Skulduggery Pleasant. Derek Landy
I wasn’t a teacher, I’d probably be a researcher, maybe be a part of Project Torchlight. Have you heard of it?”
“I haven’t, I’m afraid.”
“Ah, no matter. My point being, I specialise in the Source – which is another reason I’m so pumped to be meeting you.” Militsa hesitated, her eyes sparkling. “Could I see your magic? Could I see what you can do?”
“Uh …”
“Just a little bit, I swear. You’re incredible to me, that’s all. You’re connected to the Source of all magic like nobody else. Your magic is … it’s pure. Unfiltered.”
“I’m not very good at controlling it,” Valkyrie confessed.
“I’m not surprised,” said Militsa. “I’ve got theories about it, if you’d like to hear them.”
“Uh, maybe. I’m a little busy right now …”
“Oh, of course,” Militsa said, laughing at her own stupidity. “Of course you’re busy, you’re Valkyrie Cain! But if ever you wanted to talk about it, just knock on my door. I will literally drop everything to talk to you. Literally. Everything.” She brushed her hands together. “Dropped.”
“OK,” said Valkyrie. “Well, I might do that.”
“Or if you just want to hang out,” Militsa said. “You haven’t been to Roarhaven much, have you? Again, I’m not a stalker, I just … I’d have heard if you were in town a lot. I could show you around. There’s actually a pretty good arts scene here. Bizarre, I know, but there you go. Might be fun, if you’re into that kind of thing. Or we could go for a coffee. Or a drink. Or dinner. Would you like to go to dinner?”
“No thank you.”
“Right, of course, you’re busy, I get it.”
“It’s not that I’m busy,” said Valkyrie. “It’s just that I don’t want to.”
Militsa blinked. “Oh. Well, I mean, OK. That’s cool.”
Valkyrie’s face soured. “And now I’m being rude, just like I knew I would.”
“You’re not rude, no.”
“It’s just I’m not looking for a friend right now.”
Militsa blinked. “Ohh. OK.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to offend you, but I’m trying to stay away from people until I get my head straight.”
“Gotcha,” Militsa said. “No explanation needed. You’ve been through a lot and the last thing you need is someone to talk to.”
“When you say it like that,” Valkyrie said, “it sounds stupid.”
“Not at all. This is totally my fault – I just feel like I know you already. I’ve asked Fletcher so many questions.”
Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. “You know Fletcher Renn?”
Militsa looked surprised. “Well, of course. He’s a teacher here.”
Valkyrie couldn’t help it – she grinned. “Fletcher? Seriously? What does he teach? What does he know well enough to teach?”
Militsa grinned with her. “Teleportation. He’s only got three students, and only one of them can actually teleport, but he’s pretty good. I think you’d be impressed.”
“That’s hilarious,” said Valkyrie. “Is he all strict and stuff?”
“Very. He has a teacher voice.”
“Oh, wow.”
Valkyrie’s phone buzzed with a message from Skulduggery, saying he’d be delayed another ten minutes. As she slipped it back into her jeans, she noticed Militsa glancing at her watch.
“You probably have work to do,” Valkyrie said.
Militsa nodded. “I’m supposed to be teaching a class right now. If this was a mortal school, the kids’d be tearing up the place, but Corrival students tend to be so boringly well behaved that they’re probably cleaning the windows. The coffee offer will remain open, by the way, for as long as you need it to be. Or, you know, dinner. Whatever.”
“Thank you. Really. I appreciate the gesture.”
“No problem,” Militsa said, and beamed another smile. “It was so nice to meet you, Valkyrie. I hope we can get to know each other better.”
Valkyrie smiled back, and Militsa turned with a swirl of her cloak and walked off. She wore a cloak. Valkyrie hadn’t known very many people who wore cloaks. Not even Skulduggery wore a cloak. What an odd girl. Valkyrie liked her.
She left the school, with its magnificent arches and grand staircases, and walked the wide streets. Plenty of time to double back and meet Skulduggery. There was a guy on the corner, barefoot and dressed in sackcloth, holding a sign that warned her that the end was nigh. To reinforce the point he was making, he shouted it at anyone who was passing.
“The end is nigh!” he screeched to Valkyrie, shaking the cardboard sign. “The end is nigh!”
“Isn’t it always?” she asked, and left him shaking the sign resentfully.
She made a note of the street names as she went by. Gorgon Street. Titan Street. Bellower Road. She crossed Meritorious Square and took the narrower streets now, away from the staring, whispering people. She walked down Blood-drenched Lane, took a right on to Decapitation Row. At least they were easy to remember.
She smelled food and her tummy rumbled, so she followed the smell and then abruptly lost it in a dead end that went by the charming name of Putrid Road. She turned, and stopped.
Three people stood there – two men and one woman – staring at her with a special kind of look in their eyes. Valkyrie had seen that look before. She was well used to that look.
That look meant that, at some point in the next few minutes, they were going to try to kill her.
Sebastian watched it all from the rooftop.
He watched the three of them follow her away from the crowds, away from anyone who might step in. He would have expected more from Valkyrie Cain. He would have expected her to be a lot more alert. But there she was, in jeans and a T-shirt instead of her usual black, walking like a zombie, just going where the streets took her, like she had a thousand different things on her mind and she didn’t want to think of a single one of them. He watched her reach the dead end and turn, and freeze.
He crouched low, and bit his lip beneath his mask. He had his mission. He shouldn’t be wasting his time on things like this.
Below him, Valkyrie waited for the three people to say something. When they didn’t, she spoke. “I’m not Darquesse.”
Sebastian’s ears were covered, but he heard her perfectly.
“You look like Darquesse,” said the woman. “You look the way she did when she killed my family. Except you’re not smiling. Darquesse was smiling.”
Valkyrie hesitated. “I’m not her.”
The man on the left was packing some extra weight, but he looked strong, like those clenched fists would hurt. “Darquesse killed my daughter,” he said. “Burned her to nothing. I doubt she even noticed she’d done it.”
“My brother tried to fight her,” the second man said. “I begged him not to, but he thought if he could sneak up behind her, while the Skeleton Detective and everyone was distracting her, he could snap her neck before she knew what was happening. My brother, who had never