Until the End, page 38
“Leaving aside the fact that we don’t actually have it in our possession, there exists a weapon that can hurt, and probably destroy, Obsidian, and that’s some sorely needed good news.”
“I shouldn’t have tried to stop him,” Valkyrie said. Skulduggery adjusted the air around them so that he could hear her as they flew. “That was the moment, right there. Obsidian was taken by surprise. He was hurt. Even if we have the sword, how are we going to get close enough for it to do any good? If Creed had had any more of those bullets, he’d have used them. I messed up. Our one chance to stop him and I ruined it.”
“Your instinct was to show mercy,” Skulduggery said. “I really don’t think you should be apologising for trying to save the life of an enemy.”
“I’m an idiot.”
“Of course you are. You’re a good guy.” The clouds parted for them. “We’re all idiots.”
“Clear,” Mendoza said softly, and his squad mates filed past him, their boots light on the ground, the flashlights from their weapons sweeping every wall, corner and doorway. Foster patted Mendoza’s shoulder and Mendoza joined the procession, the stock of his gun reassuringly tight against his shoulder.
The building was dark, but showed signs of recent activity. The heating was on. Mendoza reached up as he passed underneath a light, pressed his fingertips to the bulb. Still slightly warm. They’d just missed the enemy.
The team moved further into the building, keeping watch for booby traps.
They reached the ground floor without encountering opposition, and declared the whole site clear. The lights were switched on and the forensics teams were called in to examine the computers and notepads and books that had been left behind. The National Guard set up perimeters outside. It looked like they were going to have to get through another night of not shooting anybody, when one of the technicians noticed a door that shouldn’t have been there.
Mendoza and his team approached cautiously. Silently. The door wasn’t in the building schematics. Whatever lay beyond was a recent addition.
The door was unlocked, and free of wires, alarms or explosives. It opened to a set of stairs leading down into darkness. Mendoza went first.
The steps took them to a cold concrete floor – big, wide and empty. Across from them was another door. Making sure they weren’t about to trigger any tripwires or step into any pentagrams, the team approached. There was a small, stubby key hanging on a nail beside the door. Mendoza nodded to Foster and Foster pushed open the door and they swarmed in, their flashlights cutting through the dark.
The room was empty except for a man sitting huddled against the far wall. His hands were shackled, attached to the wall by chains.
“Please don’t hurt me,” he sobbed, hiding his face from the glare of the lights.
“Identify yourself,” Mendoza snapped.
“Please,” said the man. He was African-American, and tall. “I own this building. Please, whatever you want, I can’t help you. I don’t know what’s going on.”
“What are you doing down here?”
“I don’t know. Some people grabbed me. They said they’d be back and then they …” He wept. “They disappeared. They vanished, right in front of me! Please, they said they’d be back, please get me out! Are you police? Please get me out!”
“There’s a key hanging from a nail,” Mendoza said to Foster, nodding to the door. “Uncuff him.”
Foster nodded, hurried away, was back a few seconds later. Mendoza swept his weapon round the room, expecting a dozen wizards to teleport in at any moment. They were experienced with Teleporters – they had one on their team – so he knew full well the danger they posed.
Foster undid the shackles, and suddenly stepped back.
“His hands,” he said. “Jesus – his face.”
The guy stood. He was a lot taller than he’d seemed. Mendoza turned his flashlight on him and he darted, opened up Foster’s belly with one swipe of his right hand, and then something knocked the flashlight away and there was only screaming.
“What’s wrong?” Cadaver asked as he plunged his fist through a monster’s chest.
Tanith flipped over a slashing claw, twisting in mid-air to chop the claw from the wrist, and landed to take the head. “Nothing’s wrong. Why would anything be wrong?”
The creatures swarmed them and they backed off down a narrow alley.
“You seem distracted,” Cadaver said, almost shouting to be heard over the snarling.
“Well, I’m not.” Tanith’s sword slid into a creature’s throat and she pulled it out again.
“OK,” said Cadaver.
They fought in silence for another few seconds.
“Oberon told me he loves me,” she said at last.
Cadaver clicked his fingers and filled the alleyway with flames, giving Tanith a chance to get her breath back. “I see,” he said. “And did you respond in kind?”
“I told him I needed time to process it.”
“If I could wince on his behalf, I would.”
He cut off the fire and the remaining creatures clambered over their chargrilled brethren to get at them.
“I just haven’t had a lot of luck when it comes to romance in the last few years,” Tanith said, watching them advance. “Before Celeste, there was Sanguine – kind of. Before him, there was …”
Cadaver pushed at the air and three creatures hit the wall so hard they died on impact. “Ghastly,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“One would have thought your complete failure to establish a romantic relationship with Ghastly Bespoke before he died would have prompted you to never make the same mistake again.”
“It isn’t the same thing.” Tanith dodged a swipe and took a limb. “Oberon’s great, don’t get me wrong.”
“But he’s not Ghastly?”
“No, he’s not.”
“Ghastly Bespoke was a singular individual,” Cadaver said. “If he’d been around after I lost Valkyrie, I doubt I’d have travelled the same path I seem to be on. So are you going to end this relationship with Oberon now, or wait a few weeks?”
“Who said anything about ending it?”
Cadaver didn’t respond.
“Yeah,” said Tanith, kicking a monster so hard its eyeball popped out. “I’m probably going to end it now.”
The café was small and dingy and dark and it was packed full of Corrival Sixth Years, with a few Fifth and Fourth Years thrown in for good measure. When Omen entered, the chatter stopped and everyone looked at him. He hadn’t seen them, hadn’t even spoken to any of them, in a month. He had no idea how they’d—
“We saved you a seat,” said Never, pushing a chair out. It squeaked on the floor.
Omen hesitated, then sat down. “I didn’t expect to see quite so many of you.”
“We tried to be subtle,” said Kase, who was sitting beside Mahala, “but that didn’t work out so great. I think we’re all grabbing whatever chance we can to leave the school grounds.”
“Is it really that bad?”
“Duenna’s the worst,” said Axelia. “The school’s being run like a prison. They’ve even brought in the City Guard to make sure we’re obeying the rules.”
“Please tell us the resistance are planning something,” Never said. “Please tell us they’re coming to liberate us from our oppressors. I’m not even exaggerating, by the way.”
Omen hesitated. “The resistance aren’t coming.”
The students groaned as one.
Omen held up his hands. “In their defence, they have a lot going on, and none of it’s good. You’ve got to understand: as bad as things look, as depressing as the news reports are, it is so, so much worse out there. The Faceless Ones may be gone, but the Shalgoth are everywhere. Skulduggery and the others, they figure the safest place for everyone here is in school.”
“That’s because they don’t know what it’s like,” said Never.
“So why are you back?” Axelia asked. “The City Guard are still looking to arrest you. If the resistance aren’t coming to help us, why are you here?”
“Well,” Omen said, blushing, “I thought seeing as how no one else is going to do anything, maybe I would.”
Mahala frowned slightly. “You came back to help?”
“The world’s going to hell,” said Omen. “Everything’s going wrong and the bad guys are in charge. So why not just fight back now, while we still can? If, you know, anyone’s interested.”
“Raise hands if interested,” said Never, and everyone’s hand went up.
The TV stayed off and nobody looked at their phones, and Valkyrie sat with her family and Militsa and filled her plate with food. They hadn’t been able to agree on a Chinese meal or an Indian, so they ordered stuff from both and it arrived in the safehouse at the same time and now they mixed and matched, whatever they were in the mood for. Alice took most of the dumplings for herself. She loved those dumplings.
Skulduggery joined them halfway through, sat at the table with them, and for once Xena ignored him. She was focusing her attention on Valkyrie, and sat beside her, resting her chin on her thigh, gazing up lovingly.
“I feel like you two have business to discuss,” said Melissa.
“It can wait,” Valkyrie said, spearing a hunk of pork and popping it into her mouth. “I’m assuming it can wait anyway. Skulduggery, can it wait?”
“It can, indeed,” he confirmed.
“I’d quite like to hear it, actually,” said Desmond. “You told us some of what’s been going on, but I’d love to be brought up to date. Or is it all top secret?”
“It’s not top secret at all,” Skulduggery said, “but I wouldn’t want to worry anyone, or give them bad dreams.”
Desmond shrugged. “I’ll be OK.”
“I’m pretty sure he was talking about Alice,” said Melissa.
“I’ll be OK, too,” Alice said. “But now that everyone knows about magic, when we go home, can I tell my friends that Stephanie is a sorcerer and that she’s saved the world?”
“Probably safest not to,” Valkyrie said. “At least for the time being.”
Alice put on a grumpy face, then ate another dumpling.
“All right then,” Skulduggery said, shifting his attention to Valkyrie, “let’s assess the situation. The Faceless Ones are gone.”
“Not gone,” she responded, sipping from her drink. “They’re out there somewhere, a little spark flying about, but they’re harmless.”
“Are you sure they can’t just reverse the process?” Melissa asked, a forkful of food hovering halfway to her mouth. “They turned themselves into a spark – can’t they just turn themselves back?”
Militsa shook her head. “That’s not how it works. They’d have used an awful lot of magic to reduce themselves down to this ‘spark’, as we’re calling it. Now, by shifting their physical forms, by altering their entire species, they must have figured they’d be able to evade Obsidian for longer. On one level, this is quite an intelligent move. But they’ve sacrificed a huge amount of magic in doing so, and I doubt they’d have enough power to reverse the transformation. I agree with Valkyrie. I don’t like the idea of them floating around free, but I don’t think they pose a threat any more.”
“The Shalgoth, unfortunately, do,” Skulduggery said. “If anyone expected them to slink away after their masters abandoned them, I’m afraid they’ve been disappointed. That said, I feel we can leave this in the hands of the Sanctuaries.”
“And what about Obsidian?” Desmond asked, munching.
“He’s wounded,” said Valkyrie. “Probably healing, if he’s able. Creed has the only weapon that could be used against him.”
“Obsidian is a major problem,” Skulduggery said, nodding. “But, until he reappears, all we can do is wait.”
Alice burped. “Pardon me,” she said, and went back to eating.
Valkyrie dropped a sliver of chicken into Xena’s mouth. “We still have the Serpine mystery to solve,” she said. “We know why he killed Scure, but we have no idea how he managed to be in two places at once. It’s not important, I get that, but he’s not two people yet. He’s still only one. So how was he able to do that?”
“Your life is so complicated,” said Melissa.
“It just bugs me. I don’t like mysteries that don’t get solved.”
“But the most immediate priority we have right at this moment,” Skulduggery said, “is stopping Crepuscular Vies from activating the Twenty. The way things are going, he’s going to push President Flanery into doing something incredibly reckless.”
Desmond pointed at nobody in particular with his fork. “Flanery. Don’t get me started on Martin Flanery.”
Melissa patted his leg. “Nobody’s asking you to, dear.” She looked at Skulduggery. “When you say incredibly reckless, Skulduggery, what exactly do you mean? He wouldn’t launch a nuclear weapon, would he?”
“Honestly? I’d say he’s just waiting for a target big enough.”
Everyone stopped eating. Apart from Alice.
“But we’re going to stop it,” Skulduggery said quickly, once he realised that he’d brought the mood down. “China has arranged a meeting with one of the Hosts, and once we’re done here we’re going to drive straight there. We talk to this gentleman, explain the situation, and work out a way to defuse the problem before anything is launched.”
Valkyrie nodded, and tried to sound confident. “This is how we do it. We solve one problem after another until there are none left and everyone is safe.”
“Then why are you wasting time eating a delicious Chinese/Indian combination meal?” Desmond asked. “Shouldn’t saving the world take precedence?”
She put down her fork. “Well, now that you’ve made me feel guilty about it …”
“Des,” Melissa scolded. “Let her enjoy her dinner before sending her off to stop nuclear war.”
“What does nuclear mean?” asked Alice as she chewed.
“It’s a kind of power,” Melissa told her. “Like electricity.”
“So it’d be an electrical war?”
“The bombs would be worse.”
“Much worse,” said Desmond. “Millions dead. Millions more dying of radiation sickness. Nuclear winter, untold devastation, ecological disaster, economic ruin. The end times.”
Alice shrugged. “Stephanie will stop it, though. Won’t you, Stephanie?”
“Absolutely,” Valkyrie said, standing up. “Skulduggery, let’s get going. The world isn’t going to save itself.”
They drove into Dublin, avoiding the ruined streets, the parts of the city that the Faceless One had demolished, while the sky turned orange and red above them. It made Valkyrie strangely sad, seeing the sky so empty, not filled with ancient gods, their massive shadows falling across the land like storm clouds. She didn’t comment on it and neither did Skulduggery, but then the silence became a comment and so she stirred herself to change the subject.
“Do you miss the Bentley?” she asked.
“I do,” he said.
“The Phantom’s nice.”
“The Phantom is beautiful,” he corrected. “The Phantom is, literally, one of a kind. But I’ve been through a lot with the Bentley.”
“Remember when that guy charged into it? I had to jump into the canal to get away?”
“Ah, right back at the start of our adventures. Yes. I remember how he came apart in all that water.”
“Magic is weird.”
“It is, indeed.”
“I wish we had the Bentley back.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” he responded. “It’s like our friend in the canal: if you meddle with the wrong kind of magic in the wrong kind of way, something bad is eventually going to happen. Things fall apart. The centre cannot hold.”
“I’ve been thinking of those times a lot. The early years, you know? I look at Omen and Crepuscular – forgetting for a minute that Crepuscular seems to have been plotting against us for a while now – and I find myself disapproving of it all. Yet there I was, twelve years old, running around, almost getting killed every other week.”
“It was a different time.”
“Not really.”
“But I was involved, and that makes all the difference.”
She looked out of the window. “Would you change any of it? If you could?”
“That’s not an easy question to answer. The law of cause and effect means that any slight alteration to the past would have a domino—”
“If none of that was a thing,” she interrupted. “If you could go back right and, like, stop me from ever getting involved, knowing what lay ahead of me, would you do it?”
Skulduggery focused on the road ahead for a few seconds. “For my sake, I wouldn’t change a thing,” he said. “For your sake? I’d change everything.”
The streets were quiet and dark and they found a parking spot easily. After a month of terror and monster attacks, most mortal businesses around the world were closed and shuttered – apart from supermarkets and restaurants. Most of these restaurants chose only to deliver, but a few of them – a very remote few – managed to stay open and welcome the bravest and most foolhardy diners in through their doors. When Valkyrie and Skulduggery got to their destination, the greeter welcomed them in with a worried look on her face.
“Did you see any?” she asked, checking behind them before she closed the door.
Valkyrie frowned. “Any what?”
“Monsters,” said the greeter. “There was one spotted on Clanbrassil Street about an hour ago.”
“There are no monsters here tonight,” Skulduggery assured her, his façade smiling wide. “Just us regular people.”
They joined China and an attractive man with grey hair and a very neat beard at a table at the back of the otherwise empty restaurant. Grantham Arrant stood as China sipped at a cup of tea, and shook their hands.
“Valkyrie, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said. “Skulduggery, I’ve come close to meeting you over the years, but I’ve always shied away.”
