Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 10 - 12. Derek Landy
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of combat, of taking lives, of people trying to take yours. With that kind of trauma, there is no easy fix. There’s no one-size-fits-all solution. You get past it however you can.
“But one thing I do know, from my own experience, is that the longer you leave it, the harder it gets. Fear is cold water rushing through your veins – if you don’t start moving, that water will turn to ice.”
“How do you even know I can still do this?” Valkyrie asked. “Physically?”
“You proved that you could when Cadaverous Gant and Jeremiah Wallow went after you.”
“That was five months ago,” she responded.
“I’m not worried about the physical,” he said. “Your instincts will come back to you. Your training will kick in.”
She looked at him, her eyes to his eye sockets. “Then what about the mental? I’ve been through a lot. Might not take much more to break me.”
“Alternatively, as you’ve been through a lot, there might not be much more that could break you,” Skulduggery said “I’m going to need you with me on this, Valkyrie. I’m a better detective with you as my partner, and I’m a better person with you as my friend. The world is a lot different to the one you walked out on. The Sanctuary system has changed, Roarhaven has changed … sorcerers have changed. There are very few people I can trust any more, and there’s something coming. Something big and something bad. I can feel it.”
“There’s always something big and something bad coming,” Valkyrie said. “Sometimes it’s you. Sometimes it’s me.”
“And sometimes you and me are the only people who can stand against it. You’re not meant to hide away here, Valkyrie. You’re not built for it. You’re built to be out there helping people, doing what you can because you don’t trust anyone else not to mess it up.”
“That was the old me. These days I can quite happily leave the big jobs to others.”
“Prove it,” Skulduggery said, getting to his feet and holding out his hand. “Come with me for twenty-four hours. If you can walk away after that, I’ll let you go and won’t ask you again until you tell me you’re ready.”
She hesitated, then sighed. “OK. But I’m not taking your hand. It’s silly and I’d feel stupid doing it.”
Skulduggery nodded. “See? You’re already making me a better person. Grab your coat, Valkyrie – Roarhaven awaits.”
The city passed beneath him, and he landed on the lower rooftop, stumbling slightly. He turned, his black coat whipping around him. No one there. No one chasing him.
He breathed out slowly, hearing the slight rattle the mask made. He was going to have to get used to that sound. The mask was snug, and covered his whole head, and it was heavy. The carved beak weighed the whole thing down. He took off his wide-brimmed hat, examined it. He looked equal parts ridiculous and intimidating – but he didn’t mind that. Throughout history, plague doctors had always looked strange.
It was a clear day, cold, with only a few clouds in the sky, and below him Roarhaven’s streets were alive with people. They talked and laughed and shopped and complained and went about their business. He’d forgotten that, sometimes, this could actually be a nice city in which to live. Funny how violence and terror and death could taint your opinion of a place.
He’d lost friends here. He’d seen them die, seen the life leave their eyes while he held them in his arms. He’d seen destruction on an almost unimaginable scale. The screams had burned their way into his memory. The images had seared themselves into his thoughts.
But that was why he was here. That was his mission. Sebastian Tao put his hat on. He wanted to find Darquesse. He needed to. In a world gone mad, bringing her back was the only sane thing to do.
Devastation Day, that’s what they were calling it now, the day Darquesse had stormed through Roarhaven, levelling its buildings, murdering its inhabitants: 1,351 people had died in those few hours at the hands of an almost-god wearing Valkyrie’s face.
Not just her face, of course. Before the murder and the mayhem, Darquesse had been a part of her. Her true name, the source of her magic made flesh. And now Valkyrie was going back there. Because of course she was.
They joined the M1, then the M50, then turned south-east and drove for half an hour, leaving motorways and service stations behind them. Xena lay on the back seat of the Bentley with her head resting on her paws.
“German shepherds shed their coats,” Skulduggery said. “Is she shedding now?”
“She’s always shedding,” Valkyrie replied.
“Your dog is the only dog that has ever been in this car, you know.”
“She’s honoured.”
“It was meant as a complaint.”
Valkyrie shrugged. “You have me for twenty-four hours. She can’t go twenty-four hours without being fed.”
“We could have left her with your parents.”
“She doesn’t know them.”
A pause.
She could feel him watching her. She kept her eyes on the road ahead.
“When was the last time you were in Haggard?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. She could feel the sharpness coming on.
“You’ve been back in the country for five months. How many times have you seen your sister? Three?”
“Let’s not talk about this right now, OK?” she said. “I’m not in a sharing mood.”
Skulduggery nodded, and Valkyrie felt bad, but she was used to that feeling.
They passed a few signs warning of a flood ahead, then drove by some announcing LOCAL ACCESS ONLY, then about half a dozen PRIVATE PROPERTY signs, before turning on to a long, narrow road that led into the empty distance. An elderly farmer opened a rusted gate and allowed them through, muttering into his lapel as they went. The road seemed to be pockmarked with potholes, some wide enough to swallow a wheel, but the Bentley sped over them without even a rumble. Just another illusion to keep the mortals out.
Advancements in cloaking technology meant that not only were magical elements within the cloaked area rendered undetectable, but what passed for a normal image could also be extrapolated and projected in real time. Skulduggery had explained all this on her first trip back. He’d talked about the marvels of what had been achieved and what was now possible for the future. Valkyrie hadn’t paid attention. Her focus then, as now, was to try to spot the shimmering air of the cloaking field before they passed through it. But now, as then, she failed miserably, and Roarhaven appeared before her in an instant – a vast, walled city exploding into being where a moment ago there had been nothing but dead trees and lifeless scrub.
They slowed as they neared Shudder’s Gate. Named after a friend of theirs who had lost his life to a traitor whose name Valkyrie refused to say aloud, the gate was supposedly the only way in and out of the city – although Valkyrie had her doubts about that. The Supreme Mage was a woman who understood the merits of a good secret entrance, after all. Or, at the very least, a good escape route.
The Bentley prowled forward, reflected in the visored helmets of the grey-suited Cleavers who stood guard, and they joined the traffic that flowed through the city streets like blood through the veins of a giant. Here, on the outskirts,