Skulduggery Pleasant: Dark Days (9 page)

Valkyrie spun, aware of Skulduggery standing beside her, completely calm.

“Think of it as a hologram,” he said, “projected on to the steam. None of this is real.”

There were buildings now, on either side of them, and a road at their feet. The road was cracked and the buildings were ruined. It was a dead city, dead or dying, and she heard muted shouts in the distance. A figure approached, striding through the street of steam, a gun in his hand. Skulduggery. His black suit was torn.

The real Skulduggery nodded. “At least I’m still looking well…”

The image of Skulduggery disappeared. And then a sound. Someone screaming in the distance and a gunshot. Somewhere near the back of the Chamber there was a flare, like a fireball being thrown. The sound was coming from everywhere, from beside and below and behind and above, and it was the sound of a battle being fought.

Dark figures were visible now, around the edge of the room, and they were struggling, running and leaping. Some of them carried weapons and Valkyrie recognised the silhouettes of Cleavers.

There was a shadow in the steam in front of them, throwing Cleavers back like they were little more than an annoyance.

Valkyrie backed up until she was beside Skulduggery. “What are we seeing?”

“The future,” he said slowly.

The images cleared and a new figure drifted into being. Valkyrie saw
herself
, a few years older than she was now.

The Valkyrie in the steam was taller, and her bare arms were lean and muscled, like Tanith’s. A tattoo swirled from her left shoulder to her elbow and she wore a black metal gauntlet on her right hand. Her legs were strong, the black trousers clinging to them. Her boots were scuffed, splattered with blood.

“I’ve seen this,” the Valkyrie in the steam said, her dark hair whipping across her face. “I was watching from…” She turned her head and looked straight at where Valkyrie was standing. “…there.”

Valkyrie couldn’t move.

“This is where it happens,” her older self continued, sadness in her voice.

“Stephanie!”

Two people, in the distance, sprinting this way. The older Valkyrie shook her head slowly. “Please don’t make me watch it again.”

As if her prayer was answered, the older Valkyrie disappeared, the two people came closer and Valkyrie’s heart plummeted. Desmond and Melissa Edgley ran through the steam.

Skulduggery held her back against the wall. “This hasn’t happened yet,” he reminded her quietly.

Her parents stopped running and looked around, and the dark figure Valkyrie had glimpsed earlier stepped out behind them.

“No!” Valkyrie screamed and Skulduggery held her tighter as they watched her parents turn.

“Darquesse,” Finbar whispered.

The shadow called Darquesse raised her arm and black flame engulfed the steam images of Valkyrie’s parents, turning them to ash before they could even scream their agony.

Valkyrie went cold as a fresh billow of steam took away the image. The sound faded and the steam became clouds. Valkyrie looked down and saw a city below her.

A wave of vertigo hit and she staggered, standing on nothing but air, miles above the ground, but beneath the city she glimpsed the metal grille of the Chamber. She took a breath and willed herself not to throw up. They were in the same room. They hadn’t moved. They were not standing in mid-air.

There was a blackness spreading across the city and engulfing the surrounding countryside, as if the grass and the trees were suddenly dying, as if all life was being snuffed out in a wave that spread out and just kept on spreading. Within seconds the land beneath them was dead.

Then the city went away and they were in the Chamber, and the steam was quickly dispersing. Valkyrie realised for the first time that her face was wet with sweat and her hair clung to her scalp.

Cassandra walked forward, shaking the water off the yellow umbrella. “This is the future as I have seen it,” she said. “But the future can be changed. Come. You look like you could do with a glass of water.”

They followed her up the stairs and Finbar, who hadn’t said anything for the past few minutes, wandered into the other room. While Cassandra went to the kitchen, Valkyrie looked at Skulduggery. Her headache pounded. It hurt to even move her eyes.

“My parents were there,” she said quietly.

“We can change it.”

Her voice shook. “My
parents
, Skulduggery.”

He laid a hand on her shoulder and his voice was soft. “You’ll save them.”

“You saw what I did. I let them die.”

“No.
She
let them die. Not you.”

“She
is
me.”

“Not yet.”

“There’s no use. She saw what we saw, she knew it was coming and she still just stood there and let Darquesse kill them.
That’s
what’s going to happen.”

“No, Valkyrie. You’ll find a way to save them. I have faith.”

“My head hurts.”

Cassandra came back, handed her a glass of water that she only took a sip from, and a folded leaf, the kind Kenspeckle had, to numb the pain of the headache.

“I can only imagine how hard that was to watch,” Cassandra said. “But this is about more than you, and more than your parents. This is about everything.”

“The end of the world,” Finbar said, rejoining them. He looked tired. “That’s the bit I saw in my vision – the darkness spreading across the planet. I didn’t see the other stuff.” He looked at Valkyrie. “I didn’t see you and your folks. I’m sorry.”

“We’re not dead yet,” Skulduggery interjected. “Well, I am, but the rest of you have a bit to go.”

“You know as well as anyone,” Cassandra said, “that visions of the future are subject to change
and
to interpretation.”

Skulduggery turned to Cassandra. “Do you have any idea of a time frame? When is all this going to happen?”

“I don’t know. Valkyrie looked three or four years older than she is now, but we can’t be sure. The only thing we know for certain is that Darquesse
is
coming, and she’s coming to kill us all.”

Skulduggery put on his hat, dipping it over his eye sockets. “Not if we kill her first.”

19
THE NEW PET

V
alkyrie had to go home. The moment they left Cassandra’s cottage, she knew she had to go home, to see her parents, to make sure they were OK. She was trying so hard not to let Skulduggery see how badly she was hurting, or how much she wanted to cry. She barely said anything on the drive back to Haggard.

She called the reflection’s phone and arranged to pick it up as it made its way home from school. It got in the back seat and didn’t ask any questions. They pulled in a few miles later and Skulduggery got out of the car while Valkyrie and her reflection switched clothes. Ten minutes later they arrived in Haggard. The reflection sneaked around back to hide in the bushes while Valkyrie walked in the front door. It was an unusual sensation she realised, not to be coming in through her bedroom window.

“Mum,” she called, dumping her schoolbag in the hall, “I’m home.”

For three long seconds there was nothing but a dreadful, heavy silence, and then her mother appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. Smiling. Safe. Alive.

“How was school?” she asked and Valkyrie bounded forward and hugged her. Her mum laughed. “That bad, huh?”

Valkyrie laughed in return and hoped it was convincing. She hugged tight and then forced herself to break it off, moving immediately to the fridge to hide the tears that threatened to spill on to her cheeks. “School was fine,” she said, as brashly as she could. “School is always fine. Nothing interesting ever happens there.”

She opened the fridge, took a breath, and when she was composed, she shut the fridge door and turned. “How was
your
day?”

“Full of adventure and drama,” her mum said. “I just got back myself. I’m expecting your father home any minute.”

“He’s finishing work early? He
never
finishes early.”

Her mum shrugged and they heard the front door open.

“Is she back yet?” Valkyrie’s dad asked from the hall, as he stumbled over something, probably her schoolbag. “Yes, she’s home,” she heard him mutter. He walked into the kitchen and Valkyrie hugged him.

“You told her?” he asked.

“Nope,” her mum said. “She’s just in a hugging mood.”

Valkyrie stepped back. “Told me what?”

Her father looked down at her. “You grow taller every day, you know that?”

She made herself keep the smile. Suddenly she didn’t want to get any taller. She didn’t want to grow any older. Being taller and older and stronger meant being closer to the time when Darquesse would come for them. She wanted to stay the same height and age forever.

“We have news,” her mother said, wrapping her arm around her husband’s waist.

Valkyrie frowned. “What?”

“We’ve decided to get a pet,” her dad announced.

Valkyrie laughed, and it was a real and genuine laugh. After everything that she’d had to deal with over the past few months, having something so gloriously normal and fun as a new pet took on unimaginable levels of comfort. Plus, she’d always wanted a pet.

“Can we have a dog?” she asked. “And not one of those annoying yappy dogs. Hannah Foley has a Chinese Crested dog that doesn’t have any hair, and it looks like the little guy who hangs out of Jabba the Hutt’s ceiling. I don’t want one of those. I wouldn’t be able to take it for walks without being embarrassed for it.”

Her dad frowned. “You’ve seen
Star Wars
? When did you see
Star Wars
? I’ve been trying to get you to watch it for
years.
”

Valkyrie hesitated. Tanith had made her sit down and watch the movies over the course of one weekend. It had been an educational experience.

“I like the lightsabres,” she said.

“We’re not getting a dog,” her mother told her, bringing the conversation back to where it started.

“We can’t get a cat,” Valkyrie argued. “They don’t do anything except plot against you and multiply like Gremlins.”

“We’re not getting a cat either.”

“Can we get a snake?”

“No.”

“Please? I can keep it in my room and I’ll feed it mice and things and I won’t kill it.”

“No snakes, no hamsters, no rats, no guinea pigs.”

Valkyrie smiled hopefully. “A horse?”

“How about something a little smaller?” her dad said. “Like, I don’t know, a brother or a sister?”

Valkyrie looked at them. “
What?
”

Her mother’s smile widened. “I’m pregnant, sweetheart.”

It took a moment, and when that moment was over, Valkyrie found herself leaping across the room and hugging her mother and screaming “Oh my God!” over and over. Then she thought that she might damage the baby, so she jumped back and leaped for her father and hugged him, and he laughed.

And later, in her room, tears came to her eyes when she thought of what kind of danger this child would be born into.

20
THE ZOMBIE HORDE

T
here is a very particular process one goes through to become a zombie. Scapegrace didn’t go through it because he was raised from the dead by magic, but after a little bit of trial and error he finally figured out what the process entailed. The person he was recruiting needed to be bitten while still alive, so that the infection had time to spread through the system. Scapegrace was hesitant to bite at first, as he was worried how it might look. He had initially planned to just go after attractive females, but quickly realised that this wouldn’t be too time-efficient.

His first successful recruitment had been in Phoenix Park. The recruit was a middle-aged man out for a stroll. Scapegrace had waited until there
was no one else around and then slipped out from his hiding place. He leaped on the man and dragged him into the bushes, where he bit him. The man tried struggling, but the infection was surprisingly fast acting, and within sixty seconds, the man was dead. After a few moments, however, his eyes opened again and he was looking up at Scapegrace.

“Am I in heaven?” he had asked.

“Don’t be stupid,” Scapegrace snapped.

“Sorry,” the man said and got up.

Scapegrace had looked at his first recruit. A shabby specimen if ever there was one, who seemed to wear a permanently dazed expression on his face.

“What’s your name?” Scapegrace asked.

“Gerald,” said the man.

Scapegrace pondered. Gerald the zombie just didn’t have that fear-inducing ring to it. “I’m going to call you Thrasher,” he said.

Thrasher blinked. “All right,” he said uncertainly.

Scapegrace nodded. Thrasher was a good name. Thrasher would be his right-hand man in the new zombie army he was building for his Master.

“Come with me, Thrasher,” Scapegrace said, leading the way and liking the sound of it.

He had done a lot more recruiting that afternoon. In Phoenix Park alone he recruited Slasher, Crasher, Dasher and Basher, then they all took Crasher’s van and he recruited Slicer, Dicer, Wrecker and Boiler. Boiler signified the end of Scapegrace’s new name strategy, and from then on he just called them
Zombie One and Zombie Two, things like that. He had more on his mind than thinking up stupid names for his zombies.

He had brought them back to his Master’s castle, and the first problem to arise was that none of the other zombies seemed to respect Thrasher’s authority. It was too late to demote him now though. Such an act would be seen as weak leadership. The recruits needed to see Scapegrace as infallible, much like a pope or a politician. Scapegrace couldn’t admit that appointing Thrasher as his second-in-command had been a mistake, and instead hoped that Thrasher’s head would fall off or something.

The second problem was that Scapegrace was starting to smell, but he was confident that new plans he had set in motion would take care of it. There might even be a cream out there that would help. He had taken to wearing car fresheners around his neck, tucked beneath his shirt.

Scapegrace walked the stone corridors, heading for the room which housed his new zombie army. He put on a fierce expression, opened the door and walked in.

They were chatting among themselves, telling jokes and laughing. Thrasher was standing at the edge, trying to laugh along with them, but seemed unsettlingly happy to see Scapegrace when he walked in. He went up to him and stood to attention.

“Good evening, sir!” he said. Idiot. “We’re all here, sir!”

“Of course you’re all here,” Scapegrace responded, annoyed.

“Sir, one of the men was asking about food, sir.”

Scapegrace made a mental note not to refer to the zombies as an army
again. Thrasher was letting it go to his head and it wasn’t very scary at all. Horde would be better. His zombie horde. Much better.

“What about food?” Scapegrace grumbled.

“He was wondering what it is we eat, sir.”

“We don’t eat anything,” Scapegrace answered. “We’re sustained by magic. We don’t need food.”

“I shall inform the men, sir!” Thrasher turned on his heel and faced the zombies. “May I have your attention!” he shouted.

A zombie from the back said, “Go to hell, Gerald.”

Thrasher looked like he was about to cry. Scapegrace was now seriously regretting his recruitment process.

“We don’t eat anything,” Thrasher said, trying to keep a brave face while his lower lip quivered. The zombie horde stopped talking among themselves and looked at Scapegrace.

“We don’t eat?” Slicer asked. “What, nothing?”

“Not even brains?” Zombie Eleven asked.

“Nothing!” Scapegrace told them. “Under no circumstances are you to eat! Not even one tiny little bite! Is that understood?”

They nodded sullenly and Scapegrace turned to the door. Before he’d even reached it, they started bickering among themselves about what would taste better, brains or flesh. These were not the slavering, mindless creatures of the undead he had hoped for. These were not fearsome in the slightest. His zombies
bickered.
Scapegrace left the room quickly, closing the door lest the
sound of bickering drift to his Master’s ears. He hurried back the way he had come, trying his best not to panic.

He didn’t want to disappoint his Master. He had been so looking forward to presenting his zombie horde and getting the recognition he sought, the praise he longed for. Maybe even a hug. But it wasn’t going to happen. His Master would take one look at the horde and recognise instantly what a petty bunch of failures they were, and what a grotesque disappointment Scapegrace himself was.

Scapegrace reached the small room that served as his personal quarters, hearing the low gentle hum. He opened the rotten door and quickly stepped in, closing it behind him. One advantage of the new recruits was that their credit cards could still be used, and Scapegrace had ordered Thrasher to buy him a place to rest.

“Like a coffin?” Thrasher had asked, wide-eyed and stupid-looking. Scapegrace had hit him, told him not to ask insolent questions, to just do what he was told, and Thrasher had scurried off, nearly crying yet again. But now that Scapegrace thought of it, he quite liked the idea of having a coffin of sorts. He reckoned it was actually pretty nifty. He hadn’t told his Master about it, and he did feel terrible about that, but he needed this. He didn’t want his body to fall apart, and until he figured out a way to stop any decomposition, the giant freezer would just have to do.

Scapegrace opened the lid and climbed in. He had to curl up to fit, but apart from that it was pretty comfortable. He closed the lid and darkness consumed him. Comforted by the darkness and the hum of power, he lay there and thought about all the ways he could kill the girl.