The Dying of the Light (49 page)

They take a long, wide turn, then brake, coming to a skidding, sliding stop, and the engine cuts out and the door opens and Danny hears the woman grunt. Something thuds heavily on to a crackling surface. Twigs. The ground is covered in twigs and old leaves and Gant and the woman are rolling around on it. The woman struggles fiercely. Gant curses. There’s a burst of snapping branches and trampled undergrowth and another thud, and Jeremiah’s heavy panting is added to the mix.

“Let go of me!” the woman shouts. “Let go! Let—”

There’s a gunshot.

Danny lies in the darkness, listening to Jeremiah getting his breath back while Gant mutters to himself. After a minute, Jeremiah gets to his feet with great effort. He sighs a few more times, grunts, and Danny hears something being dragged, getting closer. It moves round the car to the trunk. A rattle of keys.

The trunk opens and Danny shields his eyes. He hears Jeremiah’s cry of disgust as the smell hits him, and then Gant is saying something and Danny finally looks up.

“No!” says Danny, but Jeremiah drops the woman’s body on top of him and slams the trunk shut.

Danny screams, shrinking back from the tangle of limbs and long hair, trying to push the body away, but his hands are suddenly wet with something warm and sticky. There’s a new smell in the trunk now, the coppery smell of blood.

“That’s what you get,” says Gant from outside. “That’s what you get.”

Danny wants to scream and scream, but he locks it down, he keeps the screams clamped inside his chest, and he breathes fast and shallow. He can smell the woman’s coconut shampoo.

Car doors close, and the engine starts, and the Cadillac reverses into a three-point turn and heads back the way it’s come at a gentle pace.

When they get to the road, they stop, and Jeremiah comes round and opens the trunk again. His face is red from exertion. Dribbles of sweat run from his forehead. Glaring at Danny, he takes hold of the woman’s torso and hauls her out. He lets the body fall at his feet, and looks in at Danny, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

Then he closes the trunk.

inally, the pain went away.

They ran a few more tests, then OK’d her release. She eased herself out of bed, her joints aching, and dressed slowly. She was zipping up her jacket when Skulduggery stopped by.

“Clarabelle tells me I’ve had the Surge,” said Valkyrie.

“We’ve all gone through it,” he responded. “It’s not nice, but it’s necessary. And at least you have magic again. How do you feel?”

“Tired. Sore. But most of all … different. I can feel the magic inside me, but it’s not like it was. And I don’t feel the air like I used to. I don’t think I’m an Elemental any more.” Valkyrie clicked her fingers. No sparks flew.

“They have a Nye over there,” she said, carrying on clicking. “It’s a professor. Still skulking around in the shadows. While you were being held by Mevolent, I was delivered into its delightful hands. After a few tests, it came up with a theory. When Darquesse was pulled out of me, I was left as an empty vessel. The Surge filled me back up but … with what?”

“Magic.”

She stopped clicking. “But what kind? Nye said there could be all these different kinds of magic that even sorcerers don’t know about.”

“That’s true,” Skulduggery said. She joined him as he walked from the Medical Wing. “I’ve come across a few such examples. So have you, for that matter. The Jitter Girls. We have no explanation for them at all. We don’t know how or why they exist. They just do. I don’t know how you’re going to turn out. You don’t have a true name any more, Valkyrie. You’re not bound by our rules. The magic that’s within you right now has come directly from the so-called source, with no filtration.”

“I could turn into a Jitter Girl?”

“Unlikely. From what we do know of the Jitter Girls, some very specific circumstances led to their present condition. You’re probably closer to Warlocks and witches than you are to sorcerers right now. Put a smile on that face, Valkyrie. You’re unique. Easily as unique as I am.”

“Two freaks in a pod, eh?”

His head tilted, amused. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” They walked on through the glorious corridors. This one had flowers and plants growing from the walls in bursts of vibrant colour. “Fletcher’s back,” he said.

“Is he OK?”

Skulduggery hesitated. “Yes. I think. He apologised, said he just had to get away. I don’t think anyone holds it against him. How do you think he’ll cope with Darquesse?”

“What do you mean?”

“His judgement. Will it be clouded?”

“By anger, you mean? I don’t think so. Fletcher’s not really a revenge type of guy. He’ll do all he can to help, but he’s not going to do anything stupid. No more stupid than usual anyway.”

“Good. We’ll be depending on him.”

“He won’t let us down,” she said, and then smiled. “I’m really going to miss this, you know.”

“Miss what?”

“This.” Valkyrie waved at their surroundings. “Plans and missions and briefings. You and me. If we all die, I’m really going to miss this.”

“If we all die,” Skulduggery said, “you’re not really going to miss much of anything. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And is there anything in particular that
you’re
going to miss?”

“Do you have anything particular in mind?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Valkyrie, standing in his way to make him stop. “Maybe
someone
in particular? Maybe someone in particular who’s standing very close to you at this very moment in time?”

“The plant?”

“No, not the plant. I said some
one
.”

“And it’s not the plant?”

“I know who you’re going to miss most. It’s OK to admit it.”

He stepped round her, and continued on. “That’s nice.”

She caught up. “Seriously? After all this time, you’re not going to give me this little piece of honesty? After all we’ve meant to each other?”

“You mean after all I’ve meant to you.”

“I’ve meant just as much to you as you have to me.”

“Debatable.”

“Please just admit it,” said Valkyrie. “You’re going to miss me, aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” said Skulduggery.

“Thank you.”

“Like a drowning man misses the land.”

“Awww …”

“Like a hesitant man misses the chance.”

“Yeah …”

“Like an oblivious man misses the point.”

“I have a feeling you’re mocking me somehow, but I can’t put my finger on how.”

They entered the Room of Prisms. China sat on her throne, sorting through a sheaf of papers. Saracen, Donegan and Gracious were talking with Fletcher and Tanith. To one side stood Solomon Wreath and Melancholia St Clair. To the other, Dusk.

“Woah,” said Valkyrie.

Dusk looked at her, the scar she had given him reflected in a thousand tiny mirrors. “I bear you no ill will,” he said.

She blinked. “Right. OK.”

Skulduggery looked up at China. “Reading anything interesting?”

“Preliminary reports following our raid on the Church of the Faceless,” China said, putting down the papers. “Finding a lot of names mentioned – possible worshippers we never knew about. Gettamein, Verdant, even your new friend Keir Tanner, the prison warden.”

“He liked me,” Skulduggery said. “I could tell.”

China stood. “All right, then. Before we begin, I think we’re all glad to see Valkyrie back on her feet, and we appreciate Fletcher being here after what happened. Tanith has also rejoined us.”

Tanith smiled. “It’s nice to be loved.”

China ignored her. “First of all, what is our current situation as regards the Remnants?”

“We’ve lost them,” Saracen said grimly. “Any chance we had of tracking them down vanished when they took Dexter.”

“The moment they make trouble, though, we’ll know about it,” Donegan said. “So far, and this is both fortunate and worrying, there hasn’t been a peep.”

China nodded. “Focus your efforts here. Darquesse is our only concern from this moment on. How are we on that front?”

“Erskine Ravel is staying in the circle,” said Skulduggery. “Darquesse hasn’t smashed down the door, so I think we can assume it’s doing an adequate job of hiding him from her senses.”

“So we have our bait once again. How fares the trap?”

“That bit’s trickier.”

“I’m sure.”

“Darquesse doesn’t have an obvious weakness as far as we can see,” Skulduggery said. “Like anything, if we hit her enough times, she’ll eventually die, but the question then becomes what shall we hit her with?”

“Dear Liza,” Gracious mumbled.

“The weapon Mevolent used,” China said. “That had an effect on her, yes?”

“It drained her power for a few seconds at a time,” said Valkyrie. “But we have no idea how it worked.”

“Magical technology has been flourishing in that reality for the last two hundred years,” Skulduggery added. “They’re far more advanced than we are. We’ve no hope of replicating the magic-sucker.”

China’s lip curled. “That’s what we’re calling it?”

Valkyrie nodded. “That’s the technical term.”

“What about the Sensitives? Have they seen anything new?”

“I’ve just spoken with Cassandra,” said Saracen. “They’ve been having the same dreams and visions. Details change all the time, but the result is always the same. Death and destruction.”

China sat back down. “I want you all to understand something. I’ve been doing this job for a little over a month, and I like people doing what I tell them. It’s fun. And I don’t want the world ending just when I’m having fun.

“We use Erskine Ravel to lure Darquesse here. Once she’s here, we engage her in combat. We throw everything we have at her – sorcerers, Cleavers … Dusk and his Exiled will be a part of our strategy, as, of course, will the God-Killer weapons. If they take care of the problem, wonderful. We can all go home early. But our main objective is to keep Darquesse busy. Keep her distracted. Valkyrie … this means you will more than likely encounter her on a one-to-one basis.”

Valkyrie nodded.

China sighed. “Which means you’ll probably need something to fight her with.”

“I have magic again.”

“But it hasn’t manifested, has it? You feel it, but you don’t know what it is. You might discover you possess the magical ability to talk to goldfish. Your magic might manifest as an offensive ability, or it may not. But you need
something
.”

She nodded to someone out of sight and Tipstaff appeared from nowhere, holding out the Deathtouch Gauntlet for Valkyrie to take.

She glared. “I’m not wearing that.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist,” said China.

“What good is it going to do me?” Valkyrie said. “I’d need to get right up close to Darquesse to use it, and she’d kill me with a slap.”

“I may have something to offer in that department,” said Solomon Wreath.

China looked at him. “Go on.”

“Twelve hundred years ago, the highest Clerics of the Necromancy Order got together and constructed a sigil which bestows upon its user incredible strength and complete and utter invulnerability. Are you aware of this sigil, Grand Mage?”

“Of course,” said China. “The Meryyn Sigil – elegant and intricate, its beauty is marred only by the simple fact that it doesn’t work.”

“They were Necromancers,” Wreath smiled. “You really think they’d let one of their secrets out without keeping something back? Physical activation is necessary in order for the sigil to start working. But the High Clerics, in their wisdom, decided that strength and invulnerability were gifts to be used only by those who had proved themselves worthy Necromancers – sorcerers who have mastered death. They thought the future would be full of such people.”

“How many have there been?” Valkyrie asked.

“In the last twelve hundred years?” Wreath said. “None.”

“And how does this help us?” asked Saracen.

“It doesn’t help us,” said Wreath. “It helps Valkyrie.”

“Wait,” she said. “When you say sigil … you mean a tattoo, don’t you? No. I had one in the vision and I was wearing that gauntlet and there’s no way I’m using either of them. No way.”

“You might have to,” said China.

All Valkyrie’s old objections reared up, but one by one the arguments against them knocked them down before she had a chance to utter a word. Not wearing the gauntlet, not having the sigil … there was no guarantee that would be enough to save her family. In fact, without them, her family could even die that bit sooner.

“It doesn’t even matter,” Valkyrie said. “It’s activated by someone who’s mastered death, right? Well, that’s not me.”

“No,” said Wreath, “but there’s no rule that says the person who wears the sigil has to activate it. You can, for instance, send someone else to activate it. And if anyone here can be said to have mastered death, it’s Detective Pleasant.”

Skulduggery tilted his head. “What is involved in this activation?”

“I don’t actually know,” said Wreath. “There are three tests you’ll have to pass. I’m sure they’ll be no problem for you.”

“Where do I take these tests?”

“Meryyn ta Uul. Also known as the Necropolis, the City of the Dead, the City Beneath … I can take you there, if you’d like. Valkyrie stays where it’s safe, you pass the tests, activate the sigil, and suddenly she’s invulnerable.”