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Death Bringer
“Then they’ll stay here in the Antechamber. They’re practically already outside.” Wreath’s good humour faded for a moment. “Now go away.”
The guards dispersed, and Oblivious swallowed thickly and backed off.
“Sorry about that,” Wreath said, turning to them.
“Quite all right,” Skulduggery responded.
Wreath smiled. “I wasn’t talking to you. Valkyrie, I wanted to speak to you before this, I really did, but things have been hectic here, and—”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, shrugging. “Melancholia gets to save the world. That’s cool. Saves me from having to do it, right?”
“Still, I should have been the one to tell you. No one was more surprised than I when Craven brought her forward as the Death Bringer. But we’ve run some preliminary tests on her powers and they exceed anything we’ve ever seen, so she certainly qualifies. I’m not sure how it happened, it defies explanation, but … well. It happened.”
“Really, Solomon, it’s OK. You’re not going to ask for the ring back though, are you?”
Wreath smiled. “No. Just because you’re not the Death Bringer doesn’t mean you won’t make a powerful Necromancer.”
“But if this Passage thing happens, and I’m not trying to mock your beliefs or anything, won’t we be living in a paradise?”
“Am I to take it that you don’t yet believe the world is about to change?”
“Sorry. It’s just kind of hard to imagine. Again, it’s your belief and I don’t want to offend you …”
Wreath smiled. “You could never offend me.”
“I bet I could,” said Skulduggery. “Solomon, we want to talk to you about a friend of yours we ran into yesterday. Absolutely charming fellow – bald, he was, with a terrible goatee. He set the Jitter Girls on us while he made his escape.”
“That’s dreadful,” Wreath said. “But I’m afraid it doesn’t ring any bells. Anything else? Any other distinguishing marks or specific traits?”
“He was killing an old woman because she knew something about the Passage, and a few days earlier he’d killed a homeless man for the same reason,” Skulduggery said. “Is that specific enough for you?”
“That all sounds terrible,” Wreath said. “And yet, again, no bells are ringing.”
“Solomon,” Valkyrie said, “come on. He was a Necromancer. He was one of you.”
“That doesn’t mean I know anything about what he was doing.”
“But you do know him, yes?”
He looked at her. “Bald, with a goatee? I might.”
“The people he killed were of no threat to anyone. Paul Lynch was a Sensitive with a history of mental health problems. The only person who was ever going to listen to him was the old lady who was killed next.”
Wreath nodded. “It does seem quite … excessive.”
“What’s the bald man’s name?” Valkyrie asked.
Wreath sighed. “Dragonclaw.”
She frowned. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“That’s a ridiculous name.”
“We are quite aware of how ridiculous it is, thank you. He’s used for black ops, but not very often. He tends to … go too far. Using the Jitter Girls as a delaying tactic is a perfect example of this.”
“And you know nothing about it?” Skulduggery asked.
“Not a thing,” Wreath said. “I’ve been busy lately, in case you haven’t noticed. I was ready to take Valkyrie to the next stage of her training – but now it seems as if Melancholia will be taking up everyone’s time. Joy of joys.”
Valkyrie heard the main door open again as someone else entered the Temple. She heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
“So when might we get to experience this wonderful and world-changing Passage?” Skulduggery asked.
“Soon enough,” Wreath said. “Don’t you worry about it.”
“We heard we had until Sunday. Would that be about right?”
Wreath did an impressive job of keeping the frown off his face. “Where did you hear that?”
“So it is Sunday, then.”
Wreath scowled. “Maybe. By our calculations, Sunday would seem to be the best time to attempt it. Whether or not things work out the way we’d like remains to be seen.”
“On Sunday the world changes.”
“On Sunday the world is saved.”
“Yes,” Skulduggery said, “well, we’ll see about that.”
They turned, saw Dragonclaw coming down the steps. He caught sight of them and froze.
“Some people here to see you,” Wreath called lazily, and Dragonclaw spun on the step and ran back the way he had come.
Skulduggery bolted after him, Valkyrie at his heels. They ran up the steps and burst out into the open air to see Dragonclaw sprinting for the gate. He had a dagger in his hand, and with it he drew in the lengthening shadows and flicked them behind him. Skulduggery went right, Valkyrie went left, and the shadows passed harmlessly between them. Dragonclaw waved the dagger in a circle, surrounding himself with darkness, and vanished.
Skulduggery didn’t stop running. “He can’t shadow-walk far,” he said. “He’s still in the area.”
A car sped by on the road outside the cemetery, Dragonclaw at the wheel.
They ran for the Bentley. Valkyrie had barely buckled her seatbelt when Skulduggery jammed his foot on the accelerator and they shot forward. They got to the end of the road and turned, taking the corner so tight it was like the Bentley was on rails. Dragonclaw’s car, a black Hyundai, appeared through the windscreen. It overtook a van and swerved dangerously. The Bentley was gaining fast.
The Hyundai left the road, spinning its wheels as it slid sideways, and then took off down a narrow lane, careening from wall to wall. Skulduggery braked, changed gears, swung smoothly into the lane in pursuit. The walls whipped by on either side and Valkyrie cringed, expecting the wing mirrors to be snapped off. Skulduggery, of course, would never allow that to happen.
Dragonclaw wasn’t as skilful. The Hyundai hit a broken pallet that had been discarded in a pile of rubbish and it jumped slightly, its left side screeching against the wall. He pulled away too sharply and hit the right wall, jamming the Hyundai the width of the lane. As the Bentley braked, Valkyrie could see Dragonclaw clambering over the seat and tumbling out of the car on the far side.
She got out, Skulduggery already moving for the Hyundai. They both used the air to jump the ruined car, but when they landed on the other side, Dragonclaw was gone. Valkyrie started to run, but Skulduggery reached out, grabbed her arm.
“He must have known we’d go to the Temple,” Skulduggery said. She realised he had his gun in his hand. “He must have taken into account the chance that we’d find him.”
Valkyrie frowned. “You think this is a trap?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “but I try not to underestimate my opponents, no matter how ridiculous their beards.”
A man walked into the lane from the other end. Valkyrie tensed. He walked towards them slowly, taking his time. Wary of distractions, Valkyrie splayed her left hand, doing her best to read the air. If someone dropped from the buildings above, hopefully she’d notice the disruption to the air currents before they landed on her head.
The man walked closer. He wore a frayed coat and old, ill-fitting clothes. He was unshaven, and needed a haircut. He was holding something – a photograph. When he was twenty paces away, he stopped, examined the photo, then looked up.
“Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain,” he said. His accent was thick, Eastern European, and he sounded bored. “I’ve been paid to kill you.” He put the photograph away.
“Interesting,” Skulduggery said. “Does it make any difference, the fact that I’m pointing a gun at you?”
The man shrugged.
“He doesn’t seem worried,” Valkyrie murmured.
“That’s never a good sign,” Skulduggery murmured back. He spoke louder. “We have no quarrel with you. We just want the man who hired you – we want Dragonclaw.”
“It doesn’t matter if you have a quarrel with me or not,” the man replied, raising his hand. “I’m going to kill you both.”
“Happy to disappoint,” Skulduggery said, and pulled the trigger.
The bullet hit the man in the neck, opening up a wound from which burst dazzling yellow light. He clamped a hand over the wound, shutting off the glare, and when he removed it, the bullet hole had sealed.
“You’re a Warlock,” Skulduggery said. “I thought your kind were extinct.”
For the first time, the man smiled. “Almost. Not quite. We’re growing stronger every day.”
“What are you doing here? You’re a mercenary now, is that it? Being paid to kill people?”
“This is a special favour,” the Warlock replied. “When it is over, when I am told my services are no longer required, I will return home.”
“What are you getting out of this? What is Dragonclaw doing for you in return? Or maybe it’s not Dragonclaw. Maybe it’s the Necromancers as a whole. What do they want?”
“I can’t see the point of telling you, seeing as how you will be dead soon.”
“What do you know of the Passage?” Skulduggery asked.
The Warlock shook his head. “I don’t know what that is, and we have talked enough.”
His hand bubbled and boiled, and when he thrust it forward, his palm burst open and a stream of yellow light erupted from beneath. It hit Valkyrie’s left shoulder and she spun, cursing, her shoulder tingling then going numb, and by the time she found her balance again, her whole arm was dead.
Skulduggery had used those few seconds to launch himself at the Warlock. His hat flew off as he slammed his forehead into the man’s face, followed it with three sharp elbows and then clubbed the man with the butt of his gun. The Warlock reached out, taking hold of him and launching him through the air.
Valkyrie whipped her good hand at the Warlock, and a trail of shadows sought the man out. They slashed across his face, tearing skin. More light burst from the wounds. Valkyrie whipped her hand back, pouring her magic into the next strike, aiming to take the man’s head from his body. But her opponent ducked, moving fast, and another beam of light escaped from the jagged hole in his palm. Valkyrie jerked away, the light narrowly missing her, and the man was upon her, fingers closing around her throat. The Warlock hauled her up, slammed her against the wall with one hand. His other hand, the hand with the hole in it, was inches from Valkyrie’s face.
It began to bubble again.
The Warlock straightened up, held his hand out towards Valkyrie. She swept her arm up and a sudden wind took her off her feet as the yellow light exploded, lancing the space where she had just been standing. She spun through the air, hit the ground and tumbled, finally rolling to her feet. The Warlock wasn’t looking so calm any more. He cradled his wounded hand close to his chest, flexing the fingers. He was pale, his jaw clenched. Using that kind of magic was taking its toll.
Valkyrie’s left arm was tingling now as feeling returned to it. She’d probably only get one chance at ending this fight, and she had to seize it. She broke into a sprint, barrelling right at the Warlock. She saw the man’s other hand too late, saw how the skin bubbled, and though she tried to twist out of the way, she wasn’t fast enough. The yellow light filled her vision and she lost all bearing.
She wasn’t running any more, she knew that. She wasn’t doing anything any more. She blinked, saw the sky above. She was lying on her back. Her body was numb. Unresponsive.
She heard footsteps. The Warlock. Walking slowly. Dragging his feet. Getting closer. He came into view. His hair clung tight to his scalp. He was sweating. He held his hands away from his body, the fingers curled painfully. He looked weak. He looked drained. He looked hungry.
With much effort, the Warlock straddled Valkyrie, sitting on her belly, a bent knee on either side. The wounds on his hands were trying to close, but they were too great. The Warlock didn’t move for the longest time. He was gathering his strength. Valkyrie tried to move, but she couldn’t. She tried to speak, but she couldn’t do that, either.
The Warlock licked his dry lips, pulled them back off his teeth. He did that a few more times, and every time he did it, his mouth widened. His jaw clicked and cracked. His teeth darkened. He was getting ready to eat.
In her mind, Valkyrie screamed and raged. She kicked and punched and fought. In her mind, she reached up and raked the eyes of the Warlock, gouging them from their sockets. She clawed the Warlock’s face, leaving bloody furrows in the skin.
But her body did none of that. Her body lay where it was. The Warlock was going to eat through her flesh to her soul, and by the looks of it, Valkyrie was going to be alive when it all happened.
She felt something. A tingle in her right boot. Her big toe. She could feel her big toe. She wriggled it, tried to get the feeling to spread.
A finger now. The middle finger on her left hand. Tingling and buzzing. Pins and needles. Lovely pins and lovely needles.
She could feel the Warlock’s weight now. Her hip buzzed, the buzzing travelling slowly across her waist. The Warlock knew none of this. The Warlock just sat there, licking his lips and widening his mouth. The teeth looked bigger, darker, stronger. They looked like teeth that could tear through bone and gristle.
Valkyrie’s own lips were burning as sensation flooded back into them. Her nose was itchy.
The Warlock’s mouth stopped widening. The process was complete. The Warlock was going to eat, before feeling returned to Valkyrie’s arms and legs. The Warlock bent down, the huge mouth wide open, and Valkyrie sat up and crunched her head into his nose. He gagged, dropped back a little, shaking his head, eyes closed, too stunned to react properly. She did it again, the pain exploding through her skull, and this time the Warlock toppled backwards. She shifted her hips to the side, managed to get to her knees, tried to run but collapsed. The Warlock roared in pain and anger. His hand closed around her ankle and he pulled her to him.
Skulduggery grabbed him from behind, wrapping him up in a sleeper hold and hauling him to his feet. The Warlock’s huge mouth snapped and snarled.
Valkyrie fumbled clumsily for the handcuffs she kept on her belt. Moving unsteadily, she fell against the Warlock. He tried to bite her, but she swayed away from him, grabbed an arm and clicked the handcuff around his wrist.
The Warlock gasped as his magic was bound. His mouth shrank. Skulduggery threw him against the wall and stomped on his knee. The Warlock howled in pain as Skulduggery cuffed the other hand.
Valkyrie’s knees gave out, but Skulduggery grabbed her, stopped her from falling.
“I’m all tingly,” Valkyrie said.
“I have that effect,” Skulduggery responded.
“You won’t stop us,” the Warlock snarled from the ground. “My brothers and sisters will be coming for you.”
“Lots of people are coming for us,” Skulduggery told him. “We’re very unpopular in certain circles. Evil circles, you know. But your brothers and sisters are very far away, and it’s going to take a while for them to even hear about this, so they don’t really concern us right now. The only thing we care about is finding Dragonclaw. If you can help us do that, we’d be willing to make a deal.”
“You cannot bargain,” the Warlock said. “It is too late for that. Too late for you. I will be avenged.”
Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. “We hit you a few times. Is there really a need to be avenged for a few slaps?”
The Warlock managed a smile. “Look out for us,” he said. “We’re coming.”
He contorted in pain, eyes screwed tightly shut. When he opened them, yellow light spilled out.
“Uh-oh,” Skulduggery said. He scooped Valkyrie into his arms and they flew, the wind in her hair, landing behind the Hyundai as more light burst from the Warlock’s screaming mouth. Skulduggery pulled Valkyrie down behind cover and there was an explosion of blinding yellow light – and then nothing.
Valkyrie blinked rapidly, trying to get her vision back. She felt Skulduggery stand up, and she did the same. “What happened?” she asked.
“He’s dead,” Skulduggery answered. “Some kind of Warlock self-destruct thing. It must have been triggered the moment his powers were bound.”
Her sight was returning to her, and she looked over at where the Warlock had lain. Now there were only his empty clothes.
Skulduggery called the Sanctuary, then searched through the Warlock’s clothes while they waited for back-up to arrive.
“Nothing,” he said. “No receipts, no ticket stubs, no clues.”
“Warlocks, eh?” Valkyrie said, watching him.
“Warlocks are dark sorcerers on a dark path. They eat the souls of their enemies to absorb their strength. I haven’t gone up against them in … a long time. I didn’t think there were any left.” Skulduggery picked up his hat and put it on. “During the war, Mevolent tried to form an alliance with them. He sent a squad of his best people to open negotiations, and they were never heard from again.”
“And yet we just took down one of them,” Valkyrie said. “They don’t seem to be that tough. Apart from the nearly killing us bit. Do you think there’ll be more?”
“Eventually. Not for a while. If we’re lucky. This is the second time Dragonclaw has got away from us, though. First the Jitter Girls, now a Warlock. He really is breaking all the rules.” Skulduggery looked up. “Still, maybe this will convince the Elders to take the Necromancer threat seriously.”
Valkyrie frowned. “You don’t think they do already?”
“Not really, no. Neither does anyone else. All the Sanctuaries around the world are either too busy with their own problems or they’re preparing to battle this oh-so-mysterious Darquesse. If the Death Bringer was seen as a threat, we’d have teams from twenty different Sanctuaries storming the Temple as we speak.”
“Maybe that means the Passage won’t be a bad thing, then. Maybe it will save the world.”
Skulduggery shook his head. “Paul Lynch had a vision of something that got him killed. This ridiculous Dragonclaw person isn’t covering up that trail for the fun of it.”
“Then maybe the other Sanctuaries are just hoping that Lord Vile carries out his threat and kills the Death Bringer.”
“Very likely,” Skulduggery said.
Valkyrie hesitated. “Do you think he’ll come after me, like he told you he would?”
“That was before,” Skulduggery said. “That was when everyone thought that you were going to be the Death Bringer. Now that we actually have one confirmed, all his attention will be focused on her.”
“Lucky, lucky Melancholia. You’re sure about this, though?”
“I’m sure. Killing you won’t help Lord Vile achieve his aim.”
“Do you have any idea why he’s so keen to stop the Passage from happening?”
“I don’t,” Skulduggery murmured. “It must be important, though, to bring him back like this. I thought he was gone for good.”
“Guess he just doesn’t want to live in a perfect world.”
A van pulled up at the mouth of the lane. Sanctuary sorcerers got out, nodded to them as they began cordoning off the area.
“You don’t think the problem here is us, do you?” Valkyrie asked. “I mean, maybe we’re so used to being the ones who save the world that we can’t see it when someone else is about to do the same. Solomon keeps saying that the Passage is going to help people.”
“True,” Skulduggery said. “But if you asked Serpine why he wanted to bring the Faceless Ones back, he’d have told you the same thing. It all depends on what people you’re talking about helping. That’s the wonderful thing about just about every religion on the planet – they’re all so incredibly selfish.”
“You are a cynical man, Mr Pleasant.”
“We live in cynical times, Miss Cain.”
He dropped her off at the pier, and she watched him drive away before turning to the shadows. “I know you’re there,” she said.
He emerged, his footsteps silent. He was tall and slender, his hair black and his skin pale. He had died as a nineteen-year-old, and it was in this form that he was frozen. He would never grow old. He would never fade. His face would never lose its beauty.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” Caelan said, his voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves.
“Couldn’t you have found a safer place to wait?” she asked, hooking her thumbs into her pockets. “People like you really shouldn’t be hanging around the waterfront, you know. If you swallow any sea spray, your throat’s going to close up and you’ll die.”
“And would you be sad?”
“Sure I would. I once lost a gerbil. I’d imagine the pain would be similar.”
He moved closer to her. “So I’m your pet, am I?”
“Of course. You’re my vampire.”
He was right in front of her now, and he leaned in and they kissed. “And are you my human?” he whispered.
“So long as you’re OK about sharing me, sure,” she said, and they kissed again.
His hand went to her face. “I don’t like sharing things.”
“And I don’t like being called a thing, but life isn’t fair.”
“You should be mine alone.”
She gave him a smile. “Have you taken your serum tonight? Because you’re sounding awfully territorial.”
He stepped back. “The serum is not to be joked about. Without it, I would tear off my skin and devour you.”
“Sounds tempting, doesn’t it? But I can’t tonight, dear, I’m on babysitting duty, which I’m actually quite looking forward to, and then it’s bedtime.”
“Then I will remain beside you while you sleep.”
“My folks would love that,” Valkyrie said with a chuckle. He didn’t smile. “You’re not going to watch me sleep.”
“I have made up my mind.”
She looked at him. “Eh, what?”
“I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you, Valkyrie. But you needn’t worry. From this moment on, you are mine to protect.”
“I’m a little stuck for words here,” she said. “I’m just trying to get my head around it, trying to find the right way to … OK, yeah, I have it now. Caelan, cop on to yourself.”
He blinked his beautiful eyes. “I’m … I’m only doing this because I care so much. I’m here to protect you.”
“See, that’s where the problem is stemming from. I don’t need you to protect me. I’m not saying I don’t need protection. My God, the amount of trouble I get into, I could use all the help I can get. But my protection comes from people like Skulduggery, and Ghastly, and China – you know, people who are powerful enough to protect me from the things I can’t protect myself from.”
“You … think I’m weak?”
“I think you’re grand. And I acknowledge the fact that you’re a vampire – that’s very impressive. But let’s face it, your real power kicks in when you turn and, unfortunately, when you turn, you tend to forget who’s a friend and who’s a foe, so that’s not a whole lot of use to any of us.”
“I would never hurt you.”
“Aw, that’s sweet, but, really, you’d never get that chance. Caelan, you’re not my protector, you’re not my guardian angel and you’re not my boyfriend.”
His perfect jaw tightened. “But I love you.”
“Here we go.”
“When will you admit that you’re in love with me too?”
“I swear, talking to you is like talking to a really good-looking and mildly stupid brick wall. Look, I like you, OK? I do. I know I shouldn’t, I know it’s a cliché to fall for the bad boy …”
