by Derek Landy
“Can I have it?”
“No you can’t!”
“Why not?”
“Why do you think? Because you won’t give me mine.”
“Ah, that’s just mean.”
“How can you consider that mean when you started it?”
“I’m not giving you your present because I just don’t give Christmas presents after Christmas. I don’t see the point. But you have no such policy, and so no such excuse. The only reason, that I can see, that you won’t give me my present is because of sheer bitterness. You’re just being mean.”
Valkyrie glared. “Fine. Here’s your present.”
She took it from her jacket and threw it to him. He examined the wrapping. “It’s a fairly distinctive shape.”
She grunted.
“I’m not entirely sure I need to unwrap it. I think I can guess what it is.”
“Good for you.”
“Valkyrie, is it a hairbrush?”
She jabbed a finger at him. “Yes! See? That’s a thoughtful gift! You haven’t needed a hairbrush in hundreds of years, but you do now! Sometimes, anyway.”
“Yes, but you got me a hairbrush for Christmas.”
“It works on two levels! It’s thoughtful and amusing! The present you gave me works on no levels, because you didn’t give me a present. Don’t you dare complain.”
Skulduggery hesitated, then put the gift in his pocket. “It’s a very thoughtful and amusing present, Valkyrie. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Can we get in the car now? It’s really cold.”
“Did you have a nice Christmas?”
“Sure.”
“How did your family event last night go?”
“Fine.”
“Do you think it will become an annual tradition?”
“Nope.”
“OK then,” Skulduggery said.
Valkyrie nodded. “Let’s go.”
She moved to the Bentley, then looked back at him. His arms were folded. “You’re not moving.”
“We are hurtling through space at a rate of 390 kilometres per second, Valkyrie. I would hardly call that not moving.”
“Then we are not moving to the car,” she sighed.
“This is true.”
“And why are we not moving to the car, Skulduggery?”
“Because,” he said.
“Because what?”
He looked around to make sure there was no one watching, and let his face flow away. Once he was back to his usual skeleton self, he continued. “Because I am waiting for you to tell me what is going on. You’ve been keeping something from me – and that ends now.”
“Oh.”
“Ordinarily, of course, I would respect your privacy, but—”
“No you wouldn’t.”
“Sorry?”
“You wouldn’t respect my privacy.”
“Yes I would.”
“Skulduggery, you never respect my privacy.”
“I do so all the time. Just last week, I respected your privacy.”
“What was I doing?”
“Well, you weren’t around.”
“That makes almost no sense.”
“But it does make a bit of sense, which is all I need. As I was saying, ordinarily, I wouldn’t ask, but whatever you’re keeping from me is interfering with your work. You are my partner, after all.”
“OK,” she said, “I’ll tell you. I was going to tell you anyway, eventually. But before I do, I’ve already sorted everything out. I solved the problem. So keep that in mind when I tell you this. Promise?”
“I promise.”
“OK.” Valkyrie took a deep breath. “Are you ready?”
“I am.”
“You’re sure?”
“Quite sure.”
“OK. So I’ll tell you. Here I go. Skulduggery…”
“Yes, Valkyrie?”
“I’m… I don’t know how to say this. I…” She swallowed. “I’m Darquesse.”
Immediately, she felt better. Immediately, she felt cleaner, and lighter, and back to her old self. She found herself smiling.
“Right,” Skulduggery said.
“Yep.”
“You’re Darquesse.”
“That’s it.”
“In what way?”
“In a… what do you mean, what way?”
“You’re Darquesse in a metaphorical way? We all have evil in our hearts, we’re all Darquesse sort of way?”
“No,” Valkyrie said slowly. “I mean I’m Darquesse. In a literal, I’m Darquesse sort of way.”
His head tilted. “So you’re Darquesse?”
“Yes.”
“The same Darquesse who’s going to kill everyone?”
“That’s me.”
“The same Darquesse who kills your parents?”
“Apparently so.”
“And how have you reached this conclusion?”
“Remember years ago, when you were fighting Serpine, and the Book of Names fell? I caught a glimpse of my true name, so quick it didn’t even register. But when I heard the name Darquesse a few months ago, I knew I’d heard it somewhere before, and that’s where. It’s mine.”
“I see,” Skulduggery said. “How long have you known?”
“Roughly since we first heard about her. After the Sanctuary was destroyed.”
“And you’ve kept it to yourself?”
“Until now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I wanted to take care of it.”
“Have you?”
“I wouldn’t be telling you all this if I hadn’t. Darquesse will not be making an appearance for the foreseeable ever. The world is safe.”
“How did you manage that?”
“I’ll tell you,” Valkyrie said. “But first you tell me what you think happens. Why do I kill everyone? Or why would I have if I hadn’t just, you know, stopped me?”
“The likeliest scenario would be that someone learns who you are and uses your true name to control you.”
“Exactly. So that’s taken care of.”
“How?”
“I sealed my name. I spoke to a few people, tracked down some other people, figured it out and implemented my plan all on my own. Are you proud of me?”
“Who did it?”
“Did what?”
Skulduggery cocked his head. “Who sealed your name?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Kenspeckle couldn’t have done it. Something like that would take years of research and trial and error, even for him.”
“It doesn’t matter, OK? It’s done. My heart was taken out, the little symbols were drawn on, and I was stitched back together.”
“By whom?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You said you’d tell me.”
“I said I’d tell you what I’ve been up to lately. I didn’t say I’d give you this person’s name.”
“There’s only a handful of possibilities…”
“Skulduggery, drop it.”
“You should have told me,” he said. “I could have made sure it was safe.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“You had your heart removed from your body,” he said sternly. “You were dead.”
“You’re dead all the time, and you’re fine.”
“Who did it?”
“I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to talk about the person who did it. I just—”
“Person,” Skulduggery said. “You keep saying person. Not he, or she. Is it in an effort to further protect the identity, or is it… Is it an it?”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
His voice turned hard. “Doctor Nye.”
“What does it matter?” she blurted. “OK, fine, it was Nye! So what? It did its job, and now I’m back home and everything’s grand.”
“Nye’s a sick, twisted, evil freak, Valkyrie. You’re lucky you came back. You’re ver
y, very lucky.”
“I know,” she said quietly, and looked away.
“You should have told me. You should have trusted me. You should have…” He stopped, and went silent. And then he said, “Never mind.”
She looked up. “What?”
“You were scared. I understand. You didn’t know how I’d react.”
“Well… yeah.”
He stepped towards her, and his hand went to her shoulder. “That was a mistake,” he said gently. “I’m not going to judge you, Valkyrie. I’d never judge you.”
Suddenly she felt like crying. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“What a burden it must have been. You’re very brave for facing it alone.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
“Amazingly, astonishingly stupid, but brave.”
She cracked a smile. “Yeah.”
“Very foolish, is what I’m getting at.”
“I can see that.”
“Thick, basically. Just thick. Dumb as a bag of hammers. Not too bright there, Valkyrie.”
“You can really stop complimenting me now.”
Skulduggery pulled her gently into a hug, and patted her back. “You brainless moron. You simple-minded cretin. You’re a half-wit. A dimwit. An imbecile. You’re as sharp as a marble. Thick as a ditch. Not the sharpest knife, nor the brightest crayon, and not the brightest bulb. You just fell off the turnip truck. The wheel is turning, but the hamster is dead.”
She laughed into his chest. “Please stop talking.”
He pulled away from her. “In future, you tell me if you think there’s even the slightest chance you might be responsible for Armageddon, agreed?”
“Agreed.”
He hesitated. “And you know, of course, that you might be wrong.”
“About what?”
“About what makes you become Darquesse. We don’t know what triggers it, we’re only guessing someone tries to control you.”
“So basically, even though I’ve just sealed my true name, that doesn’t mean I won’t turn? Yeah, I’ve thought of that. I don’t believe it, but I’ve thought of it.”
“OK,” he said, and nodded. “Just wanted to make sure.” He turned back to the Bentley, and opened the door. “I knew you were keeping something from me,” he said. “I didn’t think it was quite so big, though.”
Valkyrie smiled. “What did you think it was?”
“It seems laughably insignificant now.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“I… OK, I thought you were going to tell me that there was something going on between you and Caelan. You know what? I actually think I’m relieved.”
Skulduggery chuckled, and got in behind the wheel. Valkyrie turned away so he wouldn’t see her smile drop, and got in the other side.
“Where to?” she asked as she buckled her seatbelt.
“Someone told Tesseract where I lived. I spent all of yesterday asking questions, and I finally found who the culprit is.”
“Do I know him?”
“Yes you do.”
“Are we going to track him down?”
“Yes we are.”
“Am I going to enjoy it?”
“Immensely.”
27
BACK WITH FINBAR
Finbar Wrong was curled up in the corner, with the wooden shutters on the windows closed. It was dark, and the place was quiet. Wreath had been forced to break the lock to get into the tattoo parlour. He’d moved quietly through the ground floor, then came upstairs, cane in hand. He didn’t know what use Necromancy would be against a Remnant in its true form, but it was better than nothing.
He’d spotted Finbar the moment he’d stepped in, and he’d been watching the psychic rock back and forward with his head down for three minutes. Every now and then, Finbar would mutter something. Wreath was now using his cane only to lean on. The Remnant wasn’t here any more.
“Finbar,” Wreath said. He got a mumble in reply. He repeated himself, louder this time, and Finbar looked up.
“Who’s that?” Finbar asked.
“Solomon Wreath. You know me.”
Finbar nodded. “I know you. Yes. You’re a Necromancer.”
“That’s right.”
“What do you want? I’m very…” Finbar stood up and straightened his T-shirt. “I’m very busy.”
“The sign on the door said closed.”
Finbar shook his head. “Never trust a door; they’ll always lie to you. Mr Wreath, I don’t want to be rude to someone as scary as you, but I don’t tattoo Necromancers. It’s a policy I have, that I came up with just there.”
“Finbar, what do you remember about the last few days?”
Finbar frowned. “Why d’you ask? The fact that you asked means there’s something I obviously don’t remember. What is it?”
“What do you remember?”
“I remember… I had a vision of something. A person. Dressed all in black.”
“Yes. Do you remember their face?”
“It’s… It’s hazy… Yes. I do.”
“Who was it?” asked Wreath. “Who did you see?”
Finbar’s eyes widened. “I saw you.”
“What?”
“I saw you, coming in here and threatening me and… and doing something…”
Wreath sighed. “That was two days ago.”
“It was?”
“You had that vision two days ago, so you sent your wife and child away and waited around to see if I’d turn up.”
“And here you are,” Finbar said dramatically.
“Actually, this is my second visit. I was here two days ago, and I’m here again.”
Finbar frowned. “Did I hit you with a cushion?”
“So you do remember. Do you remember anything about what you did afterwards?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Believe it or not, Finbar, I’m here to help. I think Valkyrie Cain is in danger, and if you can remember what happened to you over the past two days, I hope to be able to stop something bad from happening to her.”
Finbar looked at him, like he was trying to make up his mind whether to trust him or not. Surprisingly, he decided to give it a go. “I remember this morning,” he said. “Or maybe it was yesterday. I locked the door and came up here. I think I’ve been to the toilet a few times. And had some tea.”
“And before that?”
“I… I, uh… I don’t know, it’s hazy… I think I was in a forest. I woke up, and there were all these trees, and I started walking. I’m not sure. I’ve been having these awful, awful headaches.”
“What forest?”
“Don’t know. I walked out, and someone stopped to give me a lift. I couldn’t see straight. The headaches, you know? I’m seeing… stuff.”
“Visions?”
“Or nightmares. Can’t tell. I think something went wrong. With me. In my head, like.”
Wreath had no way of knowing if the damage the Remnant had done was permanent. Some doors, once opened, can never truly be closed. He looked at this skinny man with the tattoos and the crumpled T-shirt and felt sorry for him.
“What are you seeing?” he asked.
“I really don’t know. It’s too confused. It’s not nice, I’ll tell you that much. What kind of danger?”
“I’m sorry?”
“What kind of danger is Valkyrie in?”
“I don’t know yet. I want to find out more before I tell her, though.”
“You should talk to the Skul-man about it,” said Finbar.
“Yes,” Wreath said. “Maybe I will. Finbar, thanks for your help. And I’m sorry about the headaches.”
“Me too.”
Wreath left him and walked down the stairs, but when he opened the door there was something waiting for him.
28
THE Z-WORD
Nobody likes zombies.
That was the lesson Valkyrie was learning. They’d been scouring the city, looking for Scapegrace and Thrasher,
and everyone they talked to made a face whenever the Z-word was mentioned. Noses were wrinkled in disgust, like the word brought with it a bad smell. Those who knew anything, anything in the slightest, were more than happy to share that information. Nobody clammed up, nobody refused to answer questions, and nobody demanded anything in return. Zombies, it seemed, were not afforded the same street code as other criminals and killers.
“I know them,” a notoriously tight-lipped sorcerer named Tarr had said. “One of them talks big and the other one agrees with everything he says. They the two you’re looking for? Yeah, I know them. They’re living out of a refrigerated truck that’s got two flat tyres. It’s parked a couple of streets over.”
They found the truck where Tarr said it would be. As they approached, they saw two men walking towards them from the other direction. When the men saw them, they stopped, spun, and proceeded to slip and slide on the icy pavement in a manic effort to get away. Skulduggery and Valkyrie strolled up to them.
“Hello, Vaurien,” Skulduggery said.
Spinning around again, and barely managing to stay on his feet, Scapegrace glared. “Why are you after us? We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You’re zombies.”
“But we haven’t killed anyone.”
“Yes you have.”
“Recently. We haven’t killed anyone recently.”
“You told Tesseract where Skulduggery’s house was,” Valkyrie said.
Scapegrace shook his head. “No we didn’t.”
“Six sorcerers were killed in a Dublin bar,” said Skulduggery, “three nights ago. The one witness we found who would talk said that a big man in a metal mask took them apart, and afterwards he spoke with a pathetic little zombie who cowered and wailed. That was you, am I right?”
“No,” Scapegrace said. He pointed at Thrasher, who was grabbing a lamp post and pulling himself up off the ground. “It was him.”
“Oh,” Thrasher said.
“We’ve let you wander around,” Skulduggery said, “because we reasoned you’re not that big a threat. We didn’t think you’d be too eager to recruit more members, not after your little horde went crazy the last time. But now you have proven yourselves to be a nuisance the world could do without.”
“Spare my master!” Thrasher wailed. “End my life, but leave my master alone! I beg of you!”
“I agree with him,” Scapegrace said.
