The Dying of the Light

by Derek Landy

  Her parents leaped up, their chairs sliding backwards. But once they were on their feet, they froze.

  “Good God,” Fergus whispered.

  Valkyrie’s parents stood there, staring. Their eyes were wide, their faces pale, but they weren’t panicking. That was good. That was a good sign.

  Her mum screamed.

  “Sorry,” she said immediately after. “I don’t know where that came from.”

  “Quite all right,” Skulduggery said. “You’re handling this whole thing remarkably well, all things considered.”

  “You’re a skeleton,” Valkyrie’s dad said.

  “I am.”

  “But how do you stay together?”

  “Magic.”

  “How do you talk?” her mum asked.

  “Magic.”

  “Do you have a brain?” asked her dad.

  “No,” said Valkyrie. “But he has a consciousness.”

  “That’s amazing,” said her mum. “Just … astonishing. Is there a God?”

  “That depends on which one you mean,” Skulduggery said. “Most of the gods we’ve encountered have been insane.”

  “You’ve met gods?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “I’ve punched one,” said Valkyrie.

  “But if you’re asking if there’s such a thing as the Judeo-Christian God, the one spoken of in the Holy Bible, I’m afraid I have no answer for you. To me, death was darkness and stillness with no sign of an afterlife.”

  “My wife and I go to mass every Sunday,” said Fergus, visibly angry. “Don’t you sit there and tell me there’s no God.”

  “I would never presume to do any such thing,” Skulduggery said calmly. “I believe in logic and reason, but I’ve seen wonders that defy explanation. I have had the pillars of my own belief shaken again and again as new truths come to light. Just the other day, your daughter and I saw a dragon. I had no idea those existed.”

  “A dragon?” repeated Valkyrie’s dad.

  “A big one. I could never tell you that what you believe is wrong, any more than I could tell you that what you believe is right. It seems to me that the universe holds far too many secrets to trade in absolutes, and anyone who tries runs the risk of being found out a fool. I am many things, but I like to think that a fool is not one of them. As I said, the circumstances surrounding my death were unusual, so my experience should not be held up as an example of what happens to us after we die. Desmond, Melissa, would you like to rejoin us at the table?”

  Valkyrie’s parents looked down, as if they’d only just realised they were standing. They pulled their chairs back to the table, and sat.

  “So it’s real,” said her dad. “But then that video … What we saw on that was real. What that man said about Stephanie was real …”

  “But we saw her die,” her mum said, her voice shaking.

  “May I?” Skulduggery asked, holding up his skeletal hand. The laptop spun and slid across the table to him.

  “Wow!” her dad said, then caught himself. “I mean … cool.”

  Valkyrie leaned in to Skulduggery as he moved the video forward. Scenes of battle were intercut with interviews. She glimpsed footage – grainy and out of focus – of the Haggard pier in darkness, recognised it as the night Caelan had died, and then Skulduggery let the video play as normal. The battle raged in Roarhaven and Kenny Dunne spoke over it.

  “… abandoned my plans to make this footage public. What would the world do if they knew about people like this? But I couldn’t ignore the sacrifice made by your daughter.”

  The terrifying figure of Charivari fired a stream of energy at Saracen Rue, catching him full in the chest.

  “Stephanie was a hero. She didn’t ask for thanks, she didn’t ask for recognition. But as her parents, you need to know what she lived for, what she fought for …”

  Dexter Vex dodged a stream meant for him, and there was Stephanie, searching through the rubble, looking up just as Charivari fired at her. There was a bright flash and she was gone.

  “… and what she died for.”

  Skulduggery dragged the video back a few seconds, and paused it. “Yes,” he said. “This isn’t footage of her death.” He turned the laptop and it slid back to the other side of the table. “Look in the background, on the left. What do you see?”

  Valkyrie’s mum peered at it. “People fighting.”

  “Look!” her dad said, pointing. “That’s Fletcher! I’d know that head anywhere!”

  “Press play,” said Skulduggery, “and watch what happens right before the massively scary gentleman fires at Valkyrie.”

  Her mum glanced up. “Her name is Stephanie.”

  “Of course,” Skulduggery said. “My apologies.”

  Her parents clicked play and Fergus crowded in.

  “He disappeared!” Fergus cried.

  “Fletcher is a Teleporter,” Skulduggery said. “He saw what was about to happen and he teleported your daughter to safety.”

  Valkyrie’s mum looked confused. “Fletcher’s one of them? I mean, one of you? He’s … magic? Really?”

  “That would explain the hair,” her father mused.

  “But he seemed like such a nice boy.”

  “He is a nice boy,” Valkyrie said. “He’s also a sorcerer.”

  Her mother closed the laptop, and looked at her. “How did you do all this? When did you find the time? Steph, you never leave the house.”

  Now was not the time to tell them about the reflection. There would never be a time to tell them about the reflection. “I sneaked out,” she said. “I skipped some school. Not a lot, but some.”

  “You almost got killed.”

  “Mum—”

  “No, Steph. You almost died. Does … I don’t know, does this happen often? When did all this start? How long has it been going on?”

  “A few years.”

  “Years? And how many times has your life been in danger in those few years? And you, Mr Pleasant—”

  “Call me Skulduggery.”

  “I don’t think I will. How can you justify bringing a child into all this?”

  “Mum—” Valkyrie started, feeling the heat rise in her face.

  “Stephanie, quiet,” her mother said sharply. “You’re eighteen now. You can argue that you’re an adult. But a few years ago you were very much a child. I want to know what the hell is going on. Well, Mr Pleasant? You dragged a child into harm’s way again and again from what I understand. What’s your excuse?”

  Skulduggery tilted his head. “Excuse?” he said. “I don’t have one. I don’t need one.”

  “I think you’ll find you bloody well do.”

  “Valkyrie is my partner.”

  “Her name is Stephanie.”

  “Her name is also Valkyrie, and she’s my partner. She came into this willingly, after I saved her life at her uncle’s house. She proved utterly capable and, as it turned out, invaluable. Over the last few years I’ve been berated by friends and colleagues over this partnership, and I have been advised to dissolve it. They all thought Valkyrie should be leading a normal life. But she’s meant for greater things than a normal life. She’s meant for amazing things. She has saved lives. She has saved me. She has saved the world.

  “I understand your urge to protect her, to shield her from danger and threat. I once felt that urge, too, for my own child. Long ago. But if you think I’m going to apologise for, as you say, dragging her into harm’s way, you’re going to be sorely disappointed. There’s nothing I would change about the last few years. Valkyrie has proven herself to be an astonishing individual and one I would gladly lay down my life for, such as it is. How many people leading normal lives would you be able to say that about?”

  “Until the end,” Valkyrie said softly.

  Skulduggery looked at her, his head tilting gently.

  “No,” her mum said. “I don’t care what you say, or how eloquently you’re saying it. It ends here.”

  “Mum, no,” said Valkyrie.


  Her dad spoke up. “Steph, you can’t continue with this … madness. You’ll get yourself killed. Do you want Alice to grow up without a sister?”

  “Doing what I do is just like being a cop or a soldier.”

  “And we wouldn’t want you to do those things, either.”

  “Wait, wait,” her mum said. “It’s taking a while for some of this to sink in, so forgive me for being a bit slow. But Steph, are you … are you like these people? Are you magic?”

  Valkyrie hesitated. “I … don’t know. I was. But something happened and … I don’t know if I am any more.”

  Her mum looked at Skulduggery. “Well, that decides it, doesn’t it? If she’s not magic, then she can’t continue being your student.”

  “Partner,” Valkyrie and Skulduggery said at the same time.

  “Student, partner, whatever. No magic, no job. That makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  “We’ll have to see,” Skulduggery said. “If, by the end of our current assignment, her magic has not returned to her …”

  “I’ll make the decision,” Valkyrie finished. “But until then, I’m not stopping.”

  “We haven’t agreed that,” said her mum. “We’ll need to think about this. Your dad and I will have to talk about it ourselves, and once we—”

  “Mum,” Valkyrie said, “no. You don’t get to make this decision. I love you, but this has nothing to do with you. I’m the only one who gets to decide.”

  “Steph, no, you’re still our daughter—”

  “Yes I am.” Valkyrie stood. “And as your daughter, it’s my job to keep you safe. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

  She walked out, leaving the smell of a roast dinner behind her.

  47

  THE DEATH BRINGER WAKES

  he left her car at home and they drove to Roarhaven in the Bentley. She ran over the conversation a hundred times, trying to see how she could have handled it better. She came up short every time.

  “You’re angry, aren’t you?” she said. They left Dublin, started hitting the narrower roads.

  Skulduggery shook his head. “This isn’t about me.”

  “But you had all those reasons for not telling my parents. Second Lifetime Syndrome and all that. People I love growing old while I stay young. You warned me.”

  “What happened was not your fault,” he said. “This was Kenny Dunne’s act of honourable intent, misguided as it may have been.”

  “So you’re not mad?”

  He inclined his head towards her a fraction. “Your parents knowing the truth is a complication you could do without. It may lead to greater complications further down the road. If there is a road.”

  Valkyrie dropped her face into her hands. “All I want to do is protect them. They’re going to try to stop me from doing that.”

  Skulduggery was silent for a moment. “Your mother echoed a valid point you yourself have made.”

  “I know,” Valkyrie muttered.

  “Without magic …”

  “I’m useless.”

  “Not useless. Far from useless. But without magic, your future opens up. You can now walk away without losing anything. You don’t have to give up magic if you no longer have it.”

  “I’d be losing this,” she said. “The job. Helping people. I’d be … I’d be losing you.”

  He looked at her. “You’ll never lose me.”

  Tears pricked at her eyes. She looked away. “When this is over, I’ll think about … everything. Until then, I’m in this all the way.”

  “Very well.” They were on a lonely road now, a road that led to nowhere but Roarhaven. “In that case, we should probably have the conversation.”

  She looked back at him. “Which one would that be? The birds and the bees? I’ve already had it.”

  “The conversation?”

  “The birds and the bees.”

  “Right, yes, well … I’m talking about the other conversation. The less fun one. The fact is, Valkyrie, going up against Darquesse … we might not make it this time.”

  “What? What about everything you were saying earlier about accentuating the positive?”

  “Again, you brought up that particular song.”

  “Of course we’re going to make it,” Valkyrie said. “Making it is what we do. Darquesse is just another bad guy we have to defeat.”

  “She’s more than that. The threat she poses is more valid than any you and I have faced before.”

  “You saying she’s going to win?”

  Skulduggery paused. “No. I think she’ll be defeated. I think you will be instrumental in bringing about her downfall. But it won’t be without its costs.”

  She shifted in her seat. “I don’t like this conversation.”

  “I didn’t think you would. But it’s something we need to acknowledge.”

  “Why? It’s a thought we’re both having, and now we know we’re both having it, so fine, it’s there, it’s out, we’re discussing it, let’s never discuss it again.”

  “One or both of us may not survive the next few days.”

  She whacked his arm. “What the hell, Skulduggery? I told you we didn’t need to discuss it further! I know this! Don’t you think I know this? But I don’t want to talk about it! It upsets me! It makes me angry and sad and makes me want to cry! I don’t want to think about living in a world where you’re not in it, all right?”

  “All right,” he said. “All right.”

  Valkyrie looked away, tears in her eyes once more.

  “Although I was kind of assuming you’d be the one who didn’t make it,” he muttered.

  She whirled. “What? Why am I the one who dies?”

  He shrugged. “It seems like the kind of thing you’d do. I’d find a way to cheat death at the last second, but you … you’re just not that bright.”

  “I … I can’t believe you just said that.”

  “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

  She folded her arms. “I’m not talking to you any more. I don’t know why I ever talk to you.”

  “Maybe you tried talking to yourself, but you were starved of intelligent conversation.”

  Valkyrie glared. “I find it incredibly worrying that the only way you know to take my mind off my troubles is to insult me.”

  “I find it really funny.”

  “I know you do.”

  They got to Roarhaven, parked and walked to the Medical Wing. Valkyrie was immediately whisked away, brought to a secure room with a half-dozen Cleavers standing outside.

  Melancholia St Clair lay in bed, hooked up to IVs and beeping monitors. Her hair, previously so lustrous and healthy, was lank and spread out over her pillow like a dull blonde halo. Her eyes were closed. Her pale skin was marred by a curious network of pink, raised scars, sigils that Vandameer Craven had carved into her entire body in order to capture her Surge.

  For any other sorcerer, the Surge was a painful, but relatively brief, burst of pure power that solidified their magical discipline. Thus sorcerers who were stronger in Elemental magic would forever more be Elementals, while those stronger in the Adept disciplines would be confirmed as Adepts. Melancholia’s Surge, however, had been captured and redirected into a never-ending loop of increasing magic, transforming her into the Death Bringer the Necromancers had been waiting for.

  And now here she was, waking up after so long with her legs strapped down and her wrists in shackles.

  “She’s in a light sleep,” Synecdoche said from behind Valkyrie. “She woke earlier, but was too disorientated to ask questions. She should be more lucid now.”

  Valkyrie frowned. “Should I … Should I wake her?”

  “She’s slept long enough,” Synecdoche said, leaving the room. “I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

  There was an empty chair by the bed and Valkyrie sat in it. Then she reached forward, nudged Melancholia’s leg.

  “Hey,” she said softly. Then, louder, “Hey.”

  Melancholia opened her eye
s. It took her a few seconds to focus. She blinked, and looked around. “Where am I?”

  She sounded like she needed a glass of water.

  “In the Sanctuary,” Valkyrie said. “How are you feeling?”

  “What happened?” she said. “Where’s Vile? How did I get here?”

  “Calm down,” Valkyrie said. “You’re safe.”

  She tried to sit up. “I’m in shackles.”

  “Of course you’re in shackles. The last time you weren’t in shackles you tried to kill almost half the population of the planet.”

  “I planned it,” Melancholia said. “I didn’t try it. There’s a difference.” Quickly, very quickly, she was becoming her old self again. “So where’s Vile?”

  Valkyrie glanced at the door to make sure no one could overhear. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “You and me, running through those caves. I remember Skulduggery Pleasant turning into Lord Vile and coming after us. Did you know they were the same person? That’s insane.”

  “Yeah. You can’t tell anyone about that, by the way. That’s our little secret. He’s not Lord Vile any more. He’s all better.”

  “Oh, that’s reassuring,” Melancholia said, rolling her eyes.

  “What else do you remember?”

  “Hold on, hold on, let me think.” Melancholia frowned. “I remember getting outside, and it was night, and he was still coming and I was so tired, I was too tired to even … and you punched me.”

  “I did.”

  “That wasn’t very nice.”

  “I needed you to try to kill me.”

  “Why?”

  “Darquesse. You’ve heard of her, right?”

  Melancholia frowned. “That’s the sorcerer all the Sensitives are worried about.”

  “Yes it is. And she’s me.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “She’s me. Darquesse is my true name. Back then, she only came out when my life was in danger. I needed her to come out to stop Lord Vile, so I had to make you try to kill me. This particular story has a happy ending, though, because after a really messy fight, Darquesse went away and Vile went away, and everyone lived happily ever after. Except you, who went into an induced coma.”

  “A coma? They put me in a coma? Why?”