie pulled her magic in and cut off the force field. Tanith stepped into view, looking down at her.
“At least you’re not dead,” she said, then took their hands and pulled them both up. They were, thankfully, alone on the street. “So what do we do now?”
“First, I thank this one for saving me,” Valkyrie said, grabbing Militsa and giving her a huge kiss, “and then I proudly announce that I have the necronaut suit.”
Militsa staggered a little after the kiss. “Ooh, light-headed,” she said, blushing, and then looked down at Valkyrie’s empty hands. “But I think you might have left the suit behind, baby.”
Valkyrie smiled, and took out the amulet.
“Great,” said Tanith. “You nicked a badge from the gift shop.”
“Not a badge,” said Valkyrie. “An amulet. And I’m pretty sure what I’m going to do next will definitely probably work …”
She pressed the amulet to her chest and tapped it, and the necronaut suit flowed outwards, covering her own clothes in an instant.
Militsa’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow.”
Valkyrie turned to the museum window, examining her reflection in the glass. The suit was black, and tight, and it fitted her perfectly, as if it had been designed for her.
“Should have known a Necromancer suit would have a few tricks built into its sleeves,” Militsa said. “It must redesign itself according to its wearer. That is brilliant.”
“How does this feel?” Tanith asked, and punched Valkyrie in the shoulder.
“Ow!”
“Did that hurt?”
Valkyrie frowned. “Actually … not really. I mean, it’s not as good as Ghastly’s clothes, but … but it’s pretty good, all the same. Still – don’t punch me. It’s rude.”
“Sorry. Where’s the mask?”
“In the hood.”
“Let’s see.”
“OK, but you can’t punch me any more.”
“Let’s see, you wuss.”
Valkyrie tucked back her hair and pulled up the hood. It looked pretty cool. She searched the lining on the top, found the crumpled material and pulled it down. The moment the mask covered her face it became rigid and the entire suit sealed and Valkyrie gasped.
She felt every beat of her heart. More than that, she felt the blood in her veins. She felt her lungs and how they filled and expanded, and she felt the air as it left those lungs. She felt her skin, every bit of it, nestling against her clothes. She felt alive in a way she had never felt before.
Every inch of her was now covered. The mask was solid. The glass at the eyes was so clear it was like there was nothing there. The mask, the hood, none of it muffled the sounds around her. If anything, she could hear better now.
“This is amazing,” she said. The mask didn’t muffle her voice, either.
“You look awesome,” said Tanith, then took her sword from her bike and stabbed Valkyrie’s leg.
“Tanith!” Militsa cried.
“No cut, no blood,” Tanith said, returning the sword to its scabbard. “The suit’s armoured. Sweet.”
Militsa glared. “You didn’t know that when you stabbed her.”
Tanith shrugged.
Valkyrie spent another few seconds like this, just listening to and experiencing her own body, the feel of her own life, before she made herself lift the mask. It immediately crumpled, and she pulled the hood down.
“That felt amazing,” she said. “That felt …” She shook her head. Back to business. “All right, OK. Now I get the soul fragment back.”
Militsa put her hand on Valkyrie’s arm. “Are you sure about this?”
“Don’t I seem sure?”
“You do, but …”
“Look at me,” said Valkyrie. “I’m ready. I’m feeling strong and confident. I don’t need to wait for Skulduggery. I can do it myself. You believe in me, right?”
“Always.”
Valkyrie smiled. “Good. Get back home.” She took out her phone and tapped out a message. “I’m just asking Fletcher to teleport me to the Necropolis. I’ll call you when I’m done, OK?”
“The moment you’re done.”
Valkyrie put her phone away. “I promise.”
“What about me?” Tanith asked. “You said I could help with this Abyssinia thing, but I’ve been sitting alone in a rented room for the last week. I’m bored, Val. Give me something fun to do.”
“I have the perfect thing,” Valkyrie said. “Abyssinia had a spy working as an aide for President Flanery. I know, I know, we don’t usually get involved in mortal stuff, but, in this case, mortal stuff seems to have got involved with us. Anyway, this spy, Wilkes, has gone missing. Which might mean that Flanery knows about sorcerers.
“We’ve been working with a man named Oberon Guile to track down someone called Crepuscular Vies, who seems to be behind at least some of this, but we’ve been busy with a load of other stuff, so right now Oberon is having to do most of this on his own. Also, he’s pretty hot, for an older guy.”
“I volunteer,” said Tanith.
“Thought you might. I’ll get Fletcher to drop you off in the States when he’s done with me.”
“Oh, joy,” said Tanith.
Militsa’s eyebrows went up. “You don’t like Fletcher?”
Valkyrie laughed. “Fletcher has had a tendency to drool over Tanith in the past – but a lot of time has passed since then. Fletcher’s grown up.”
“Yeah, right,” Tanith said.
“No, he has,” Militsa tried. “He’s a very good teacher, and he’s really responsible and mature now.”
Valkyrie nodded. “Very mature.”
Fletcher appeared on the other side of the street. He saw Tanith and he froze for a moment, before walking over with a seductive smile sliding on to his face.
“Hey there,” he said.
Tanith sighed.
They appeared in the Scottish Highlands, at a doorway cut into a rock wall.
“You’re sure this will work?” Fletcher asked.
“It’s what this suit was designed for,” Valkyrie answered.
“Yeah,” Fletcher responded, “but a lot of things fail to do what they’re designed for. Planes crash. Boats sink.” He paused. “I can’t think of a third example, but you get my point.”
“I do,” she said, “but I’ll be fine. If I need a lift home, I’ll give you a call.”
“You sure you don’t want me to wait out here?”
Valkyrie smiled. “Honestly? I don’t know how long this’ll take. Go home, Fletch. Thanks.”
He gave her a hug. “Good luck,” he said, and vanished.
With the Soul Catcher containing the fragment of her sister’s soul in one hand, Valkyrie walked through the doorway. Down black marble steps she went, her way lit by the weak torches on the walls. It got colder. A lot colder.
She got to the bottom. The Necropolis lay before her, a vast city with a sky of rock.
She took a deep, deep breath, pulled up the hood, and pulled down the mask. The suit sealed itself. Her life, her vibrancy, shuddered through her – and she stepped over the threshold, into the City of the Dead.
After fifteen minutes of walking through this secret underground tunnel, Temper and Skulduggery arrived at a wall. They found a lever and pulled it, and the wall parted. They stepped out into the Dark Cathedral and the wall sealed behind them.
They watched two Cathedral Guards in black armour walking away from them, and headed in the opposite direction.
“So how are we going to play this?” Temper asked quietly. “Are we going to sneak? Are we going to—”
“We’re going to walk,” Skuldugg
ery said. “No sneaking.”
“But everyone knows who we are. They’ll know we’re not supposed to be here.”
“Which means they’d expect us to be sneaking. Because we’re so obviously not supposed to be here, they’ll assume we are supposed to be here, and they’ll let us pass without interference.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve studied human behaviour for the last four hundred years, Temper. I know how people react.”
“You two,” said a Cathedral Guard from up ahead. “Stop. You’re not supposed to be here.”
Temper looked at Skulduggery. Skulduggery didn’t say anything.
Temper smiled at the guard. “Actually, we’ve been invited. It’s all on the down-low, so keep it to yourself, you get me? Good man. Carry on.”
He went to walk by, but the guard stepped into his path. “You’re a traitor. He’s the enemy. We have orders to detain both of you on sight, and kill you if you resist.”
“Seriously? Kill us?”
“At the slightest sign of resistance.”
Temper exhaled loudly. “This is awkward. I mean, we definitely have an invitation. This is one of those embarrassing mix-ups you hear about. You know those? Ever get those? That must happen all the time.”
“That has never happened.”
“That strikes me as unlikely.”
“We are very particular about who we let down here,” said the guard. “There are many levels of security you have to pass through. How did you get this far?”
“I told you, man. We were invited. We were taken through all those levels of security you were talking about. Every single one of them. You know what I think? Personally? I think you got way too many levels. I do. I think you don’t need them all. Maybe take one away. Maybe the last one – you don’t need it.”
“Who escorted you?”
“Tall guy. Stern. Dressed a lot like you.”
“What was his name?”
“Kevin, I think.”
“There are no Kevins working here.”
“It was something like Kevin. It wasn’t exactly Kevin. It sounded like – you know what? You can ask him yourself when he gets back. He’s just gone to the restroom. We told him we’d meet him at the place where you’re keeping all those Kith fellas. Where is that? That’s a few floors down, right? Or up?”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Kevin’s probably going to wait for us there, though.”
“There is no Kevin.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, OK? It was Kevin or something that sounded a lot like Kevin. Maybe I should speak to your superior. Is he around?”
“She.”
“Is she around?”
“She’s upstairs.”
“Can you run and get her? Then we can sort out this whole Kevin thing, once and for all. Get to the bottom of this mystery. The more I think about it, the more I’m remembering some pretty suspicious behaviour that Kevin was demonstrating. Now you got me wondering, you know – was he meant to be here? Have you got an intruder on the premises?”
“The sparrow flies south for winter,” Skulduggery said.
Temper frowned at him. “What?”
Skulduggery caught the guard completely unawares, connecting with a right cross that spun him and sent him to the ground.
Temper stared. “Can you warn me the next time you’re gonna do something like that?”
“I did warn you,” Skulduggery said, dragging the guard into the shadows.
“You said something about birds and then you sucker-punched the guy.”
“Now you know the phrase,” Skulduggery said, coming back. “When you hear that, violence is imminent.”
“We didn’t need violence,” said Temper. “I was talking our way out of that situation just fine.”
“You were dreadful,” Skulduggery said as they started walking again.
“I was in the process of convincing him. Besides, who was it who assured me no one would stop us because we were so obviously not supposed to be here? Who was it that said that?”
“I think you know who it was,” Skulduggery said.
“Yeah, I think I do, too. So much for your four hundred years of studying human behaviour.”
“Do you know what I’ve learned in all my years of studying people?”
“Is it to admit when you’re wrong?”
“It’s that people can always surprise you.”
“So it’s not admitting when you’re wrong, then?”
They continued on, sticking to the shadows a lot closer than they had been.
Down they went, level after level.
It got darker. And colder. And quieter.
And finally they came to a cavern filled with thousands of smooth-headed people, all standing in perfect rows in the dark. None of them moving. None of them reacting. Just standing there.
“Well,” Temper said, “you wanted evidence …”
Great lights flickered on above them, banishing the darkness and giving Temper a good look at just how many Kith were stored down here. It was a lot more than he’d thought.
Skulduggery nudged him, and they both turned.
For a man whose big secret had just been uncovered, Damocles Creed seemed remarkably chilled as he came down the stone steps into the cavern. He was carrying a towel and wearing sweatpants. Perspiration glistened off his bald head and broad chest. They’d obviously interrupted a workout. Such a shame.
“Detective Pleasant,” said Creed as he neared them. “Officer Fray. I didn’t hear you come in. How did you get in, just out of curiosity?”
“Through one of the secret entrances that are all over this place,” Temper said, “and that you know nothing about. That must be so annoying for you …”
“Arch-Canon,” Skulduggery said. “Apologies for the surprise visit, but sometimes that’s the only way to catch evil people doing evil things.”
Creed used the towel to wipe the sweat off his face. “I’m not going to debate good and evil with you, Detective. You have your priorities and I have mine.”
“Mine include not lobotomising tens of thousands of innocent victims.”
“You say victims, I say volunteers.”
“Well,” Temper cut in, “I don’t think it matters much what any of us say, does it? What matters is what the Supreme Mage says when she finds out what you’ve been up to.”
Creed flicked the towel over his shoulder, and clasped his hands before him. “The Supreme Mage has enough troubling her without being called on to decide matters of religious freedom.”
“If that’s how you’re going to frame your argument,” Skulduggery said, “it will be a very short conversation.”
Creed laughed. “I’m sorry, but what exactly do you expect to happen? Do you expect the High Sanctuary to shut down the Church of the Faceless? Do you expect them to oust me from my position? Roarhaven’s success depends on its bank – and its bank depends on me. As fearsome as China Sorrows is, do you really think she’ll do something that will invariably lead to the downfall of her own seat of power? Detective Pleasant – you know her better than anyone. Is that what you expect of her?”
Skulduggery observed Creed a moment before answering. “I learned a long time ago that China tends to be two steps ahead of whoever’s trying to outmanoeuvre her. Be careful, Damocles. This isn’t going to go the way you think.”
Creed smiled. “You should leave. Maybe try the main door this time.”
“We’re going to go,” said Skulduggery. “But because we want to, not because you told us to.”
“Yeah,” said Temper.
They walked by him, to the stairs.
“Nice one,” Temper whispered.
“I know,” Skulduggery whispered back.
Never limped into study hall, her face hidden by her hair. Omen waved and Never came over, squeezing between the desks to sit beside him. The teacher on duty never even looked up from her newspaper.
“What h
appened to you?” Omen asked softly.
Never settled, put her bag down and with a flick of her hair she showed him the gigantic bruise on the left side of her face, a bruise that ran from her bloodshot eye down to her cut lip. Despite the injuries, she was grinning.
“Pretty nasty, huh?” she whispered. “My ribs are bruised as well. And my leg. My bum, too, but I’m not really sure how that happened, and no, you can’t see it. You don’t get to view the goods.”
Omen leaned closer. “What. Happened?”
“Fight,” she responded so only he could hear. “Huge one. Auger was brilliant, as usual, as were Kase and Mahala. But you know what, Omen? Do you know what?”
“What?”
“I didn’t embarrass myself,” Never said, and was suddenly bubbling with excitement. “I helped. I actually helped out. I wasn’t just standing there, or teleporting uselessly around. They were in trouble and I jumped in and … and I wasn’t useless.”
“I doubt you’re ever useless,” Omen said.
Never flicked her hair back again. “You’re sweet, but no, in life-or-death battles, I’m beyond rubbish. At least I have been.”
“Well done,” Omen said, smiling at her obvious delight.
“Thank you. Auger said I could’ve died.”
“Seriously?”
She nodded quickly. “He said, Don’t do that again – you could’ve got yourself killed. I really feel like I’m one of the team now, you know?”
“And did you almost get yourself killed?”
“Oh, yeah. God, yeah. Hilariously so.”
“And when was this?”
“Like … three hours ago.”
“And you’re all right?”
“I’m right as rain, Omen, my dear.”
“You’re not, like, in shock or anything, are you?”
“I don’t think so,” Never whispered. “I mean … how would I know? If I’m in shock?”
“Are your hands shaking?”
“Everything’s shaking.”
“Maybe you should go to the nurse’s office. Just in case.”
“But I have homework to do. So much of it. I mean … I could copy someone’s work, I suppose. Someone smart. Someone good. Not you, basically. But someone else. Anyone else. Literally any-one.”
