The Dying of the Light (5 page)

When he was gone, Skulduggery spoke. “It would be a mistake to trust that man.”

“Just as it would be a mistake for him to cross me,” China responded. “Now where were we? Oh, yes, congratulating you on taking Ferrente Rhadaman into custody. Very good work, both of you. Of course, it’s not the work you
should
have been doing. I assigned Dexter Vex and Saracen Rue to track down these renegades with the aid of the Monster Hunters.”

“And they’re doing very well,” said Skulduggery. “Out of the nineteen, we’ve taken down one, they’ve caught six, two more have burned out all by themselves, and various Sanctuaries around the world have dealt with a further four. Which leaves us with six renegades still at large.”

“And you’re wilfully missing the point,” said China. “Rounding up the renegades is hugely important, I accept this. But I assigned the two of you to the task of finding and stopping Darquesse. I’ve given you access to whatever resources you need to get this done, as it remains our number-one priority. If the renegades are not corralled, they will alert the world to our existence. But if
Darquesse
is not stopped, there will be no world to alert. So tell me, how are things progressing on
that
front?”

“As expected,” said Skulduggery.

“Really? We expected no progress?”

“Just because we have no results doesn’t mean we’ve made no progress. We’re looking for one person who could be literally anywhere in the world. At this early stage, it’s a process of elimination.”

“I see,” said China. “And where have you eliminated so far?”

Skulduggery looked around. “Here. Darquesse is not here, therefore this room can be eliminated from the list of places she could be. Unless she enters this room after we’ve gone, in which case, we’d be foolish to rule it out completely.”

China sighed. “So what you’re saying is that it’s impossible to track her down.”

“No, not at all. In fact, we have two ways of finding out where she is. The first is quite simple – we bring her to us.”

“And how do we do that?”

“She’s punishing Erskine Ravel for the murders of Anton and Ghastly. For twenty-three hours of every day, he’s subjected to unimaginable agony. If the doctors try to alleviate his suffering, the pain increases. If he grows somewhat tolerant, the pain increases. This link between them is something we can exploit. If we shunt Ravel into another reality, the link could break.”

“And how does this help us?”

“Once the link is severed, Darquesse will come looking for answers. When we bring Ravel back, he’ll be her first target. Naturally, we’ll have to be ready, because we’re only going to get one shot at luring her in.”

China pursed her lips. “Risky.”

“Oh, yes,” said Skulduggery. “Hugely risky. Possibly suicidal. But we should probably get started on finding a reality to shunt him into.”

China sighed. “Very well. And the second way?”

“That’s a little trickier, but it’s also more straightforward. We don’t have to track her – we just have to track the people with her.”

“You mean Tanith Low.”

Skulduggery nodded. “Yes I do. Tanith Low and Billy-Ray Sanguine.”

e watched her standing in the air, her eyes closed, hovering just above the wooden floor. She was wrapped in darkness, from each individual toe right up to her jawline, a darkness so tight he could see the muscles in her legs, the tightness of her belly. She’d been like that for days. Hadn’t opened her eyes, or said one word. Just hovered there.

Sanguine took off his coat, dumped it on a straight-backed chair, the only piece of furniture in the room. It was cold outside, but hot in here, all that heat generated from the eighteen-year-old girl slowing rotating in mid-air. What was going on inside her mind, he had no idea. Were they human thoughts she was thinking, or something else? Something beyond human?

Someone that powerful, he reckoned, would only take a short while to start thinking thoughts that had no place in a human head.

A whisper of leather behind him, but he didn’t turn. Tanith Low was quiet when she did her patrol of this little house in this little ghost estate. Were he to glance out of that window, he’d see a dozen identical houses to this one, but all hollow and empty. Years back, they were set to be sold to the affluent Irish and the lucky immigrants who came here for a better life. Then the money went away and immigrants sought better lives elsewhere, took a good chunk of the Irish with them.

Sanguine was tired of Ireland. It was coming to the tail end of winter, but the winds were still bitter and the rain was still mean. He wanted to go home, back to the heat of East Texas. He was sick of living the life of an outlaw. He wanted to sit on the porch in the evenings and not have to worry about the world ending, or how to play his part in it.

He watched Tanith slip out of the window and walk up the outside wall towards the roof. She had binoculars up there she could use to sweep the full 360. She hadn’t said much since they’d arrived here, and she barely slept. The Remnant inside her kept her going, kept her strong and alert. Sometimes he’d catch her looking at him and wonder if today was the day she’d kill him.

Because she had to kill him. He knew that much.

Darquesse, that god-in-a-girl’s-body that had once been known as Valkyrie Cain, was the Remnant’s messiah, destined to decimate the earth and reduce civilisation to cinders for some reason yet to be discovered. When Darquesse had asked Tanith to look after her while she “hibernated” – her words – Tanith had been overjoyed. Sanguine had tagged along, of course he had. Tanith was his fiancée, after all. He loved her. But no matter how much he loved Tanith, Darquesse had never been his messiah, and he had no wish to see the world burn.

Tanith knew that, given enough time, he’d go on to do something drastic to avert that apocalypse, and the only reason she hadn’t killed him yet was because she obviously didn’t think he’d be up to it. But even now there was a dagger tucked into his belt, one of four God-Killer weapons he’d hidden away from her that were more than capable of ending this god-girl’s life. He’d heard what Darquesse could do. He’d heard her head had once been pulled off, and she’d put herself back together in those last few moments before brain death.

Yet Darquesse was killable. Darquesse was very killable. But in order to kill her, he needed to plunge this dagger into her before she had a chance to formulate any thoughts on the matter. He could do it now. Tanith was on the roof, Darquesse had her eyes closed, and here he was, standing with one hand already sneaking round behind his back to the dagger. He lifted it from his belt with great care, and when he held it he pointed it down and away from his body. These weapons killed whatever they nicked, and if they could kill a god they could certainly kill Momma Sanguine’s favourite son.

The dagger felt good in his hand. Well-balanced. Three steps and he’d be next to her, then all he’d have to do would be to reach up, drive the blade through her skull. It’d be the easiest kill of his life, and the most important. Hell, he’d be saving the damn world. How many other hitmen could say that? Course, by killing Darquesse he’d be destroying the dreams of Tanith Low, the only woman he’d ever loved, and in doing that he’d be inciting her rage to the point where he’d have to kill her before she killed him.

Darquesse hovered there, head down and eyes closed, turning ever so slowly, and Sanguine put the dagger back in his belt. He reckoned he could allow his warm and fuzzy feelings to stay alive a little longer.

ome.

It always made her smile to go home. Those awkward days filled with awkward silences and occasional, maddening bursts of friendship were made bearable by the fact that Stephanie had a home to go to at the end of it all. The smile began when she got out of the Bentley, and it broadened to a grin when she pushed open the front door.

Comfort.

No, more than comfort. Belonging.

Her dad was in the living room, her mum moving round the house, and at this time of night Alice was already in bed. Her whole family, alive and safe. Shoving the knowledge of their possible fates into a dark corner of her mind, Stephanie went up to her room, changed into jeans and a hoody, and stowed the Sceptre and the stick under her bed. In her bare feet, she crept into Alice’s room, looked down at her as she slept.

“Hey there,” she whispered. “Sorry I didn’t get to play with you today. Doing important stuff. When it’s all done, I’ll be able to play with you every single day, I promise.”

Alice lay there, eyes closed and mouth open, looking beautiful. Stephanie felt such an overwhelming sense of love and, not for the first time, sheer thrilling excitement that this was her life now. She had a family. Parents and a sister. She was a normal girl living a normal life. Or it would be a normal life, just as soon as she escaped all the weirdness.

She crept back out and went downstairs. Her first stop was the kitchen. She’d been starving for hours, but hadn’t bothered to tell Skulduggery. She’d started to feel that these biological needs of hers – to eat, to pee – were complications he could do without knowing about. Things were fraught enough between them as it was – she didn’t want to annoy him any further.

She heated some leftovers in the microwave and washed them down with a glass of cold milk. Her belly no longer rumbling, she cleaned the plate and took her glass into the living room. Her dad didn’t even glance up from the TV.

“Muh,” he said, waving a hand.

“Hi, Dad. Whatcha watching?”

“TV.”

“What’s on?”

“Film.”

“What’s it called?”

He didn’t answer.

“Dad? What’s it called?”

“
Three Days of the Condor
.”

“Is it good?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Is it complicated?”

“Very.”

“What’s it about?”

“Not sure,” he said. “I think it’s about a bird.”

Stephanie left him to his movie, and picked up a sealed envelope from the side table. Someone had written
Edgleys
across it, in handwriting she didn’t recognise. Something slid around inside. She dug a fingertip in, ripped it open, and a memory stick fell out on to her palm.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“What’s what?”

She turned, showed him.

“Oh, that,” he said, looking back at the TV. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s a memory stick,” she said.

“If you knew, why did you ask?”

“It was in an envelope addressed to us.”

“Was it?” her dad asked. “That’s odd. That’s very odd. Well, it’s sort of odd, but not really.” He paused the movie. “I have no idea what’s going on in this film.”

“Who sent the envelope?”

“Hmm? Oh, someone knocked on the door, handed it over, said something and walked away. The strangest thing I’ve ever seen except, again, it wasn’t really.”

“Who was it?” said Stephanie.

“Haven’t the foggiest.”

“What did he say?”

“Can’t really remember. It was weeks ago. He stood there and I remember thinking,
This is unusual
. It looked like he was about to cry, or hug me, or both. I think he said something like,
It’s an honour to meet you
. Which, of course, it is, though most people don’t usually say it out loud.”

“And you didn’t open the envelope?”

“I was going to,” said her dad, “but I got bored. Is that the only thing in it? It didn’t come with a covering note?”

“Just this.”

“Are you going to see what’s on it?” he asked. “I don’t know if that’s wise. It might be a virus, or an artificial intelligence like Skynet who just wants to usher in nuclear war so that our robot overlords can take over. I don’t know if I’d like the responsibility of setting all that in motion. I mean, I probably would, because at least then I’d be famous, but seeing as how it would lead to everyone dying … I don’t know. I’m conflicted.”

“I doubt it would usher in Armageddon.”

“But you can’t be sure, can you? I’m not equipped to survive Armageddon, Steph. Maybe once upon a time I could have led the resistance, but I’ve gone soft. I’ve lost my edge. I wear slippers now. I never used to wear slippers.”