Valkyrie shook her head. “You’ve got some warped ideas of right and wrong, you know that? So you come running to us to clean up the mess you made? Why don’t you guys handle it?”
“Because I’m the only one who can see the truth. The others, there aren’t many but there are enough, have been blinded by Craven’s words. I tried to take care of it without you, but my little assassination attempt didn’t work out too well.”
“Then where is she?” Skulduggery asked.
Wreath smiled. “Not yet. First, you get the Council to agree to my terms.”
“There are no terms, Solomon. Tell us where she is.”
“I want my attack on Valkyrie and my involvement in events so far forgiven and forgotten.”
Skulduggery took his hat from his knee and uncrossed his legs as he sat forward. “You were planning the murder of three billion people.”
Wreath nodded. “And I’d like that to be forgotten about, please.”
“What do you think will come of this? We know what the Passage is now. Everyone does. You think it’s going to go back to normal, with Necromancers left alone to scheme and plot? Temples are going to be torn down all over the world. It’s over for all of you.”
“Not necessarily. I think it’s still possible to blame this whole thing on one man.”
Skulduggery tilted his head. “Craven.”
“His mad ramblings have led to this,” Wreath said, displaying an impressive air of sadness. “He wilfully misinterpreted our sacred teachings. He warped what the Passage is truly about. Can we be held responsible for the actions of a madman? A fanatic?”
“You really think that act is going to work?” Valkyrie asked, frowning.
Wreath smiled up at her. “Why not? Everything that man has done reinforces what I’ve just said. He experimented on poor Melancholia. Brainwashed the poor girl. His insane ambition drove him to murder our kind and gentle High Priest, Auron Tenebrae. Tenebrae would never have condoned the actions he’s taken. But Vandameer Craven is unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. He is magnetic. He makes you want to follow him into destruction and madness. I am ashamed to say that I, too, was under the spell of his fervour, his faith, and his charisma.”
Valkyrie blinked. “Charisma?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you think that’s stretching it a little too far?”
“Do you think so?”
“Some people will have met him.”
“Hmm. You have a point. OK, then maybe not charisma. I’ll think of some other lie. It’ll be fine. The point is, yes, the Temple here in Ireland will be tarnished. It will probably be torn down, and Necromancy banned. But it will survive in the rest of the world, so long as Melancholia isn’t allowed to start killing people. Get the Council to agree to my terms, and I’ll tell you where they are. I’ll even take you there.”
Chapter 40
The End of the Death Bringer
nce Erskine Ravel, with great reluctance, granted him amnesty, Wreath took Skulduggery and Valkyrie into the grounds of an abandoned Retirement Home, then nodded across to the main building. “In there,” he said. “I hope you still have your Teleporter, because the only way you’re going to catch them by surprise is if you manage to skip all the defences they’ve built up around them.”
Valkyrie frowned. “They’re here?”
“Next to graveyards and hospitals, Old Folks’ Homes are great places to absorb a whole lot of death. This one, however, hasn’t seen any activity in over twenty years. It’s kind of flat, as these things go. But beggars can’t be choosers, and Craven is most definitely a beggar right now.”
“How many are in there?” Skulduggery asked.
“Not counting Craven, Melancholia and the White Cleaver, thirty-three. But they aren’t experienced. They’ve spent most of their adult lives in one Temple or another. They’ll put up a fight, but it won’t be a good one, so I’d consider it a personal favour if you don’t kill every last one of them.”
Skulduggery turned to him. “What makes you think we’re inclined to do you any favours?”
“I don’t know. Naivety?”
“Why don’t you want them dead?” Valkyrie asked.
Wreath shrugged. “They’re scared and confused and they’re a little dim, to be honest. But they don’t all deserve to die, not if they don’t have to. Craven absolutely deserves it. Melancholia, it’d be safer for everyone if she stopped breathing. But the others…”
“They’re harmless?”
“Well,” Wreath said, managing a smile, “maybe not harmless, but certainly misguided. They’re my brothers and sisters. Granted, not the type of brothers or sisters that you actually like, but even so, I’d hate to see them die for nothing.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Skulduggery said. “How long can we expect them to stay here?”
“Oh, they’re not going anywhere. Apart from the fact that they have no other back-up available to them, this is where Melancholia will try to usher in the Passage.”
Skulduggery’s voice turned sharp. “Tonight?”
“Yes indeed. I don’t know what Craven is thinking, because Melancholia will be much more powerful tomorrow night. Maybe he anticipates your interference, and he wants to get it all out of the way as soon as possible.”
Valkyrie ducked back. “I saw someone at the window. They’re in there, all right.”
“Then my work here is done,” Wreath said. “I wish you both the best of luck, and I have faith that you will foil their evil plans and save the day. Skulduggery, it’s been a pleasure as always. Valkyrie, once Melancholia falls, there’s going to be an opening in the Death Bringer department, so if you ever want to continue your training with me…”
“Don’t hold your breath,” she said sourly.
Wreath smiled, the shadows curled around him, and he was gone. Valkyrie looked at Skulduggery. “Another raid on a Necromancer stronghold?”
“It would appear so,” he said. “Although this is less a stronghold than a Retirement Home, but your point is well made. Still, I have a feeling this one is going to go much quicker than the raid on the Temple, so long as…”
“So long as we have Fletcher with us.”
“Yes. I am sorry, Valkyrie, but we do need his help.”
“Don’t apologise,” she said. “Just don’t ask me to call him. I doubt he’d pick up.”
An hour later, Valkyrie was in a closed-down old factory ten miles from the Retirement Home. She nodded to two young women she knew, Kallista Pendragon and Rosella Ember. They were new to the Sanctuary, brought in as part of the effort to refill the ranks. There were a lot of new faces around, now that Valkyrie looked. The turnover rate for Sanctuary operatives had been getting pretty high in the past few years.
She saw Fletcher talking to Skulduggery. He glanced up, their eyes locked and her heart lurched, then he looked away again and she felt terrible. She stayed well away, letting Skulduggery brief him on what they needed to do. It was to be a two-man incursion – Skulduggery and Fletcher – sneaking into the Home in order to check out the layout and the opposition. Once Melancholia was located, Fletcher would teleport them both out, everyone else would link up and they’d all teleport back in – hopefully, for a surprise attack.
When Skulduggery had told her that it was to be only Fletcher and himself, Valkyrie hadn’t argued. Her insides wrenched every time she remembered the look on Fletcher’s face, and the last thing she wanted to do was make her ex-boyfriend hurt even more.
When they were ready, Skulduggery and Fletcher vanished, and Valkyrie waited with all the others. She didn’t like waiting. It annoyed her. Irritation added to the butterflies in her stomach. Ghastly came over, nodded to her, let a few moments slide by before speaking.
“So,” he said, “I heard you two broke up.”
“I suppose we did.”
Ghastly nodded. He had a look on his face like he wanted to ask something, but didn’t want to actually utter the words.
&nb
sp; She frowned. “Fletcher talked to you, didn’t he?”
“He didn’t have anyone else he could go to,” Ghastly confessed. “He’s upset.”
“I know.”
“He cares for you a great deal.”
“And I care for him,” she said, surprising herself with how defensive she suddenly sounded. “Why does nobody understand that you can still care for someone and not want to see them at the same time? It’s not like I suddenly can’t stand him or anything.”
“Then why did you break up?”
“I just didn’t want that kind of relationship any more. It’s hard to explain.”
“He thinks it’s something to do with the vampire.”
Valkyrie hesitated. “How much did he tell you?”
“He said you’re with a vampire now.”
She groaned. “OK, first of all, he shouldn’t have said that. Second, it’s not even true, not really. Third, you and me? We’re not talking about it.”
“Vampires are dangerous, Valkyrie. They’re monsters, pure and simple. I’m surprised Skulduggery is allowing it to continue.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Skulduggery doesn’t have a say in it, and neither do you, and neither does Fletcher. It’s no one’s business but my own.”
“I’m just looking out for you.”
“I know. It’s appreciated. Up to a point.”
Ghastly nodded. “Can I ask a question, though? The last one, I promise.”
“Sure.”
“Did you take Fletcher for granted?”
Valkyrie was quiet for a moment. “I suppose I did. I knew he’d always be there for me so, like… where was the challenge?”
Ghastly nodded. “That’s what he figured.”
“Do you think he’ll be OK?”
“Of course he will. Just give him time.”
“How much time? I want us to be friends. You can’t spend all that time together and then all of a sudden not care if you never see that person again. I miss him already, you know? I don’t want to get back with him, but I miss him.”
“All you can do is wait, Valkyrie.”
“I hate waiting.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Ten minutes later, Fletcher and Skulduggery were back.
“OK,” Skulduggery said. “Most of the Necromancers are in a large, open room, so that’s where we’ll be teleporting. Very little furniture, very little cover. We’ll be dealing with thirty-five Necromancers, plus Melancholia, who will be on a raised stage directly in front of us when we arrive. You leave Melancholia to us. You stay away from the White Cleaver. Your job is to keep the rest of the Necromancers off our backs. Our aim here is to subdue Melancholia and teleport her out.”
“Subdue?” asked Kallista.
“We’re trying to take her alive.”
The collected sorcerers frowned.
“Not to be a pain,” said Rosella, “but wouldn’t it be easier to just kill her?”
Kallista nodded. “More fun, too.”
“It might come to that,” Skulduggery said, “but we’re not a death squad. We’ve issued a warrant for her arrest, and so we want to arrest her. It’s really that simple. Everyone clear? Then link up.”
They formed three rows and linked arms, Skulduggery standing between Valkyrie and Fletcher. At Skulduggery’s command, the factory became the Retirement Home. Big windows, lots of sunshine and open space, floors that may have once been used for ballroom dancing. One Necromancer saw them and the others turned, shouting, cursing, throwing shadows. Valkyrie saw Craven with his eyes wide, grabbing the White Cleaver and holding him as a shield. Behind Craven, Melancholia stood on the stage in a black cloak, the hood up and covering her scars.
Skulduggery’s arm encircled Valkyrie’s waist and they lifted into the air while the invading force engaged the Necromancers. Three of the Necromancers sent shadows up to intercept their flight, like missiles speeding towards a jet fighter. Skulduggery cursed, throwing Valkyrie forward a millisecond before the shadows hit him. She used the air to spur her on, over the heads of the others. Melancholia looked up, snarled at her, and then they crashed together and went down.
Valkyrie was the first to her feet, and she hauled Melancholia up and threw her against the wall. Melancholia whipped her hand at her but Valkyrie knocked it away, stepped in and crunched an elbow into her chin. Melancholia staggered, her eyes wide but unfocused. Valkyrie pressed the attack. To hesitate would be to allow her enemy to stir the shadows into a storm and rip her apart, just like she had done on the cliff top in Haggard. Valkyrie hit her again and Melancholia howled in pain.
“Leave her alone!”
Valkyrie turned, saw the fighting behind her, saw Skulduggery and the White Cleaver go at it, saw Craven staggering towards her with a bloody nose. “Leave her alone!” he screeched again, hurling sharpened shadows.
Valkyrie threw herself down and the shadows missed and continued past her. Melancholia wasn’t fast enough to dodge them. They cut through her flesh, shearing her from left shoulder to right hip.
She gave a small gasp as her body came apart.
Valkyrie stared as the two halves of Melancholia collapsed on to the stage. She was aware of the sounds of battle, of grunts and yells and cries, and she was aware of Craven’s screaming. Melancholia’s face was turned towards her. All those small scars on that pale face, the lips that used to sneer at her now parted slightly, the eyes that used to glare at her now blank and staring sightlessly.
Craven rushed by, completely forgetting Valkyrie was even there. He fell to his knees, ranting and raving, screeching obscenities, howling like a wounded animal.
The sounds of fighting died. The Necromancers stood there, horrified looks on their faces.
The White Cleaver leaped on to the stage, and shadows curled from the amulet around Craven’s neck, wrapped them both in darkness with the remains of Melancholia, and then they were gone. Up and down the room, Necromancers were suddenly shadow-walking away, only the unconscious and those restrained by Valkyrie’s colleagues remaining.
Bony hands picked her up, and Skulduggery led her off the stage. No one spoke.
Valkyrie sat on the concrete step of the Retirement Home, watching the sorcerers and the Cleavers depart. Skulduggery sat beside her. “Are you OK?”
She exhaled. “I don’t know. I suppose so. I’m not the one who got chopped in half. And she would have killed me if she’d had the chance, so that stops me from actually, you know, feeling sad about it.”
“But you still didn’t want her to die.”
“No. Of course not. She wasn’t like Vengeous or Serpine. She was…”
“Like you.”
She scowled at him. “She wasn’t a bit like me. She was an idiot. And smug. God, she was always so smug and condescending. But still… she was only a few years older. She never even got the chance to realise what an annoying little twerp she was being.”
“Life isn’t fair,” said Skulduggery. “In my experience, death isn’t so different.”
“What do you think Craven will do now?”
“Panic, presumably. This was his one power play. This was his big moment. I doubt he even had a back-up plan. He got away with seventeen Necromancers. Maybe they’re scattered, maybe they’re together, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. We’re going to round them all up before they slip out of the country.”
Valkyrie sighed. “Can’t we leave that to someone else? What’s the point of being part of the Sanctuary if we can’t assign some of the rubbish jobs to other people?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“So that’s it? We’re done?”
“The Death Bringer is dead, the crisis is averted… It would seem like we have triumphed once again.”
“Yay us,” Valkyrie said, and stretched. “I’m tired.”
“Fletcher’s hanging around inside. He could take you home.”
“I’d prefer the drive, actually.”
“Is it because of the scintillatin
g conversation?”
“That must be it.”
“This wasn’t the ending we wanted,” Skulduggery said.
“No it wasn’t,” replied Valkyrie. “It was the ending we got, though.”
“Yes it was.”
Chapter 41
Home Sweet Home
aturday morning came and went, and Valkyrie slept through most of it. When she woke, she just lay there, looking up at the ceiling. She thought about Melancholia, and Wreath, and Moore, and about Fletcher and Caelan. All of it jumbled together this past week, becoming mixed up and messed up, one thing after another. She hadn’t had time to really dwell on recent events. That might have been a good thing.
She crawled out of bed, showered and dressed, went downstairs. Her parents were heading out that afternoon, but when she walked into the living room, her father was leaning over the basket, prodding Alice with his finger. “Hello, small person,” he said.
“Desmond,” her mum said from the couch, “don’t poke the baby.”
Her dad stopped, looked guilty, then leaned closer. “You may have won this round,” he whispered, “but I will have my—”
“And don’t threaten the baby, either.”
“I wasn’t,” he said, straightening up immediately.
“Just leave her alone. You’re annoying her.”
“I’m not annoying her. She doesn’t even know enough to be annoyed. She’s, what, a week old?”
“She’s three months.”
“She’s three months in our years, but how old is she in baby years?”
“Come away from her. Steph, could you pick her up? It’s time for her feed.”
Valkyrie went to the baby while her dad frowned.
“Why didn’t you ask me to pick her up? I was standing right there. Don’t you trust me? That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t trust me.”
“I do trust you,” her mum said. “I just don’t trust you a lot. Stephanie has safe hands.”
“You want to see safe hands?” her dad asked. He went to the fruit bowl on the side table, took two apples and proceeded to juggle them. “See? Safe as anything.”