by Derek Landy
He rammed his knee into the back of her arm and her elbow snapped and she screamed again.
Flanery got up. Fixed his hair, then his tie and his jacket. His cheek still throbbed. He walked over, casually, oozing confidence. He stood beside Crepuscular and waited for Abyssinia to raise her head and look at him.
“You thought you were playing me,” he sneered. “But I was playing you the entire time. There’s still going to be a war, but it’s a war that I’m going to win.”
“There won’t be a war,” Crepuscular said.
“What?” said Flanery, frowning. “Why not?”
“Because there weren’t any sailors killed.”
“I don’t … I don’t understand.”
“I had a change of heart,” Crepuscular said. “Revealing magic, pitting mortal against mage … We’d be juggling too many variables – and I know how much you hate juggling variables, Martin. I couldn’t do that to you. So I pulled a few strings, got some sailors sent home on leave, got a few Blackbrook contractors to patrol in their place …”
“But the camera footage …”
“I’m sure the Cleavers are already deleting it.”
Panic rose in Flanery’s chest. He didn’t want to get flustered in front of his vanquished foe, but he couldn’t help himself. “But what about my re-election? This was going to get the country on my side. You promised me! You promised!”
His voice was high. He was aware that he was whining but, again, he couldn’t help it.
“Calm down, Martin,” Crepuscular said.
“This was going to make them respect me!” Flanery screeched. “This was going to make them love me! You promised! You swore!”
Crepuscular twitched, like he was going to lunge, and Flanery squealed and fell back over a chair.
Crepuscular adjusted his bow tie ever so slightly. “We don’t have the second Pearl Harbour that we were hoping for,” he said. “So we’ll hold off for a bit. It’s no big deal. We can show magic to the world at any time. Yes, we were planning for a spectacle so grand it would turn every right-thinking mortal into a magic-hating warrior of virtue – but hey-ho. Them’s the breaks, Martin.” He held out his hand. Flanery hesitated, then allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.
Crepuscular brushed dust from Flanery’s shoulder. “There,” he said. “Looking mighty presidential, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“At least we still have the witch,” Flanery said, doing his best to assert some authority.
Crepuscular winced, and walked over to the other room. “Magenta. Her name’s Magenta. And we kind of lost her.”
Flanery stared. “What? But she … she read minds. She influenced senators and … She got my policies through Congress! She got me elected!”
Flanery had to wait until Crepuscular came back. He was holding a big, awkward-looking gun. “Hey, come on now, you did that, Mr President. You got yourself elected because the people love you. Don’t start doubting yourself.”
“What happened? How did we lose her?”
Crepuscular walked up to him, put his hand on Flanery’s arm. “Someone broke her out of where she was being kept,” he said. “I say, let her go, you know?”
“But her son,” Flanery reminded him. “We have her son.”
“The son’s gone, too. Hey, it’s unfortunate, but do we really need her any more? I say no. I say, we’re fine on our own. It’s not the end of the world, Martin. We’re still working on that one.”
“You’re doomed,” said Abyssinia.
Crepuscular looked back at her. “Haven’t I killed you yet?”
She ignored him, looked straight to Flanery. Her face was tight with pain, but she still managed a smile. It was all teeth. Like a shark. “Skulduggery Pleasant knows about what you did,” she said. “He won’t forget it. He doesn’t give a damn that you’re president. He’s coming for you, Martin.”
“No,” Crepuscular said, “but we’re coming for him.” He shot her with some kind of paintball thing. It hit her leg and the black paint wrapped itself round her thigh. Strange symbols glowed.
Crepuscular handed Flanery the gun, and picked up the knife that Nero had dropped. He knelt in front of Abyssinia, tapping the tip of the blade against her chest. She didn’t even try anything. She was broken. Defeated.
“Do it,” Flanery whispered. “Kill her.”
Crepuscular chuckled, and pushed the knife into her chest.
Abyssinia didn’t make a sound, but her eyes widened and her mouth opened as blood deepened the red of her outfit. Crepuscular whispered something in her ear, and amazingly her eyes widened even more. Then she slumped back, and Nero raised his head, looked at her.
“Oh, no,” he said again, and he vanished, and took Abyssinia with him.
Razzia died less than a minute after Abyssinia teleported away.
Valkyrie watched from across the platform. She died clasping Temper’s hands. Slowly, tenderly, Temper picked her up and carried her body out of the rain, disappearing through the doorway. It was then that Valkyrie realised that Solace was no longer on the platform with them. The only people left out here, in the rain, was Valkyrie and Skulduggery and Damocles Creed.
“You have to leave,” Creed said, with the temerity to actually sound bored. “You’re all trespassing on Church property.”
Valkyrie didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what she could do. It had all gone horribly wrong. She wanted to punch someone, wanted to hurt someone, wanted to find someone to blame. So she marched over.
“You,” she said, snarling up at him. “You’re under arrest.”
“I am?” Creed said, his face impassive.
“You’ve been conducting illegal experiments with the Kith.”
“That is a gross mischaracterisation of a deeply spiritual practice.”
“You’ve been lobotomising innocent people.”
“Your ignorance is as sad as your petulance, Detective. I believe you will find that the practice of Activation is covered in the Religious Freedom Act.”
She stood within punching distance and looked up. He was smiling at her. “You find this amusing, do you?”
“I find you amusing,” he said.
Skulduggery came over to pull her away and she whipped her arm out of his grip. “You’re under arrest! Damocles Creed, I’m placing you under arrest!”
“I have committed no crime.”
“How about kidnapping? Or what, you want to tell me that Temper volunteered for this?”
“He did,” Creed answered, “many years ago. I have the papers he signed, a contract, if you will, giving the Church permission to Activate him.”
“We all know he walked away from that.”
Creed raised an eyebrow. “The contract is still valid. If anyone should be pressing charges, it should be me. None of you have permission to be on Church property. Believe me, the Supreme Mage will be hearing about this.”
Valkyrie wanted to throw him from the damn platform and listen to him scream all the way down.
Creed sighed, and pressed his hands together. “But you’re emotional. You look like you’ve been through quite an ordeal. So I will not call the City Guard, and I will not have you arrested. You are free to leave, at your leisure. Go in peace, and may the Faceless Ones bathe you in their love.”
He bowed, and walked from the platform. The door into the Dark Cathedral closed after him.
“Skulduggery,” Abyssinia said.
They both whirled.
Skulduggery ran to Abyssinia as she lay there with a knife sticking out of her chest. He dropped to his knees and cradled her in his arms, just like Abyssinia had cradled Caisson.
Nero slumped over beside them, and didn’t stir.
“Flanery’s still alive,” Abyssinia said weakly. “I met his … his friend. He did this to me. He knows you. He said he’s coming for you.”
“Then I’ll be waiting,” Skulduggery replied, “and I’ll give him your regards when I kill him.”
&
nbsp; “How … how did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Pretend to love me.”
His head tilted. “Who said I pretended?”
Abyssinia smiled. “I’m not easy to love. My son died hating me. My father … abandoned me. My devoted followers … where are they? You pretended. Of course you did.”
“China is sending healers up here. Just hold on.”
“I loved you, though,” Abyssinia said. “I loved you so much. When we were together, we could do … anything. Thank you for that. Thank you for pretending.” She traced her fingers along his cheekbone. “But I have to tell you, I preferred you … as a bad guy.”
“I know you did.”
“You were always so good at being bad.”
“I changed my ways. You can, too. It’s not too late.”
She gave a laugh that obviously hurt. “It’s far too late, my love. But … thank you for lying.” She was silent for a moment. “Valkyrie?”
“I’m here.” Valkyrie went over and knelt by her.
Abyssinia took her hand. “Take care of him. He’s been through a lot, and he’s not … nearly as clever as he thinks he is.”
“I may not have ears,” Skulduggery said, “but I can hear you just fine.”
Valkyrie ignored him, and nodded to Abyssinia. “I will.”
“Even if that’s true,” Skulduggery said, “even if I’m half as clever as I think I am, that’s still twice as clever as either of you.”
Abyssinia’s voice was growing softer. “He needs someone to guide him. He gets these … ideas in his head and he thinks they’re good ones … They seldom are.”
“My ideas are excellent,” Skulduggery said.
The fingers that gripped Valkyrie’s hand tightened. “He needs a conscience. He needs to be reminded of what it is to be … alive. You’ve got to be that for him, Valkyrie. And he’s got to be that for you.”
“We will be,” Valkyrie said softly.
Abyssinia released her hand, and Valkyrie slowly stood up and stepped back. The rain stopped.
“I shouldn’t have … brought him back,” Abyssinia said to Skulduggery. “I don’t know what … what I was thinking … That was a moment of insanity.”
“We’re all allowed to go a little insane when the world drives us to it,” Skulduggery said.
“Surely … surely I couldn’t have expected him to be grateful? Surely I couldn’t have expected him to show me love? He has … never shown me love. My father’s obsession with his own legend … warped everything he touched. Of course Mevolent moved against him. Someone had to. Back then, my father was a monster. He … he is a monster still. But my mother. My sisters … When Mevolent killed them, he broke my heart and tore apart my soul. I never thought I’d find love again. I thought I’d never be in one piece again. But now … I’ll leave this world as I came into it.
“Thank you,” she said to Skulduggery. “Even if you were pretending to love me … thank you.”
Valkyrie left them to their final moment together, and walked to the edge of the platform. Roarhaven twinkled beneath her.
Tanith met Skulduggery by the side of the road.
It had stopped raining, thank God. Three days of rain since Abyssinia had died, but now the blue was finally pushing the grey back across the horizon. A bit late for Tanith’s bike, though, splattered as it was with three days of mud.
Unlike the Bentley. She wondered how long he’d been waiting for her here, wondered if maybe he’d turned up early just to give it a sneaky polish. She wouldn’t put it past him.
She leaned the bike on to its kickstand, took off her helmet and hung it off the handlebar. Skulduggery was leaning against the car, wearing a façade.
“How did you do it?” she asked.
Skulduggery raised an eyebrow. Tanith could never quite tell if his facial gestures would have convinced her if she hadn’t known the face wasn’t real. “I’m not entirely sure,” he said. “We sat down and we talked, and I told her the people she’d imprisoned weren’t members of Black Sand and that she knew it. And then she agreed to release them.”
“Just like that?”
“Apparently so.”
“And she didn’t ask for anything in return?”
“Not a thing.”
“So … I don’t have to turn myself in, then? China doesn’t even know I’m involved in any of that?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to assume anything,” said Skulduggery. “China knows an awful lot about an awful lot. But, the fact is, your friends are out of prison, and you don’t have to take their place.”
Tanith crossed her arms, and leaned back against the Bentley beside him. “I’ll take that as a win,” she said. “Thank you. A lot of good people have been reunited with their families.”
“Are you sure about this?” he asked. “About what Black Sand is doing? Actively fighting against the Sanctuaries—”
“Not Sanctuaries,” Tanith said. “Just the one, the High Sanctuary. Just China.”
“You could work with her.”
“She’s too powerful, Skulduggery. You do see that, right? You see how far she’s gone?”
He didn’t say anything.
Tanith sighed. “She’s dangerous. She wants to control it all. If you sided with us …”
“I have other priorities,” he said. “Right now, China is a known quantity, as much as such a thing is possible.”
“And if she makes a move that you don’t approve of?”
He hesitated. “Then we’ll see what happens.”
Tanith looked out across the fields. “It’s been good seeing you again,” she said. “I’ve missed you guys.”
“And we’ve missed you. Are you moving on? Back to Africa?”
“Eventually. I’m going to let things cool down a bit before my return.”
“Have you heard from Oberon?”
She nodded. “He’s doing good. His son and his ex are free and he’s helping them set up their new lives under new names.”
“Any idea how he got past the Seven-As-One?”
“Not a clue – but he’s a man of hidden talents, that guy.”
A tractor trundled by. They watched it until it was gone from sight.
“So,” Skulduggery said, “seeing as how you’ve suddenly got some free time on your hands, would you be interested in a little side project?”
She looked at him. “Take off the face and talk to me.”
He deactivated the façade. “The King of the Darklands is out there. We need a way to stop him.”
“I thought Auger Darkly was going to stop him.”
“Auger Darkly is going to fight him,” Skulduggery corrected. “There’s no guarantee he’s going to win. So, we need to either find a way to stop the Unnamed before the prophecy comes true, or find a way to help the Chosen One emerge victorious.”
“What can I do?”
“The Obsidian Blade killed the Unnamed the first time round,” Skulduggery said. “I’m going to need you to find it, so it can kill him again.”
Gripping the bar with both hands, Valkyrie planted her feet flat on the ground, took a moment to settle herself, then exhaled as she lifted. Her arms trembled and she waited for that to stop.
“Balance it,” Panthea said, standing behind her. “Good. OK, go ahead.”
Valkyrie brought the bar down, inhaling as she did so. It tipped off her chest and she immediately pushed it back up again. Then it came down, and then it went up. Inhaling on the drop, exhaling on the push.
The gym buzzed around her. She was used to working out alone, in silence, driven by the voices in her head. Here it was easier. Here it was Panthea’s voice she was listening to, and Panthea wasn’t nearly so critical.
“That’s it,” Panthea said. “Nice. Stay at that pace.”
Valkyrie’s arms were starting to shake. She enjoyed that. That was when she knew she was pushing herself, when her body was telling her, No, that’s enough now, let’s just stop and g
o for a coffee. She ignored the shaking and kept going.
“Three more,” Panthea said. “Just three more, that’s all. Come on, you have them in you. One. That’s it. Push yourself. These are the important ones. Two. Nice.” She moved in and her hands appeared beneath the bar, ready to catch it if it fell. “One more, Valkyrie. One more. Come on … Three! Well done!”
Panthea gripped the bar and helped Valkyrie put it back on the rack. Valkyrie’s arms dropped and she laughed.
“Good girl,” Panthea said. “That was impressive. Take some water.”
Panthea moved away to note something down in her logbook, and Valkyrie swerved her upper body out from beneath the barbell and sat up on the bench. She wiped her brow with her towel and took a long gulp from her water bottle, noting with amusement how suddenly hard it was to lift her hand that high.
Panthea took her to the mats after that for a cooldown, and they chatted a little, while people worked out around them. Valkyrie thanked her and headed to the showers. When she was dressed, she slung her gym bag over her shoulder and headed homewards, sipping from a protein shake that had aspirations of being a milkshake, but couldn’t quite make it. She slowed as she approached Haggard.
Finally, she pulled in by the side of the road and stared at the steering wheel. Her mind was clear. There was no internal debate. Not any more. Abyssinia had seen to that.
I’ll leave this world as I came into it.
Alice deserved to have her soul repaired. Happiness wasn’t everything. Without the dark, there was no light. She deserved to know sadness, and regret, and pain, and sorrow. She deserved to miss the people she loved when they were gone, because only then could they live in her memories. She needed to be human, as frail and as damaged as that was. It wasn’t Valkyrie’s place to protect her sister from every bad thing – it was only Valkyrie’s place to try.
She put the car into gear, pulled back on to the road, and continued on to Haggard.
When she walked into the house, both her parents were home and Alice was waiting for her with a little purple suitcase.
Valkyrie had to laugh. “What’s this?” she asked.
