Seasons of War

Crepuscular hopped up, brushed the seat of the chair, and ushered Martin into it.

“There,” he said. “The people’s president. We’re going to do great things, you and me.”

Martin looked at him and smiled. They were indeed. Great, great things. And, when Martin won his second term, he’d speak to some people, and someone wearing gloves would walk up behind Crepuscular Vies during one of his condescending little speeches, and shoot him in the back of the head. And Martin would watch.

Sebastian stepped into the room. Darquesse floated there, eyes on the wall but focused elsewhere.

“Hello again,” he said. “I’d like to continue talking to you, if you don’t mind. About my mission? About what I was hoping you might do? I don’t think I made an awful lot of sense yesterday, or the day before that, so I’ve written it all down, just to make sure I don’t lose track of the point again.” Sebastian took the paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and cleared his throat.

Before he could speak, Darquesse exhaled.

It was the first movement she’d made in weeks. The first action she’d taken. It was a long and slow exhalation, barely noticeable, and it made Sebastian wonder how long she’d been holding the air in her lungs. Since they got here, perhaps?

When she was finished, she took a breath. Nothing huge. Just a simple breath. Her chest expanded, and then she let it out. And then she was breathing normally.

Sebastian’s heart was suddenly a prisoner in his chest, digging through his ribcage to get out.

One eye blinked. Her left one. It blinked again. It screwed itself shut, and then opened, extra wide. The other one followed suit, though not at the same speed.

She refocused and turned her head slightly, her eyes blinking independently of each other. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

“Hello?” Sebastian said quietly.

Left eye blinked. Left eye blinked. Left eye then right eye blinked. Right eye. Left. Both together. Both together. Left eye then right eye and off she went again, eyes blinking at different rates.

Sebastian tried smiling behind his mask. “Darquesse?”

The moment their eyes locked, he cried out, his mind filled with a buzzing that blocked out every other single thing in the universe. He fell to his knees, fingers clawing at his mask, trying to rip it from his skin, trying to get at the skin and tear it from his bones.

And then the buzzing was gone and he sagged, fell back, breathing heavily.

“Communication,” Darquesse said, “is difficult.”

Sebastian understood. He’d glimpsed it, in all that buzzing. Years ago, she had moved beyond words. Transcended them. Now she had to take all her knowledge and all her experience and all her being, and condense it all back down into stupid, awkward, clumsy language.

“You don’t have to speak,” he said, getting up. “But can you understand what I’m saying?”

Her head moved one way, then the other, but neither was right. Then it moved up and down in a nod.

“My name is Sebastian. I found you, in that other dimension. With the Faceless Ones. I brought you back. Do you remember?”

“Name,” Darquesse murmured. “Your name is Sebastian.”

“Yes.”

“Your name is not Sebastian.”

“Sebastian is my taken name.”

“You have another.”

“I abandoned that one when I became Sebastian.”

“My name …”

“Yes.”

“Darquesse.”

“Yes.”

She frowned. “I have no other.”

“You used to be, I suppose, part of Valkyrie Cain. Do you remember that?”

“Valkyrie Cain. Stephanie Edgley. Darquesse.”

“Yes.”

Darquesse looked around, and Sebastian knew she wasn’t examining the walls, but looking through them, across vast distances. Looking at the world she’d tried to destroy.

“I need your help,” Sebastian said, hoping to bring her attention back to him. “Will you help me? Will you help us?”

Darquesse looked at him, and vanished.

“Oh, hell,” he said.

In a private room in the High Sanctuary, tucked deep within it, far away from even the Cleavers, Dexter Vex sat at the flat base of the triangular table and brooded.

He was a handsome guy. The beard did nothing to hide that, and neither did the scars that crept out around it – scars that had formed after Darquesse had plunged her hand down his throat years back. Valkyrie still didn’t know how he’d survived that, or how the doctors had put him back together with only those scars to show for it. Those scars, and that voice.

“I don’t get it,” he whispered. “Do we kill him now, or do we kill him later?”

Sitting opposite him, right at the tip of the triangle, Serpine smiled.

“We don’t kill him at all,” Skulduggery said. “Serpine isn’t our target. Mevolent is.”

“No, I get that,” Dexter said. “I get that we’re going after Mevolent. But when do we kill Serpine?”

“We don’t. As difficult as it is to believe, this Serpine is on our side.”

“But it’s Serpine.”

“A different Serpine.”

“But still Serpine.”

“Yes and no.”

Valkyrie sat beside Tanith on the left side of the table. Skulduggery stayed on his feet in case anyone suddenly dived at the villain in their midst.

“You’ve known an alternate Serpine existed in the Leibniz Universe for years,” Skulduggery said.

“It’s one thing to know it,” Dexter said. “Another thing to be sitting across from the man. He’ll betray us the first chance he gets. Better to kill him now.”

“I’ll do it,” Tanith said. “Skulduggery, let me kill him. You killed the last one.”

“Can I say something?” Serpine asked.

Valkyrie said, “I wouldn’t advise it.”

“I’m a wanted man in my world,” Serpine said anyway. “Mevolent and his people – and his people are everywhere – they hate me. They have orders to kill me on sight. Personally, I don’t want to go back because, to put it bluntly, I have nobody to betray you to. Of course, I understand why you’d want to kill me – but I am not the enemy you knew. I’m not him. To prove it, I’m willing to put my own well-being to one side and embark on this mission with you. If you can find it within yourselves to trust me, even on a marginal level, I believe that together we can stop Mevolent and end this threat once and for all. I believe we can be a team.”

Valkyrie watched them watch him.

“Nobody would have to know that we did it,” Tanith said. “We could say we went over to Dimension X and he immediately fell off a cliff.”

“He’s coming with us,” said Skulduggery. “We’ll keep an eye on him, he’ll never be left alone, and he’s been fitted with an obedience cuff.”

Serpine’s smile faded. There was a thin band of twisted metal around his left wrist. “You told me this was a tracking device.”

“It is,” Skulduggery responded. “We’ll need to know where you are at all times. But it’s also an obedience cuff.”

Warily, Serpine held his wrist away from his body. “And, if I disobey an order, it will, what, administer pain?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’ll just short out your nervous system. Like this.”

Skulduggery took a pebble from his pocket, and tapped his thumb against the sigil carved on it. Serpine went limp, slumped sideways, and fell off his chair.

“There’s no limit to its range,” Skulduggery continued, “and this will also happen if you try to tamper with the cuff. Any questions?”

Serpine mumbled incoherently.

“Point taken,” Skulduggery said, tapping the pebble again. “This is not a toy, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s not treat it as such.”

Slowly, Serpine climbed back into his chair.

“Is this the team, then?” Tanith asked. “The five of us?”

“We’ve always been lucky with seven, so that’s how many we’re going for here,” Skulduggery said, walking to the door. “The Shunter is one of America’s finest. He’s eager, though, so let’s not be rude to him.”

He opened the door and a smiling young man came through, nodding quickly to each of them. “Hi,” he said. “Hey. How you all doing? It’s a pleasure to be here, and an honour to be chosen for this team and this mission. I’m Luke Skywalker.”

“Oh, God,” Valkyrie muttered.

“You can’t be,” said Tanith.

Luke grinned and shrugged.

“Is that even legal?” Dexter asked.

“We’re allowed to take whatever names we want, aren’t we?” Luke said with a chuckle. “So I chose Luke Skywalker. If you haven’t guessed, I’ve always been a huge Star Wars fan.”

Serpine stood and walked over, holding out his gloved right hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Luke Skywalker. I don’t know what the Star Wars is, but I am Nefarian Serpine.”

Luke’s smile dimmed as they shook hands. “Aren’t you dead?”

“I’m another Nefarian Serpine, one that isn’t dead. Welcome to the team.”

Serpine went back to his chair. Luke had paled considerably.

“I’m not calling you that,” Tanith said. “I can’t. Skulduggery, come on.”

“He’s the best Shunter they have,” Skulduggery told her, and then added, “who was willing to come on this mission. You don’t have to call him by his full name. Just call him Luke.”

Tanith shook her head. “Can’t do it.”

“I agree with Tanith,” said Dexter. “It’d be in the back of my mind the whole time.”

“Look, guys,” Luke said, “I totally understand. I get this reaction more than you might think.”

“Doubt that,” said Tanith.

“I took this name because I wanted a life of adventure. I wanted excitement. When I learned that there was a branch of magic that would let me explore parallel worlds, I knew I had to be a Shunter. I carry my name with me proudly, because it symbolises the kind of spirit I want to inspire in other people some day. It symbolises hope, and freedom, and a sense of—”

“I could call you SpongeBob,” Tanith said.

“Please don’t call me SpongeBob,” said Luke.

“We’ll call him by the name he’s taken,” Skulduggery said, in a tone that invited no argument. “We’ll respect his decision and hope we don’t get sued. Luke, I know you’ve been briefed, but are you sure you want to do this? Our mission is dangerous. There’s no guarantee any of us are coming back.”

Luke squared his shoulders. “I’m in.”

Skulduggery clapped him on the back. “Take a seat.”

Luke took one, as far away from Serpine as he could.

“So that’s six,” Dexter said. “Who’s the seventh member?”

Skulduggery flicked open his pocket watch. “He should be here soon.”

“Is it someone we know?”

Skulduggery hesitated, only for a moment, and Dexter’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s Saracen, isn’t it?”

“We need someone we can trust,” Skulduggery said.

“Someone you can trust, you mean.” Dexter stood, started for the door.

Valkyrie darted in front of him. “Isn’t it about time you sorted this out? Whatever happened between you, it can’t be worth all this. You were the best of friends.”

“Friendships fade.”

“Dexter, please.”

Before he could respond, the door opened, and Saracen Rue walked in.

Dexter didn’t immediately storm off, so that was a promising start.

The last time Valkyrie had seen Saracen was in a vision, where he’d been lying dead on the ground. She pushed the image from her mind as she hugged him. A vision of the future was a glimpse at something that might happen – not would happen. With every decision made in the present, the future shifted. She had to keep reminding herself of that.

Saracen hugged Tanith, and then he nodded to Dexter. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.”

“I like the beard.”

“It covers the scars.”

Saracen shrugged. “You were always too pretty anyway. At least now you’re interesting.”

Tanith watched them both. “So are either of you going to tell us why you’ve been arguing?”

Dexter crossed his arms. Saracen shrugged.

Tanith looked at Luke and then at Serpine. “New guy, bad guy, leave the room. This is a conversation between friends.”

Luke sprang to his feet and hurried out, while Serpine grinned and got up from his chair lazily. He sauntered out, annoyingly slowly.

When the door closed, Saracen said, “It started out as something silly and then … grew.”

“He won’t tell me what his magical discipline is,” Dexter said.

Tanith frowned. “Seriously? That’s it? None of us know what it is.”

“And I was fine with that,” Dexter responded, “until Darquesse plunged her arm down my throat to pull that Remnant out and I almost died. While I was recovering, I found myself latching on to things. Small things. Easily achievable things. One of these small things was to get Saracen to tell me what he could do. So I asked him, and he wouldn’t tell me, and I realised what that actually meant: it meant he didn’t trust me. He didn’t trust anyone.”

Saracen shook his head. “That’s not what it meant.”

Dexter ignored him and carried on. “So, if he didn’t trust me, how could I trust him? In the state I was in – broken, in pain – this was something I’d decided I needed, and he couldn’t even do that for me. What made it worse was that the one person he had told was Ravel.”

“Ah, come on,” said Saracen, “I was on my deathbed at the time.”

“The only person you’ve ever told was the guy who went on to kill Ghastly and Anton.”

“And, if I had known that, I probably wouldn’t have told him.” Saracen sighed. “But anyway, that’s how it developed. From something small and silly into something big and important. The way these things do.”

Valkyrie said, “And, because of this, you haven’t spoken in years?”

“Not just because of this,” Saracen said. “I mean, it’s not exactly unusual for us to go off and do our own thing.”

“We’ve gone years without talking plenty of times before,” Dexter added. “It doesn’t mean anything. This was the first time there was an argument at the root of it, though.”

Saracen took a breath, and let it out. “And now I’m here to tell you.”

Valkyrie leaned forward. “Tell us what?”

“Tell you what I can do. If it’s the only way Dex can trust me again, then … OK. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now and it’s time.”

“You’re going to tell us your magical discipline?”

“Yes.”

Dexter looked surprised. Everyone looked surprised. Apart from Skulduggery. He never looked surprised.

“Hold on,” said Tanith. “Before you do … what do we all think it is?”

“I think it’s some kind of psychic thing,” said Valkyrie. “Like you can sense what’s round the corner.”

“I think it’s a psychic thing, too,” Tanith said, “but I reckon you can see a few seconds into the future. Skulduggery, what about you?”

“I know what it is,” Skulduggery said.

Now Saracen was surprised. “You do?”

“I always suspected, but my suspicions were confirmed only a few years ago, once Ravel revealed himself as a traitor.”

“This should be interesting,” Saracen said, raising an eyebrow.

“When you were on your deathbed,” Skulduggery said. “Tell us that story again.”

“My deathbed? You mean the time I was sick? There isn’t a whole lot to tell. I was sick, and getting sicker. I was almost dead, in fact. Then I woke up one morning and I was fine. The end.”

“What happened the night before you woke up fine?” Skulduggery asked.

“Not a whole lot. Oh, wait, you mean …? Yeah, I was lying there and I didn’t want to die without telling someone what my discipline was, so I told Ravel. A sort of deathbed-confession type of deal.”

“How did that confirm anything?” Tanith asked.

“Ravel had already put his plan in motion by this stage,” Skulduggery said, “which meant that, if Saracen could read minds, he could have quite easily discovered Ravel’s secret. So Ravel decided to kill him.”

Saracen took a moment. “Excuse me?”

“You weren’t getting sicker on your own. He was poisoning you.”

Saracen stared at him, then stared at the wall. “That sneaky …”

“But, when you told him what it was you could actually do, he realised that it didn’t pose a threat, so he stopped poisoning you and allowed you to get better.”

“That sneaky, low-down, dirty …”

“That eliminates any psychic elements from the equation,” said Skulduggery. “So you’re not a Sensitive, and you can’t see into the future – which means you have to be a Lynceus.”

Valkyrie tilted her head. “A what?”

“Someone who has so-called X-ray vision.”

“He tried to kill me,” Saracen muttered. “That … he tried to kill me …”

“Saracen,” Dexter said. “Back on track. Is that it? Is it X-ray vision?”

Making what seemed like a supreme effort to push his personal feelings to one side, Saracen nodded.

“Well. That’s pretty anticlimactic,” said Dexter. “After all this time, I mean.”

“But why keep it a secret?” Valkyrie asked.

“I’ve found that’s best,” Saracen responded. “Imagine for a moment you’d decided to become a Lynceus. Imagine you went around telling people that. Imagine them knowing that you could see through virtually anything. Imagine how they’d react.”

The room went quiet as this sank in.

“I doubt they’d be comfortable around you,” Tanith said.

“Exactly,” said Saracen. “Everyone would think I decided to specialise in this because I wanted to see through people’s clothes.”

“Why did you specialise in it?”

“I wanted to see through people’s clothes. I know, I know, but I was a teenager. I thought it’d be great. It’s not great. Not at all.”

“Well,” Tanith said, standing up and spreading her arms, “I’m not embarrassed.”

“No, you’re not,” Saracen said, smiling, “but I don’t like to use it for things like that any more. Besides, clothes tend to … squish and distort what’s underneath. It can get quite weird and unsettling.”

Tanith shrugged. “Still not embarrassed,” she said, and sat down again.

“I’m sorry,” Saracen said. “Everyone here, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’ve been ashamed of my discipline since I took it on, and the fact that I didn’t tell anyone at the start made it harder to tell anyone later, and that kind of snowballed and … here we are, hundreds of years down the line. Dexter, to you in particular – sorry, man.”

Dexter shook his head. “You could have chosen anything. Any discipline. I can’t believe you went for X-ray vision.”

“I know.”

“You could be flying right now. If you’d just stayed as an Elemental, you could be flying.”

“I realise that.”

“Instead, you decided to use your awesome magic to see through clothes.”

“Thanks for being so mature about this. So are we cool? Are we friends again?”

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Dexter said. “It’s just I’m embarrassed for you, you know? Not only because you chose that as a discipline, but also because that was your one big secret. That’s the thing that marked you out as mysterious. You were the guy who knew things, when really, all along … Oh, God, I’m blushing. I’m actually blushing for you.”

“Can we get Serpine back in here?” Saracen grumbled. “I feel that I need to punch someone.”

It was strange to see Auger so pale, so weak, and, no matter how many times Omen visited, it never got any easier.

His brother did his best to sit up in bed, though, and there was some semblance of that crooked grin of his. “You’re looking better,” he said.

“So are you,” Omen lied.

The Infirmary in the High Sanctuary was easily the best place in the world to be treated, or so Omen had heard. He wasn’t surprised. They had the very best that mortal medicine had to offer, plus cutting-edge science-magic. And also it was quiet, with very few patients.

“How’d your prison visit go?” Auger asked.

Omen lowered himself gently into the chair by the bed. “Could have been better,” he admitted.

“I told you. Jenan’s too far gone.”

“I had to try.”

“I know, I know. But that’s it, right? You gave him a chance to talk it out, and now you’ll never visit him again. Yes?”

Omen hesitated, and Auger groaned.

“I can’t say I’ll never visit again,” Omen said. “I’ll give it six months and then go back. Maybe he’ll have changed his mind.”

“Yeah,” said Auger. “Or maybe you’ll realise that you’re wasting your time trying to save people who don’t want to be saved.”

“Oh, so you’d give up on him, would you?”

“I already have, dude. He tried to kill us both. Well, he tried to kill you, anyway. With me, he just held out the knife and I jumped on to it.”

“You’re still mad at yourself, then?”

“It was so stupid,” Auger said. “All my training went right out the window.”

“We’ve had this discussion before.”

“And we’ll have it again. We’ll have it over and over until I’m sick of talking about it. I leaped on him. I leaped. Didn’t even see the knife.”

“You saved me.”

“And I’m really happy about that part, but—”

“You saved me, Auger. Yes, you didn’t follow all the rules and you got yourself badly hurt – but you didn’t have time. If you’d been a second slower, I’d have been dead. You did what you had to do.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Definitely. So how are you doing?”

“Better,” said Auger. “I can walk halfway across the room now before I get too tired.”

“That’s a definite improvement.”

“And earlier I peed without any assistance.”

“Good for you.”

“Yeah,” Auger said, nodding proudly. “I mean, I completely messed up the bed and they had to change all the sheets, but …”

“But you did it.”

“And that’s the main thing.”

They grinned at each other, and then Auger said, “But I did actually pee the bed.”

Omen shrugged. “Who hasn’t peed the bed recently?”

“Not me, that’s for sure.”

“It’s the small victories.”

“It is.”

“Has anyone been to see you?”

“Kase and Mahala,” said Auger. “Never, too, but it’s easier for him. She’ll just teleport straight in, doesn’t care about visiting hours or anything like that.”

“Handy.”

“Very.”

“How about the folks?”

“They’ve been in quite a bit,” said Auger, “although they’re more interested in talking to the doctors than talking to me, so I don’t know if I can count them. How’s school going?”

Omen made a face. “Great – apart from the fact that I’m going to have to work with a tutor over the summer to catch up on the classes I missed.”

“Aw, man.”

“I tried explaining to everyone that I’m always this far behind by the end of term, but no one will listen.”

“They just don’t know you, dude.”

“No one has it worse than me.”

“Absolutely no one, my brother.”

“I heard about this one guy who did have it worse than me? But it turned out to be a rumour.”

“No,” said Auger, laughing, “it turned out to actually be you.”

“Yes,” Omen grinned. “The only person who has it worse than me is me.”

They laughed, then cackled, then laughed some more.

“Oh, God,” Omen said, wiping tears from his eyes. “If only that weren’t true.”