The Dying of the Light (58 page)

“And if you don’t wear it,” China said, “you might be allowing it to happen that much sooner.”

Valkyrie glared, her heat matched by the cool of those ice-blue eyes. Finally, she looked away, and turned to Skulduggery. “I can’t wear it …”

“You have to,” he said. “China’s right.”

“That’s Grand Mage Sorrows,” China corrected, “or I’ll have you both flogged.”

“The circumstances in the visions are coming true,” Skulduggery said, ignoring China, “so you know you’ll be called upon to fight. You owe it to yourself, to us, and to your family, to give yourself every advantage. The circumstances haven’t changed, but the details have. We’ve seen clothes change. We’ve seen people in the early visions that aren’t there in the later ones. Your family dying? That could be one more detail that we see changed. But only if you fight hard enough.”

Valkyrie folded her arms. “Fine,” she muttered.

Skulduggery waved his hand, and the gauntlet floated down to her. She took hold of it, and stuffed it in her jacket pocket. It was too big to fit in all the way.

“Tell us about your plan,” China said to Skulduggery. “When Darquesse attacks, we’ll need you here to lead the initial defence.”

Skulduggery nodded. “If Sanguine is right, her targets will be Ravel and Valkyrie. Ravel will draw her in, but when she realises that Valkyrie is here, I fully expect her to forget about Ravel and focus on her. So our main objective in the opening stages is to protect Valkyrie Cain. Questions?”

“We have sorcerers and Cleavers and God-Killers on our side,” said Gracious, “not to mention our own nutball Death Bringer, but unless we get lucky, we’re not going to be able to contain Darquesse for long.”

“That’s where Fletcher comes in,” Skulduggery said. “He’ll teleport me to the Necropolis, where I’ll face the Guardian in the final test. So, if and when Darquesse does reach Valkyrie, hopefully she’ll get a nasty surprise.”

“How long will the final test take?” asked Saracen.

“I have no idea.”

“This is far from ideal.”

“Of that, I am aware.”

“Are we sure this is a wise course of action?” Donegan asked. “Skulduggery, like it or not, you’re one of our heavy hitters. We can’t afford to lose you in the middle of a pitched battle.”

“We don’t have much choice,” Skulduggery said. “If Darquesse kills Valkyrie and absorbs her essence or her soul or her power or whatever it is she’s after, then we’re done for. We’re beaten. Twenty-three minutes of invulnerability, plus Valkyrie’s new powers and that gauntlet, may be all that stands in the way of Darquesse and the end of the world.”

“But we can’t lose you,” said Saracen.

“There’s no choice,” said Skulduggery. “Only the dead can enter the Necropolis. I don’t see a whole lot of dead people volunteering to take my place, do you?”

At that exact moment the door opened and everyone looked round as a beautiful, athletic redhead walked in, followed by a handsome, muscular man.

“I am Vaurien Scapegrace,” the woman announced, “and I’m here to save the world.”

hat followed was confusing.

Valkyrie stayed out of it. She watched the arguments and the debate and said nothing. She watched people change their minds, change them back, and change them again. Gradually an unlikely outcome began to rear its head – people were agreeing that Scapegrace should have his brain put back into his old, dead, zombie body in order to go into the Necropolis and face the Guardian in battle.

It was all very unsettling.

She accompanied Skulduggery, Scapegrace and Thrasher to the Medical Wing, and Synecdoche brought them to see the two original bodies in all their zombie glory.

They floated in green liquid in a big glass tank. They looked disgusting.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Valkyrie asked. “I mean … they’re falling apart. And the way you look now is … well, it’s a lot more attractive.”

Scapegrace looked at her. “I’m a woman.”

“A woman is not a bad thing to be.”

He nodded. “I accept that. I understand that. I have had my horizons broadened by my time in this body. Not broadened as much as some of my pub’s patrons would have liked, but broadened nonetheless. But we
belong
in those decaying shells, Valkyrie, if it’s at all possible to get us back into them.” He turned to Synecdoche. “Give it to us straight, Doc – our brains may not survive the transplant, right?”

Synecdoche hesitated. “They … they won’t survive. There is no maybe here. If we attempt it, your brains will fall apart. They’re only held together by twine as it is.”

Scapegrace frowned. “Twine?”

“Yes.”

“Our brains are held together with
string
?”

“I’m afraid so.”

He stared at her, and shook his head. “I hate Doctor Nye
so much
right now …”

“So what’s the point of doing this if our brains are going to fall apart?” Thrasher asked.

“I’ve spoken with my colleagues,” said Synecdoche, “and we’ve come to the conclusion that we don’t need to transplant your brains. We just need to transplant your minds.”

Valkyrie stood there and waited for her to start making sense.

“There is a vegetable-plant hybrid we’ve been working on, modifying the genes and receptors, mutating the proteins and acids so that they are, in effect, neurotransmitters. Our work on the synapses alone has been quite illuminating.”

Valkyrie stood there and waited for her to start making sense.

“Anyway,” Synecdoche said, blushing, “we think we can install these hybrids into your old bodies and, with the help of some skilled Sensitives, transfer your minds into them.”

“That sounds great,” Thrasher said, a huge smile breaking out.

“Wait a second,” said Scapegrace. “You’re saying you’re going to … you’re going to put our thoughts into … into vegetable-plant hybrids?”

“Yes.”

“Are … are our brains going to be vegetables?”

Synecdoche hesitated again. “Kind of.”

Valkyrie couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing.

The operation took most of the night. Valkyrie spent that time sleeping or in the Ops Room, a brightly-lit space of monitors and weird-looking computers. In the centre was a long table displaying what appeared to be a highly detailed scale model of Roarhaven. It was only when it started to flicker slightly that Valkyrie realised it was a hologram. Little hologram people ran about on its streets. She even thought she recognised a few faces.

The room was buzzing with activity. No one needed her so she stayed at the back, in the dark. She took the Deathtouch Gauntlet from her jacket, and put it on a table no one was using. She left it there.

She was on her third cup of coffee when the doors opened and the two zombies walked in, grinning like conquering heroes.

One of Scapegrace’s teeth fell out, and he kicked it under a chair.

Skulduggery walked over to them. “This is a surprisingly brave thing you’re doing,” he said.

“I know,” said Scapegrace. “I’ve just been thinking that. I think I felt more heroic in the woman’s body. She was stronger and fitter and better and I just felt a lot braver speaking in her voice. My own voice is kind of nasal. Have you noticed that? How can my voice be nasal if most of my nose fell off years ago?”

“Don’t worry, Master,” said Thrasher, “I’ll be right behind you, every step of the—”

“Shut up,” Scapegrace said.

Thrasher looked bizarrely pleased as he said, “Sorry, Master.”

“This final test,” said Scapegrace, “is there any way I’ll be able to cheat?”

“Probably not,” Skulduggery said. He handed him a folded piece of paper. “This is a map. When Fletcher teleports you in, you’ll be at the bottom of stone stairs. Before you, the Necropolis. Follow these directions exactly and you’ll get to the square, where the Guardian waits.”

“Will he be expecting me?”

“He’ll be expecting
me
. Explain to him that I won’t be coming, and don’t take no for an answer. Then combat will begin.”

“I have been trained in the martial arts,” Scapegrace said, bowing slightly. “Although that was when I had a stronger, fitter, more athletic body. But I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“You’re going to have to be more than sure. We’re relying on you here, Vaurien, OK? The fate of the world may very well rest in your hands.”

“You can count on me.”

“And me,” Thrasher said brightly.

“Less so on him,” said Scapegrace.

“Stay in this room,” Skulduggery said. “I have a feeling, when we need you, things will move very fast.”

Thrasher nodded eagerly, but Scapegrace looked decidedly paler. Valkyrie wondered how that was possible.

Saracen approached. “We’re ready,” he said. “Or ready enough anyway. We can’t afford to wait around any longer.”

“OK then,” Skulduggery said. “Let’s go talk to Mr Ravel.”

Ravel was standing in the protective circle. Two Cleavers guarded the door. Skulduggery walked into the room first, then Saracen. Valkyrie came last.

“We’re going to need you to step out here,” Skulduggery said.

Ravel shook his head. “Skulduggery, you can’t ask me to do that.”

“Step out, or we’ll drag you out.”

“She’ll come for me. Please, if our friendship has ever meant anything to you—”

“Friendship?” Saracen interrupted. “You want to talk about friendship?”

“Saracen, I’m well aware of what I’ve done, but that’s no—”

“You murdered Ghastly,” Saracen said. “You had Anton
beheaded
. You plotted and planned behind our backs for God knows how long, and then you betrayed us all.”

“I was trying to do the right thing.”

“
You killed them.
”

“Sacrifices had to me made,” Ravel said. He spoke with the air of someone who’d had this conversation a thousand times before. Which was probably close to the truth. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I have seen what’s coming, OK? Sooner or later, our little magical community is going to be revealed to the world, and they’re going to come after us. And as powerful as we are, there are simply more of them than there are of us. They will hunt us down and kill us.”

“We’re meant to protect the mortals.”

A look of annoyance crossed Ravel’s face. “Says who? Really, Saracen, who says that? Who commands that? We make up our own minds. Just because we’ve decided in the past to protect them doesn’t mean we can’t decide now to rule them. It’s for their own good anyway. They can’t be trusted to run this world. Look what they’ve done to the environment alone in the last—”

“We’re not debating this,” said Saracen. “You can come up with all the excuses you want, but nothing changes what you’ve done.”

“I know,” said Ravel quietly. “But Saracen, Skulduggery … Valkyrie … if I leave this circle, Darquesse will come for me. You don’t know what it was like. Please. Don’t ask me to go through that again.”

“You’re bait,” Skulduggery said. “You’ve known for days now that you were going to be bait. You knew this was coming.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to leave me alone and defenceless against her?”

“No. Because we’re not like you. We prefer to give people a fighting chance. She’ll be coming for you, and we’re going to be ready. You’ll be with us.”

Ravel looked shocked. “You want me fighting beside you? After … after what I’ve done?”

“Do we
want
you beside us?” Skulduggery said. “No. But that’s where you’ll be. We don’t know how long it’ll take her to get here, but we’re as ready as we’re going to be. Let’s go.”

For a moment, Ravel seemed pinned to the spot. Then he took a shuddering breath, and stepped out of the circle.

Ravel.

He came through loud and clear, lit up in her mind like a star in the night sky. She turned, her eyes closed, until the star burned bright enough for her to follow.

South. Towards Roarhaven. He was in the Sanctuary.

It was a trap. It was so obviously a trap.

Darquesse opened her eyes and smiled.

Good.

The mission was a go.

Scapegrace had never felt anything like this before. While his stomach was incapable of producing the butterflies effect he felt sure should have accompanied such a moment, he nonetheless felt thrilled beyond measure at the thought of doing something so important. Of doing something so worthy.

Thrasher was unusually quiet, which was a good thing, and they stood quietly in the Ops Room while people around them talked really fast to each other.

“She’s coming,” Saracen Rue said.

China Sorrows, the most beautiful woman Scapegrace had ever seen, walked quickly to the hologram of the city. “She’s been seen?”

“Our Sensitives are blacking out,” said Rue. “The ones we’ve had searching for her. Finbar says their minds are being overloaded the closer she gets.”

“Get Finbar isolated,” China said. “Cassandra, too. Where are Geoffrey Scrutinous and Philomena Random? We need them all isolated.”

“I’ve sent for them,” said Skulduggery. “They’ll be ready when we need them, you can count on that. Where’s the Black Cleaver?”