Skulduggery Pleasant: Death Bringer Part 52

"You saw what I can do."

"You said it yourself, you're a rechargeable battery."

"You have no idea how powerful I am. I can take lives by reaching out with my mind."

"And how's that going for you?"

Melancholia glared. "This is your fault. You tricked me into giving the skeleton his life back. Without the skeleton, Vile would still only be an empty suit of armour, which I'd have destroyed by now."

"And if you had destroyed it, then you'd have killed me, and then millions of others. Sorry Mel, you don't get to paint yourself as the innocent victim here."

"There's something wrong with you, you know," Melancholia said. "Twenty minutes ago I tried to kill you, and now you're helping me run from your friend who is now trying to kill us both. That's a very healthy relationship you have there, by the way."

"At least Vile isn't going to try to kill the world after this. All he wants to do is kill you and whoever might replace you."

"Why do you keep calling him Vile? What happened to calling him Skulduggery?"

"When he wears that armour, he's Lord Vile. That's how I've got to think of him. It's the only way we're going to survive."

Melancholia snapped her head around. "Did you hear that?"

Valkyrie disentangled herself from Melancholia, left her leaning against the tunnel wall. There was something up ahead. She could see it in the gloom. It leaped up, and charged.

Valkyrie pushed at the air and it came right through, barged into her and Valkyrie went down, getting tangled in its limbs, in its clutching hands. Its knee dropped to her belly and the breath rushed from her lungs. She latched on to it, wrapped her arms around its skinny frame and didn't let go, burying her head into its shoulder. It snarled and bucked and she strained to hold on, even when it started rolling. She tucked her legs around its waist. If she lost her grip, her stomach muscles would cramp up, leaving her defenceless. Holding on was all she could do. Holding on was the only thing keeping her alive.

The creature, whatever it was, was shrieking now. They rolled to the edge and dropped a few feet. Valkyrie landed on her shoulder and her arms almost sprang apart. It pulled her hair and sc.r.a.ped her face. She kept her head down and her eyes tightly shut. She pulled in a sliver of air. When she was sure she wasn't going to curl up the moment she released her grip, she raised her head and opened her mouth, snarled and sank her teeth into the creature's neck.

It screamed, a sound of pure panic, and it struggled but Valkyrie didn't let go. Blood washed into her mouth and she gagged and did her best not to swallow. They rolled sideways. Valkyrie used her hips to heave herself forward, and now she was on top, with the creature wriggling and squirming beneath her. Valkyrie's jaw was aching, but she held on. Her mouth was filling with warm blood. It spilled over her face, down her neck, beneath her clothes. It spilled on to the ground, splashing into the dirt.

Gradually, the struggling weakened.

When enough feeling had returned to her, Valkyrie rolled away and immediately threw up. The creature lay still, mouth open and eyes closed. There was blood everywhere. Valkyrie spat and crawled further away, then collapsed.

The inside of her mouth tasted like blood and sick. She had meat between her teeth.

"Are you... OK?"

She looked back. Melancholia was staring at her. All Valkyrie wanted to do was curl up and cry.

Melancholia held out her hand, and helped her up on to the upper ledge.

"We have to keep going," Valkyrie murmured.

"We can rest if you-"

"No," Valkyrie said, and got to her feet. "We have to keep going."

They walked on, Melancholia getting weaker and weaker. By the time the gloom began to brighten, she was practically unconscious. Valkyrie dragged her the last few hundred metres, finally emerging from the cave mouth into the moonlight. She laid Melancholia on the ground and stumbled to her knees. The cool breeze brushed the sweat on her face. Her back was on fire, the blood sticky on her skin. She didn't even notice her cut hands or her broken fingernails any more.

There were a few vehicles parked nearby a two cars and a jeep and, for some reason, an ice-cream van. She didn't wonder why there was an ice-cream van. Wondering was the luxury of the curious, and curiosity was a luxury she just didn't have time for.

Groaning with the effort, Valkyrie stood on legs that were made of lead. Her muscles were thick, heavy things that couldn't be trusted. She hobbled to the nearest car. The keys were still in it. She collapsed against the bonnet, eyes closed in relief. She really didn't want to hobble back and drag Melancholia over.

"Hey," she called to her, her voice croaky. She needed water. "Hey, Mel. Get up."

Melancholia stayed pa.s.sed out.

Valkyrie tried using the air to pull Melancholia closer, but her hand waved uselessly. She was too tired. She needed to rest, just for ten minutes, just to regain a little of her strength. That wasn't too much to ask, not after coming all this way, not after going through all that. Just a little rest.

"You look dreadful."

Valkyrie opened her eyes. Melancholia was looking at her from where she was lying. Valkyrie gave a short laugh. "Yeah," she said, "because you look so good down there."

Melancholia smiled weakly, and shuddered as a pulse of darkness pa.s.sed through her. "I don't know what's happening..."

"We'll get you to the Sanctuary," Valkyrie told her. "There's a doctor there. Its name is Nye. You're going to love it."

Melancholia tried to rise, then laid her head back on the ground. "You know," she murmured, "I don't think I want to kill millions of people any more."

"That's good."

"Now I only want to kill you."

Valkyrie grinned. "Well... it's progress, I suppose."

"Help me up, you lazy cow."

Valkyrie laughed again, then she saw the shadows shifting in the tunnel and her heart plummeted. She pushed herself away from the car, forced her legs to run to Melancholia, but it was too late. The darkness reared up and held her back, and Lord Vile emerged into the night.

"Skulduggery!" she cried. "Please listen to me! She's hurt! She's damaged! She's not the Death Bringer any more!"

Lord Vile ignored her. Melancholia started to crawl away, and a black claw grew from Vile's fist.

Valkyrie pushed through the darkness, went stumbling, managed to fall beside Melancholia. She grabbed her. "Kill me," she whispered. Melancholia tried to push her away, but Valkyrie gripped her tighter. "Kill me. It's our only chance."

"What are you-"

With the last ounce of her strength, Valkyrie punched. It wasn't a good punch, and it wasn't a strong punch, but it did the job, and Melancholia's anger flared.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she growled. Her eyes narrowed.

Valkyrie took a breath, immediately felt cold. She could sense Melancholia reaching out with her mind, using her last reserves to expand the death bubble around them both. Then the bubble retracted, and Valkyrie started to go with it, started to leave her body. As she was pulled gently closer to Melancholia, she paused a while to examine what was happening. Her body's heartbeat slowed. Her brainwaves began to flatten. The bio-electricity in her body dampened. She was leaving her sh.e.l.l behind, and her thoughts were becoming clouded. She was about to lose who she was. Her ident.i.ty was in her personality, and her personality rested in her body. Fascinating. The whole process was so very fascinating.

She couldn't allow it to happen, of course. She pulled back, felt her synapses firing again, felt her heart quicken, felt her body around her. Melancholia's eyes were closed. It was all too much for her, the poor thing. Still, she'd done her job. She'd endangered Valkyrie's life, and awoken the beast within.

Darquesse stood up, and looked at Lord Vile. "Be honest," she said. "You've been looking forward to this, haven't you?"

Vile opened both hands, pulling shadows from the mouth of the cave. They curled and thrashed behind him, then rose in a giant wave that rolled towards her. Darquesse fell to one knee under the onslaught. It was a test. He was testing her, seeing how strong she was. When the wave was gone, she lunged. He ducked under the punch and grabbed her low, lifting her off her feet, taking her to the gra.s.s. His fists came down, battering her face. She tried to wrap her legs around his waist but his armour expanded, keeping her from locking her ankles together. His fists were hammers, driving her down into the ground, the earth giving way beneath her. An extraordinary sensation.

She reached up with one hand, her fingers gripping his armour, and she pulled him down to her as she rose up, slamming her forehead into his armour-plated face with enough force to break boulders. Vile swayed slightly and she heaved herself out of the depression she had made, flipping them both over, just like Skulduggery had taught her. Had taught Valkyrie. Whatever.

She pushed herself to her feet and kicked, her boot finding a perfect spot on Vile's ribs. She kicked again, and again, shunting him along the ground. He tried to get up and she grabbed his head, started twisting, aiming to pull the whole thing right off. Shadows flew at her, covered her face, cutting off her oxygen. She felt Vile slip from her grip and lashed out blindly. Her left hand connected with him and the shadows went away as Vile stumbled back.

They observed each other, and Darquesse smiled, then quickly lifted off the ground. Vile followed her. It was as if the night reached down and raised him up. Darquesse laughed.

She flew high, and fast, and he gave chase. The sky was cloudless, the moon half-full, the stars out over the countryside that flashed beneath her. He was gaining and so she flew faster. She glanced back in time to see him give a burst of speed, and they collided, went spinning through the air, grappling. Everywhere Vile was in contact with her spikes would grow. They couldn't get through her clothes but they cut her hands, her neck, her face. She hit him but his mask had turned sharp and jagged and it punctured her fist, breaking the knuckles.

She kicked away, swooped under his grab and veered towards the lights of the city, to where the sky turned orange and hid the stars. As she flew, she examined the pain she was feeling, then dampened it and healed herself. Healed her back and her fingernails too, all the little cuts and scratches and bruises. It was freezing up here, but she didn't care about the cold. The wind in her face, her hair blown back, the trouble she was having taking a breath... It was all just a part of being alive. And Darquesse liked being alive.

She looked back. Vile flew like a bullet, arms down at his sides, streamlined and efficient. She laughed, holding her own arms out like Superman. All she needed now was a cape.

The night s.n.a.t.c.hed Vile away. One moment he was behind her, the next he was gone. She looked round and he emerged from the dark ahead of her but she didn't alter her course. She curled her hands into fists and flew straight into him, catching him in the gut, speeding on with him folded over her. His left hand grabbed her wrist, squeezed it so tightly her bones broke. She healed them instantly. He reached to her with his right hand, his armoured glove finding her face, his thumb seeking her eye. She turned her head but he had a good grip. If he burst her eyeball, how quickly would she be able to repair it?

She didn't know, so she let him do it, and as an experiment she allowed the pain in. His thumb burst her eye and she shrieked. Her body convulsed and she twisted in mid-air. Vile's momentum carried him onwards, but Darquesse didn't care about him a all she cared about was the extraordinary pain she was experiencing. Her hands were covering her face, feeling the blood and the jelly leak down her cheek. She realised she was still screaming, screaming and roaring and crying, turning in circles in the air. When the pain was too much, she shut it off, and calmly pressed the remains of her eye back into its socket. An interesting experiment.

She opened her good eye, saw Vile coming for her. His shoulder slammed into her belly, his arm encircled her, and they hurtled downwards. She blinked. The vision in her bad eye turned from nothing to blurry to perfect. Better than her right eye, in fact. To compensate, she sharpened that eye as well, and then returned her attention to her current predicament. She tried to look down at what they were flying towards but the wind was blowing her hair in the way. She wrapped her legs around Vile's waist, grabbed him where she could, and flipped, so that now she was the pilot forcing him down. And now that her hair was out of the way, she could see what they were heading towards. O'Connell Street, in the middle of Dublin.

"Oh," she said, and then they crashed.

Chapter 59.

Hero and Villain

arquesse lay there in the broken road, looking up at the suddenly starless sky in the last few moments of life, and she managed a shaky laugh. Her body was smashed. Her lungs were burst and her heart wasn't beating. Her limbs were twisted, her spine was pulverised, her head was cracked open. She could feel her brain starting to swell, so that was the first thing she healed. She wouldn't be able to do much thinking without her brain.

It was somewhere between four and five on a Monday morning. She healed her spine and raised her head, looked around. No civilians were standing there, staring with open mouths. Pity. She'd have liked to have seen their faces when she stood up after a fall like that.

Lord Vile lay a few feet away. He wasn't moving.

Darquesse repaired her internal organs, restarted her heart and drew air into her newly re-formed lungs. Next came her limbs. Her bones made cracking sounds as they realigned and knitted back together. She reached behind her head, made sure her hair didn't get trapped in the fissure that healed in her skull. Her ruptured skin closed over. A lot of her blood covered the ground, so she made more, and stood up.

Headlights swept in and she turned. A taxi slowed to a stop, and the driver got out. He looked at her, looked at Vile, looked at the churned-up road. He didn't ask any questions, he just stood there like he was waiting for an explanation. She didn't like that. She didn't like him. She stepped forward to tear him in two and then Vile grabbed her jacket from behind, lifted her off her feet and slammed her through the bonnet of the car.

Her face crunched into the engine block, and he hauled her out before she even knew what was happening, and hurled her through the window of a Burger King. She hit a table and flipped sideways to the floor, coming to a stop in the dark as an alarm started up, so loud that it pierced the world. She got to her hands and knees, spitting blood, and the shadows snaked out, seized her wrists, and she flew back out through the broken window, hitting the ruined taxi, denting the pa.s.senger-side door. Above the alarm, she heard the driver screaming as he ran away, and then Vile reached down, closed his fingers around her throat.

Her held her off the ground with his left hand and hit her with his right. His fist was a block of stone, showing her explosions of bright light every time it connected. She needed to stop him before he punched her brain out through her skull. She'd done that once. It was funnier when it happened to other people.

She took hold of his left wrist with both her hands, and squeezed. Vile's head tilted. He reinforced the armour on his forearm, but Darquesse just squeezed harder. Finally, he had to release his grip, and she smacked him under the chin. He hurtled backwards off his feet and she launched herself into the air, smashed into him, flying low. The street whipped by underneath. She got a hand around his throat and dipped, smashed the back of his head into the steps that led up to Eason's bookshop. The steps cracked under the impact and Darquesse smashed his head down again, and again. A pillar of darkness erupted from his chest like a piston, throwing her to the pavement. He stood and she waved an arm.

The energy that enveloped him would have turned rock to dust, but all it did to Vile was send him staggering to the metal shutter covering the shop window. The shutter melted, the gla.s.s shattered and another alarm rang out. Darquesse leaped to the top of the steps and barged into him, taking them both through the window into the shop.

The shadows converged, tried to wrap around her hands and feet. Darquesse snarled, cutting through them with her fingernails. She gagged suddenly, saw blood, took a moment to work out that her throat had been slashed. She healed it and saw Vile, conducting the shadows like an orchestra. She blurred to him, threw him back against the wall, spilling books and breaking shelves. She was on him again, holding him above her as she launched upwards. She smashed him through the ceiling into the floor above, smashed through into the floor above that, and the floor above that. There he broke free, elbowed her, impaled her cheek with the spike that grew from that elbow, and wrenched it out. She spat blood on to the eye-slit in his mask and he tried to push her away, but she grabbed him, spun, and hurled him to the line of windows overlooking the street. He smashed through and she saw the night swoop down and catch him.

She was breathing hard, covered in dust and blood and plaster. She was sweating, too, and starving. All this energy, all this magic, being used on someone who seemed to be just as tough as she was. Maybe even tougher. She healed her face and walked to the windows. Vile hovered in mid-air, looking at her. His armour was spiked, ready for round two.

Below, sirens wailed and blue lights flashed. Above, a police helicopter sped towards them, searchlight probing the streets. Darquesse smiled.

She ran for the window, jumped and took flight, the wind in her hair again. She flew up, away from Vile, towards the helicopter. She ducked the searchlight, coming around low, but before she could punch through the underside, Vile had his arms around her and was pulling her away. They tumbled out of the sky. For a moment it looked like they might smash into the fire engine speeding across O'Connell Bridge, but Vile changed their trajectory and they hit the water, went deep into the Liffey, and Vile lost his grip.

Darquesse powered through the dark river, Vile right behind, reaching out. He snagged her foot and she veered up, broke the surface, trying to shake him. He twisted in mid-air, threw her like a baseball. It was almost fun, the speed at which she was thrown. Another window smashed to smithereens around her. She hit a railing, tumbled down some stairs, came to rest against a shelf, comics falling on top of her. She saw a sign that said Forbidden Planet. A comic shop. How fitting.

She looked up. Vile stood at the top of the stairs.

"We should really stop throwing each other through windows," she told him. She reached up to the counter, pulled herself to her feet. "You know what the funny thing is? I actually don't care any more if you kill Melancholia. Isn't that funny? In fact, if you'd be agreeable, maybe we could pop back for a moment and I'll kill her myself. What do you say?"

He stood there, a dark shape, unmoving.

A shard of gla.s.s had managed to sneak into her belly, between her trousers and jacket. She gripped it with two fingers and pulled it out slowly. It was much longer than she'd expected. When it was out, she dropped it and pulled another shard from her forehead. "So that's a no, then, is it? Pity."

He walked down the steps.

"Does that mean you've changed your mind?" she asked. "Don't you want to kill the Death Bringer? What about me? Do you want to kill me? I'm going to kill the world, after all. This might be your only chance to stop me."

He reached the bottom and just stood there, looking at her.

"I'm only going to get stronger," she said, "and you know it. This is your only chance. No? You're not going to take it?" She laughed. "I'm disappointed. I've heard so much about the great Lord Vile, and now look at him. He's not even going to kill his enemy when she's right in front of him. What do I have to do? How do I provoke such a scary, scary man like you into doing what needs to be done? Do I go out there and kill someone? What about those cops? Do you need me to kill those cops? I'd like another go at that helicopter, actually. I'd like to see it crash and burn. Or maybe something else. What else could I do, I wonder?"

"Valkyrie," Lord Vile said. His voice was a whisper.

Darquesse smiled. "I'm Valkyrie. Whatever you've got to say to her, you can say to me. What was it Skulduggery said earlier? I'm her bad mood."

That whisper again. "Let her out."

"But I'm not repressing her. I know you understand this. I am Valkyrie. I'm just embracing my potential. If my conscience never rea.s.serted itself, I'd stay like this for ever. Just like you'd stay like that, Skulduggery."

Vile tilted his head. Then his hands went to his mask and she heard the clasps open, one by one. Shadows leaked, dissipating in the air. He pulled the mask away, revealing the gleaming skull beneath.

"I wouldn't stay like this," Skulduggery said. "I like being me."

Darquesse smiled. "Do you really? Do you really like carrying around all that shame and guilt? I doubt it. I bet you anything that being Lord Vile was the most fun you've had in years."

"You'd be wrong."

"I think you're fibbing."

He let the chest plate fall. Beneath it, his shirt was rumpled, and his bow tie was askew. "The most fun I've had recently was St Patrick's Day last year. You remember it?"