by Derek Landy
“I’m one of you?” Darquesse repeated. “Is that what you think? You look at me like we’re equals? The gap between you and a mortal is far less than the gap between you and me, Erskine. To someone like me, a mortal could be viewed as an insect. But a sorcerer? A sorcerer is only a slightly bigger insect.”
Ravel looked at her, his face unreadable. “Do what you came here to do, Darquesse. I’m not going to beg for my life. I don’t deserve your mercy.”
“What mercy? But no, death is too good for someone like you. You know what isn’t too good for you, though? You know what’s just right? Pain. Lots and lots of pain.”
Darquesse smiled, and a small ball of light started to glow between her eyes. It moved slowly down, glowing through her skin, moving down her throat. It did a little twirl when it reached her clavicle and she giggled, and then it moved under her clothes and off to one bare shoulder, and down her arm to her hand, to her fingertip, where it stayed, pulsing gently.
Darquesse tapped Ravel’s forehead, and the little ball of light transferred to him. He jerked away, panicking, as it pulsed and pulsed again, and faded.
Ravel frowned. Darquesse smiled.
Ravel’s shriek caught China by surprise as his body snapped back. He fell sideways to the floor, convulsing.
“Agony,” said Darquesse. “Constant agony for twenty-three hours a day. No painkillers or sedatives will do anything to alleviate what you’re feeling. If and when your body compensates, if you find that you’re starting to get used to it, the pain will increase. One hour a day, it’ll stop. You can eat, drink – sleep, if you can. But mostly you’ll just dread the agony returning.” Darquesse looked up, forgetting all about Ravel as he kicked and thrashed on the ground. She looked at China.
“What have you done to yourself?” she asked softly.
China took a step forward. And another. If she had to die, the least she could do was take Darquesse with her. She held her hand out. Darquesse came to meet her. The closer she got, the clearer she got. It was Valkyrie’s face. Those were Valkyrie’s eyes.
China took her hand back an instant before Darquesse could clasp it.
Darquesse smiled. “You are an interesting woman, China Sorrows. In your last moments you might have a chance to stop me and save the world – and you hesitate.”
China tried saying Valkyrie’s name, but her tongue was frying in her mouth.
“Who am I to you?” Darquesse asked. “Who was I? The daughter you never had? The sister you always wanted? Was I a friend? A plaything? A chance at redemption?”
China’s vision failed. She could feel her eyes about to burst.
Darquesse’s voice in front of her. “You know who you were to me? A mystery. An enigma. A rare and beautiful creature, to be admired and … Oh, China. You are magnificent.”
Two words. China wanted to say two words. She only wanted to say I’m sorry, as she reached out through the darkness, found Darquesse’s arm and closed her hand round it.
“Oh, dear,” she heard Darquesse say. “Did you really think that would work?”
China tightened her grip, but she had no more strength and her knees were about to buckle and she stepped back and then there was something cool pressing against her chest.
“It’s going to be OK,” she heard Darquesse whisper.
The darkness shifted to gloom and then brightness and she had eyes again, and she could see Darquesse standing there, her left hand sucking the heat from China’s body. It filled Darquesse now, making her glow, incinerating her clothes, burning through the gold bands in her hair, turning the arm bracelet to ash. The Necromancer ring burst open as it disintegrated, the shadows curling and twisting madly.
China stepped back, repelled by the heat, but in an instant it was gone, absorbed, and Darquesse stopped glowing. The twisting shadows latched on to her, flowed across her strong arms and broad shoulders like oil, down her chest and her belly and her long legs, covering her body like a second skin. China remembered the young girl who had walked into her library six years earlier, and compared her to the young woman who stood before her now. That dimple. Those eyes. That smile. So similar. So incredibly different.
Skulduggery approached slowly. “Valkyrie,” he said.
Darquesse turned to him. “She’s gone. She’s not even a quiet little voice in the back of my mind any more. I won’t tell you how easy it was to take over. You don’t want to hear things like that.”
“Let me talk to her.”
“There is no her any more. There’s only me. There are no tricks you can pull to change that. You’ve used them all up.”
Skulduggery tilted his head. “Then what do you want? I’ve seen the visions. I’ve seen you kill and destroy. I’ve seen what you do to Valkyrie’s family.”
“My family,” Darquesse corrected. “And I’ve seen that too, remember. But I don’t want to hurt them. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to live.”
“If you’re really not a threat, come with me. Let us run some tests.”
“So you can figure out how to stop me? Imprison me? No thanks. I’m out, and I have no intention of going back in. But I’m not your enemy, Skulduggery. I’m still the same girl I always was. Just, you know … don’t stand in my way.”
“What happens if I do?”
She smiled as the ceiling melted above her. “I don’t know,” she said. “But won’t it be fun finding out?”
She rose up through the ceiling, and was gone.
or a city that had just come into being, Roarhaven had had its fair share of ups and downs. Its glorious unveiling, its citizens so excited, the gates ready to open to tens of thousands of new sorcerers, flooding in from around the world … and now look at it. Quiet, subdued, anxious. Its outer wall, originally so imposing, so strong, was now a smoking, cratered, fragile shell. Its people no longer strolled with confidence through its broad streets. Now they hurried, their eyes furtive and darting, wary of the Cleavers who were no longer under Erskine Ravel’s control.
Every single one of these people knew of Ravel’s plan. Even the children knew. Their parents told them stories of what was to come as they tucked them in at night. They were all complicit in Ravel’s crimes. They all shared his guilt.
“What the hell do we do now?” Vex muttered.
He stood with Saracen on the steps of the Sanctuary. The bodies had been cleared from the streets and the blood had been washed away, but the memories left stains everywhere he looked. And the people, the few to pass within sight, kept their heads down, like they didn’t want to be noticed.
“How about we build up another shield,” said Saracen, “but this time it’s to keep people in, not out? We charge everyone here as accessories to the murders of Ghastly Bespoke and Anton Shudder, and we turn Roarhaven into a prison. See how they like it then.”
Vex didn’t say anything. He didn’t say how much he agreed with that idea.
The Bentley pulled up and Skulduggery got out, joined them at the top of the steps and they all walked into the Sanctuary without uttering another word. Vex didn’t like when Skulduggery went quiet. Bad things tended to happen.
It took them longer than necessary to get to the Accelerator Room – the corridors were different in this new palace, the rooms were switched around, and everything was so much bigger than before. They passed the Medical Wing, where Doctor Synecdoche was now in charge, and picked up the Monster Hunters along the way, who already had their bags packed for Tokyo. Fletcher Renn had offered to teleport them straight there, and possibly help out if he could. He didn’t want to go back to Australia. Not yet.
They eventually got to the Accelerator Room, and the Engineer swivelled its head to them as they entered.
“Good afternoon,” it said. “Is there something I can help you with?”
When Skulduggery didn’t respond, Vex spoke up, grateful for the opportunity to tackle problems that could be solved. “One or two things, actually. These mages whose magic has been boosted – some are d
ead, some are in shackles, but some are on the run. How long will they stay at this power level?”
“By Doctor Rote’s calculations, no more than five weeks.”
Donegan made a face. “Five weeks? These people are bordering on insane as it is. Is there any way to, I don’t know, de-boost them?”
“Not that I am aware,” the Engineer said. “Their power levels will begin to fluctuate after the first two weeks, however. If you can catch them while their power has dipped, they would be easier to apprehend.”
“Wonderful,” Saracen muttered.
“So there’s nothing you can do, or the Accelerator can do, to help us?” Vex asked.
“Regretfully, nothing.”
Vex sighed. “OK then. In that case, the fourteen days are up, so we’d like you to shut the Accelerator down now, please.”
“Of course,” said the Engineer. “Which one of you shall be contributing?”
Skulduggery looked round. “I’m sorry?”
“Oh, yes,” the Engineer said, “I lacked a piece of information when last we spoke of this. Very well, I shall explain. It is quite simple. The Accelerator can be powered down without incident for up to four weeks from its initial activation. We have obviously missed that deadline. After that, the deactivation requires a substantial sacrifice.”
“What kind of sacrifice?”
“A soul,” the Engineer said, “willingly given.”
Saracen frowned. “What?”
“The chosen person steps inside the Accelerator thusly.” The Engineer stepped on to the dais and turned to face them. “Death is instantaneous and, one would imagine, painless. Upon their death, their soul is released,” the Engineer mimed something flying from its chest, “and is then used to close the rift between this reality and the source of all magic, thus deactivating the Accelerator.”
Gracious crossed his arms. He did not look impressed. “Someone has to sacrifice themself? That’s a tad drastic, isn’t it? As far as off switches go?”
“Is there any way to bypass it?” Vex asked. “Isn’t there a plug we could pull?”
The Engineer stepped out of the Accelerator. “There is no bypass. There is no plug. It must be a soul, willingly given.”
“How would the Accelerator know if it’s willingly given or not?”
“I would know,” said the Engineer. “It is only with my permission that the soul can be used, and my creator was quite specific in his requirements. He said this machine must only be activated as a last resort. He reasoned that only a noble person of pure intent would go through with it once he was warned of the price that must be paid.”
“But you weren’t here to warn us,” said Saracen. “So that’s your fault.”
“Indeed it is. But that does not change the fact that it must be a soul, willingly given.”
“Well?” Donegan asked. “Anyone here willing to sacrifice their life to shut this down?”
Gracious took one step backwards. “I have, uh, a lot of online subscriptions that depend on me …”
“How long do we have to decide?” Skulduggery asked. “When is the Accelerator going to rupture?”
“Twenty-three days, eight hours, three minutes and twelve seconds,” said the Engineer.
Vex stared. “So not only do we have Darquesse on the loose,” he said, “and not only do we have nineteen supercharged sorcerers running around, and virtually every Sanctuary on the planet in a state of chaos, but now we have twenty-three days to decide who’s going to kill themselves to save the world? How the hell are we meant to manage any of that?”
“We’ll manage it the same way we manage everything,” China Sorrows said from behind them, and they turned to her as she stood in the doorway, as beautiful as always. “With extraordinary amounts of style and good grace.”
“We don’t even have a Council of Elders any more,” said Saracen. “How will we co-ordinate? Who’s in charge?”
“From now on we won’t be needing a Council,” China said. “I think we’ve gone as far as we can with that approach, wouldn’t you agree? And as for who’s in charge, I’d have thought that would be obvious.”
Vex frowned. “You?”
“Unless you can think of someone better suited to the task. Maybe you yourself? Or Saracen? Or Skulduggery, perhaps? If any of you would like to take on the overwhelming responsibilities of the post and forgo a life of freedom and adventure, please, be my guest.”
Vex didn’t say anything. Neither did Saracen or Skulduggery.
China smiled. “That’s what I thought. Any other objections? No? You’re quite sure? Very well then. I hereby accept, with great reluctance and humility, the post of Grand Mage, and I swear to only use my newfound powers to protect the magical and mortal communities of Ireland, and possibly to extract small bits of personal vengeance against those who have wronged me in the past.” She clapped her hands. “There. It’s settled. All right gentlemen, first order of business is tracking down the supercharged sorcerers. Mr Vex, Mr Rue, they are your responsibility. I’m sure the Monster Hunters will lend their assistance when and if you require it.”
China looked at Skulduggery, and her voice softened. “Detective Pleasant, you have one task and one task only. Find Darquesse. Stop her if you can … kill her if you must.”
tephanie’s parents had been relieved to have her home.
It wasn’t that they didn’t think she was a good driver, they said. It was just that whenever she got behind the wheel, they started to worry. It was silly, they knew it was – she had her full licence, she was as good as anyone else, and they knew she was a sensible girl. But hey, worrying was a parent’s job.
Stephanie couldn’t understand how Valkyrie had come to the conclusion that her folks were ready to hear the truth. They worried enough about the most ordinary, mundane things in everyday life. If they knew about the magic and the fighting and the danger and the death, they’d never sleep again.
But she was home, and that was the only thing that mattered. She’d survived. She’d done her bit to stop the Warlocks, to stop Ravel, and her family were free, and happy, and safe – at least for the moment.
While her mum made them lunch, Stephanie played with Alice in the living room. She sat on the floor, adjusted the bag strap on her shoulder, and dumped out a tray of building blocks. Alice went at them with glee, flinging them over her head. They hit the wall, the mirror, banged against the new patio door that had been put in to replace the one Valkyrie had smashed through.
“Careful now,” Stephanie said. “You don’t want to break anything, do you?”
Alice cackled, threw the last block, and Stephanie grinned, grabbed her and started tickling. Alice howled with laughter and Stephanie rolled on to her back, blowing raspberries into her sister’s neck. She eventually let go, and Alice clambered off, then sat on the ground beside her. Stephanie stayed where she was, looking up at the ceiling, and when she found her mind drifting back to the events of the last few days she caught herself. Valkyrie was gone and Stephanie had inherited her family. She had what she’d always wanted, and she wasn’t going to waste a moment of her new life by thinking about death and destruction when she didn’t need to.
Alice was unusually quiet. Stephanie turned her head and her heart lurched. Her bag had fallen open, revealing the Sceptre, and Alice’s little fingers tapped against the black crystal. Stephanie moved with thinking, snatching the bag away as she whirled to her knees. Alice burst out crying and Stephanie stared, eyes wide.
Despite her racing pulse and the surging adrenaline that made every nerve ending jangle, Stephanie picked up her sister and held her close as she stood. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, talking softly. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She hadn’t even needed to. Alice was descended from the Last of the Ancients, the same as Valkyrie, which meant she could touch the black crystal without dying. Stephanie herself hadn’t dared to touch it herself. She didn’t know if that rule applied to reflections,
no matter how evolved they had become.
“Here,” she said, lifting the bag a little higher so that Alice could reach into it. “This is the Sceptre of the Ancients. See the crystal? You can touch it if you want. There you go. The crystal was made by the Faceless Ones, these horrible old gods, and anyone who touches it turns to dust. Apart from the Ancients. Apart from you. You’re a very special girl, Alice, but I promise to do everything I can to make sure that you have a normal life. I won’t let you turn out like Valkyrie did. I swear. Kiss?”
Alice looked up at her with her big eyes, and tilted her head forward so that Stephanie could kiss it. When Alice moved her head back again, Stephanie glanced behind her, saw Skulduggery Pleasant standing in the back garden.
She put Alice down, let her run around collecting the building blocks, and she climbed the stairs and went into her bedroom. She closed the door behind her and opened the window, then stepped back. Skulduggery sat on the sill.
“There’s a problem with the Accelerator,” he said. The way his head was turned, the way his hat fell, all she could see was his jaw. “Shutting it down won’t be quite as straight-forward as we’d hoped. It’ll require a sacrifice.”
She nodded. “I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it.”
“I’ll think of something. Ravel was transported to prison this morning. They tried to sedate him, but nothing works.”
“Right.”
“The Children of the Spider went with him, and seven others. The investigation into who else knew about his plan is ongoing.”
“OK.”
“We decided not to go after his people in the other Sanctuaries. We know they were a part of it, and we’ll be using that against them to ensure we’re never attacked again. They’re our people now.”
“Well,” said Stephanie, “that works out well for everyone.”
Skulduggery nodded. “The Warlocks have gone into hiding again, and we have teams of Cleavers rounding up any remaining Wretchlings. They won’t have got far. We have perimeters set up from—”
