Seasons of War

“Worship them?” Forby suggested.

“You worship them, exactly,” Bennet said. “And that’s what I did. I was shown just how insignificant I truly was and I’ll admit it … I was lost. I floundered. Praying to this god we all found … it was suddenly the only thing that made sense any more. It was the only thing that got me balanced again. So that’s why I worship her. In a vast and uncaring universe, she’s given my life meaning. We all have similar stories. We may have come from different directions, but we’re all on the same journey now.

“The thing is, we’ve never actually discussed what it’d mean to actually bring her back. Not really. Not seriously. Because the fact is she’s a terrible god. I don’t mean terrible as in crappy, but terrible as in great and terrible. Her wrath is terrible to behold. That kinda thing. She’s not benevolent. She doesn’t care for the people who pray to her. I mean, she’s been sitting in Lily’s spare room for three months and she hasn’t said one word to any of us. She hasn’t even blinked.”

“Not blinking doesn’t mean she doesn’t care,” Lily said weakly.

“We should be honest with ourselves,” said Bennet. “We never thought she’d actually come back, did we?”

They all looked at each other. Guiltily.

“Of course we didn’t,” Bennet continued. “And that was fine. That was perfect, in fact. Our god was missing, which meant we could project whatever fantasy we wanted on to her. There was no way of disproving anything we said, and she had no way of disappointing us. But now she’s back, and I think it’s fair to say that we don’t have the first idea what to do with her.”

Forby spoke up. “Maybe the Plague – sorry – maybe Sebastian could, like, ask her.”

“Oooh, good idea,” said Tarry.

They were all looking at Sebastian again. Finally, he sighed, and stood. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll try.”

He went upstairs, to the spare room. He knocked, then gently pushed open the door and stepped in.

Darquesse sat in mid-air, hovering above the carpet, legs folded beneath her. Her eyes were open, her gaze resting somewhere beyond the wall.

“Hi,” Sebastian said.

As usual, she ignored him.

If, as a structure, the High Sanctuary was the embodiment of the modern sorcerer – strong, noble, and a beacon of positivity and good intentions – then the Dark Cathedral was that sorcerer’s shadow – powerful, merciless, and a balefire of intimidation and sinister intent.

They glared at each other – the High Sanctuary, planted securely in the middle of the Circle; the Dark Cathedral, perched on the east side of the zone like a great, sharp-taloned bird – and sometimes it seemed to Valkyrie that they were silently battling for the soul of Roarhaven, a city of wonder and magic that appeared to be always teetering on the edge of isolationism and paranoia.

But that was only if the High Sanctuary did symbolise all those wonderful qualities of the modern sorcerer. Valkyrie was not so sure that it did any more. Under the leadership of Supreme Mage Sorrows, Sanctuaries around the world were getting increasingly heavy-handed with those sorcerers who didn’t fall in line. China would no doubt argue that a tougher approach to such a lofty ideal – to protect the mortals from sorcerers who would do them harm – was absolutely necessary in a world shaken again and again by the threat of unimaginable horrors. Valkyrie wasn’t sure if she agreed – but then Valkyrie wasn’t sure of much any more.

There were still bruises on her abdomen from the bullets Victoria Leigh had fired into her. It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to kill her, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Violence was now such a part of Valkyrie’s life that she barely trembled afterwards. Only in extreme cases would the shakes become apparent. In the old days, she’d break down after a fight as the last remaining jolts of adrenaline spiked through her system.

Still alive, that voice in Valkyrie’s head would say. Still alive.

But she was now so numb to it all that she rarely shed a tear despite the damage she endured. Despite the damage she inflicted.

Three months earlier, she’d been beaten almost to death in a jail cell in the depths of the High Sanctuary. Bones broken. Organs damaged. Massive internal trauma. A doctor had fixed some of it, but then she’d latched on to his magic, replicating it, improving on it. She’d healed herself while he watched in disbelief.

Maybe that was it. Maybe the fact that she could heal any injury so long as there was a healer to latch on to, maybe that was dulling her to the dangers she faced.

“Million miles away,” Skulduggery said.

Valkyrie looked up. “What?”

“I said you’re a million miles away. Is everything OK?”

They were in the Bentley, deep in the underground car park beneath the High Sanctuary.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, sorry. Miles away, you’re right.”

They got out. Skulduggery wasn’t wearing his façade, but she knew he was looking at her funny.

“Just thinking about punching people,” Valkyrie said as they walked for the elevator tiles. “I’ve hit so many people down through the years, I think I might be getting kind of … sick of it.”

“Well, that’s interesting.”

“Probably not the best attitude to have with the amount of fights we get into.”

“Probably,” he agreed. “But this has been building in you for a while, hasn’t it?”

“I suppose. I’m not … I’m not turning into a pacifist, am I?”

“Nothing wrong with being a pacifist,” Skulduggery responded. “I like to think of myself as a pacifist.”

Valkyrie snorted. “You?”

“I said I liked to think it. I didn’t say I was one.”

They took the tiles up, and stepped off once they’d settled into place in the marble foyer. Cerise, the young Administrator, waved them through, and they walked the corridors. They got to a set of heavy double doors. Grey-suited Cleavers blocked their way, scythes in their hands. Before Skulduggery could even tilt his head, they stood aside and allowed them entry.

It was a big room with half a floor. Hovering over the far half of the room, over the crackling sea of energy that would fry anyone who fell into it, was the dais that housed the elaborately carved throne on which sat China Sorrows.

She looked pale. Anyone would look pale with this light show going on beneath them, but China looked especially pale, even for her. She’d told them, weeks earlier, that she hadn’t been sleeping much. Plagued by nightmares, she’d said – then immediately changed the subject, angry at herself for revealing too much.

The dais moved forward a little, closer to where they stood.

“The Sensitives have scanned him,” China said, “as much as he’d let them, anyway.”

“I imagine Serpine’s psychic defences are formidable,” Skulduggery responded.

“From what they can see, he’s telling the truth. In his estimation, we have less than a year before Mevolent launches an invasion to get away from whatever sickness is decimating his world. On one level, this information is nothing new. We’ve been expecting Mevolent to strike at us in some form or other for years now. An all-out invasion, while regarded as somewhat unlikely, was nonetheless on the cards.”

“But now that we know it’s coming, we have time to get ready,” Valkyrie said.

China shook her head. “We can’t allow the invasion to even begin. We have no guarantee that we’d be able to contain it, and no guarantee he wouldn’t choose to attack a mortal city first. The fact is, I simply refuse to be the Supreme Mage in charge when the mortals learn of our existence. It would be a lasting stain on my legacy.”

The dais drifted lower, until she was almost at eye level with them. “I have a job for you. I realise that, as Arbiters, not even I am able to issue you an order, but I would appreciate it greatly if you would give this some consideration.”

“What do you need us to do?” Valkyrie asked.

China sat back. “If Serpine is right, and Mevolent and his army will invade by the end of the year, that gives us, at most, seven months. Our preparations will continue, of course, but I would dearly like for all that work to have been for nothing.”

“Meaning what?”

“You want us to shunt over to the Leibniz Universe,” Skulduggery said.

“That’s right,” said China.

“And you want us to kill Mevolent.”

“That is also right.”

Valkyrie looked at them both. “We’re not assassins.”

“I understand that,” said China, “but drastic steps are sometimes required. And assassination is nothing new to Skulduggery.”

“I’ve killed when I have to,” he replied. “But plenty of people have tried to kill Mevolent. Darquesse even gave it a go. If she couldn’t manage it, I don’t like my chances.”

“Everyone can be killed,” said China. “For centuries, we didn’t think that the Mevolent in our universe could die – and then his own son killed him. It’s entirely possible. All you need is the right weapon.”

“The God-Killers,” Skulduggery said.

“The sword was damaged during Devastation Day, and I have devoted considerable resources to repairing it. But our greatest hope lies with the greatest God-Killer.”

Valkyrie frowned. “You found the Sceptre of the Ancients?”

“We did,” said China. “You’ll be taking that.”

Valkyrie shook her head. “It doesn’t have to be me. Once we take it into another dimension, it’s wiped clean. It’ll bond to whoever’s the first to touch it.”

“I realise that. But I want you to wield it.”

“I can’t,” said Valkyrie. “If I’m the only one who can use it, I’d have to be the one to kill Mevolent. I’m not killing anyone. And don’t bother telling me how bad he is and how much he deserves it and how much better off people will be when he’s gone. I know all this. It doesn’t change anything.”

“I’m not asking you to kill anyone,” China responded. “I’m just asking that you take the Sceptre and maybe use it as a last resort – just in case everything else goes wrong. I have every faith that Skulduggery will find a way to kill Mevolent without it.”

“Skulduggery should take it, then.”

“It won’t bond to Skulduggery. We’ve studied the Sceptre – as much as we could without taking it apart – and it would appear that it bonds with living flesh and blood. I’m afraid Skulduggery lacks the essential ingredients. It has to be you, my dear.”

Valkyrie pinched the bridge of her nose. She was getting another one of her headaches.

“When would you need us to go?” Skulduggery asked.

“We have seven months, but time is of the essence. You will be leaving in four days.”

Valkyrie frowned. “And how long would we be away?”

“If you haven’t managed to kill him in two months, come home. We’ll re-strategise.”

“Two months?”

“We’ll need a team,” Skulduggery said.

China nodded. “Take whomever you like – apart from Fletcher Renn and Temper Fray. I’ll need them here. And I’m afraid you’ll have to take Serpine. He’ll be your guide.”

“I doubt he’ll be too enthusiastic about that.”

“We’ll give him asylum if he co-operates, allow him to stay in Roarhaven – under strict supervision, of course.”

“We’d be running the risk of him betraying us. He is notoriously evil, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I trust you’ll be able to handle him if it comes to that. I know what it is I’m asking you to do. I know how difficult it will be. But I’m afraid we have little option. Meritorious had his Dead Men. I need you to be mine.”

“Ask us,” Skulduggery said.

“Pardon?”

“I just like being asked to … you know.”

China sighed. “Skulduggery Pleasant, Valkyrie Cain, will you accept this mission and save the world, pretty please, with a cherry on top?”

Skulduggery put his hands on his hips. “I shall.”

“Yeah,” Valkyrie muttered. “I shall, too.”

It’s a hell of a thing, to kill a man.

Clint Eastwood said that, in that movie with Lex Luthor and the first Dumbledore. Back when she saw that film for the first time, sitting with her dad in the living room, trying to hide the bruises she’d got from whatever fight she’d been in earlier that day, Valkyrie had just thought it was a cool line. Since then, she’d had the opportunity for a little re-evaluation.

She’d killed people. She’d weakened, allowed Darquesse to take over, and that side of her had ended lives while wearing her face. Then Valkyrie had regained control and she’d gone on with her life, not really noticing the blood that dripped from her hands. And that was before Darquesse had even split from her and killed thousands. That was before Valkyrie had killed her own sister. All that death – because of where Valkyrie has come from and what she’d been through and the decisions she’d taken down through the years.

And now she was on a team built for assassination. A hit squad.

“I wanted to be a pacifist,” she said.

“Hold on,” said Fletcher, tapping at his phone. “Almost finished. Almost … there. Sent.” He put the phone away. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I wanted to be a pacifist.”

“You? But you love punching people.”

“I don’t love it.”

“You hardly hate it.”

“I punch people if I have to punch them.”

“Does that make you a reluctant puncher, or a reluctant pacifist?”

“I didn’t say I was a pacifist. I said I wanted to be one.”

“You’d be a terrible pacifist. You’re far too violent.”

Her phone buzzed. She read the message. “New York,” she said.

“I heart New York.”

“Roof of the Flatiron Building. She’ll be there in three minutes.”

“We’ll be there in none,” Fletcher said. He took Valkyrie’s hand and now they were in Manhattan, high above the city streets. The sun was bright and the sky was blue and the warm air rushed in Valkyrie’s ears. She wandered to the edge of the roof and looked down.

“What has you thinking about pacifism?” Fletcher asked.

Valkyrie shrugged, watching the yellow cabs jerk erratically through the flow of traffic, signalling each manoeuvre with a blast of the horn.

“Is it anything to do with this top-secret mission you’re on that you can’t tell me about?”

“I can tell you about it,” she said, turning to him. “I couldn’t tell you about it in Roarhaven because I don’t know who’s listening, but we’re fine here. Do you want to know about the mission?”

“Not really.”

“You’re not the slightest bit interested in anything that doesn’t concern you, are you?”

“Why would I be?” he responded. “The problem with the world today is that people want to be in on everything. I don’t see the point.”

Valkyrie smiled, went to look down at the streets again, and jerked back. “Jesus!” she said, hand on her heart.

Tanith Low, grinning and standing on the side of the building right below her with her arms crossed. She walked up the last few strides, her body swinging from horizontal to vertical with that final step on to the roof.

“Sorry,” she said, hugging Valkyrie. “Couldn’t resist. How you doing? Doing OK?”

“Doing fine,” Valkyrie said, giving her an extra squeeze.

“Hey, Tanith,” Fletcher said.

Tanith released Valkyrie, gave Fletcher a hug, too. “Hey, Fletch. How’s life as a teacher?”

“It’s good,” he answered. “It’s nice to have a stable job, and I enjoy helping the kids, you know? It’s a chance to mould young minds. Really set them off on the right track.”

“Yeah,” said Tanith, “that’s cool.”

“I just think of all the ways I’ve changed since I met you guys,” Fletcher continued. “All the ways I’ve grown up. I was a cocky kid, wasn’t I? I was almost annoying.”

“Almost?” Tanith echoed.

Fletcher laughed. “Yeah, OK, so I was annoying. But now I’m teaching, I have a steady job, I’m moulding young minds—”

“Pretty sure you’ve already said all that,” Valkyrie pointed out. This was odd. Fletcher was suddenly – and uncharacteristically – nervous. Almost like—

He took a deep breath. “Tanith, would you like to go out with me?”

Valkyrie’s eyes widened.

Tanith stared. “I’m sorry?”

Fletcher chuckled. “Would you like to go out?” he asked. “With me? For dinner? Anywhere in the world.”

“On a … date?”

“Yes. I know it’s unconventional to be asked out by a guy whose ex-girlfriend is standing right here, but I didn’t want either of you to feel weird about this.”

“So thoughtful,” said Valkyrie.

“I mean, you’re best friends, and obviously there’s going to be some level of awkwardness there, but I’ve thought about this a lot, and I think that so long as we’re all open and honest from the very beginning, this needn’t be a problem. So, Tanith, what do you say? You know I’ve fancied you since I first met you.”

“He has,” Valkyrie said, nodding.

“Even when I was going out with Valkyrie.”

“It’s true,” Valkyrie said, nodding again.

“And yeah, I was way too young back then, but now I’ve grown up, and I think we’d be good together. What do you say? Want to give it a whirl, see what happens?”

“Uh …” said Tanith.

Fletcher gave her what Valkyrie knew was one of his most winning smiles.

“I’m kind of already seeing someone,” Tanith said.

Fletcher’s smile didn’t dim. If anything, it widened. “Is that so?”

“Oberon Guile,” Tanith said. “Valkyrie knows him.”

“I do,” said Valkyrie.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of him,” Fletcher said, frowning now with casual interest.

“You’d like him,” said Tanith.

“No, he wouldn’t,” said Valkyrie.

“Yeah, probably not. He’s a good guy. American. He helped us out with the Oregon thing and we’ve … well. We started something and we’re seeing where it takes us.”

“That sounds lovely,” said Fletcher, smiling again. “Well, OK then, so that’s a no from you on the whole dinner thing?”

“Afraid so.”

“That’s absolutely fine. I just thought I’d ask, you know. Now I’ll let Valkyrie take over, because she’s got the official Sanctuary business to talk to you about, because that’s the reason we’re here, after all. That’s the reason we came. I figured that while we’re—”

“You’re talking too much,” Valkyrie said.

He nodded. “I do that when I’m embarrassed. I’ll wait for you over there.” He smiled awkwardly, turned and walked off.

Tanith looked at Valkyrie, who held up her hands.

“I did not know he was going to ask that,” she said.

“I believe you.”

“But while we’re on the subject – how’s it going with tall, dark, and handsome?”

Tanith shrugged. “It’s going well,” she said. “No labels quite yet. We don’t really know what this is … but he’s a good guy.”

“Have you met his son?”

“I have not, nor have I met the ex. But, seeing as how he’s taken it upon himself to ensure they have a normal life, I’m not pushing for it. What about you and Militsa?”

“All good,” Valkyrie said. “She’s a bright ray of light in my otherwise dark existence.”

“Wow.”

“I know, right? Anyway – the reason I’m here …”

“Official Sanctuary business,” Tanith said, folding her arms. “And yet you know I already have a mission. Skulduggery assigned it to me himself.”

“I know, I know. Any progress?”

Tanith glared. “I’m getting there. We’re getting there, actually. I have Oberon helping me whenever he’s free … but it’s slow work, tracking down a weapon nobody will admit they’ve even heard of. It’s mostly research, going from one reference to the Obsidian Blade to another reference to another … I haven’t punched or kicked anyone in months. Months, Valkyrie.”

“That’s why I’m here. I’m offering you the chance to punch someone, and probably kick them as well. It’s got nothing to do with the Obsidian Blade or the Unnamed in the slightest, but it will entail travelling to another dimension.”

An excited smile tugged at the corners of Tanith’s mouth. “The Leibniz Universe?”

“Dimension X, yes.”

“We’re travelling into the Leibniz Universe?”

“I don’t know why you keep calling it that when its name is Dimension X but, again, yes.”

“How many of us?”

“Seven.”

“For how long?”

“Two months at the very most. I’m hoping it’ll only take a week or so.”

“What’s the mission?”

“We’re going to kill Mevolent.”

Tanith stuck her hand out. “You had me at kill Mevolent.”

Valkyrie shook it. “Literally the last thing I said.”

“And that’s when you had me.”

The world was closing in on Martin Flanery, and he didn’t know what to do.

He lay awake at night, thinking about the Democrats, about the mainstream media, about the treacherous members of his own party. They were all out to get him, all out to scupper his magnificent, wonderful plans.

Nobody had better plans than Martin Flanery. Nobody.

His advisors were idiots, his Chief of Staff was a moron, and his new vice-president was a woman. A woman! Martin just didn’t believe, on a fundamental level, that women could be trusted to run a country. They were far too emotional. Way too volatile.

He stormed out of another of his meetings, apoplectic with rage. Why couldn’t he trust anyone to do anything? Why couldn’t he trust anyone?

Even Crepuscular Vies had let him down. The attack on the naval base in Oregon had been supposed to kick off a war against the wizards. It had all been planned, every little bit. Then Abyssinia had tried to betray him. But he’d shown her. Oh, yes.

And then everything had gone wrong. That creepy-headed weirdo in the bow tie and the hat had decided, without even consulting Martin, that the plan needed to be altered. Instead of an attack that grabbed the headlines, there was barely a mention of a disturbance in any of the local newspapers.

He got back to the Oval Office and slammed the door. He hated everybody. It was all so unfair.

“You’re going to have a heart attack,” Crepuscular said, and Martin jumped.

Martin hated it when Crepuscular sat behind the Oval Office desk, because there was nothing he could do to move him. He just had to stand there, and Martin hated standing. Always had.

“You’re always so angry,” the freak was saying. “You should learn to let things go, you really should.”

“Like you, you mean?” Martin said, and then instantly regretted it – but Crepuscular just laughed.

“No,” he said, “I suppose not. You got me there, Mr President. You got me there.”

“What are we—?” His voice made a weird squawk.

“Sorry?” said Crepuscular. “What was that?”

Martin cleared his throat. “What are we going to do about my re-election campaign?”

“That’s not for another year.”

“But we don’t have anyone. We don’t have the witch to make senators support me, or find out their secrets, or – or any of the things we did last time. What are we going to do?”

“Will you relax? Seriously. I’ve got it covered, Martin. I know exactly what to do and who to call on and who to lean on … We’re in great shape. You know what I predict? I predict you’re going to win a second term in office by an even greater majority.”

Martin nodded. Yes. Yes, that was right.

“The people love you, Mr President.”

Martin sighed, the tension leaving his body. They did love him. They screamed his name and chanted his slogans. They worshipped him.