Skulduggery Pleasant: Mortal Cole (13 page)

Ravel looked surprised. “What? What’s this? You know where Marr is?”

Valkyrie closed her eyes and groaned.

“Ah,” Skulduggery said. “Yes. That was supposed to be a secret, Valkyrie.”

“I know,” she said miserably. “I’m sorry.”

“You have Marr?” Ravel said. “She’s in custody? Why is it a secret? This is great news!”

“We’re not telling anyone until we’ve had a chance to question her,” Skulduggery said. “Or that was the
plan,
at least.”

“I said I’m sorry,” Valkyrie muttered.

“Well let’s go,” Ravel said. “She’s with Kenspeckle Grouse? Let’s go question her.”

“Professor Grouse has made it clear,” Skulduggery said, “that he’s quite happy to help us and heal us, but he doesn’t want his facility used as a headquarters. No, tomorrow we’ll take her somewhere else. We’re going to need somewhere secure.”

“How about
your
house?” Tanith said.

Skulduggery tilted his head. “That’s not a bad suggestion, actually.” He looked at Ravel. “Erskine, seeing as how you are now part of this incredibly well-kept secret, do you want to tag along?”

Ravel glanced at Tanith, and smiled. “Sounds like fun. Ghastly? You in?”

“I’m busy,” Ghastly said, a little gruffly. “These dresses aren’t going to make themselves, you know.”

“Well, all right then,” Skulduggery said. “Tomorrow morning, we get the answers we’ve been looking for.”

Valkyrie managed to keep her mouth shut until they were outside, and walking for the Bentley. Tanith was heading for her bike, and Ravel had fallen a little behind.

“I have to go,” she blurted.

Skulduggery turned his head to her. “Sorry?”

She smiled, hoping he wouldn’t see the nervousness in her eyes. “I have to go. Sorry. I should have told you. I’ve got something else on. Other stuff. Personal business stuff.”

“I see. Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” she laughed. “Everything’s fine. I just should have told you.”

He shook his head. “No, nonsense, you don’t need to explain. Will this business be finished by tomorrow?”

“Oh yes, God yes. Absolutely. I really don’t want to miss out on interrogating Davina Marr if I can help it. I kind of owe her for when she interrogated me.”

Skulduggery nodded. She had the feeling he was waiting for her to tell him where she was going. When she didn’t, he nodded again and picked a loose thread off his sleeve. “You’re OK for a lift?”

“I have Fletcher.”

“Of course you do. Well, I’ll see you later, then.”

She gave him a little wave, and walked away, a hollow feeling growing in her gut. She didn’t keep much from Skulduggery. Up until five months ago, Gordon’s Echo Stone was the only significant truth she’d kept from him, and that wasn’t even her choice. But this was different. She had an urge to run back to him, tell him everything, tell him that she was
Darquesse, that she was on her way to talk to a banshee, and she was sure he’d understand, sure he’d help her, make things easier on her…

But Valkyrie didn’t run back to him. She just kept on walking.

D
own by the river, sheltered from the wind by the ancient trees that grew unhindered by city or road, the cottage sat in its patch of darkness and shadow. The river, no more then a stream really, flowed down from the hills and bisected the fields and meadows, and even from her vantage point Valkyrie could hear the gentle rush of water.

She didn’t like doing things like this without Skulduggery, but she couldn’t see that she had a choice. She stuffed
Gordon’s notebook into her jacket and started down the hill slowly, trying her best not to slip on the grass.

And then she heard the scream.

Valkyrie looked up, eyes wide. There was another scream and she took off running, sprinting down to the river and splashing through it, soaking her clothes in the freezing water. She emerged from the other side and saw a narrow road ahead, and a woman stumbling to her knees.

Valkyrie called out and the woman glanced back. Relief washed over her face, and that’s when Valkyrie heard the thunder of many hooves, and a creaking and a trundle. She looked around. They were alone out here, but the sounds were getting louder…

And then it materialised in front of her, a great black coach driven by four headless horses, the colour of night. Valkyrie leaped out of the way as it hurtled by. It vanished from sight, but she could still hear it, and now the woman was screaming again. Valkyrie scrambled to her feet and sprinted.

The woman tried to run, but was sent sprawling as if hit from behind. Valkyrie ran closer and the carriage appeared, as the headless horses drew to a stop. The driver climbed down. He was dressed in traditional coachman’s attire, though he, like his horses, had no head. He didn’t seem quite so ridiculous now.

“Leave her alone!” Valkyrie yelled, running up to him.

He turned to her as she summoned fire and threw it, the ball of flame exploding against his chest, but dying away instantly. She ran right into him, charging him with her shoulder and he stepped back under the collision, but gave no more ground. She felt a cold hand around her neck and she was flung into the air, and she hit the ground hard.

“Help me!” the woman cried as the driver, the Dullahan, strode towards her. He took hold of her arm and pulled her back to the carriage as she begged and screamed.

Valkyrie launched herself at the Dullahan, pushing outwards at the air and making him stagger and then driving a kick into him. He swiped at her with his free hand, but she ducked under it and punched, and her fist met his side and it was like punching a wall. The back of his hand caught her and she spun like a top and dropped to one knee. The Dullahan carried on towards the carriage.

She could only watch as the Dullahan shoved the woman up against the carriage, the door of which opened silently behind her. The woman kept her eyes on the headless driver, tears running down her face, and then a dozen pale hands grabbed her and pulled her, screaming, into the carriage. The door swung gently closed and the Dullahan climbed back to his seat.
Ignoring Valkyrie completely, he flicked the reins and the headless horses took off at a trot, the Coach-a-Bowers trundling behind them. It vanished from sight, though Valkyrie could still hear the hooves, fading into the distance.

She stood up, still a little dizzy from when he had struck her.

“You can’t defeat the Dullahan,” said a voice from behind her.

She turned. A woman walked up, her black hair hanging over her lined face, her ragged dress trailing on the grass behind her. Her feet were dirty and bare and her hands were thin.

“He is not a man,” the woman continued, “he is not a beast, he just is. You cannot defeat what just is.”

“Who was she?” Valkyrie asked, forcing herself not to be intimidated. “The woman he took.”

The answer came in a voice that was almost fond. “Her name was Margaret. She was the last of her family. She heard my cry and now that family is no more, wiped from the world like a stray tear.”

“Why?”

“Because it was her time.”

“Who are you to decide?”

The old woman looked up and her hair parted, showing
more of her face. All Valkyrie could make out were wrinkles and lines and one hazel flecked eye, blinking at her. “I’m not the one who decides,” she said. “Now then, who are you, and why have you sought me out?”

Valkyrie looked down at her, her anger bubbling right beside her needs. She made herself calm down. “My name’s Valkyrie Cain. I was told you could help me.”

“Who told you this?”

“My uncle. Gordon Edgley.”

“Gordon,” the banshee said, smiling. “I haven’t heard from him in years. How is he?”

“Dead.”

“Give him my best, won’t you?”

“I need to seal my name. He said you might know someone who could do something like that.”

“You know it, then? Your true name?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Impressive. And Gordon was right – I know of one who could do what needs to be done. Its name is Nye – a doctor, and quite a curious creature. I wouldn’t trust it, but then, I don’t have to. Of course, there is no guarantee that Nye will agree to help. Its time is taken up with experiments and… procedures. It depends how busy the good doctor is, if it can
fit you in, and if you make it curious. Luckily for you, I
do
think you will make it curious. Tell me, my dear, do you know what the sealing of your name would entail?”

“I only know that it’s dangerous.”

“Oh, it is. You’re absolutely sure you want me to arrange it?”

Valkyrie thought of her mother, her father, the baby on the way. She thought of what she’d seen and the screams she’d heard. “Yes,” she said.

The old woman turned to go. “Then I will be in touch shortly.”

“Wait,” said Valkyrie. “What
will
it entail? Do you know?”

The banshee smiled. “I only know that the first thing you will have to do is die. Once you’ve done that, Nye’s work will begin.”

H
er teeth gritted against the cold of the morning, Tanith followed Skulduggery and Ravel into the Hibernian, fantasising about what it would be like if her clothing of choice was waterproof fleece instead of tight leather. She wouldn’t cut such a striking figure, it’s true, but the comfort and warmth and sheer cosiness would more than make up for it. The door unlocked for them and they passed through, into the relative warmth of the dark and musty cinema.

Skulduggery had let Ravel do all the talking on the drive over, while he’d stayed quiet. She knew he was wondering about the personal business that had delayed Valkyrie. She’d never chosen personal business over the job before, at least not that Tanith was aware, and it was an unsettling development. Back when Skulduggery was trapped in a world overrun by Faceless Ones, Valkyrie was single-minded in her dedication to rescuing him. But since then, it seemed, she’d been distracted. There was always something going on, something she didn’t want to talk about.

Was it Caelan? Was she feeling guilty about the kiss? Was there something more, something she hadn’t told Tanith? Was she with him now, despite the promises she’d made? Tanith knew full well how things could get confusing at that age. She had been a teenager once, and she knew that, despite the apparent contradiction, a person’s teenage years lasted well into their fifties. It had only been at age sixty that
she’d
managed to gain some control over herself, after all.

These days she was a fine young woman of eighty-three, and even though she was still astonishingly immature for her age, the allure of bad boys had faded somewhat. They were still all around her of course – in her line of work, she had her
pick of them. But bad boys would always disappoint. It was inevitable. Whereas nice guys tended to surprise you.

The only parts of her that weren’t numb with cold were her feet, because she was wearing boots Ghastly had made for her. He hadn’t needed any special occasion to do it either. He’d just presented them to her one day, mumbled something about the importance of circulation, and wandered into the backroom of his shop. She grinned at the memory.

But as for Valkyrie… Tanith was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. She might
not
have been with the vampire last night. It may have been
family
business – it
was
Christmas time, after all. Or Fletcher. Maybe they’d had a date.

Tanith frowned. Did people still go on
dates
any more? She was sure they did. They probably called it something different though. She tried to think of the last date she’d been on. The last
proper
date. Did fighting side by side with Saracen Rue count as a date? They ended up snuggling under the moonlight, drenched in gore and pieces of brain – so it had
probably
been a date. If it wasn’t, it was certainly a fun time had by all. Well, not
all.
But she and Saracen had sure had a blast.

Tanith needed a date. She needed a lot of things, but above all she needed a date.

It didn’t help to be reminded of that fact every time she saw
Valkyrie and Fletcher together. Valkyrie didn’t like public displays of affection, but she wasn’t allergic to them either. The hand-holding, the sitting close together, Fletcher’s hand on the small of her back… These things did nothing to take Tanith’s mind off the subject. And then there were the talks, Valkyrie filling her in on details Tanith could have done without. But that was her role, she supposed. Best friend and big sister, all in one.

Her eyes drifted to the back of Skulduggery’s head. Maybe not
best
friend, she corrected. But close enough.

They climbed on to the stage and passed through the door in the screen. Clarabelle met them in the corridor, wearing her white lab coat over a summer dress, and a huge black gas mask contraption on her head.

“Good morning,” she said, her cheery voice muffled. “Are you here to pick up the patient? She’s not very nice. She said some harsh words about my intelligence before the Professor made her go unconscious again.”

“Why are you wearing that?” Tanith asked.

Clarabelle’s head dipped heavily as she looked down at her dress. “Because it’s pretty.”

“No, I mean the gas mask.”

“Hmm? Oh,
this.
I just wanted to see what it would be like
to live in a bubble. Professor Grouse is busy elsewhere. He said the patient should be awake in about half an hour, and then he asked me to escort you to her.”

“It’s OK,” Skulduggery said, “we know where she is.”

“Good, because I think I’m lost.” Clarabelle caught sight of the doorway nearest to her and she wandered through it, bashing her head against the doorframe on the way.

“Delightful lady,” Ravel said as they walked on.

They got to the Medical Bay, where they found Davina Marr sedated and unconscious. Skulduggery undid the restraints, then shackled her hands behind her back. He pulled her into a sitting position, and suddenly she started levitating. For a split second, Tanith was ready to spring into action.