Resurrection. Derek Landy
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institution was never actually disbanded.”
“So the new Supreme Mage in all her majesty made you an Arbiter?” Valkyrie said.
“Actually, it was a lowly Grand Mage who bestowed that honour upon me,” Skulduggery said. “Grand Mage Naila. The African Sanctuary has troubles of its own right now, but they’ve been keeping an eye on how things have been going over here. As Arbiter, I now have jurisdiction all around the world and I’m free to investigate whatever I choose.”
“And who’s your boss?”
“Technically, I don’t have one.”
“How do you get paid?”
“I don’t do what I do for money.”
There was a low buzzing in Valkyrie’s ears that she tried to ignore. “But you do get paid, right? Who pays you?”
He sighed. “Each Sanctuary contributes a proportional amount in order to fund the Arbiter Corps.”
“And how many people are in the Arbiter Corps?”
“Including me and you? Two.”
“I’m not a part of it.”
“Your credentials were approved two hours ago.”
“By who?”
“Me.”
The buzzing got louder until it filled her head, and then her vision blurred for a moment, then came sharply into focus like a new lens being attached to a camera. The world suddenly burst with colour, a glorious red that overlaid Skulduggery’s body, and Valkyrie staggered.
“Valkyrie?” he asked. “Are you OK?”
She nodded, aware that she was blinking madly. “I’m just … I can see your aura.”
He tilted his head. “I didn’t know it was showing.”
“Give me a moment. It’ll go away.”
“Take your time,” he said, but even before he’d got the words out her vision had already snapped back to normal.
She straightened. “I’m good.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am. Really. It’s happened plenty of times before.” She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. “I call it my aura-vision. I really need a better name for it, but whatever. If you’re interested, your aura is a vibrant red.”
“Ah, excellent,” he responded. “Is red a good colour for one’s aura to be?”
“I have no idea. Most auras I see are orange. I think you’re different because … you’re different.”
He nodded. “That would make sense.”
They walked on towards the far wall, where the concrete ground gave way to highly polished tiles. Skulduggery stood on one, making sure to keep his feet in the centre. Valkyrie did the same on the neighbouring tile.
“Skulduggery,” she said, “do you really think that you being your own boss is wise? You’re an incredibly irresponsible person.”
He nodded. “That did worry me at first, yes, but the more I thought about it, the more accustomed I became to the idea. I think I’ll be a wonderful boss, actually, and I certainly intend to lead by example.”
The tiles lifted off the ground, and Valkyrie had a moment to steady herself before shooting upwards to the squares of light in the darkness above. She still didn’t know what was so wrong with the regular old elevators just a little bit further on. At least you weren’t in danger of falling off one of them. This was, in her quiet opinion, needlessly magical.
Skulduggery swerved in front of her and her tile darted around him, twirling as it ascended. They passed through the empty squares above, the tiles clicking into place, and Valkyrie stepped off, a little dizzily, into the obsidian and marble foyer of the High Sanctuary.
The Cleavers standing guard remained impassive, but there were some curious glances from the people hurrying by. After a moment, Valkyrie realised they weren’t looking at Skulduggery – they were looking at her. It was like they’d never seen a pair of ripped jeans before.
Administrator Tipstaff came over. A narrow man with a neat haircut, he held a stack of folders under his arm and looked like he hadn’t slept for days.
“Detective Pleasant,” he said, “Detective Cain, thank you for being on time.”
“We’re on time?” Skulduggery asked, sounding surprised.
“I truly appreciate it,” said Tipstaff, “as I am incredibly busy today. While I do acknowledge the magnitude of Detective Cain’s appointment to the Arbiter Corps, I’m afraid we’ll have to dispense with the usual pomp.”
Skulduggery tilted his head. “There’s pomp usually? I wasn’t shown any pomp when I collected my badge. There was a smidgen of circumstance, but no pomp. I feel quite let down.”
Tipstaff ignored him, and handed Valkyrie a wallet. “Detective Cain, I have been instructed to tell you that even though the Supreme Mage had no say in approving your appointment, she supports you one hundred per cent and welcomes you back into the fold.”
“I’m not back,” said Valkyrie, opening the wallet. Beside her name and photograph there was a sigil made of silver, half the size of her palm. She slipped the wallet into her back pocket.
“May I enquire as to what case you are working on?” Tipstaff asked. “Of particular interest would be any potentially catastrophic global events. Our early-warning system in this regard has been quite limited ever since the Night of Knives.”
The Night of Knives had taken place two years earlier. At precisely the same time in four European countries, assassins unknown had slit the throats of eleven psychics as they slept. How the assassins had plotted against and then killed people who could literally see the future remained a mystery, almost two years on.
“If you are investigating something of appropriate seriousness,” Tipstaff continued, “the Supreme Mage has extended to you our full co-operation.”
“Supreme Mage,” Valkyrie echoed. “Grand Mage just wasn’t enough for her. She had to go all Supreme on us.”
Tipstaff gave a quick, polite smile. “Her duties are immense, as you are probably aware. There were no objections, however, when she claimed her new title.”
Valkyrie gave him a small smile back. “Lack of response isn’t exactly a glowing endorsement.”
“Perhaps not,” said Tipstaff. “But the case you are working on …?”
“Probably nothing,” said Skulduggery. “I thought I’d bring Valkyrie in on something nice and gentle, just to ease her back into things. But I assure you, if the potential for catastrophe increases by any significant margin, we’ll let you know.”
“That would be much appreciated,” Tipstaff said, and glanced at his watch. “And now I must depart. Good luck, Detectives.”
Valkyrie nodded to him as he spun on his heel and hurried away, and in that moment she caught another person glancing at her. She glared and the man looked away quickly.
“People keep staring at me,” she said.
“I’m sure it’s just your imagination,” Skulduggery responded, heading for the exit.
Valkyrie followed him as the doors opened into the sunshine. People strolled across the Circle and a few even braved the cold to eat lunch at the fountain and the base of the clock monument. Beyond them, the Dark Cathedral loomed.
“I don’t like it,” she said.
Skulduggery didn’t even have to ask what she was referring to. “It is quite an imposing structure, if one were to be imposed by structures.”