by Derek Landy
“My abilities don’t work the same as Finbar’s,” she said. “Mine require a lot more effort for significantly lesser results. For me, glimpses of the future can come during meditation, they can flash into my head without warning or they can come in dreams. I have all sorts of tools of the trade to help me, from every culture and country.” She took a twig figure off a shelf. “This is a dream whisperer. Dreams that you forget, that drift from your mind when you wake, they collect. They keep them as long as they have to, and when it’s time, they tell you about them. You have to be really quiet to hear their whispers though, which is why I live all the way out here.”
Valkyrie did her best to look interested and not creeped out. Cassandra was making it sound like the little figure was alive.
Cassandra smiled and held it out. “Take it,” she said. “You look like you have interesting dreams.”
Valkyrie hesitated then took it. “Thank you. It’s…lovely.”
It didn’t have any features, no mouth or eyes, but she could still feel it watching her. She smiled tentatively and put it carefully in her coat pocket.
Cassandra led them to a narrow door and they followed her down into the cellar. In stark and unpleasant contrast to the cosiness of the cottage, the cellar was an ugly room of cement brick walls and harsh lighting that made Valkyrie’s headache jab at her. The floor was a large metal grille and beneath the grille, coals. Rusted old pipes ran from a red wheel, up the wall and across the ceiling. Sprinklers protruded from the pipes and hung down half a metre below the protected lights. In the middle of the floor was a single straight-backed chair. A yellow umbrella lay beside it.
“This is the Steam Chamber,” Cassandra said as she sat in the chair. “This is where I can project what I’ve seen into images. Sometimes it’s hazy; sometimes it’s clear. Sometimes there is sound, sometimes not. At the very least, you can get an idea of what’s in my head. Before we begin, however, you have to understand something. This future you’re about to see is not set. You can still change it. All of you can.”
Even though Cassandra was speaking to all three of them, Valkyrie had the distinct impression that the comment was directed solely at her. Suddenly she wasn’t altogether certain she wanted to see what Cassandra had to show her.
“Why haven’t you gone to the Sanctuary with this?” she asked. “You and Finbar must be better than any psychics they have on the staff. They could probably use the help.”
“I don’t talk to The Man,” Finbar scowled. “The Man keeps me down.”
“In what way?” asked Valkyrie, genuinely puzzled.
Finbar hesitated. “General ways,” he said at last. “Just…general ways, keeping me down, oppressing me.”
“We’re not too fond of the Sanctuary,” Cassandra told her gently. “Any establishment as big and as powerful as that is rife with corruption. I suppose we’re still activists at heart, even after all these years.”
“Damn The Man,” Finbar said proudly.
“Now then,” Cassandra said, “to business. Skulduggery, if you wouldn’t mind…?”
Skulduggery looked at Valkyrie. “This may get a little warm.”
He clicked his fingers, summoning flame into both of his hands, and then he tossed the fireballs at the ground. They fell through the grille and he gestured, and the flames spread out and started to burn with the coals.
Cassandra closed her eyes and stayed like that for a minute or two. Valkyrie wanted to ask if she could open the door at the top of the stairs to let some air in because Skulduggery hadn’t been lying. It was getting uncomfortably warm down here.
Without opening her eyes, Cassandra reached down, picked up the umbrella and opened it. She rested it against her shoulder, open above her head, and she nodded.
“I’m ready.”
Finbar turned the little red wheel on the wall and Valkyrie heard the water gurgling through the pipes. She stepped back as a few drops started to fall from the sprinklers, and Skulduggery moved her back three more steps just as the full spray came on. Valkyrie stood with her back to the wall, the spray just hitting her boots. The water passed through the grille, hissing as it hit the burning coals, and steam began to billow.
Cassandra sat in the middle of the room, her yellow umbrella doing its best to keep her dry, and then she was lost from sight. The steam was thick like mist, like fog, getting denser with each passing moment. Valkyrie’s head was pounding by now.
She heard Finbar turn the wheel again, though she couldn’t see him, and the sprinklers turned off. The steam, however, stayed.
Someone moved in front of her and Valkyrie reached out then pulled her hand back sharply. There was another figure behind it and there was movement to her right. They weren’t alone in here.
Someone stepped up beside her and she whirled, lashing out, and Skulduggery caught her fist in his gloved hand.
“You’re not in any danger,” he said.
“There are people in here with us,” she whispered.
“Watch,” he responded and led her away from the wall, towards the middle of the room.
She turned her head as a figure ran through the steam towards her. She dodged back, but the water had made the metal grille slippery and her boot slid. She stumbled and Ghastly Bespoke ran at her, his body scattering in the steam right before he hit her.
Valkyrie spun, aware of Skulduggery standing beside her, completely calm.
“Think of it as a hologram,” he said, “projected on to the steam. None of this is real.”
There were buildings now, on either side of them, and a road at their feet. The road was cracked and the buildings were ruined. It was a dead city, dead or dying, and she heard muted shouts in the distance. A figure approached, striding through the street of steam, a gun in his hand. Skulduggery. His black suit was torn.
The real Skulduggery nodded. “At least I’m still looking well…”
The image of Skulduggery disappeared. And then a sound. Someone screaming in the distance and a gunshot. Somewhere near the back of the Chamber there was a flare, like a fireball being thrown. The sound was coming from everywhere, from beside and below and behind and above, and it was the sound of a battle being fought.
Dark figures were visible now, around the edge of the room, and they were struggling, running and leaping. Some of them carried weapons and Valkyrie recognised the silhouettes of Cleavers.
There was a shadow in the steam in front of them, throwing Cleavers back like they were little more than an annoyance.
Valkyrie backed up until she was beside Skulduggery. “What are we seeing?”
“The future,” he said slowly.
The images cleared and a new figure drifted into being. Valkyrie saw herself, a few years older than she was now.
The Valkyrie in the steam was taller, and her bare arms were lean and muscled, like Tanith’s. A tattoo swirled from her left shoulder to her elbow and she wore a black metal gauntlet on her right hand. Her legs were strong, the black trousers clinging to them. Her boots were scuffed, splattered with blood.
“I’ve seen this,” the Valkyrie in the steam said, her dark hair whipping across her face. “I was watching from…” She turned her head and looked straight at where Valkyrie was standing. “…there.”
Valkyrie couldn’t move.
“This is where it happens,” her older self continued, sadness in her voice.
“Stephanie!”
Two people, in the distance, sprinting this way. The older Valkyrie shook her head slowly. “Please don’t make me watch it again.”
As if her prayer was answered, the older Valkyrie disappeared, the two people came closer and Valkyrie’s heart plummeted. Desmond and Melissa Edgley ran through the steam.
Skulduggery held her back against the wall. “This hasn’t happened yet,” he reminded her quietly.
Her parents stopped running and looked around, and the dark figure Valkyrie had glimpsed earlier stepped out behind them.
“No!” Valkyrie
screamed and Skulduggery held her tighter as they watched her parents turn.
“Darquesse,” Finbar whispered.
The shadow called Darquesse raised her arm and black flame engulfed the steam images of Valkyrie’s parents, turning them to ash before they could even scream their agony.
Valkyrie went cold as a fresh billow of steam took away the image. The sound faded and the steam became clouds. Valkyrie looked down and saw a city below her.
A wave of vertigo hit and she staggered, standing on nothing but air, miles above the ground, but beneath the city she glimpsed the metal grille of the Chamber. She took a breath and willed herself not to throw up. They were in the same room. They hadn’t moved. They were not standing in mid-air.
There was a blackness spreading across the city and engulfing the surrounding countryside, as if the grass and the trees were suddenly dying, as if all life was being snuffed out in a wave that spread out and just kept on spreading. Within seconds the land beneath them was dead.
Then the city went away and they were in the Chamber, and the steam was quickly dispersing. Valkyrie realised for the first time that her face was wet with sweat and her hair clung to her scalp.
Cassandra walked forward, shaking the water off the yellow umbrella. “This is the future as I have seen it,” she said. “But the future can be changed. Come. You look like you could do with a glass of water.”
They followed her up the stairs and Finbar, who hadn’t said anything for the past few minutes, wandered into the other room. While Cassandra went to the kitchen, Valkyrie looked at Skulduggery. Her headache pounded. It hurt to even move her eyes.
“My parents were there,” she said quietly.
“We can change it.”
Her voice shook. “My parents, Skulduggery.”
He laid a hand on her shoulder and his voice was soft. “You’ll save them.”
“You saw what I did. I let them die.”
“No. She let them die. Not you.”
“She is me.”
“Not yet.”
“There’s no use. She saw what we saw, she knew it was coming and she still just stood there and let Darquesse kill them. That’s what’s going to happen.”
“No, Valkyrie. You’ll find a way to save them. I have faith.”
“My head hurts.”
Cassandra came back, handed her a glass of water that she only took a sip from, and a folded leaf, the kind Kenspeckle had, to numb the pain of the headache.
“I can only imagine how hard that was to watch,” Cassandra said. “But this is about more than you, and more than your parents. This is about everything.”
“The end of the world,” Finbar said, rejoining them. He looked tired. “That’s the bit I saw in my vision – the darkness spreading across the planet. I didn’t see the other stuff.” He looked at Valkyrie. “I didn’t see you and your folks. I’m sorry.”
“We’re not dead yet,” Skulduggery interjected. “Well, I am, but the rest of you have a bit to go.”
“You know as well as anyone,” Cassandra said, “that visions of the future are subject to change and to interpretation.”
Skulduggery turned to Cassandra. “Do you have any idea of a time frame? When is all this going to happen?”
“I don’t know. Valkyrie looked three or four years older than she is now, but we can’t be sure. The only thing we know for certain is that Darquesse is coming, and she’s coming to kill us all.”
Skulduggery put on his hat, dipping it over his eye sockets. “Not if we kill her first.”
19
THE NEW PET
Valkyrie had to go home. The moment they left Cassandra’s cottage, she knew she had to go home, to see her parents, to make sure they were OK. She was trying so hard not to let Skulduggery see how badly she was hurting, or how much she wanted to cry. She barely said anything on the drive back to Haggard.
She called the reflection’s phone and arranged to pick it up as it made its way home from school. It got in the back seat and didn’t ask any questions. They pulled in a few miles later and Skulduggery got out of the car while Valkyrie and her reflection switched clothes. Ten minutes later they arrived in Haggard. The reflection sneaked around back to hide in the bushes while Valkyrie walked in the front door. It was an unusual sensation she realised, not to be coming in through her bedroom window.
“Mum,” she called, dumping her schoolbag in the hall, “I’m home.”
For three long seconds there was nothing but a dreadful, heavy silence, and then her mother appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. Smiling. Safe. Alive.
“How was school?” she asked and Valkyrie bounded forward and hugged her. Her mum laughed. “That bad, huh?”
Valkyrie laughed in return and hoped it was convincing. She hugged tight and then forced herself to break it off, moving immediately to the fridge to hide the tears that threatened to spill on to her cheeks. “School was fine,” she said, as brashly as she could. “School is always fine. Nothing interesting ever happens there.”
She opened the fridge, took a breath, and when she was composed, she shut the fridge door and turned. “How was your day?”
“Full of adventure and drama,” her mum said. “I just got back myself. I’m expecting your father home any minute.”
“He’s finishing work early? He never finishes early.”
Her mum shrugged and they heard the front door open.
“Is she back yet?” Valkyrie’s dad asked from the hall, as he stumbled over something, probably her schoolbag. “Yes, she’s home,” she heard him mutter. He walked into the kitchen and Valkyrie hugged him.
“You told her?” he asked.
“Nope,” her mum said. “She’s just in a hugging mood.”
Valkyrie stepped back. “Told me what?”
Her father looked down at her. “You grow taller every day, you know that?”
She made herself keep the smile. Suddenly she didn’t want to get any taller. She didn’t want to grow any older. Being taller and older and stronger meant being closer to the time when Darquesse would come for them. She wanted to stay the same height and age forever.
“We have news,” her mother said, wrapping her arm around her husband’s waist.
Valkyrie frowned. “What?”
“We’ve decided to get a pet,” her dad announced.
Valkyrie laughed, and it was a real and genuine laugh. After everything that she’d had to deal with over the past few months, having something so gloriously normal and fun as a new pet took on unimaginable levels of comfort. Plus, she’d always wanted a pet.
“Can we have a dog?” she asked. “And not one of those annoying yappy dogs. Hannah Foley has a Chinese Crested dog that doesn’t have any hair, and it looks like the little guy who hangs out of Jabba the Hutt’s ceiling. I don’t want one of those. I wouldn’t be able to take it for walks without being embarrassed for it.”
Her dad frowned. “You’ve seen Star Wars? When did you see Star Wars? I’ve been trying to get you to watch it for years.”
Valkyrie hesitated. Tanith had made her sit down and watch the movies over the course of one weekend. It had been an educational experience.
“I like the lightsabres,” she said.
“We’re not getting a dog,” her mother told her, bringing the conversation back to where it started.
“We can’t get a cat,” Valkyrie argued. “They don’t do anything except plot against you and multiply like Gremlins.”
“We’re not getting a cat either.”
“Can we get a snake?”
“No.”
“Please? I can keep it in my room and I’ll feed it mice and things and I won’t kill it.”
“No snakes, no hamsters, no rats, no guinea pigs.”
Valkyrie smiled hopefully. “A horse?”
“How about something a little smaller?” her dad said. “Like, I don’t know, a brother or a sister?”
Valkyrie looked at them. “What?”
H
er mother’s smile widened. “I’m pregnant, sweetheart.”
It took a moment, and when that moment was over, Valkyrie found herself leaping across the room and hugging her mother and screaming “Oh my God!” over and over. Then she thought that she might damage the baby, so she jumped back and leaped for her father and hugged him, and he laughed.
And later, in her room, tears came to her eyes when she thought of what kind of danger this child would be born into.
20
THE ZOMBIE HORDE
There is a very particular process one goes through to become a zombie. Scapegrace didn’t go through it because he was raised from the dead by magic, but after a little bit of trial and error he finally figured out what the process entailed. The person he was recruiting needed to be bitten while still alive, so that the infection had time to spread through the system. Scapegrace was hesitant to bite at first, as he was worried how it might look. He had initially planned to just go after attractive females, but quickly realised that this wouldn’t be too time-efficient.
His first successful recruitment had been in Phoenix Park. The recruit was a middle-aged man out for a stroll. Scapegrace had waited until there was no one else around and then slipped out from his hiding place. He leaped on the man and dragged him into the bushes, where he bit him. The man tried struggling, but the infection was surprisingly fast acting, and within sixty seconds, the man was dead. After a few moments, however, his eyes opened again and he was looking up at Scapegrace.
“Am I in heaven?” he had asked.
“Don’t be stupid,” Scapegrace snapped.
“Sorry,” the man said and got up.
Scapegrace had looked at his first recruit. A shabby specimen if ever there was one, who seemed to wear a permanently dazed expression on his face.
“What’s your name?” Scapegrace asked.
“Gerald,” said the man.
Scapegrace pondered. Gerald the zombie just didn’t have that fear-inducing ring to it. “I’m going to call you Thrasher,” he said.
Thrasher blinked. “All right,” he said uncertainly.
