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Kingdom of the Wicked
“Ed Stynes,” he said. “Forty years old. Lives alone. Not married, no kids. Recently split from his girlfriend. Works as a sound engineer. Possibly a werewolf.”
Valkyrie glared at him. “You told me there were no such things as werewolves.”
“I told you there were no such things as werewolves any more,” he corrected. “They died out in the nineteenth century. Unlike certain other creatures of the night that I could mention but won’t, werewolves were generally good people in human form. So appalled were they by their carnivorous lunar activities that they actively worked against their darker selves. They sought cures, isolation, whatever they needed to make sure that they didn’t spread the curse to anyone else.”
“Unlike vampires,” Valkyrie growled.
“You mentioned them, not me.”
“So if werewolves are extinct, why do you think Ed Stynes is a werewolf?”
“Last night, people in the area reported sightings of a large dog, or a man dressed as a bear,” Skulduggery said. “He didn’t hurt anyone – werewolves seldom do on their first time out unless they’re cornered. But on their second time, things get a lot more violent.”
“But if werewolves are extinct …”
“The infection has been diluted down through the generations, but it’s still there in a tiny fraction of the world’s population. Too weak to ever manifest into any actual transformation – unless the carriers of this infection were suddenly and inexplicably to gain magical abilities.”
“So Ed is like my butterfly man earlier.”
“Yes. The latest in a worryingly long line of mortals developing magic. Unfortunately in Ed’s case, it triggered a long dormant aspect of his physiology. You’re going to need this.” He handed her a long-barrelled gun.
Her eyes widened. “This is mine? You’re giving this to me? This is so cool.”
“It’s a tranquilliser gun.”
Her face fell. “Oh.”
“It’s still cool,” he insisted. “But I’m going to need it back afterwards. It’s part of a set. I have the other one, and I like to keep them together. It’s already loaded with a single tranq dart, so all you have to do is point and pull the trigger. The dart is loaded with enough sedative to bring down a—”
“Small elephant?”
He looked at her. “What?”
“You know. In the movies, if they’re going after something dangerous, they always say their tranquilliser darts have enough sedative to bring down a small elephant.”
“What do people have against small elephants?”
“Well, nothing, but—”
“There’s enough sedative in these darts to bring down a werewolf, which is exactly what we’re hunting. Why would we want to bring down an elephant if we’re not hunting elephants?”
“It’s just something people say in movies.”
“In elephant-hunting movies?”
“No, not particularly.”
“If we were hunting a were-elephant, I would understand the reference.”
“There’s no such thing as a were-elephant.”
“Of course there is. There are were-practically-everythings. Weredogs, werecats, werefish.”
“There are werefish?”
“They don’t generally last very long unless they’re near water.”
“I don’t believe you. I’ve fallen for this too many times in the past.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He started across the road.
She followed. “Oh, don’t you? You’ll insist they’re real and I’ll eventually start to doubt myself, and then I’ll ask, Are there really werefish? And you’ll look at me and say, Good God, Valkyrie, of course not, that’d be silly, and I’ll stand there feeling dumb. Just like with that colony of octopus people.”
“The what?”
“You told me once that octopus people were real.”
“And you believed me?”
“I was twelve!”
They reached the door of the apartment building. “And yet most twelve-year-olds don’t believe in octopus people.”
“I was twelve and impressionable, and I believed whatever you told me.”
“Ah, I remember those days,” Skulduggery said fondly, then took out his revolver. “There is such a thing as a werefish, though.”
She watched him loading the gun. “Those don’t look like tranquilliser bullets.”
“That’s because they’re not. They’re silver. Only thing guaranteed to kill a werewolf. Apart from decapitation. But then—”
“Decapitation kills most things,” Valkyrie finished.
“Exactly.”
“Apart from zombies.”
Skulduggery slid the revolver back into his shoulder holster. “This gun is just for emergency, last-resort back-up. Ed Stynes is a good man – I have no desire to take his life just because he changes into a wolfman a few nights a month.” He took a pair of lock picks from his jacket and started on the door.
“Why don’t we wait until morning to do this?” she asked. “Wouldn’t that be smarter?”
“And leave him free to roam and kill tonight?”
“It’s dark and the moon is full and I don’t hear any howling. Maybe it’s not as bad as you think.”
“He just hasn’t transformed yet. All day he’ll have felt grouchier than usual. This evening the headaches will have started. Once night fell, the cramps will have kicked in. Judging by the position of the moon, we have about ten minutes before he changes. He’ll spend roughly three hours covered in fur, and when the moon slips further away, he’ll change back.”
“So we tranq him while he’s still human?”
“Rarely a good idea,” Skulduggery said, opening the door and putting his lock picks away. “Sometimes it works, but most of the time the transformation occurs anyway, and the adrenaline rush clears the sedative from the system. The wolf wakes up angry and it takes a double dose to put it down again.”
“So we have to wait until he changes into a monster before we can do anything?”
“Indeed.”
“It seems a lot more dangerous.”
“It is.” He took out a tranq gun identical to Valkyrie’s. “Ready?”
“Uh …”
“That’s the spirit.”
They took the stairs to the third floor. The building was quiet, still, like it was holding its breath. They approached Ed Stynes’ door and Skulduggery picked the lock silently. He nudged the door open a little. There were no lights on inside. His hand went to his collarbones, pressing the symbols etched there. The false face melted away, revealing the skull beneath.
He entered, and Valkyrie crept in behind him and shut the door with a soft click. The tranq gun was heavy. She held it in a two-handed grip, just like Skulduggery had taught her.
So far, no growling.
They stepped into the living room, sweeping their guns from corner to corner, making sure Ed Stynes hadn’t lain down to sleep on the couch. It was hard to make anything out in the gloom, but since Skulduggery didn’t shoot anything Valkyrie figured the couch was empty. She may have been the only one with eyes, but his night vision was still better than hers. They moved across the hallway, checked inside the small kitchen. The moonlight washed over the headache tablets that were spilled across the countertop. There was a sudden groan from the bedroom and Valkyrie nearly pulled the trigger in response. Skulduggery tilted his head in her direction and she glared.
He moved through the hallway like he wasn’t even there. A cat would have made more noise. Valkyrie followed, keeping close to the wall, where the floorboards beneath the carpet would creak less. Skulduggery moved past the bedroom door, took up position on the other side.
Valkyrie edged forward, using the mirror on the opposite wall to look through into Stynes’ bedroom. She heard a curse, and there was movement in the darkness, and then the bedside lamp came on. She froze, adrenaline pumping through her, but all Stynes did was push the covers away as he sat up in bed. He was unshaven, pale. Sweating. He looked to be in pain. He groaned as he stood up. Valkyrie glanced at Skulduggery, mouthing the word Hide? But he just shook his head and so she stayed where she was, eyes on the mirror.
Stynes took a step, then doubled over.
“Oh, God …” she heard him mutter.
He straightened up with a scream so sudden it made her jump. His fingers curled like his muscles were being tightened on some invisible rack, and still he screamed. She’d never heard anything like it.
The lamplight shone yellow over his skin as thick black hairs pushed through, matting and knotting across his chest and back, his arms and legs. He fell to his knees, his legs changing shape, his bones lengthening and re-forming. He stared in horror and dismay at his hands as his fingernails fell to the floor and sharper, longer claws grew in their place.
“Help me,” he gasped. “Somebody help—”
He dropped to all fours, another scream twisting up from his core, wrenching itself from his throat as his jaw dislocated. It cracked and popped and started to balloon outwards, his skin stretching over his newly formed muzzle. Fangs split his gums and his scream turned to an animal howl of rage and pain.
Skulduggery held up three fingers. Valkyrie watched him count down – two, one – and then he stepped into the doorway, tranq gun rising. She took an extra moment to follow his instruction, too stunned by what she had just witnessed to operate with any speed, and so the wolf missed her completely when it came charging out of the bedroom.
Valkyrie fell back, falling in the darkness, trying to make out what was going on just a few metres away. Something broke and something fell and the wolf was snarling and Skulduggery was cursing, and all she could make out was a huge mass of fur on two legs. She looked at her empty hand, wondered where the hell her gun had gone. She swept her arm across the carpet, fingers tapping against something metal. She lunged, gripped the handle and stood, turned, finger on the trigger—
—and something knocked her backwards into the living room. She pushed at it, whatever it was, and Skulduggery clambered off her and the wolf leaped on him again and they crashed into the sofa, turning it over and falling behind it.
Valkyrie got to her knees, started looking around for that damn gun again.
Skulduggery yelled as he was thrown across the room. He hit the TV and glass broke, and he pulled the blinds from the window, and the wolf pounced, pinning him to the floor. It slashed, again and again, and Skulduggery cried out. In the moonlight Valkyrie could see the ferocity with which it struck, its claws tearing through his clothes, raking against his ribs.
She flicked her wrist and shadows wrapped round the wolf’s neck, hauling it backwards, but she could feel the sheer strength that fought against her and could do nothing to stop it from tearing free. Its yellow eyes found her.
She bolted, sprinting back into the bedroom, the wolf on her heels. She used the air to smash herself through the window, the glass jabbing at her clothes, but at least now she was outside, falling through space, and the wolf—
—the wolf slammed into her and she lost control of the air and they spun as they fell, the wolf snapping at her, its claws trying to cut through her jacket. The wolf hit the ground with a yelp and they separated, with Valkyrie bouncing away from it and rolling across the courtyard. The wolf stood, shook itself to clear its head, and by the time it looked back at Valkyrie she was already running.
She didn’t hear any. Instead, she heard music.
Staying low, she ran to the other side of the roof. A little bit further on, a line of people waited to gain entry to a brightly lit nightclub, their laughter mingling with the deep beats of the music that throbbed into the night. To a bloodthirsty werewolf cheated of its first meal of the evening, Valkyrie reckoned it would look like an irresistible invitation to feast.
And there it was, concealed in the darkness of the alley across the street. She glimpsed it moving slowly, slipping in and out of shadow. She ran to the edge of the roof and the wind lifted her high over the passing cars. She needed another buffet to carry her all the way across, but she landed on her feet right where she was aiming for. She hurried to the side and peered down. The wolf was directly beneath her. That tranq gun would have really come in handy from this position.
Her finger twitched. To use the shadows from up here, she’d really have to go straight for a killing blow. Anything less would just make the wolf mad, maybe spur it into slaughtering a few people. But she didn’t want to kill it. Not like this. Not if there were any other choices to make.
And then the wolf charged across the street.
Valkyrie cursed, flung herself after it, angling through the air until she was on an intercept course. A few people were screaming by now and she propelled herself to ground level, curled up right before she hit the wolf. The impact knocked the breath out of her and she sprawled across the road. She heard screams and shouts, glimpsed faces and saw headlights and then a bus hit the wolf and braked, veered, its back end swinging round and crunching into Valkyrie.
Once more she flew backwards off her feet, the world silent all around her.
She hit the ground. Noise rushed to her ears and she bounced and tumbled way too fast to stop. She was aware that her chin was tucked into her chest and her arms were covering her head.
That was good. It meant she wasn’t dead yet.
Her tumbling slowed and she used the momentum to push herself to her feet. The bus hadn’t tipped over, thank God. It was parked diagonally across the road, and there were people running about and shouting at each other. She was blocked from view, halfway down the dark street. Her thoughts were returning, too, the more her head cleared. She remembered fur, and fangs. Something growled ahead of her.
Oh, yeah. The werewolf.
She couldn’t see it. Everything between her and the lights of the nightclub and the bus melted into an impenetrable darkness. And that’s where the wolf moved. She shaded her eyes but it was no use. The glare was too strong. The darkness too thick.
The growling got louder. Closer.
Still dizzy, Valkyrie broke left, ran between two cars, heard the wolf bounding after her. She ran, away from the nightclub and the people, barely managing to keep herself from ricocheting off lamp posts. And then the wolf slammed into her. They rolled, the wolf and her, its jaws clamping round her right arm. The teeth didn’t penetrate the armour-weave of her jacket but still she screamed. The wolf shook its head and she kicked out, but it was crouched over her, too heavy to move.
Let me out, said the voice in her head.
Her arm was about to break. The wolf was going to rip it from her shoulder. The Necromancer ring was useless without the freedom to orchestrate the shadows. She tried pushing at the air but the pain clouded her mind. She couldn’t even breathe with the weight of the wolf pressing down on her.
Let me out.
The wolf released her arm, went for her throat, and she jerked to the side, grabbed the shadows, turned them sharp like knives and raked them across the wolf’s chest. It reared back, yelping, and she pushed at the air and it tumbled. It immediately righted itself and came at her. She threw herself backwards across the bonnet of a parked car. The whole car shook when the wolf crashed into it. Valkyrie scrambled up on to the car roof and brought the wind in to sweep her over the wolf’s head. She dropped behind a wall, started running again, saw Skulduggery in the moonlight, flying towards her.
She ducked and he flew past, collided with the wolf behind her. The wolf threw him back and Skulduggery rolled to his feet, the tranq gun in his hand, but he slipped on something in the darkness. He fell and the wolf leaped and something went skittering across the ground.
The tranq gun – mangled.
Fire flared and the wolf howled in pain, and Skulduggery came staggering out of the gloom. His hat was gone and his face was gone. His suit was shredded, and even in this light Valkyrie could see the deep grooves cut along his ribcage. He held his revolver in his hand.
The wolf growled. Skulduggery turned.
It ran straight at him, and Skulduggery brought his other hand up to steady his aim.
“Shoot,” Valkyrie cried out. “Shoot!”
But at the last moment Skulduggery dropped the gun and brought both arms down, his knees bending, and a wall of air slammed into the wolf from above, sending it to the ground. It tumbled and yelped and immediately Skulduggery straightened, swinging his arms towards the sky, sending the wolf spinning off its feet. As it was twisting and falling again, he stepped forward and punched, and a column of displaced air struck the wolf in the side and sent it hurtling back.
“Dart!” he yelled as he crouched. He touched one hand to the ground around his feet and it started to crack and buckle. He was almost thrown off as the section he was standing on shot forward like a surfboard, the ground warping and rippling beneath it like waves, and he hurtled towards the wolf as it recovered. Valkyrie grabbed the broken gun, wrenched the dart from the chamber and used the air to send it straight into Skulduggery’s outstretched hand. An eyeblink later, he collided with the wolf, stabbing the dart into the creature’s shoulder.
The wolf roared and lashed out and Skulduggery went flying, but the sedative was already taking effect. The wolf staggered, shook its head, stumbled against the wall. It looked at Valkyrie and moved towards her, could only manage three steps before its legs gave out and it crumpled. It lay there, tongue out, panting, limbs too heavy to move. Its eyes closed, its breathing deepened, and it went to sleep.
Skulduggery got to his feet. “Victory,” he said weakly.
When Ed Stynes woke up, he was strapped to a bed in a strange room with strange people looking down at him. Valkyrie almost felt sorry for him.
“Hi,” said the blue-haired girl beside her. “I’m Clarabelle. Will you be my friend?”
Confusion etched itself on to Ed’s face.
“Hi, Ed,” said Valkyrie before things got too weird. “My name’s Valkyrie. This is Clarabelle. Clarabelle’s a nurse, of sorts, and she’s going to be taking care of you.”
Clarabelle nodded. “I’m very good at medicine stuff. We had a patient, last week, who came in and I examined him and he had all the signs of bubonic plague, and I healed him.”
Valkyrie looked at her. “He really had bubonic plague?”
“Oh, yes. Well, Doctor Nye looked at him and said he just had a splinter, but I was the one who removed it, so … That still counts. Wait until you meet Doctor Nye, Ed. You’ll love him, if you love big tall scary things.”
Ed whimpered, and turned his head to Valkyrie. “What … what’s happening to me?”
“What do you remember?”
“I remember you. I remember … Oh, God, I remember wanting to eat you …”
“Yes,” Valkyrie said. “Well, the less said about that, the better.”
“I’m going mad, aren’t I?”
Clarabelle laughed. She had such a pretty laugh. “Oh, we’re all mad around here, Ed!” And then she skipped away.
Skulduggery walked in, wearing a grey trench coat over his shredded suit and a new face over his skull. He didn’t want Ed to freak out any more than absolutely necessary. “Hello, Ed,” he said. “Feeling better? You’re certainly looking better.”
“Who are you people?”
“We’re experts in this field,” said Skulduggery. “We want to help you.”
“Help me? I’m a werewolf.”
“I noticed. Hopefully, however, it’s just a phase you’re going through. Think of it as a sickness, if you like. A disease. Your dormant werewolf gene suddenly awakening is merely a symptom of the real problem, and while your situation is somewhat unusual, you’re not the only person to be afflicted. There are others, normal people like you, suddenly exhibiting unusual levels of power. But you’re one of the few cogent ones. Most of the others have been driven beyond sense. You can help us, I think. You just need to answer a few questions. Can you do that?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good man,” said Skulduggery. “Have you had anything unusual happen to you recently?”
“Yes.”
“And that was?”
“I turned into a werewolf.”
“Anything apart from that? Have you met anyone new? Have you been abroad, or visited somewhere for the first time …?”
Ed shook his head. “Everything’s been normal. It’s just been my life, the same as it’s always been. Well, apart from breaking up with my girlfriend a few months ago. Do you … do you think she put a curse on me?”
“She’s the one who ended it, wasn’t she?”
“No,” said Ed immediately. “It was a mutual thing. We both … it was decided that … we mutually agreed that she could do better, so …”
“In that case,” said Skulduggery, “I doubt she put a curse on you. Has anything else happened out of the ordinary? No matter how trivial it may seem?”
“No. Everything’s been normal. Apart from the dreams.”
Skulduggery’s head tilted. “Go on.”
“I was just … I started dreaming about a man, dressed in white. Argeddion, his name was. It’s unusual because I never remember my dreams, but Argeddion is as clear as day in my mind.”
“What did he want?”
“He had a gift for me. That’s what he said. He was so gentle, and warm, and he said he had a wonderful gift to give me. He appeared in my dreams for weeks, telling me to prepare for the Summer of Light, and then the last time I dreamed about him he held up his hand, and he was holding this bright, glowing energy, and he put it into my chest. Then he smiled, and said he’d be back for it later. I haven’t dreamed about him since then. Do you think that has anything to do with what’s happened?”
“Strange men giving you gifts of energy, and soon thereafter you transform into an extinct supernatural creature? I’d say it’s a distinct possibility, Ed.”
They left him in Clarabelle’s dubiously capable hands and made their way out of the Medical Bay. As soon as they were in the corridor, Skulduggery retracted his façade. His skull was still a little dirty from being thrown through the rubbish of Dublin City.
“How are the mortals in the observation ward?” Valkyrie asked.
“No change,” he answered. “Every conceivable test has been run on them and is being run again. So far, nothing. Not one clue as to what’s going on.”
“Will Ed be joining them?”
“He’ll be sedated, like the others. They already have a bed waiting for him.”
“But at least now we have a lead – even if it is just someone’s dream. Wow. When you say it out loud like that, it sounds very flimsy, doesn’t it?”
“That our only lead is a dream a werewolf had?” said Skulduggery. “Yes, I suppose as far as clues go, it’s not the most solid one we’ve ever had. But we work with what we’re given, and we really can’t afford to be choosy, not at this stage. With everything that’s been going on, we’ve barely been able to keep this out of the news. Sooner rather than later, the mortals are going to see something that cannot be explained away unless we put a stop to it. And this mystery man in Ed’s dream, this Argeddion, might be what we’re looking for.”
“Any idea what the Summer of Light is? Do you think he means this summer?”
