The Dying of the Light (65 page)

Valkyrie stepped back, out of sight. Her insides were cold. Her thoughts were jagged and awkward, and they fumbled around the options in her head, unable to come up with anything new, with anything better. She was locked on a course and for once she couldn’t think her way out of it.

She heard her parents call her given name. She looked at her hands. Her left hand, wrapped in dirty bandages. Her right, wearing that gauntlet. She frowned, and peered down at herself, her mind suddenly swimming with a tremendous sense of déjà vu.

“I’ve seen this,” she muttered. “I was watching from … there.”

Her eyes fixed on the space beside her. It was empty, save for some swirling dust. But she knew it wasn’t. In Cassandra Pharos’s basement, she was standing there watching this happen with Skulduggery at her side.

“Hi,” she said, because she could think of nothing else to say to her younger self. She remembered hearing the words she was to speak next, and the overpowering sense of guilt that came with them. “This is where it happens, but then you know that, right? At least you think you do. You think this is where I let them die.”

Her dad called her name. They were getting closer.

She remembered what was set to come next, Darquesse waving her hand and her family being consumed by black flames. She shook her head at the image. “I don’t want to see this,” she said. “Please. I don’t want this to happen. Let me stop it. Please let me stop it.”

From her pocket, Valkyrie took the device she’d stolen from the Medical Wing, and looked at it through her tears. “Please work,” she whispered. “Please let me save them.”

She stuffed it back in her pocket, wiped her eyes, and ran out to the middle of the street.

“Steph!” her mum cried, grabbing her and hugging her. Her dad rushed in, embracing them both. Valkyrie fought to free herself.

“Mum, Dad, you have to get out of here.”

“Not without you,” her dad said. “We heard the explosion and we thought … we thought you might have been in the middle of it.”

“I was on the other side of the city,” Valkyrie lied. “You have to go, OK? It’s too dangerous.”

Her mum grabbed Valkyrie’s left arm. “What happened to your hand? Is it broken? Oh my God, Steph, you’re covered in cuts.”

“I’m fine,” Valkyrie said, pulling her arm away.

“We found your friend,” said her dad. “The poor girl.”

Valkyrie looked at him. “Melancholia?”

“She was lying in the street. She … Steph, she’s dead. I’m sorry.”

“I know. She … she didn’t deserve that.”

“Come back with us,” said her mum. “Please, let’s just forget about all this and leave. Stephanie, this is insane. You’re going to get yourself killed. Please, honey, please come back with us.”

“I can’t, Mum. You know I can’t.”

“I don’t know that. You have no reason to stay.”

“I have the only reason to stay. Darquesse is part of me.”

“Steph, please, I’m begging you …”

“Mum. Listen to me. I might be the only person who can stop her. I have to do it. Nothing you say will make me change my mind. I’m doing this for you, and I’m doing this for Alice, and I’m doing this for everyone. Everyone, Mum. If I don’t, they all die.”

Her mother’s face crumpled. “But we can’t stay with you. We have to protect Alice.”

“I know,” Valkyrie said softly. “That’s what I’m counting on you to do.” Bile rose in her throat as she held out her hands. “Let me have her. Just for a minute. I have a charm I can put on her.”

“Like a magic spell? To keep her safe?”

Valkyrie nodded, not trusting her voice.

Her mother passed Alice over. She felt incredibly heavy in her blanket.

“I have to do this alone,” Valkyrie mumbled. “If you’re nearby, it won’t work.”

Her dad wrapped his arm round her mum. “We’ll wait here. Don’t be long.”

Valkyrie turned, hurried away as fast as she could so they wouldn’t see her face.

She turned a corner, found a building still standing and went inside. The living-room table had a bowl of fruit on it. She swept it on to the ground, and put Alice lying in its place.

She stared at her little sister.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

Tears sprang and she sagged against the table. Great racking sobs sent new spirals of pain running through her. She barely noticed.

“Please forgive me. I love you so much, Alice. I love you so much, sweetheart.”

Her face was wet with tears. Her nose ran and spittle flew with every word. Her crying became a roar. She curled her right fist, slammed it against her own head. The edges of the gauntlet drew blood. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough pain. It wasn’t enough suffering. It wasn’t enough punishment. She put her injured left hand flat on the table and slammed her right fist down on to it. She screamed, fell back, curled up on the floor and screamed until her screams became long, anguished wails. A part of her was aware of how pathetic she sounded. This part of her was
glad
she sounded pathetic. She
deserved
to sound pathetic. For what she was about to do she deserved everything bad that was coming to her.

It was only Alice’s crying that brought her back.

She got up, her whole body trembling.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, please don’t cry …”

She didn’t mean to scare you, but hold on, because she’s about to do something much worse.

“Shut up,” said Valkyrie.

Arguing with yourself, eh? First sign of madness, that.

“Shut up, I said.” She leaned over Alice, soothing her cries.

Thought this whole thing was in the past, did you? This little voice in your head? You thought just because Darquesse was gone you were alone in here? Or maybe you thought she left and took all your badness with her.

Seriously?

That’s what you thought?

If she did take all your badness with her, then why the hell are you doing what you’re about to do?

Valkyrie stuffed some leaves in her mouth, chewing quickly, forcing herself to swallow. The pain in her hand lessened. She used her torn, dirty, bloody T-shirt to wipe her eyes and nose.

filthy dirty filthy dirty filthy dirty filthy

She took the Sunburst from her pocket, laid it carefully on the table. Then she took the Sceptre from the bag, and put it beside it.

Tell her you love her. Go on. Tell her.

“I love you,” Valkyrie said.

Hypocrite.

“I love you, Alice. I have never loved anyone as much as I love you. What I’m … what I’m about to do, it … it kills me.”

Yeah?

Not as much as it’s going to kill her.

With her left forefinger – broken and crooked – she pressed down on the sigil on the back of the gauntlet. Gritting her teeth, she dragged her finger clockwise, and the sigil lit up.

Then she held her right hand over Alice’s little body.

She realised she was speaking, repeating
I’m so sorry
so fast it almost became one long word.

She had to do it. She could not think of anything else to do. Darquesse needed to be stopped. Skulduggery’s plan was too uncertain. The Sceptre was the only thing that was guaranteed to work.

So do it. Kill her. Kill your sister.

Alice babbled away in her own private baby language, her bout of crying completely forgotten. She blinked up at Valkyrie and smiled, showing dimples. The most beautiful child in the world. She reached for the gauntlet and Valkyrie snatched her hand away instinctively.

“No touch!” Valkyrie heard herself say.

Somewhere in her mind, she heard mocking laughter.

She lowered her hand again.

“I love you,” she said, and pressed her finger to Alice’s forehead.

There was a
crack
, and her heart lurched as her baby sister went limp. Valkyrie’s mind turned to ice. She almost ripped the gauntlet off without deactivating it. She pressed her broken finger into the sigil until it stopped glowing, then dropped the gauntlet on to the table and grabbed the Sceptre.

Her powers were acting up again. She saw the Sceptre anew. She saw the magic inside it suddenly churn as it recognised its new mistress.

Then she dropped it, grabbed the Sunburst star and pressed it to Alice’s chest.

“Please work please work please work please—”

The star gave a little beep as a pulse went through Alice’s body.

And nothing happened.

“NO!” Valkyrie screamed. “NO! PLEASE!”

She reset it, her hands shaking, the world moving much too fast and much too slow. Reset it and the sigils started lighting up.

Come on. Come on.

You’ve killed her.

Come on. Work. Please.

You’ve killed her.

The star pulsed.

And those beautiful eyes snapped open and Alice let out a wail.

Valkyrie grabbed her, hugging her so, so tight. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, baby, please forgive me, please.”

Alice just cried and cried, scared and hurt, and Valkyrie cried with her, relieved but distraught. She’d killed her sister. No matter what else she did with her life from this moment on, she could never escape the fact that she had knowingly and voluntarily killed her own sister. And she didn’t even have Darquesse to blame it on.

Fighting naked was an extremely liberating experience.

Tanith dodged back, deep into the Combat Circle, her bare feet sure on the ground, and the Black Cleaver came at her again. She blocked his slash and kicked at his leg for the fourth time. He lurched left, kept her at bay with his scythe. She glanced down, saw his swollen knee repair itself. It was still an uneven battle, but it was no longer so weighted against her. One good swipe was all Tanith needed to separate his head from his body, and with this renewed optimism, fresh strength poured into her arms.

She pressed the attack. Now that she could see his face she was no longer in any danger of being gripped by the same kind of fear that had turned her into a clumsy, awkward fighter. His face was unremarkable. His head was shaved, as all Cleavers were. His eyes were dull. His skin was pale. His head, like his body, was an intricate jigsaw of scarring. Tanith had heard that Doctor Nye had put him back together, piece by tiny piece, and it hadn’t been overly concerned about the aesthetic quality of what it was doing.

Tanith’s sword drew a line of black blood across the Cleaver’s chest, adding a new scar to his collection. She hoped he liked it. She batted his blade to one side and slashed again, caught his leg, then went up high, angling for his neck. At the last moment, he snapped his head away and she found herself overextended. He whirled, the snaith taking her feet from under her.

Tanith hit the ground, tried to roll to absorb the impact, but she wasn’t quick enough. He stabbed downwards and she turned over, tried to get up, got a knee in the face. She landed on her ass, stunned, the sword almost slipping from her hand. The Black Cleaver brought the scythe down and she tumbled backwards and immediately cartwheeled to her left. But she was still dizzy, and she wobbled. He could have ended the fight there and then, could have got behind her and killed her before she had a chance to get her bearings, but he kicked out, and instead of getting a blade in the back she got a foot in the ribs.

Breath heaved from her, and something sharp and nasty dug into her side, but at least she wasn’t dead. Not like Sanguine.

Billy-Ray’s face swam into her mind.

What the hell?

She blocked the scythe and tried to reply, but her strength was leaving her again. The Cleaver was relentless, and he drove her back. He broke through her defence, cut her. It was a shallow wound across her arm and she barely felt it, but it was there. And blood called to blood, and one wound led to another, and within moments her right leg was bleeding.

She limped sideways, holding her sword in one hand. The Black Cleaver moved parallel with her, then came forward. At first, Tanith didn’t think anything of it – she was getting too tired to think at all – but then she noticed that he had come up against the edge of the Combat Circle. That’s why he hadn’t gone for the killing blow. The first rule of the Combat Circle was no clothes, no armour. The second rule was that nobody leaves until the victor stands over the vanquished.

The Black Cleaver’s training had allowed her the chance to even the playing field. Now it seemed like it would allow her the chance to win – providing she was willing to cheat.

Which, of course, she was.

She got both hands back on the sword, and met his attack with a parry and a thrust and she moved right, as quick as her injured legs would let her. She started to follow the curve of the circle, and he anticipated the move and went to close off her retreat.

And then she cheated.

She stepped sideways, out of the circle, went low and spun, her sword slicing through the Cleaver’s knee.

He fell awkwardly and she slashed upwards, taking the fingers from his right hand. She didn’t stop there, though. She took his left hand off at the wrist, noting the black blood that leaked from the stump as his scythe fell. He rolled backwards, giving himself space. She was fairly sure he wasn’t going to be able to kick her to death, but she didn’t intend to put that theory to the test. She closed in, cutting off his avenues of escape, and he backed up, his bare feet on the edge of the circle.

She smiled at him. “I like your shoes.”

He looked at her strangely.

Then he launched himself at her and she swung. She was aiming for his neck, but her foot slipped in all that blood and so her blade carved his skull in two instead. His body fell to the ground, suddenly graceless.

She took off the rest of his head, and then went to gather up her clothes.

If the world was about to end, she might as well be dressed for the occasion.

Alice finally stopped crying, and Valkyrie carried her back to her parents. But as she neared, there was a deep, low rumble and the building beside them, weakened by the explosion, started to lean sideways. Valkyrie yelled out a warning that was swallowed by the noise, but saw her dad grab her mum’s hand and break into a sprint as the building fell around them.