Seasons of War

“Stephanie,” Melissa corrected. “We call her by her proper name here.”

“But it’s not her proper name, is it?” Crystal countered. “It’s her given name. Valkyrie is her proper name.”

“Stephanie is fine when I’m with family,” Valkyrie said quickly. “It makes it easier to, y’know, maintain my cover or whatever.”

Crystal nodded. “Fair enough.”

Fergus shifted uncomfortably. “We shouldn’t be discussing this where someone could overhear us.”

“We’re fine,” said Desmond. “If anyone’s walking up behind you, I’ll give you the signal by coughing into my hand.”

Fergus frowned at his brother. “Do you really think this is a good idea?”

Desmond shrugged. “I reckon our family has gone long enough not talking about this stuff, don’t you?”

“If that’s a veiled reference to how I never told you that magic was real, I would respond by saying you’ve had seven years to get over it and it’s becoming quite tiresome.”

“Tiresome, is it?”

“I was protecting you.”

“You lied to me, you mean,” said Desmond. “You all lied to me – you, Gordon, Pop. The only person who didn’t lie to me was Granddad, and he’s the one you said was nuts.”

“You think it was easy?” Fergus asked, getting angry. “You think it was fun? Gordon was a lost cause, so all the responsibility fell to me to—”

Desmond coughed into his hand and Fergus shut up immediately and stared down at his plate.

When no one approached the table, he looked around, then glared. “Very mature.”

Alice came skipping back, with Beryl close behind.

“What were you talking about?” Beryl asked as they retook their seats.

“Nothing,” Fergus said sulkily.

“Crystal,” Melissa said, putting on a smile, “how is Carol doing in her new job?”

“Good, I think,” Crystal said. “It pays well, and she says the people are, um, what’s the word she used? Undemanding. So I think that means she’s settling in.”

“We don’t really hear much from Carol,” Beryl said. “She’s steadily grown more and more distant. I think, probably, that’s my fault.”

“Beryl, no,” said Fergus, covering her hand with his own.

She tried to smile. “I suppose I was never the warmest of mothers. I look at you, Melissa – you and Stephanie, and now little Alice – and I marvel at that relationship. How close you are. You’re friends more than … more than anything. I could never understand how you managed it.”

“Mum,” said Crystal, blinking back tears.

“My sweet girl,” Beryl said, reaching over, holding her hand. “I’ll never stop being sorry for the kind of mother I was to you.”

Valkyrie’s heart drummed in her hollow chest. Every beat reverberated. “Excuse me,” she said quietly, pushing herself away from the table. She managed to walk without stumbling out into the reception area, then lunged for the door.

Fresh air. She gasped it in. Her head was light. She went to put a hand against the wall and misjudged the distance, fell sideways, hit it with her shoulder. She looked drunk. She felt drunk. She needed the music box.

The door opened. Her mother walked out. Valkyrie straightened.

“Are you OK?” Melissa asked.

Valkyrie nodded. “Needed to make a call.”

Melissa handed her her purse. “Then you might need your phone.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Are you OK?” Melissa asked again. Valkyrie didn’t answer, and her mum put her arm round her. “It’s sad,” she said, “watching Carol grow apart from her family like that.”

“Beryl isn’t to blame.”

“Oh, I know. She was never the easiest woman to get along with, and we’ve had our differences, but she adored the twins. Sometimes, sweetheart, there is no reason for the things people do. They change. They grow apart. But that’ll never happen to us.”

Valkyrie smiled weakly, hugging her back, and Melissa was silent for a long, long moment. Then she said, “You just have to look at Alice to see how much people – even kids – can change.”

Valkyrie moved her head off her mother’s shoulder.

“The doctors don’t know what’s wrong,” Melissa said, turning to watch a car go by. “A shift like this, they said it could be down to trauma, but, if Alice has suffered any trauma, she’s not telling us about it. Has she mentioned anything to you?”

Valkyrie shook her head.

“I don’t know what it is. She’ll spend all morning crying. Not little sobs, either. Big, racking sobs. It’s … it’s gut-wrenching.” Melissa’s hand was shaking. She noticed it, used it to brush her hair back over her ear. “Is there anything you can do?” she asked.

The question took Valkyrie by surprise. “What?”

“Is there anything magical you can do? A spell, or a charm, or something?”

“Mum, you really don’t want to use magic for something as delicate as this.”

“But is there?”

Valkyrie looked away. “We don’t do spells,” she said, not for the first time. “But, even if we did, trying to alter a person’s emotional state, that’s …”

Melissa nodded. “No. You’re right. It was a silly idea.”

“It wasn’t silly …”

“I thought there might be a quick fix,” Melissa said. “An easy answer. I wanted to cheat, basically. I was talking to your dad a few days ago about getting in a hypnotist, and that led us on to that time you told us about using people’s names to get them to do things. We were thinking something like that might help.”

“I don’t know, Mum. That kind of thing, there’s no way of knowing the ramifications. Besides, using someone’s given name, that usually doesn’t last longer than a few seconds.”

“But you use it to get people to forget things, don’t you?”

“It’s not as easy as that.”

Melissa’s face suddenly crumpled and the tears came, and now it was Valkyrie’s turn to wrap her arms around her.

“It’s OK,” Valkyrie said, her heart breaking. “It’s OK.”

“I just don’t know what we’ve done wrong.”

Now tears were running down Valkyrie’s cheeks. “Nothing,” she managed to say. “You’ve done nothing wrong. None of this is your fault.”

It was Valkyrie’s fault, just like Carol’s behaviour was Valkyrie’s fault. All this heartbreak, all this sadness and guilt – it was all because of her.

There was bile in her throat. She wanted to drop to her knees, wanted to scream until her voice was hoarse, wanted to throw up until there was nothing left inside her. Instead, she hung on to her mother until Melissa had regained control and stepped away, smiling bravely.

“Back into the fray,” she said. “You coming?”

Valkyrie held up her purse. “Got to make that call.”

Melissa smiled gently. “OK, sweetie. See you in there.”

When the door closed and her mother was gone, Valkyrie lurched to her car. She plunged her hand into her purse, found the fob. The boot clicked and opened and she practically dived in, she was so eager. Grabbed the sports bag, yanked the zip across, pulled out the music box, held it in both hands, pressed her thumbs to each side and opened the lid.

The music swam to her and her eyes closed, the turmoil calming. The sick feeling went away. All those voices. All that screaming in her head. All went quiet.

“Thank you,” she murmured to the music. “Thank you.”

Black suit. Three-piece. Black shirt. Red tie. Black hat, with black hatband, pulled low over one eye socket. One shoulder leaning on wall. Gloved hands in pockets. First polished shoe flat on ground. Second polished shoe, crossed over, toe to pavement.

Skulduggery Pleasant. Overdressed.

“You’re still compensating for wearing those rags the other day, aren’t you?” Valkyrie said as she approached.

“It was not a highlight of my existence, this is true,” he said, “but I try not to compensate for anything, Valkyrie. I’d planned to wear this ensemble today, regardless of what disguise I wore over the weekend.”

“Right,” she said, not entirely believing him. They walked side by side into the Humdrums, Roarhaven’s mortal district. It was quieter here. Fewer shops. The people hurried by, casting nervous glances around as they went.

“How was your uncle’s birthday dinner?” Skulduggery asked.

“Strained,” she answered. “But we ended it by singing happy birthday and the staff brought out a cupcake with a candle on it, so at least Alice had a good time. Who are we looking for?”

“Our mysterious friend.”

“Which one? We have so many.”

“My apologies. The mysterious friend who sends letters to the High Sanctuary, warning of an imminent invasion by Mevolent.”

“Oh, that mysterious friend. You think he’s a mortal?”

“No, but I think he’s hiding among them. It would have been ridiculously easy for a sorcerer to slip unnoticed through the portal from the Leibniz Universe, surrounded by tens of thousands of frightened refugees.”

“And do we know roughly where to start looking? There’s quite a few doors to knock on.”

“Oh, I know exactly where we’re going,” Skulduggery said. “Our mysterious friend left a not exactly subtle clue in a letter that arrived this morning. He wants to meet.”

They stopped, looked across the street to the pub on the other side.

“So he’s invited us here,” Valkyrie said. “And how can you be sure it’s not a trap?”

“I can’t.”

“So did you bring back-up?”

“Of course.” He started across the road. “I brought you.”

He wasn’t wearing his façade, so when they walked into the pub everyone stopped what they were doing and stared. All these mortals, still suspicious of anyone with the ability to do magic. Valkyrie wondered if they’d ever get over their distrust of sorcerers after living in a world ruled by Mevolent. She doubted it.

There was a man sitting at a table near the back, his face hidden by an old baseball cap. He wore tattered jeans, a Nirvana T-shirt, and a blazer – clothes that looked like they’d been donated – and his right hand was gloved.

His right hand. Was gloved.

Nefarian Serpine looked up at them as he tilted his chair back, and smiled. “Now, I would wager that you didn’t expect to see—”

Valkyrie snatched up an empty beer bottle and threw it, and it bounced off Serpine’s head and he toppled over backwards.

“Ow,” he said from the floor.

They stood over him. He started to get up, but Skulduggery planted a foot on his chest.

“You probably have questions,” Serpine said.

“The last we saw of you,” Skulduggery said, “you were leading the Resistance against Mevolent in another reality. What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Serpine said, trying to get comfortable, “not long after you departed, it occurred to me that being the leader of the Resistance was a very dangerous title to hold. It meant a lot of Mevolent’s people wanted to kill me. Almost all of them, in fact. So, taking this into account, I regretfully stepped down.”

“Who’s in charge now?” Valkyrie asked.

“I don’t actually know,” Serpine responded. “There is a distinct likelihood that I failed to tell anyone in the Resistance that I was leaving. I don’t like goodbyes, you see.”

Skulduggery removed his foot and waved his hand, and the chair righted itself, almost throwing Serpine into the table. “Thank you,” he grumbled.

Valkyrie dragged another chair over and sat. “So you left the Resistance without a leader, ran away, mingled with all those mortals, and came through the portal.”

“And I’ve been living here ever since.”

“Doing what?”

“Assimilating,” Serpine said, taking off his cap. “I’ve been watching your mortal television and reading your mortal books. You have a lot more sources of entertainment in this dimension. It’s quite diverting. And I’ve been learning a lot about this world and its culture. I haven’t been making trouble, if that’s what concerns you. In fact, I’ve been rather helpful.”

“We know,” said Valkyrie. “All those notes you’ve been sending to the High Sanctuary have been very interesting.”

“My humble attempts to be a good citizen.”

“Tell us more about that,” Skulduggery said. “Mevolent’s plans.”

Serpine gave a shrug. “He hates you. The two of you. I would imagine he’d invade this dimension just to kill you, but he’s also become obsessed with conquering a parallel world. There’s technology here that we just don’t have over there. Machinery. Computers. Medicine.”

“You’ve got a lot over there that we don’t have here,” Valkyrie pointed out.

“This is true, but a man like Mevolent isn’t one to be content with what is in front of him. If he sees something shiny and new, he wants it. He wants your world. He wants your weapons. And at the back of it all is the fact that he can’t stand the idea of a world run by mortals. Surprisingly petty, for one so tall.”

“Do you have anything useful to tell us?” Skulduggery asked. “We’ve known that there was a high probability of an invasion, or some sort of attack – none of this is news. Do you have any idea when Mevolent will invade?”

“I would guess you have until the end of the year at the very most.”

“How do you know?”

Serpine hesitated, then smiled. “All this talking is making me feel quite weak,” he said. “Perhaps, if you buy me a drink and some food, I might be able to summon the strength to talk more.”

“Oh,” Valkyrie replied. “Oh, you think this is a conversation. You think we’re chatting. No, no. This is an interrogation. If we weren’t doing this here, we’d be doing it in a cold room in the High Sanctuary and you’d be in shackles right now.”

Serpine frowned. “But I haven’t broken any laws.”

“You’ve murdered people.”

“But not here. Not in this dimension. Isn’t there a rule that says a person can’t be held responsible for laws broken in a parallel universe? Isn’t there? There should be. Besides, we have an understanding, don’t we? Detective Pleasant doesn’t blame me for killing his wife and child because I didn’t kill his wife and child.”

“You killed the wife and child of another Skulduggery,” Skulduggery said.

“Exactly. Completely different people. That’s precedent. Isn’t that the legal, mortal term for it? I saw that on one of your TV shows.”

“That’s true,” Skulduggery responded. “And I don’t blame you for it. That was another Serpine, and he’s dead, and I felt an enormous sense of satisfaction when I killed him. I’ve had my revenge.”

“Yes. See? That’s reasonable. You and I were never enemies, Skulduggery. Can I call you Skulduggery? In fact, there’s absolutely no reason why we can’t be friends.”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Skulduggery said. “You have murdered another version of my family, after all. You have done unspeakable things in another version of my world. You’re still you. So I would recommend you answer our questions and be as helpful as you can possibly be, or we’ll drag you to a cell and talk to you there.”

Serpine straightened up. “Of course. My apologies. You asked how I knew Mevolent would be invading within a year. I suppose I don’t – not really. But I don’t think he has any other choice.”

“Explain.”

“There’s a sickness on my world,” Serpine said. “I heard reports before I came here. I don’t know anything about it other than it spreads quickly, it leaves no survivors and, the last I heard, there’s no cure. Before I left, we’d lost entire continents to it.”

“So you think Mevolent will want to flee before it reaches him.”

“I do.”

“So why this?” Skulduggery asked, indicating the pub around them. “Why not put all this in a letter and leave it for us to handle? Why the meeting?”

“This information is valuable, is it not? I daresay invaluable.”

“You’re looking for a reward.”

Serpine smiled. “I’ve lived among these mortals for long enough. I would like immunity for any and all past crimes and misdemeanours, irrespective of which dimension they were committed in, and I would like a house in a better part of Roarhaven.”

Valkyrie frowned. “You want to be a citizen.”

“Indeed I do. I would also like free driving lessons and a car, and a latte. I’ve seen people order lattes on television and they don’t sell any around here, and I would so dearly love to try one. And maybe also a puppy. I’ve always liked puppies.” His smile grew wider. “They taste delicious.”

Valkyrie glanced at Skulduggery. “Shall I hit him,” she asked, “or will you?”

Sebastian Tao sat on the couch in the living room as Lily brought out a tray of freshly baked cookies. The others each picked one out as the tray passed, making satisfied moans as they took a bite. They held their free hands under their chins to catch the crumbs that fell. Sebastian’s mouth watered. He would have given almost anything to merely smell those cookies – but for the last two years all he’d been able to smell was the inside of his beak.

He hated his mask. He hated the glass eyeholes and the ridiculous beak and the straps that kept it all in place. He hated the hat he wore with it, and the suit, and the coat and the gloves and the boots. He hated not having one centimetre of skin exposed to the fresh air or the sun or the rain. He was like the Boy in the Bubble, that kid from years ago who was so susceptible to infection that he was forced to live in a plastic cocoon from the moment he was born.

Immediately after this thought occurred, Sebastian began to feel bad about it. The Boy in the Bubble definitely had it worse.

“OK, so,” Bennet said, still smacking his lips over that cookie, “the reason we’re all here.”

“Actually, the Plague Doctor should call this meeting to order before we go any further,” Ulysses said.

“Of course, of course,” said Bennet, and everyone looked to Sebastian expectantly.

He hated this bit. “Uh, I hereby call this gathering to order.”

Everyone nodded.

“Well done,” said Kimora.

“That was a good one,” said Tarry.

“Uh,” said Forby, which was a pretty good endorsement on his part.

“Thank you, Plague Doctor,” Bennet said. “So, when we all first got together, it was to share our feelings regarding Darquesse, and what it meant to have witnessed the actions of a god. And those feelings are still being shared, because they grow and they evolve over time.”

“Yes, they do,” Lily chimed in.

“But things have changed for our little group,” Bennet continued. “The Plague Doctor travelled to an alternate dimension on our behalf – a dimension filled with Faceless Ones, no less – found Darquesse, and brought her back to us. This is, obviously, wonderful, but also terrifying.”

Kimora raised her hand. “I, personally, am terrified.”

“Thank you, Kimora. I think it’s safe to say that we’re all a little worried about having a murderous god living among us.”

“Is she?” said Ulysses. “Among us, I mean. She’s been sitting in Lily’s spare room, staring at the wall, ever since she returned.”

“The point is,” Bennet responded, “she’s here. And we have one person to thank for that. Plague Doctor, we have been talking, the others and I, and we have come to the realisation that what you have done is nothing short of a miracle.”

“Well,” Sebastian said, “I don’t know about that …”

“You found her,” said Bennet. “You brought her back. We think that makes you the First Apostle of Darquesse.”

“What? Apostle?”

“You don’t like the title?” Lily said. “What would you prefer? I suggested Pope.”

“I’m … I’m not a pope.”

“Prophet, maybe?” Kimora said, and frowned. “Does that mean we would be worshipping you, too?”

“No,” Sebastian said quickly. “No, you shouldn’t. I’ve seen how you worship people. It’s creepy.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but apparently no one was in a joking mood.

“But you must be something,” Ulysses said. “A High Priest, perhaps.”

“Or maybe we should all be dressing like you,” said Tarry. “Is that why you wear those clothes? Should all devout followers of Darquesse be Plague Doctors?”

“That’s not why I wear this.”

“Should we lose our names?” Forby asked.

“My name isn’t lost.”

“So the Plague Doctor is your actual taken name?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Obviously, you have a connection with Darquesse,” said Lily. “Maybe you didn’t realise it. Maybe she was reaching out to you in ways we don’t yet understand, telling you to wear a suit that would let you find her, to call yourself by that name, to—”

“Sebastian,” Sebastian blurted. “Sebastian Tao. That’s my name.”

They stared at him.

“Sebastian,” said Bennet.

“Yes.”

“You don’t look like a Sebastian.”

“I’m wearing a mask so you wouldn’t know, though, would you?”

Bennet took a seat, and a moment. “Sebastian,” he said again, slowly.

“I’ll ask you not to tell anyone,” Sebastian said. “Even if you had people to tell, which you probably don’t. But just … yeah. Don’t reveal my name to anyone.”

“Why not?”

Sebastian hesitated. “I can’t tell you. But it’s important that I stay anonymous.”

Ulysses scratched his beard thoughtfully. “You in trouble, Sebastian?”

Kimora’s eyes widened. “Is that it? Are you in danger?”

“I’m perfectly safe,” Sebastian responded. “You don’t have to worry about me. But I do have a mission. The first part of that mission was to find Darquesse and bring her home.”

“What’s the second part?”

“To convince her to help us.”

Bennet sat forward. “With what?”

Sebastian didn’t answer immediately.

“You’ve seen the future,” Bennet said. “You have, haven’t you? You’ve seen what’s coming.”

This wasn’t a good idea. Sharing that information was not the smart thing to do. And yet Sebastian’s mouth wouldn’t stay closed. Finally, he was telling someone. Finally, he was sharing his burden. “I’ve seen what’s coming,” he said. “I can’t tell you what it is. I wish I could. I really do. But the success of my mission – the fate of the world – depends on me keeping this secret.”

“So … so Darquesse really is going to save us, then?” Forby said.

“But if she saves us,” said Lily, “does that means bad things are coming?”

“Oh, yes,” said Sebastian.

Ulysses blinked. “But we have Darquesse, so whatever happens, and I’m fine with Sebastian not telling us what that is, she’ll protect us. Right?”

Sebastian nodded. “Hopefully.”

Now they all frowned at him.

“What do you mean, hopefully?” Bennet asked.

“Well, I just … I just mean that I don’t know. I hope she’ll help us.”

“Didn’t you see her helping us in your vision?”

“It’s not quite as simple as that.”

“So you didn’t see her helping us.”

“No,” Sebastian admitted.

“But of course she’ll help us!” Lily said. “She’s Darquesse!”

“Um …” Forby said. “The last time Darquesse was here, she tried to murder the entire planet.”

Lily gasped and pointed. “Blasphemer!”

“Is it blasphemy if it’s true?” Kimora asked.

“I don’t think it is,” said Ulysses.

“Well, OK,” said Lily, “maybe not blasphemy, but … You’ve got to be more supportive, Forby. We’ve been worshipping Darquesse for years now, and we can’t just turn round and say, yeah, she’s not that great and she did try to kill us all.”

“But she did,” he argued.

“That’s not the point, though!”

“Then what is the point?”

“I don’t know!” Lily cried.

Bennet got to his feet. “OK, listen, everyone. We all started worshipping Darquesse for our own reasons. I started worshipping because I saw what she could do and I realised she was a god. And what do you do with gods?”