The Dying of the Light

And now they were back in a small town in Ireland with a new set of targets – the Remnants. Even Gracious had looked apprehensive at the idea of taking on those sneaky little bodysnatchers. Vex and Saracen, of course, hadn’t batted an eyelid, and gradually their sense of calm had spread throughout the group, and the casual nature of the team returned. Unfortunately.

“I remember my first girlfriend,” said Gracious as they prowled the town’s quiet back streets.

“Stephanie is not my first,” Fletcher responded.

Gracious ignored him. “A farmer’s daughter, she was, though back then nearly every girl was a farmer’s daughter. Or a farmer. She had hair as long as rope, and a nose. All her eyes were blue and she had a smile like a radiant hole in the ground, with teeth. God, she was beautiful.”

“She sounds terrifying,” said Donegan.

“Hush, you. I will hear no bad word spoken of your sister.”

“Stephanie is not my first,” Fletcher repeated. “I really don’t need any advice.”

“Lads,” said Gracious, “any words of wisdom for Fletcher here?”

The others closed in.

“Honesty is, honestly, the best policy,” said Saracen. “But when honesty doesn’t work, lie, and lie convincingly.”

“Treat her right and with respect,” said Vex from up ahead. “Even when it ends, you want to remain friends.”

Donegan pondered. “My advice would be to go for someone better than you are. Stops you from getting complacent.”

“Grow a beard,” said Dai.

Fletcher frowned back at him. “Sorry?”

“A beard,” Dai said. “Women love beards. Grow one like mine. Mine is a manly beard.”

“I suppose it is kind of … manly.”

“I’ve had it since I was twelve.”

“You must have been a very hairy child.”

“The hairiest.”

“Hold on a second,” said Donegan, waving around a forked branch. “My divining rod is picking up something.”

“It’s not a divining rod,” Saracen said. “It’s a twig. You broke it off a tree.”

“It does work, though,” Gracious said. “It’s not one hundred percent accurate, it doesn’t lead you straight to the source of magic, but it gets you into the general area.”

“This way.” Donegan led them down a narrow alley. “Something’s close. Very close.”

“How sure are you?” Vex asked.

“Pretty sure,” Donegan called back. “This isn’t an exact science.”

“It’s not even remotely a science,” said Saracen.

“Aha!” Gracious said, picking up speed and passing Donegan. He pointed to two chocolate bar wrappers as they skipped along on the breeze.

“I’m missing something,” said Fletcher.

“One of the strongest urges a Remnant has once it takes a new host is to sate its appetites,” Vex told him. “It needs sensation. It needs to experience pleasure or pain. Food is an instant source of pleasure.”

“So all these sweet wrappers …”

“Classic signs of a Remnant possession. Look. More.”

They followed the trail to a loose pile of wrappers beneath an open window. Fletcher peered in. A small office with a single desk and cheap trophies on a shelf.

“A dojo,” said Saracen.

Fletcher looked back. “What?”

“A martial arts school. Looks like our Remnant might be an instructor.”

They walked round the corner to the street entrance. It was an unimpressive building with a cheap sign showing a badly-drawn man executing a flying kick. Fletcher followed the others inside. They passed a framed photograph of a man with a ponytail in a black karate uniform. The name under it was Noonan.

They pushed through another set of doors, entered the hall. Parents sat at one end while their kids stood to attention in the main space. The uniforms they wore were black and red. Only the man in charge, the one called Noonan, had a black belt around his waist.

A teenaged student hurried to the top of the class and faced him. The student settled into a fighting stance, and at Noonan’s nod he stepped in with a right punch. Noonan moved, blocking with a quick exhalation, and then he pivoted, shouting out a “Ki-yah!” as his fist sank into the student’s side. The student dropped to his knees, wheezing.

Noonan swung round to address the students and their parents. “A basic defence against a straight punch!” he announced. “Now I will demonstrate a defence against a knife attack!”

He gestured to another student, and Fletcher saw the trepidation in the girl’s eyes as she picked up a rubber training knife and approached the mat. Noonan said a few words to her, the student nodded, and Noonan readied himself.

A curt nod to the student, who stepped in with a wild slash. Noonan dodged back and kicked, his foot connecting with the student’s wrist. The knife went flying, and Noonan continued the technique with a series of whirling kicks that sent the student slamming back into the wall.

“Is this guy always so rough?” Saracen whispered to a parent.

The parent glowered. “Every time. He’s a bully and a thug.”

“Questions?” Noonan said loudly. “No? No one? Our system speaks for itself, doesn’t it?” He laughed. There were a few uneasy chuckles from his students. “But anyone can do it, regardless of age or fitness level. I can teach any student to defend themselves and their loved ones. Would one of the parents like to volunteer for a demonstration? No? Are you a little nervous of being shown up in front of your kids?” He laughed again.

Vex walked forward.

“A volunteer!” Noonan said. “Give this brave soul a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen!”

Everyone clapped. Fletcher joined in.

“I’m just going to demonstrate some simple defences against a right punch,” Noonan told him. “I’ll go easy on you, don’t worry! Just take your shoes off and – no, just remove your shoes. Take your shoes off when you’re on the mat. Take them—”

Vex strolled across the mat, his boots still on. Noonan’s smile became a little strained.

“OK then,” he said. “Shoes staying on, are they? Well, seeing as how this is your first time, I can forgive that.” The anger in his eyes suggested otherwise. “Now then, sir, this defence is against a right punch, so—”

Vex strolled by him and his left fist flashed out, struck Noonan right on the nose. Noonan stepped back, hands at his face, and Vex circled him unhurriedly.

“Ow!” said Noonan. “No! I didn’t say begin! You can’t just begin without me being ready! Is it bleeding? Am I bleeding?”

He took his hands away from his nose to show Vex, and Vex hit him again.

“Ow! What are you doing? We weren’t doing the technique that time! Oh, God, I’m bleeding now, amn’t I? Now I’m bleeding!” Noonan wiped the blood from his nose and sniffled. “And they weren’t even right punches. Those were left jabs you threw. Stop walking. Stop walking, for God’s sake!”

Vex stopped walking.

“Thank you,” Noonan said, seething. “Now then, you’re going to throw a right punch, so put your left leg forward, and step through with the punch when I say begin, OK? Do you understand? Am I being clear?”

Vex stomped on Noonan’s bare foot, and Noonan screeched.

“You can’t do that! You can’t do that!”

He hopped, clutching his foot, then lost his balance and toppled over. He glared up. “I see. You’re here to prove yourself, are you? You’re a tough guy, and you want to cheat? Any other night, I’d throw you out right now. But tonight is different. Tonight, I’m different. So, if you want to freestyle …” Noonan stood up. “Let’s freestyle.”

Noonan started moving, bouncing on his toes, shifting his weight, weaving from side to side and forward and back. His right fist was up at his chin, his left lower and out in front. A classic fighting stance.

Vex just stood there.

Noonan snapped out a kick, whirled with another, jumped and spun with a third. All three of them were well out of range, though, and Vex just kept standing there. The unimpressed look on his face seemed to agitate Noonan almost as much as the foot stomp. Black veins started to rise as he lunged with a punch.

Vex covered up and went to meet him, arms up and elbows out. Noonan’s fist crunched against one of those elbows and he howled. Vex grabbed him, drove him backwards, smacked his head against the wall. The crowd gave a horrified “oooh” and Noonan staggered. The black veins had vanished as quickly as they’d risen. Vex gripped the back of his neck with one hand, and led him into the office.

Saracen stepped forward, turning to smile at the onlookers. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are inspectors from the National Black Belt Review Board, and we need to talk to Mr Noonan about his teaching methods. I’m afraid tonight’s class will have to be cut short. Thanks very much for your attention, and safe home.”

Saracen bowed, then turned on his heel and walked after Vex. The Monster Hunters followed as the students and parents murmured among themselves and began to file out. Fletcher was the last one into the office, and he closed the door behind him. Noonan was sitting in his chair, his hands shackled, while some very intimidating men looked down at him.

“Where are the others?” Vex asked.

“Other what?” said Noonan. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I need some ice for my head. I think my hand is broken. And my foot. And maybe my nose.”

Saracen sat on the edge of the desk. “Do you like being him? This man you’ve hijacked? He seems a tad petty, doesn’t he? I bet you’ve inhabited far more interesting people over the years than this loser.”

Noonan glowered. “I’m not a loser.”

“You’re a pudgy martial arts instructor with a quick temper and no control. You regularly hurt your students in order to show off and boost your own ego. You’re a loser, my friend.”

“Take these cuffs off and I’ll show you who the real loser is.”

“Don’t make this any more difficult for yourself,” said Vex. “Listen, we’ve seen worse Remnants. Some of them, they possess a body and their first instinct is to kill. To cause damage. But you? Your first instinct was to eat junk food. To experience. It looks like you really wanted to make this work.”

Noonan nodded. “I did. I do.”

“You’re probably tired of being hunted, right? Tired of being caught and locked away?”

“Exactly!” said Noonan. “I just want to fit in now. I want to live.”

“Like this?” Saracen asked. “Like a loser?”

“I am not a loser!”

“You really think you could keep this up? We know what you’re like. You’re a Remnant. You have no conscience. Sooner or later, you’d kill someone.”

“No! Not this time! This time I’m going to have a proper life!”

Saracen laughed. “I swear to God, I’d almost believe this guy.”

“I’m telling the truth!” Noonan insisted. He looked to Vex. “I’m not going to kill anyone. Yeah, fine, I don’t have a conscience, but so what? Most of the really successful business people in the world are technically psychopaths. They don’t kill people, do they? I don’t have to, either. Let me prove it. Let me stay in this body, and let me prove it.”

Vex frowned. “What? You want us to just walk away? We came here to track you Remnants down and lock you up again.”

“Please,” said Noonan. “I can help you. The others aren’t here. They’ve gone on. If you leave me alone, I’ll tell you where.”

“And how do we know you’re telling the truth?”

“Have you seen any other Remnants? You haven’t, have you? You said it yourself, most of them start to kill people pretty soon after taking a new host. There haven’t been any murders in the area because they’re not here. Things are different this time.”

“Different how?”

Noonan hesitated.

“I’m your only chance of getting what you want,” said Vex. “You either talk to me now, tell me what you know, or we take out the Soul Catcher and lock you away.”

“Darquesse released us,” said Noonan. “She wants an army, ready to swoop in at her command. Only … only things have changed. We don’t think of her in the same way any more.”

“Does she know this?” Saracen asked.

“No,” said Noonan. “I don’t think so anyway. But she ordered us to lie low until, you know, she needs us. So they all went off.”

“Except for you.”

“We passed this town. I saw all the people. I couldn’t resist. I took a body. I realised, yes, I actually want a life without looking over my shoulder the whole time. So I took another body, and then I took this one.”

Saracen frowned. “This loser is the best you could find?”

“I am not a loser! I am a martial arts instructor! I am respected in my community!”

“Calm down,” said Vex. “Look at me. You have one chance to stay in this body. Where are they headed? The other Remnants?”

“East.”

“That’s it?” Gracious asked. “East? That’s the best you can do?”

“They’re looking for a town small enough to take over,” Noonan said. “Then they’ll settle down and wait.”

“But you don’t know where? There are a lot of towns east of here. You want us to check every single one of them?”

“I’m really sorry. I don’t know. Please … what are you going to do with me?”

“You’re possessing a body without permission,” said Vex. “I’m afraid you have to come out.”

“No. No, please, you said I could stay! You said it!”

Dai took something that looked like an empty snow globe from his coat, and Noonan jerked away.

“This is a new and improved Soul Catcher,” Saracen said. “China Sorrows herself etched a few sigils into it. Can you feel the pull? You can, can’t you? You can feel it dragging you in.”

Noonan shook his head. He was sweating badly now. “No. Nope. No.”

Dai pushed the Soul Catcher closer, and Noonan screamed.

His throat bulged. Fletcher glimpsed darkness – dark claws, snapping jaws – rise up in Noonan’s open mouth. The Remnant tried to burst free, to dart towards Gracious, but it was caught in the globe’s gravity and sucked into it. The globe instantly turned black.

Noonan collapsed in his chair. He began snoring.

Vex lifted the Soul Catcher and peered into it. “At least we know China’s improvements work,” he said. “Now all we need is another few thousand of these and we’re set.”

old hands,” Cassandra said, and Stephanie scowled.

This was ridiculous. Sitting round a table, holding hands, staring into a flickering candle. This was a bad seance in a bad TV show. She had Skulduggery on one side and Cassandra on the other, and across from her was the placid face of Finbar Wrong.

She wondered how long they’d have to sit like this.

After a few minutes, Finbar’s chin dropped to his chest. He was asleep. Again.

Stephanie bit back the ridicule. If she said something and interrupted whatever the hell was happening, they’d probably have to start again. The best thing she could do was wait until everyone else at this table realised the stupidity of what they were—

“Valkyrie?” said Cassandra. “Can you hear me?”

Stephanie took a cautious look around. She wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Valkyrie’s ghost to appear, perhaps?

“Valkyrie,” Cassandra said again. “If you can hear me, give me a sign.”

Nothing. No ghost. No lightning strike. The candle didn’t blow out. Not one thing. Just as she’d thought.

“I can hear you,” Finbar mumbled, without raising his head.

Stephanie frowned. She was about to point out that Cassandra wasn’t talking to him when he muttered something else, then said, “Skulduggery? Where’s Skulduggery?”

“I’m here,” Skulduggery said. “I was beginning to think you were lost to us.”

Finbar’s mouth twitched into a brief smile. “Sorry. You’re not going to get rid of me so easily.”

Stephanie’s eyes widened. No way.

“Valkyrie, what can you tell us about where you are?” Cassandra asked.

“It … it’s dark here,” Finbar said. “Cold. Finbar is like … his mind is at the far end of a bridge, and you’re just beyond that. You’re this dim light …”

“Do you know where you are physically?” Skulduggery asked. “Where is Darquesse right now? What’s she doing?”

Finbar’s frown deepened. “Experimenting,” he said. “Experimenting with magic. Expanding her abilities. When she’s like this, I can … I can talk, and she won’t notice.”

“Hold on there,” Stephanie said. “Wait a second. How can we be sure that you’re really Valkyrie?”

“You don’t get to speak to me,” Finbar said, his voice sharpening. “Last time I saw you, you tried to kill me. Skulduggery, why is she here?”

“Stephanie’s helping,” Skulduggery said.

“You can’t trust her.”

“He can’t trust you,” said Stephanie, the anger rising.

Finbar pointed a finger straight into Stephanie’s face. “Shut. Up.” His arm collapsed back on to the table. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll deal with her when I’m back in control. So how do I do that?”

Cassandra sat forward. “Valkyrie, we’re going to need you to focus.”

“I’m focused.”

“Not now. We need you to prepare yourself, psychically, for what we have to do.”

“Uh,” said Finbar, “how do I do that?”

“By listening, and understanding. I’ve been speaking to every Sensitive worth talking to and, while the chances are slim, we think there is a way to force Darquesse from your body, at least theoretically.”

“Theoretically fails to fill me with hope,” Finbar said.

Cassandra gave a soft smile. “Deacon Maybury has the ability to rewrite personalities. To do this, he builds up psychic walls, constructs corridors for thoughts, and shuts off aspects of the personality that need to be kept hidden. He fundamentally redesigns the architecture of the mind. Not even Argeddion, who also knows his own true name, has broken through these walls.”

“But we don’t want to suppress Darquesse,” Finbar said. “We want to get rid of her. And the only reason Argeddion hasn’t broken through is because he’s unaware of his situation. Darquesse knows what Deacon Maybury can do.”

Cassandra nodded. “Getting rid of her is still the goal, don’t worry. Essentially, what Deacon’s redesign does is to split the original personality in two, creating a pocket personality that is then sequestered off to one side. Working with some friends of mine, I believe I can isolate this part and remove it from your mind.”

Stephanie frowned. “And put it where exactly?”

Skulduggery set a glass orb on the table. “A Soul Catcher will trap Darquesse’s essence just as effectively as a Remnant. What we do with her after that is a conversation for another time. Valkyrie, the only thing you have to concern yourself with is preparing to hold on with everything you’ve got once the Sensitives start their work.”

“I can do that,” said Finbar.

“It won’t be easy,” said Cassandra.

“Dammit,” said Finbar.

“You’ll feel your thoughts splitting,” Cassandra said. “You’ll find it difficult to concentrate, difficult to remember. But you must. You have to focus on something, a word, a phrase, something to latch on to while we’re pulling Darquesse away from you.”

“The sparrow flies south for winter,” Finbar said immediately.

Stephanie heard the amusement in Skulduggery’s voice. He was talking a little faster now, with a little more life to his words. “Yes. Good. When Cassandra and the other Sensitives are doing their thing, I’ll be with you, and that phrase will bind us together. The moment you hear me say it, you focus on it, repeat it, pour everything you’ve got into those six words.”

“I don’t know how long the process will take,” said Cassandra. “It might be minutes. It might be days. You have to be ready for anything.”

“So when do we do it?” Finbar asked.

“Soon,” said Skulduggery. “I don’t want to tell you exactly when. I don’t want Darquesse to pick up on anything unusual. But be ready.”

“OK,” said Finbar. “I can do this. OK. I mean, it’s risky, though. What if she figures out what I’m up to?”

“You just have to hope she doesn’t,” said Skulduggery.

“And we just have to hope that you’re really Valkyrie,” said Stephanie. “Otherwise we’re the ones who’ll be walking into a trap.”

Finbar paused, then said, “I really don’t like you.” He frowned. “I have to go. I’ve talked to you for too long.”

Skulduggery squeezed Finbar’s hand. “I’ll see you soon, Valkyrie.”

Finbar managed a smile, and then his face went blank. A moment later, he snorted, raised his head and opened his eyes, looked around. “Well? Did it work?”

Stephanie pulled her hands back, and folded her arms.

“Oh, it worked,” said Skulduggery.

He was insufferable. Stephanie walked beside him as they made their way through the Sanctuary’s corridors, and Skulduggery would not shut up. He cracked jokes, he told stories, he was by turns smug, arrogant and whimsical and, worst of all, he was paying attention to her.

“I thought you wanted me to talk more,” he said when he noticed her silence. “Can’t have it both ways, Stephanie. I can’t be quiet when you want to sulk and chatty when you want to chat. That’s not how it works. That’s not how I work.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Well, you’re doing something with your face that resembles sulking. Are you glowering? You might be glowering. Glowering is like sulking only scarier.”

They stepped into the elevator, and Skulduggery thumbed the button for the top floor. The doors slid closed.

“You’re definitely frowning, though,” he continued as they started to move. “Do you know how many muscles it takes to frown, as opposed to the muscles it takes to smile? I don’t. I doubt anyone does. What constitutes a smile anyway? Is it just the movement of the mouth, or are the eyes involved? And to what extent is each muscle utilised? The old homily about how frowning uses more muscles than smiling is entirely redundant unless, of course, you’re talking about the underlying message, and as a message, it’s a wonderful, life-affirming thing that bypasses anything so pedantic as actual, provable facts.”

“Could we go back to the awkward silences, please?”

“We’ve moved beyond the silences, Stephanie. We’re on new ground now.”

“I hate new ground.”

“Do you want a hug?” asked Skulduggery.

“God, no.”

“You’re probably right. I should probably save my hugs for later.”

The elevator stopped and they got out. They approached a set of double doors guarded by the Black Cleaver.

Skulduggery knocked, then nodded to the Cleaver. “Hi.”

The Black Cleaver didn’t acknowledge him.

“I meant to say, I like the new look,” Skulduggery continued. “It’s moody. It’s edgy. It doesn’t really leave a whole lot of scope for anything further down the line, though. That would be my only criticism. You’ve gone from grey to white and now to black and, really, what’s left? You could go multicoloured, I suppose. You could show your support for the gay, lesbian and transgender communities. The Rainbow Cleaver, perhaps? No? Too much? That’s not your thing? Ah, that’s a pity.”

Skulduggery stopped talking. The Black Cleaver didn’t move a millimetre.

Skulduggery resumed talking. “I don’t know if you know this, you probably do, but people here have been around for a few hundred years and, well, things happen. You stop being so fixated on things that don’t matter. The pursuit of happiness, that’s what it’s all about. That’s all I’m saying on the subject. It’s OK to be different, because we’re all different in our own ways. There. Sermon over. Would you like a hug?”

The doors opened. “Are you giving out hugs?” China asked.

“Only to those who need them,” Skulduggery said, leading the way in.

China raised an eyebrow. “Someone’s in a good mood.”