by Derek Landy
Then she realised there was a face behind the face of her reflection, and it was smiling.
Darquesse burst through the window and her hand closed round Stephanie’s throat. Stephanie was lifted off her feet and she felt the fingers tighten and there was nothing she could do and she was going to die. Then the hand released her and she fell. She hit a display stand, scattering shoes as she rolled off. She rubbed her throat, gasping for breath, looked up as Skulduggery and Darquesse spun through the air and slammed into a wall.
Darquesse started to say something, managed to get out, “Now do you really think this was a good ide—” before Skulduggery headbutted her. Her head smashed back into the wall and Skulduggery headbutted her again and again, crunching bone, caving in her skull.
Not that a caved-in skull would stop Darquesse, of course. She ducked under Skulduggery’s arm and got behind him, wrapping her legs around his waist. She grabbed his head, went to twist it off, and Skulduggery flew backwards. Even before they hit the ground and separated, Darquesse’s face was already healed.
Skulduggery clicked his fingers.
“Stephanie,” he said. “Run.”
He raised his hands and twin streams of flame enveloped Darquesse, and her laughter filled the air as Stephanie ran for the stairs. She shouldered the door open and jumped, the steps hurtling beneath her. She landed heavily, grunted, slammed against the wall and rebounded. She ran to the next set of stairs and jumped again. She nearly twisted her ankle when she landed this time, but she sprang up, stumbling, and jumped the third set of stairs. Her foot hit the last step and she went sprawling. She bit her tongue and banged her head and dropped the Sceptre.
Stephanie lay there for a moment, stunned, before a crash from above kick-started her brain. She got up, stuck the Sceptre under her arm and took the stairs three at a time with her left hand firmly on the banister.
She reached ground level. Black lightning dissolved a fire door and she was out on the street. She jammed the Sceptre into her backpack with the grimoire and sprinted on, barging past late-night revellers. Suddenly realising she had no idea where she was going, she dug out her phone, opened up Maps to figure out the quickest route back to the gallery. She found it. Five minutes away, at a run. She stuffed the phone in her pocket, started to move, then stopped at the sound of screeching car brakes. She turned slowly.
A taxi driver had come to an emergency stop, his headlights catching Darquesse in full glare as she walked slowly across the road. He slammed his hand down on the horn and Darquesse turned her head to him.
Stephanie ran.
There was a crash and a shriek of metal and then the driver was screaming and Stephanie ran and she ran and she ran. She forgot about the pain in her broken hand. She forgot about her burnings lungs, her tired legs, her aching muscles, the cuts and the bruises and the blood. She ran, because to do anything else would get her killed. She ran until she was alone. She ran until she came to a blue door, and then she staggered to a stop. She sucked in air and looked behind her. No more screams. Sirens, though. More than one.
Darquesse stepped out of the shadows beside her. “How far did you think you’d get?”
Stephanie stumbled, flattened herself against the door. She panted, sweating and panicked, while Darquesse stood there, calm and smiling.
“Skulduggery?” Stephanie managed to get out.
“I pulled his legs off,” said Darquesse. “Nothing too traumatic. I would have taken my time, but I didn’t want you to get too far with my little book. I’ve heard it’s quite a page-turner.” She held out her hand. When Stephanie didn’t move, she laughed. “Come on now. Do you really want me to take it from you? Wouldn’t it be easier for you to just give up, and hand it over?”
“You’re going to kill me anyway.”
“You all keep using that word. Kill. I’m not killing you. I’m changing you back to your natural form.”
“Whatever you call it, you’re going to do it whether I give you the grimoire or not.”
“True,” said Darquesse. “But this way, you have a few more moments of awareness before I snuff you out. Isn’t that worth a little surrendering? Maybe even a little grovelling?”
“You … you want me to grovel?”
Darquesse’s smile grew wider. “I want you on your knees.”
“I don’t beg.”
“Just because you don’t like begging doesn’t mean you’re not going to. Give me the grimoire, get on your knees, and beg for mercy.”
Stephanie reached her hand behind her, fumbling against the backpack.
“Friendly warning,” said Darquesse. “If you go for the Sceptre, I’ll make your death go on for days.”
Stephanie paused, then resumed her fumbling, much slower. Darquesse laughed softly.
Stephanie grabbed the door handle, twisted it and it swung open behind her. She staggered back, fell, scrambled up, but Darquesse was already walking in behind her, starting to say something, not noticing the circle of symbols painted on the floor.
The circle flashed with a blinding light as Darquesse got her power reflected back at her. The force spun her around and she staggered, her eyes unfocused, and fell to her knees. She dropped on to her hands, her movements heavy. Stephanie crouched by the symbol in the centre, ran her finger along it just like NJ had shown her, and the circle stopped glowing. She stood, yanked the Sceptre from the backpack with her left hand and pointed it at Darquesse’s head.
One command. That’s all she had to do. Just think that one command and the crystal would fire out that black lightning and Darquesse would turn to dust. There’d be no coming back from that. Darquesse would be dead, Valkyrie would be gone forever, and Stephanie could live a normal life.
Just one simple command.
Scowling, Stephanie banged the heel of her broken hand against the triangular piece of metal on her belt, and a moment later Fletcher teleported in with Cassandra and Finbar and Deacon Maybury. Deacon saw Darquesse and his courage deserted him, but Cassandra grabbed him, pushed him forward. Panicking, Deacon immediately clasped Darquesse’s head between his hands and the others formed a circle of their own, their hands linked, and Darquesse gasped and snapped her head up.
Her eyes were wide. Unfocused. She didn’t try to rise.
“We have her,” Finbar whispered.
Skulduggery charged in, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t even look at Stephanie. He crossed to where Darquesse knelt, and crouched in front of her, took her hands and held them.
“The sparrow flies south for winter,” he said. “The sparrow flies south for winter.”
Fletcher stood beside Stephanie, his hand touching hers. In his other hand he held up the Soul Catcher. It started to glow, lit up from the inside with swirling light. Darquesse threw her head back and screamed, her whole body shaking. Skulduggery gripped her arms, keeping her sitting upright.
“The sparrow flies south for winter,” he said loudly. “The sparrow flies south for winter.”
The Soul Catcher shone so brightly Stephanie was almost forced to look away, but then a deep blue spread over its surface, locking the light inside, and the Sensitives stepped away, their link broken.
“We have her,” Cassandra said, taking the Soul Catcher from Fletcher and holding it like it was a bomb about to go off.
Stephanie moved round so she could take a better look at Darquesse. No, not Darquesse. Not any more. Valkyrie.
Valkyrie’s shadowskin went into spasm and she scrambled away from Skulduggery, away from everyone, scampering backwards into the corner. Her eyes were wide, uncomprehending and terrified.
Skulduggery rose, his hands up. “Valkyrie,” he said. “It’s me. It’s Skulduggery. You’re OK. You’re safe. Listen to me, listen to my voice. Your name is Valkyrie Cain. You’re in control.”
The darkness that covered Valkyrie’s body twisted and writhed, its sudden movements seeming to scare her more than anything. Skulduggery took a thick necklace from his pocket, on which hung
a heavy amulet. He tossed it on to the ground beside Valkyrie and the shadows latched on, started flowing into it. Then Skulduggery whipped off his jacket and rushed forward, covering Valkyrie as the amulet absorbed the last of her Necromancy power.
“Valkyrie?” Skulduggery said softly.
Valkyrie blinked, looked up at him. For a long time she didn’t speak, and then, “You … you’re a skeleton.”
Skulduggery tilted his head. “Yes I am. I have been one for a few years now.”
Valkyrie nodded. “I like skeletons,” she said, and closed her eyes, and Skulduggery scooped her up into his arms.
22
THE RETURN OF VALKYRIE CAIN
tephanie went shopping.
While everyone was still fussing over Valkyrie’s return the previous night, she took a walk through Roarhaven’s shopping district. A few of the stores were obviously beginning to struggle, denied as they were the promised influx of sorcerers eager to part with their cash, but they were all still open, at least. She found one that sold armoured clothes – not as effective as Ghastly Bespoke’s, and certainly not as finely tailored, they nevertheless did the job they were supposed to do. She bought a whole outfit, paid at the till, and while she waited for her change the lady behind the counter positively radiated hatred. But Stephanie was used to it.
It wasn’t her fault she looked like Darquesse.
She walked back to the Sanctuary, taking her time, enjoying the solitude. The sun was out and it was pretty warm considering how early in the year it was. She passed a few people. They hated her, too. She let them.
She climbed the steps to the Sanctuary. The Cleavers standing guard were the only people to have ignored her presence in the last two hours. She prepared herself for a lot more of that, and entered the grand lobby. Lots of excited sorcerers walking by. Darquesse was defeated. Darquesse was done. The crisis was over. No need for panic, no need for worry. No need for Stephanie.
She found an empty room in which to change her clothes. She hadn’t gone for black. She wasn’t Valkyrie Cain. She was Stephanie, and Stephanie had always loved the coat that Ghastly had once made with the arms of burnished red. She dressed in trousers and a jacket of that same colour, a tight but flattering fit that made her look like she was covered in rusted blood. She grinned at her reflection, then put the black clothes Ghastly had made into the bag and went wandering. She found herself in the Accelerator Room.
“Hello, Stephanie,” the Engineer said. “How are you today?”
“Grand,” she said. “Great, I mean. Or I should be great anyway. Don’t really know why I’m not.”
The Engineer nodded. “Human emotions are difficult to navigate.”
“They are,” she agreed. “So how long do we have?”
“The Accelerator will overload in eleven days, four hours and eight minutes.”
“Right.”
“Would you like to use your soul to deactivate it?”
“Even if I wanted to, I doubt it’d work.”
“And why is that?”
“I’m a reflection,” said Stephanie. “I wasn’t born. I’m not natural. I’m a malfunction. I wasn’t given life – I took it. I don’t think I even have a soul.”
“In that case, step into the Accelerator, on to the dais, and I will attempt to extract your soul. If you truly believe that you do not possess a soul, you will not be harmed, so what is there to be scared about?”
“I’m not … I’m not scared, I’m …”
“If, however, there is a part of you that dares to hope that with all life there comes a soul, in whatever form, then I would advise you to decline my kind offer.”
Stephanie narrowed her eyes. “You’ve got a sneaky way of helping people.”
The Engineer made a movement that could have been a shrug. “I like people. I have helped many on my travels.”
“Why did you walk away in the first place? You were built to look after the Accelerator. That was your whole purpose. That was why you existed.”
“I stood here for decades. I grew bored.”
“No, I get that, it’s just … Maybe what I’m asking is how? How did you decide to ignore your original purpose and, you know, take on this new one?”
“It was easy,” the Engineer said. “The thought occurred to me that I was master of my own destiny. Once I realised I could exist, and I mean that on a purely intrinsic level, the world opened up for me. I defined my own purpose.”
“But you’re right back here, where you started.”
“Because I am needed. When I am no longer needed, I will redefine my purpose again. Why do you ask?”
“I … I don’t know. I suppose I’m wondering what my purpose is. A few days ago, everything was clear. Do the job, have a normal life. But now I’m … I don’t know if I’m going to get that.”
Footsteps outside and Stephanie turned as Fletcher peeked in.
“Thought I’d find you here,” he said. “Hi, Engineer.”
“Hello, Fletcher. Would you like to use your soul to deactivate the Accelerator?”
“Cheers, but no,” he said, walking in. “I’m here to see Stephanie, actually.”
Stephanie forced a smile on to her face. “So how is Valkyrie?”
“She’s doing good,” he said. “Doctor Synecdoche is running a few tests, and apart from being hungry, she seems fine. Apparently Darquesse moved beyond the need to consume food.”
“Good for her,” Stephanie said. “So why aren’t you with Skulduggery, huddled round Valkyrie’s bedside, giving thanks that she’s returned to us alive and well?”
Fletcher looked at her. “What are you worried about?”
“Me? I’m not worried about anything. I’m good. I’m great. I’m—”
“Steph …”
“We were meant to kill her!” Stephanie blurted. Immediately, she reddened. “I mean … not Valkyrie. Darquesse. That was the plan. That’s why I agreed to help in the first place. We kill Darquesse, we all go home. Instead, what have we got? Darquesse is in a snow globe, Valkyrie’s in a hospital bed, and where am I? What’s my place now? Just like that,” she snapped her fingers, “I’m dropped as Skulduggery’s partner. Just like that the original is back, the real one, and once again I’m the scary reflection nobody can trust.”
“I trust you,” said Fletcher.
“You? The moment Valkyrie bats her eyelashes at you, you’ll forget all about—”
His hand went to her face and he turned her head and kissed her and took the rest of her words.
When they broke apart, he looked into her eyes. “You’re my girlfriend,” he said. “You. Not her.”
“But she’s—”
“You, Steph. Got that?”
Stephanie nodded.
Fletcher smiled. “Love the outfit, by the way.”
They went upstairs to the Medical Wing.
Valkyrie had her own room. Of course she did. Only the best for Valkyrie Cain. Stephanie and Fletcher walked in, and Skulduggery and Valkyrie looked up.
“Hi,” said Stephanie.
“Hi,” said Valkyrie.
A moment passed.
“Well, at least this isn’t awkward,” Fletcher said brightly.
High heels on polished floor and Stephanie stepped aside as China swept in, going straight to the patient. The Black Cleaver stayed at the door.
“Welcome back, my dear,” China said, kissing Valkyrie’s cheeks. “Out of all of the outcomes possible, your not dying last night is probably one of the best.”
“That means a lot,” said Valkyrie, “coming from a Grand Mage. How did you manage that little manoeuvre?”
China waved a hand airily. “Scared and desperate people do scared and desperate things. But enough about the election process. Where is Darquesse?”
Skulduggery brought out the Soul Catcher, holding it up for China to peer at.
“And that will hold her?” she asked.
“We have no reason to think otherwise,” Skulduggery said.
“We’ll reinforce it. Make sure there’s no chance of her ever escaping.”
China tapped the glass. “Then it’s done. It’s over. It is over, yes?”
Skulduggery nodded. “It’s over.”
China straightened up. “A celebration is in order, I think. This could have gone horribly wrong, but look at us now. The threat averted, the villain trapped, and we even have Valkyrie back. Tipstaff!”
Tipstaff appeared in the doorway. “Yes, Grand Mage?”
“Organise a party, would you? Something celebratory – extravagant without being indulgent.”
“Extravagant but not indulgent, of course,” Tipstaff nodded. “Will there be anything else?”
China looked at the others. “Requests? Anything you’d like to see at this party? Balloons? A trapeze act? Elephants? We have to make a big deal out of this. People need reassurances that things are getting back on track. We’ll invite every Council from every Sanctuary around the world. It will be wonderful. It will be fabulous.” Her eyes settled on Skulduggery. “And you will deliver the invitation to Zafira Kerias personally.”
Skulduggery’s head tilted. “I was wondering how long this respite would last.”
China waved her hand again, and Tipstaff went away. “We had three problems,” she said. “Darquesse was the first, but she’s no longer a threat. You’ve saved us all and you have our thanks. But we still have two problems left – the renegades and the Remnants. Fortunately for us, I’ve been keeping my ear to the ground, and the latest reports suggest that the American Sanctuary is hiding the renegades. You’ve solved the first problem – now I want you to take Vex and Rue and the Monster Hunters, and solve the second problem. When the renegades are in shackles, you’ll tackle the third.”
“When you say you’ve kept your ear to the ground …”
China smiled. “This information came to me from a confidential source.”
“One of your spies from the old days?”
“Precisely. Their information has always been accurate, and I see no reason why it should be any different now.”
