The Dying of the Light (41 page)

The elderly man lost the smile. He nodded to her and backed away. Tanith stayed on the bike, but turned off the engine. She heard him speak into a radio, but couldn’t make out the words. Thirty seconds later, he came back – but kept his distance.

“Miss Low,” he said, “some Cleavers are on their way now to escort you in. I have been asked to try to shackle you. Would you be agreeable to that?”

“That depends,” said Tanith. “Who’s Grand Mage?”

“China Sorrows.”

Tanith frowned. “How the hell did she manage that?”

“I couldn’t possibly comment,” said the old man. “So … the shackles?”

Tanith sighed and held out her hands. By this stage, the headlights of a truck were approaching.

This was a different Roarhaven to the one she had visited. It wasn’t a town any more – it was a city. As she was driven through it, Tanith glimpsed the old drabness still present in places, but this only made the newer buildings appear all the more glorious.

When she was here last, the Sanctuary had been a low, charmless, circular building. Now it was a palace. It had towers and steeples, a brightly-lit beacon to keep the darkness back. The inside was just as glorious, even though she was escorted through it with a ring of Cleavers around her.

Once the doctors had determined that there was no Remnant present, her shackles were removed and Tanith was taken to a quiet room for debriefing. She was brought a coffee. She drank it while her stomach rumbled. She waited for whomever they would send.

The door handle rattled and Valkyrie burst in.

“Oh, thank God,” Tanith said, actually laughing. “I was getting worried for a—”

She didn’t get a chance to finish. She didn’t even get a chance to stand up. Valkyrie wrapped her in a hug so tight it was hard to move.

“You’re alive,” Valkyrie whispered.

“You sound surprised.”

Valkyrie hugged her tighter. “I saw you yesterday. You were covering my escape.”

“I helped you?” Tanith said. “Even when I had a Remnant inside me?”

Valkyrie released her and stepped back, smiling. “Even then,” she said.

Valkyrie had changed. She was taller, for a start. Stronger. Tanith had felt it in the hug, and now she saw it in the shoulders.

“You look great,” she said.

“It is so good to have you back.” Valkyrie ignored the chair and sat on the corner of the table.

“I’m going to take your word for that,” said Tanith. “To me, I only saw you a few hours ago. Val, Sanguine said some strange things. I know a lot has happened since I’ve been gone, but some of what he said was pure nuts. He said you were Darquesse.”

Valkyrie took a breath. “He wasn’t lying.”

“But … but then what—?”

Valkyrie half smiled. “Funny. I’ve just had this conversation with Melancholia.”

“Melancholia … The blonde Necromancer? Annoying?”

“Who later became the Death Bringer,” Valkyrie said. “Darquesse was my true name, but I couldn’t handle the power. It took on a life of its own, a personality of its own. Now it has a body of its own – my reflection.”

“You’re … You’re the one all the Sensitives had the nightmares about?”

“I was. Now she is.”

“And Sanguine said I worked for her? For Darquesse?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Valkyrie. “The Remnant in you glimpsed the apocalypse that Darquesse would bring about. You’ve been helping her.”

“And Sanguine was my partner?”

“Is that what he said?”

“He said we even had our own gang at one stage.”

“Yes you did – though partners may be stretching it a bit. He did what you told him.”

“Well, that’s something,” Tanith said. “At least I didn’t let my standards slip too much.”

Valkyrie adjusted her position. “And he didn’t say anything else?”

“Sanguine? No. Were you hoping for something in particular?”

“No,” said Valkyrie. “Never mind. It’s really good to have you back. I’ve missed you.”

“And I’ve missed a lot. Care to fill me in over some food? I’m starving.”

“Yeah,” said Valkyrie. “Yeah, of course. Come on.”

They walked. Valkyrie was hiding something, but Tanith didn’t press it. It was bad news. Whatever it was, it was bad news.

Before they got to the food, Valkyrie’s phone rang. She listened for a moment, her eyes widening. Then she hung up. “Come on,” she said, and took off at a run. Tanith ran alongside her.

They got to a large room filled with thin, mirrored pillars. The perfect place to find someone like China Sorrows. Tanith hung back by the door while Valkyrie ran in, joining China and Skulduggery and a thin, dishevelled man.

“What happened?” Valkyrie asked. “Where’s Ravel? Where’s everyone else?”

“Mr Signate was about to tell us,” China said, turning her gaze on the dishevelled man. “Please continue. You were saying that our plan worked …?”

Signate nodded. “It did. It worked. I mean, first things first. Shunting Ravel to another dimension did break the link to Darquesse, like you thought it would. The pain went away instantly. The look of relief on his face was just … anyway. So, we arrived. It was quiet. The room we’d shunted into was unsuitable for spending any length of time in, so we set up camp on the surface. Ravel was in shackles. We established a perimeter and I’d turned in for the night.”

Tanith didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but from the look of panic on Valkyrie’s face she knew this was bad.

“Then I woke up,” said Signate. “There were people fighting. There were those Cleavers, like you said, the Redhoods, and there were so many of them and there were people in robes and …”

Skulduggery tilted his head. “What happened, Mr Signate?”

“I’m … I’m not a fighter. I’m not a soldier. There was nothing I could do. I ran to an injured Cleaver, one of ours, the only one I could get to, and I shunted us both back here.”

“The Cleaver’s being tended to in the Medical Wing,” said China. “I think we can assume the rest have been killed.”

“What about Ravel?” Valkyrie asked, like it was the only question that mattered.

“I saw him,” said Signate. “Only for a moment, but I saw him. He was running. He may have got away in all the confusion. I’m sorry, I just don’t know.”

China looked at Skulduggery. “Well?”

“We need him back,” Skulduggery said. “The one constant when it comes to Darquesse has been her insistence that Ravel be punished.”

Tanith frowned.
Punished?

“Shunting him out of her clutches has undoubtedly got her attention, but if we want to draw her in, we need him here.”

“More than that,” China said, “Darquesse has a tendency to develop new abilities at a frightening rate. If she learns how to shunt and she goes after Ravel, if she finds him before we do, we’ve lost our only chance to predict where she’ll be.”

“We need to go,” Skulduggery said. “Now.”

“I agree,” said China. “But you have to realise that Mevolent is now aware of our incursion, and he may very well be expecting another visit. If I order—”

“You don’t have to order it,” Skulduggery said. “I volunteer.”

“Me too,” said Valkyrie. Then she hesitated. “Well, if …”

Skulduggery looked at her. “If what?”

“If you want me. There’s probably not a whole lot I’d be able to do.”

He looked back at China. “Then we both volunteer. But us two – no more. A larger group would be easier to detect.”

China nodded. “Agreed. Mr Signate, you will shunt my detectives over and you will facilitate their return trip. Skulduggery, Valkyrie, I would like to tell you to take an hour to prepare, but time is of the essence. If Ravel is on foot, you need to start tracking him down immediately. If Mevolent’s forces have taken him … you’ll need to get him back.”

Skulduggery nodded. “We leave in five minutes.”

Valkyrie hurried over to Tanith.

“What the hell is going on?” Tanith asked when they were out in the corridor again. “Mevolent? He’s dead.”

“Our Mevolent is dead,” said Valkyrie, “but about a year ago we shunted into an alternate reality where he’s very much alive and pretty much ruling the world.”

“And you’re going back there? And what’s this about Ravel? Why does Darquesse want to punish him?”

Valkyrie hesitated.

“What is it?” Tanith asked. “You’re holding something back, something bad, but we don’t have time for that any more. We have minutes before you leave. So just tell me what this terrible thing is that’s happened and get it over with.”

Whatever it was, Tanith’s anger wasn’t going to bring it to the surface any quicker.

Valkyrie licked her lips. “They told me you tried Ghastly’s place before you came here.”

“I did. He wasn’t in.”

“No,” Valkyrie said quietly. “He wasn’t.”

mazingly, Danny falls asleep.

It isn’t easy. The Cadillac’s trunk is smaller than it looks, and it’s cold and uncomfortable and every bump in the road jars his injured shoulder. But after an hour or so he closes his eyes, and only opens them again when the car slows to a crawl. He checks his watch in the red glow of the tail lights. He’s been asleep for nearly two hours.

The car stops, and he can hear muffled voices, and then car doors opening and closing. He stays very quiet, tracking one set of footsteps as they lumber away, and another as they get closer. There’s a loud rattle, and for a moment he doesn’t know what it is, then metal bangs lightly against metal and he knows even before the gurgle and splash sounds that they’re at the pumps of a gas station.

There’s a knock on the lid of the trunk.

“You doing OK in there, Danny my boy?”

Danny frowns. He sincerely doesn’t know how to answer that.

“Danny?” Gant says again. “You OK?”

“I’m fine,” Danny calls. He realises how loud his voice sounds. It takes a moment for the most obvious plan in the world to occur to him, and he starts shouting. “Help! Somebody help me! I’m trapped in here! Call 911!”

He hears Gant’s chuckle. “That’s the spirit. How are the legs? Pretty cramped, I would imagine. And the bladder? I don’t know about you, Danny, but long journeys tend to put a squeeze on things, if you know what I mean. If you want to use the restroom, just let me know.”

“I want to,” Danny says at once.

“You sure? You wouldn’t be saying that in a bold attempt to be let out of the trunk and make your escape, now would you?”

“I need to go,” says Danny. This isn’t a lie. He’s suddenly become aware of the pressure that has built up.

The gurgling stops, and the trunk clicks and lifts. It’s night, and the gas station’s lights fill Danny’s eyes and he gropes blindly about as he sits up. He feels Gant’s long, strong fingers at the ropes that bind him, then they loosen and fall away. Gant helps him clamber awkwardly out of the trunk. Once out, he stays bent over, rubbing his legs to get some feeling back into them. Gant goes back to filling the car.

The road is unlit but the gas station is of a more than modest size. There’s another car at the pumps, a station wagon, and two more in the parking slots. That means people. That means a way out. Danny straightens up.

“Go use the restroom and then come back,” Gant says. “No dilly-dallying.”

Danny nods, and limps stiffly across the forecourt. His left shoulder isn’t as badly injured as he had feared. It hurts like hell and he can barely move it, but the pain has lessened considerably. His leg, though, has improved a lot. He keeps his limp, keeps up the act, but by the time he pushes open the door and enters the gas station, he’s fairly confident he could break into a run if he has to. First place he looks is the counter. Jeremiah Wallow stands there, stuffing a Twinkie into his mouth as he waits for the attendant to come out of the backroom. Jeremiah catches Danny’s eye, puts a finger to his cream-covered lips.

Danny goes to the men’s room. There are two urinals and one stall, and the stall is empty. The window is too high to get to and too small to squeeze through. Danny relieves himself, then goes back to the door, peeks out, and steps into the ladies’ room across the way. It too is empty. Where the hell is everybody?

He goes to the door. How long will Jeremiah wait until he comes looking? Will he come alone, or will he call for Gant? He’ll probably come alone. He’ll wander down, thump his fist against the door of the men’s room, tell Danny to hurry up, and then Danny can spring at him, knock him out with … what, exactly? Danny doesn’t have a weapon. He’s seen a heap of old TV shows where people were knocked out by a swift chop to the back of the head, but he doubts he’ll be able to do that. What then? Will he charge, tackle Jeremiah, bring him to the ground? But what if Jeremiah gets on top? He outweighs Danny by maybe eighty pounds, and Danny has never been much of a wrestler.

No. The more he thinks about it, the less and less it seems like a good idea to choose this place as a battleground. Taking a breath, Danny limps out of the restroom as calmly as he is able.

“You took your time,” Jeremiah says from the counter.

“I’m hungry,” says Danny.

Jeremiah shrugs. “Grab yourself something to eat, then. But I’m not paying for it.”

Danny scans the shelves of quarts of oil and wiper fluid. Nothing sharp, nothing heavy, nothing that can be used as a weapon. He follows the aisle to the sandwiches, and picks two, carries them to the counter.