Bedlam. Derek Landy
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might help.”
Valkyrie walked into the living room. Desmond was sitting in his usual chair. The cricket was on.
“Hello, Father,” she said.
“Hello, Daughter,” he responded, not taking his eyes off the screen.
She sat on the couch. “Enjoying this, are you?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Who’s playing?”
Desmond nodded at the TV. “They are.”
“Good game?”
“Not sure.”
“Who’s winning?”
“Don’t know.”
“What are the rules?”
“No idea.”
“I didn’t know you even liked cricket.”
He sat up straighter. “This is cricket?”
She settled back. “Mum told me about the diaries.”
Desmond muted the TV. “My granddad had the best stories,” he said. “The three of us would sit round his armchair and he’d just … I don’t know. Regale us, I suppose. Regale us with family legends about magic men and women, doing all these crazy things, all because we were descended from the Last of the Ancients. But my father, well … he’d grown up with those stories and he was sick of them. He suffered from a, I suppose you’d call it a deficit of imagination. And he used to ridicule the old man, every chance he got. In front of us. I didn’t like that.”
“Right,” said Valkyrie.
“And Fergus followed suit. Turned his back on granddad and his stories. He’d always needed our father’s approval more than Gordon or me, so siding with him against what they both saw as nonsense and fairy stories was one way of building a bond Fergus felt he was missing. I wonder what he’d say now if we told him the truth. I don’t think I could do that to him.”
Valkyrie didn’t say anything to that. It wasn’t her place.
“Me, I loved the stories,” Desmond continued. “They meant something. They meant there was more to life than what I could see around me. They meant I could be more than what I was. Because of my granddad, I wasn’t restricted like my friends were. I had, I suppose, a purpose, if I wanted to seize it.”
“So you believed him,” said Valkyrie.
“I did,” Desmond said. “For a few years. When I was a kid. But I got to age ten, I think, and my dad sat me down and told me there were no such things as wizards and monsters. How wrong he was, eh?” Desmond smiled. “Gordon was the troublesome one. Always had been. Even his name rankled our dad. Fergus and I had good strong Irish names – but Gordon … ha. My mother insisted on naming him after the doctor who delivered him. It was her first pregnancy and there were complications, but that doctor worked a miracle, and the future best-selling author came into the world and brightened it with every moment he was here. Our granddad passed all those stories, all that wonder, down to Gordon, and he just absorbed it. He believed, like I did, but unlike me he never allowed our father to trample that belief. That’s what he had that I didn’t, I suppose. A strength.” Desmond shifted in his chair. “All those stories, they’re in the diaries. You should read them.”
“I will,” said Valkyrie.
Desmond took in a breath. It was shaky. He expelled it slowly, and looked at her. “I’m glad we know about the magic,” he said. “It’s terrifying, knowing that you’re out there, endangering your life, and it makes the world a scarier place, but I’m glad nonetheless. I wish I’d kept believing when I was younger, I really do. Still, I’m thankful Gordon did. Our granddad needed someone to believe him.”
Valkyrie didn’t know what to say, so she got up and hugged her dad. He hugged her back, and then shrugged himself out of his bad mood and turned off the TV.
“Cricket is a silly game,” he said, “and none of it makes any sense. Where’s your mum?”
“Kitchen,” she said, and followed him out.
“Are you in a better mood?” Melissa asked when they walked in.
“I am,” Desmond responded, kissing the top of her head. “Sorry for snapping at you earlier.”
She looked up, surprised. “You snapped at me?”
“Didn’t I?”
“When?”
“Earlier.”
“I don’t recall that.”
“Well, maybe I didn’t snap, as such, but I was curt, and for that you have my most sincere—”
“When were you curt?”
He frowned at her. “Earlier,” he said again. “When we were talking. About the diaries. I was curt when we were talking about the diaries. You didn’t notice?”
“I noticed you being a little grumpy.”
He looked offended. “That wasn’t me being grumpy. That was me being curt. That was my inner darkness shining through. Weren’t you scared by the glimpse of the monster lurking beneath the surface?”
“Not … really.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry, dear, you’re just too cuddly to be scary.”
“I am frighteningly cuddly,” he admitted. “But I’m sure I was dark, too, once upon a time.”
“You were pretty dark that day you threw that guy through a window,” Valkyrie said.
“That’s what I’m thinking of,” said Desmond, clicking his fingers. “I knew I’d done something cool.”
“My cool dad,” Valkyrie said wistfully. “So are you going to read the diaries?”
“I am,” he replied. “I will. I owe it to my granddad. It might even give me an insight into what you get up to, saving the world every single day.”
“I don’t save the world every single day,” Valkyrie responded. “I take time off. I go for walks. I go to the gym. I train.”
“Wait now,” said her mum. “Where’s the part in that schedule where you have fun?”
“I have loads of fun.”
“Do you have any friends? Do you go to the cinema? Go out for dinner? What about boys?”
Valkyrie opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Her dad narrowed his eyes. “You’re hesitating. Why are you hesitating? It’s because we’re not going to approve, isn’t it? What is he? Is he a werewolf? Is he a mummy?”
“Dad …”
“Is he a cannibal?”
“God, no. Why would I go out with a cannibal?”
“Love is blind, Stephanie. If you love someone, that means you’re willing to overlook flaws in their character, like cannibalism and being too pretty. Your mother possesses one of those flaws. I’ll leave it to you to figure out which one.”
“Such a charmer,” said Melissa.
“I’m not dating a cannibal,” Valkyrie said.
“Are you dating someone?” her mum asked.
Valkyrie nodded.
“And? When are we going to meet him?”
It was on the tip of her tongue. It’s not a him. So easy. Such an easy sentence to say. All she had to do was open her mouth and say it.
But