The Dying of the Light (8 page)

“Do you think you can find it? I’m aware that every dimension has its own frequency and there’s an infinite number of realities, but—”

“Once a frequency has been found,” said Signate, seizing his own opportunity to interrupt, “it’s out there, open, waiting. It becomes noticeable, if you’re of a particular skill level. And of course I am. It would help me greatly if there was something I could draw a reading from, though. Did you happen to bring back any souvenirs?”

“We have this,” said Stephanie, taking the Sceptre from her backpack.

Signate’s eyes widened. “Oh, my … That’s the Sceptre of the Ancients, isn’t it? That’s a piece of history. It’s … magnificent.”

“It’s not ours,” Stephanie said. “Our Sceptre was destroyed. This one belongs in the other dimension. We kind of liberated it.”

“Can I … Can I touch it?” Signate asked. “It won’t go off, will it?”

“It’s Deadlocked,” she told him. “It’s bonded to me, so I’m the only one it’ll work for. Can you get a reading from it?”

With slightly trembling hands, Signate reached out, fingertips brushing the Sceptre. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. His fingertips tapped lightly. Then he withdrew his hands, and looked up. “That is tremendously helpful. It would have taken me months to find the proper frequency – now it will only take weeks.”

“You have days,” said Skulduggery. “Do you think you can do it?”

Signate smiled for the first time. “I have always appreciated a challenge.”

Skulduggery stood. “You’ll be out in an hour. Report directly to Administrator Tipstaff. You’re working with us now, Creyfon. Do not disappoint me.”

They left him there and walked back. The silence was beginning to get to Stephanie. It was a peculiar sort of silence. It was sharp. It had angles. It jostled between them, its edges cutting into her. But she kept her mouth shut. Attempting to start a conversation, trying for small talk, would be a defeat. If Skulduggery didn’t want to talk to her, then she didn’t want to talk to Skulduggery.

Even though she did. Badly.

eep within the mountain, Cleavers came and Cleavers died, their bodies crumpling while their energies burst free of their earthly bonds and soared upwards into the heavens. It was a beautiful thing to behold, amid the spray of blood and the mangled limbs, and Darquesse found she could appreciate it on a whole new, artistic level. The squalor and the splendour of existence, displayed before her like a grand diorama.

Tanith wasn’t appreciating it, unfortunately. She leaped and dodged and fought and killed in the shadow of the giant Receptacle that housed all of her fellow Remnants, and she did so with the same look of intense focus on her face that she always had. She wasn’t even smiling. She rarely smiled any more, now that Darquesse thought about it. Curious.

Darquesse wondered what Tanith was making of the grand diorama of existence she was seeing. She had become so pragmatic lately that she would probably dismiss it. That almost made Darquesse sad. If only everyone could see things the way she did. She reckoned people would be a lot happier. She grinned as she stepped between two Cleavers, dodging every move they made. “Did you know that Cleavers fight naked?” she asked as she ducked a scythe blade.

Tanith beheaded a downed opponent. “I did.”

Darquesse nodded, leaned away from a kick, and immediately spun to avoid a grab. “Deep within every training area in every Sanctuary, they have a Combat Circle. They step in there, strip off every item of clothing, and fight.”

The Cleavers kept attacking – not slowing up, and yet not allowing their frustration to show. Impressive. “It’s a huge honour to step into the circle, apparently. It is a challenge that cannot be refused. That’s where they prove themselves, without armour or protection.”

“I know all this,” said Tanith. “I was the one who told you. Years ago.”

Darquesse happily ignored her. “These guys would all have fought naked, at some point. Wouldn’t that have been something to see?”

She suddenly lunged, driving her hand through the chest of the Cleaver nearest to her. The last two closed in, but their scythe blades exploded into rust before they got close. Darquesse flicked her wrists and their necks snapped.

“That was fun,” she said.

“Was it?”

She turned to Tanith. “You didn’t think so?”

“You could have killed them all with a wave of your hand,” Tanith said. “We didn’t have to fight.”

“But you like fighting.”

“Fighting without a reason to fight is stupid. And having someone like you around just takes the fun out of it.”

“Oh,” said Darquesse. “I didn’t know that.”

Tanith put away her sword. She looked up at the Receptacle, a globe 100 metres in diameter, set into a cradle of metal with thick wooden struts. Within the globe, blackness swirled. “You’re really going to let them all out, then?”

“I am,” said Darquesse. She trailed her fingers along the side. “All these thousands of Remnants, your brothers and sisters … They’ve been cooped up in this thing, deprived of even a change of scenery. You remember what it was like to be trapped in that room in the Midnight Hotel, don’t you?”

“Yes I do,” said Tanith. “And I didn’t like it one little bit.”

Darquesse gave her a wicked smile. “You want to be the one to let them out?”

Tanith hesitated. “I don’t know. The longer the Remnant is inside me, the longer I’m
me
, the less I care about other Remnants. I want to free them, but I don’t …
need
to. It’s something I wanted to do, once upon a time. But now …”

“Personally,” said Darquesse, “I think it’s important to hang on to things like that. That’s why I’m so determined to keep punishing Ravel. It’s what I wanted to do, once upon a time, and I remember that feeling of satisfaction when he first started to scream. I liked that feeling. I want to preserve it.”

“So you think I should let them out?”

Darquesse shrugged. “Only if you want to.”

“Well … freeing them would be advantageous. We could set them loose to distract Skulduggery and the others while you …”

“While I what?” Darquesse said. “What is it you think I’m doing?”

“I’ve seen the future. I’ve seen what you do to the world. You destroy everything.”

“And that’s what you want, is it? Even now? You want a world where everyone is dead? But then there’d be no people to possess, and no trouble to get into. And we both know how much Remnants love getting into trouble.”

“Darquesse, looking into the future, seeing what you do … it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

“That was then. What about now?”

“I haven’t changed my mind, if that’s what you’re asking. If you doubt my loyalty—”

“This isn’t about loyalty, Tanith. You’re a different person to who you were.”

“Well, what about you? Only a few days ago you were insisting you had no intention of killing every living thing on the planet. But I notice you’ve stopped correcting me when I say it.”

Darquesse shrugged. “I’m still figuring this all out, and I reserve the right to change my mind. As you should.”

Tanith looked her dead in the eye. “You can count on me.”

Darquesse smiled. “Of course I can. I know that. Pick up our friend, would you? He’s regained consciousness but trying to hide it.”

One of the two last remaining sorcerers in the place heard her, but amusingly he stayed where he was, slumped in the corner where Tanith had knocked him out and shackled him. Now Tanith grabbed his hair, pulled him to his feet. He cried out in pain, and stumbled after her as she presented him to Darquesse.

“And what is your name?” Darquesse asked.

“Maksy,” the sorcerer said, tears in his eyes. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Like we’ve killed all these other sorcerers, you mean? And all these Cleavers? Like we’ve killed just about everyone who was assigned to guard the Receptacle?”

“Yes,” said Maksy. “Please don’t kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Darquesse said. “I have other plans for you.”

She pressed her hand against the Receptacle. The globe looked like glass but wasn’t – it was a solid energy field, a giant version of a Soul Catcher. She pushed her arm through, and the shadows on the other side stirred into a frenzy.

“Ooh,” she said. “Tickles.”

She pulled her arm out, a Remnant in her grip. It twisted and writhed, but couldn’t squirm free. Darquesse noticed Tanith’s lip curling in distaste. “Something wrong?” she asked.

“No,” Tanith said quickly. “Nothing.”

“Don’t make me ask twice.”

A hesitation. “I don’t know, I … I once thought that Remnants were slivers of pure evil. But they’re not, are they? They’re just nasty little unfinished
things
. The creature you’re holding is nothing but a bundle of sickness that needs a host to become whole. They’re not evil. They’re desperate and pathetic. I’ve seen evil. I know what evil looks like now, and that isn’t it.”

“So what does evil look like?” Darquesse asked.

Tanith glanced at her and said nothing.

Darquesse shrugged, and turned to Maksy. “Open wide.”

He shook his head. He was pale, sweating. Terrified. “No. Please. I have a newborn son. Please. I need to be there for him.”

“Don’t be afraid,” Tanith said. “You can still be you, even when you have a Remnant inside. It won’t even be in there that long. We’ll just need you to carry it around for a day or two, and then it’ll be gone, and you won’t remember any of it.”

“My family—”

“We won’t let you near them,” said Tanith. “You won’t hurt anyone. I promise.”

Maksy tried to pull back as Darquesse approached, but Tanith dug her fingers into his arm, and he reluctantly opened his mouth. The Remnant reached for him, gained purchase, and Darquesse let go and it squirmed in. Maksy staggered and Tanith let him go. His throat bulged for an instant, and then he sagged. Ever so slowly, he rolled his head back, his lips darkening, black veins running under his skin.

He opened his eyes and smiled. “The first thing I see through human eyes in years, and it is two beautiful women. It’s almost worth the captivity, it really is.” He took a moment to breathe in, and then slowly out. “Physical form,” he muttered. “It’s so nice. It’s like coming home. Although this one … Before we release the others, can I go get another host? Someone better looking? Some Remnants go for hosts with power, but I’ve always found that power comes to good-looking people anyway, and … Here, which one of you gorgeous girls is going to help me out of these shackles?”

Tanith hit him and he dropped, unconscious, to the floor.

“You haven’t changed, eh?” Darquesse said, a small smile on her lips. “So, when you were nice to him just now, assuring him that everything will be all right, that was you … what? Being mean and uncaring?”

Tanith ignored the mocking tone. “I just remember what it was like to fear the Remnants,” she said. “There’s no harm in telling someone he’s not going to kill his family if we know he’s not going to kill his family, is there?”

“Harm?” said Darquesse. “No. No harm at all.”

Tanith shrugged. “Then what’s the big deal? We have another captive that we can put a Remnant into and take around with us, and then we can release the others and get out of here while they cause their usual amount of chaos and panic. Job done, right?”

“Job done,” said Darquesse. “I’m glad we got to do this, Tanith. We needed a girls’ night out, didn’t we? This was fun.”

“Yeah,” said Tanith. “This was a hoot.”

ife as a woman had its ups and downs.

Ups: people listened to him a lot more. When he had been a man, Vaurien Scapegrace had found it somewhat difficult to be taken seriously. But once his brain had been transferred into the red-haired woman’s statuesque body, everyone seemed to find a lot more time for him. This was good for pub business.

Downs: sometimes he felt as though people weren’t
really
listening to him. Sometimes he felt as though they’d laugh at any feeble joke he made, just so long as the joke emerged from his new, plump, incredibly soft lips. He also didn’t like the way all those eyes would follow him as he went to fetch a patron’s drinks. It was unnerving.