Skulduggery Pleasant: Mortal Cole (17 page)

“The gym has
a pool.
”

“Yes, Dad, I know.”

“If you don’t want it, that’s no problem,” her mum said, reaching out to take the card back.

Valkyrie held it close to her chest. “Oh, God, no,” she laughed. “I’m using this!”

Her parents smiled, turning to the next present on the pile, and Valkyrie wondered why she’d been so defensive. She was fine about accepting observations concerning her physique from sorcerers, from anyone in that part of her life, but apparently she wasn’t so relaxed about it out here. Maybe she didn’t want her family noticing how different she was. She liked the idea of blending in once she was home, of sinking into the background and becoming something unexceptional. Here, she wasn’t a potential Death Bringer. Here, she wasn’t Darquesse, the World Killer. Here she was Stephanie Edgley – daughter, schoolgirl and soon to be big sister.

In the weeks following the glimpse of her future self, she had hated the thought of getting older, of getting stronger. The older and stronger she got, the more like her future self she’d
become. But when she’d realised there was a way of sealing her name, of making sure she would never turn into the monster who would go on to kill her own parents, all that had changed. She was back in control and looking forward to becoming more like Tanith. Toned. Streamlined. Efficient.

She didn’t need a gym membership to do it, either, but it was a nice gesture from her folks. It showed they were taking an interest without interfering. She appreciated that.

They went visiting. At midday every Christmas, her mother’s side of the family would meet up at Valkyrie’s grandmother’s house over in Clontarf. Valkyrie used to dread this visit, but now she loved it. Her cousins were so much more interesting than they had been as children, and her aunts and uncles revealed personalities that all their head-patting and cheek-pinching had obscured over the years.

Her nana reminded her of a silver-haired Tasmanian devil, whirling from group to group, making sure everyone was enjoying themselves, or at least had a paper plate piled with food in their hands. Valkyrie chatted and laughed easily, feeling like a normal sixteen year old.

After an hour of good times, it was time for the bad. They drove from her mother’s side of the family back into Haggard,
to her father’s side. They found a parking space on the road outside, and walked like condemned prisoners up the garden path to the front door.

“Knock,” said Valkyrie’s mother.

Her dad shook his head. “Don’t want to.”

“They’ re
your
family.”

“I can’t knock. I have no hands.”

“Stephanie, would you be a good girl and knock on the door, please?”

But Valkyrie was busy pretending she was deaf.

Her mother sighed, said “Fine”, and raised her knuckles. She hesitated. Her hand lowered. “Would they miss us?” she wondered.

“They wouldn’t,” Valkyrie’s dad said immediately.

“It’s probably packed in there,” his wife continued. “It’d be pretty difficult to see anyone. We could be in there an hour and not get through half of them. I doubt we’d even be noticed.”

“We should go home and wait for the turkey to be ready.”

And then the door opened, and Beryl looked out at them, and any hopes of escape were dashed.

“Happy Christmas,” Beryl said, her mouth twitching into a rigid smile. “Won’t you come in?”

Valkyrie let her parents go first, and trudged in after them.
The heat in the living room was on full blast. That, and the hot air being emitted from the assembled guests, was probably eating a hole in the ozone layer. There were some Edgleys here, but most of the crowd were Beryl’s lot, the Mullans. They talked long and they talked loud, and Valkyrie guessed that half of the adults were already on their way to full drunkenness.

She headed for a gap in the crowd near the Christmas tree, gaudily decorated in different-coloured lights and streams of tinsel. It wasn’t a particularly big tree, nor was it particularly nice. It was lopsided, lacking that ideal Christmas tree shape that her father always managed to find, no matter how late he left it.

Carol and Crystal broke through the crowd, practically stumbling into her.

“Oh,” said Carol.

“Ah,” said Crystal.

Perfect. “Merry Christmas,” Valkyrie said.

They responded in kind, with as much enthusiasm as Valkyrie had mustered. They had changed so much since the last time she’d seen them. They were almost nineteen, and Carol was heavier, looking like she’d been insulated and left to wander around on her own. Her dress was designed to seize as
much of that extra weight as possible and shove it out in front. The result was possibly not what she had intended.

Her twin had gone the other way. From what Valkyrie’s mother had told her, Crystal had become obsessed with counting calories, and flitted from one diet to the next, gradually getting skinnier and skinnier. She was close to losing all shape except straight. Carol was still bottle-blonde, Crystal was a redhead, and neither looked healthy.

“You’re looking well,” Valkyrie lied.

Carol nodded and Crystal grunted, and Valkyrie prepared for the sarcastic comments to start flying.

Instead, Carol sighed, and said, “Get anything nice?”

“Uh… mostly clothes. You?”

“Same. We got money too.”

“Dad said he’ll buy us a car,” Crystal added. “He says as soon as the economic climate picks up a little more.”

“Right,” Valkyrie said. “Can you drive?”

“Like, right now? No. But when we have the car, we’ll have a reason to learn.”

“Makes sense. How’s college?”

“Boring,” said Crystal.

“It’s not too bad,” said Carol.

Valkyrie nodded. She hadn’t a clue what to say. They’d
never gone this long without flinging insults before. And then she saw it, the looks the twins were getting from their other cousins. She saw smirks and sneers, right behind their backs. The twins were doing their best to ignore it all and concentrate on the one person who wasn’t mocking them.

Valkyrie felt a sudden, and quite surprising, need to protect them, so she plastered a big smile on her face and forced herself into conversation. She laughed and joked, and basically acted like Carol and Crystal were the two most interesting people alive.

It was quite a performance.

When it was time to go, she said her goodbyes and hugged the twins, promising to meet up soon, and then she allowed herself to be dragged out of the house. Her parents stared at her as they walked to the car.

“Do not ask,” Valkyrie sighed.

They got home, and she helped her mother with the turkey and ham and roast potatoes while her dad lit the fire. They sat down to Christmas dinner, pulled crackers and told the awful jokes they found inside. Valkyrie was stuffed after dinner so turned down the offer of Christmas cake. Her phone rang and she walked into the kitchen as she answered.

“Is that Valkyrie?”

It was a woman’s voice, sounding very distant, and the line crackled.

“It is,” Valkyrie said. “Who’s this?”

“Nye is ready for you.”

It was the banshee. Valkyrie frowned. “What,
today?
”

“Yes. Today. Now.”

“But it’s Christmas.”

“Doctor Nye cleared his schedule for you. Unless you’ve—”

“No,” Valkyrie said quickly, “no, that’s OK. I can do it. Where do I go?”

“You’ll be picked up,” said the banshee.

“Where?”

“Wherever you are. You have exactly ten minutes.”

The banshee hung up. Valkyrie felt sick. Some advance warning would have been nice. It was bad enough she had to leave her parents on Christmas Day, but now this had to be the day she died? Granted, it wasn’t permanent death. At least, she hoped it wasn’t. All at once she felt glad this was happening so suddenly. If she had time to consider all the possibilities, she might not go through with it.

She walked back to her folks. They were sitting at the fire, talking. If something went wrong, if Nye killed her but was unable to revive her, this would be the last time she’d ever see
them. She hugged her dad, and then went and hugged her mum.

“Thanks for a great Christmas,” she said.

“Aww,” said her mum, “you’re welcome, love.”

“I’m going to lie down for a bit,” she said. “I think I ate too much.”

“That gym membership is really looking like a good idea now, eh?” her dad winked.

She smiled and left, and the moment she was out of the room her smile disappeared. She’d had a lot of practice at closing off the part of herself that felt sad about things like this. Now it came naturally, and she felt the wall go up and didn’t stop it. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom and called Skulduggery.

“I can’t meet up later,” she said.

“Oh,” came his reply. “That’s a pity.”

“Yeah. There’s a family thing on that we’re all going to. Hopefully it won’t happen every year, but I couldn’t really say no.”

“Of course not. Well, maybe I’ll drop by later tonight.”

“I’m not sure when we’ll get back,” Valkyrie said, feeling terrible all over again. “How about, if I’m back at a reasonable hour, I let you know, OK?”

“Sure, that’s fine. Are you having a good day so far?”

She swallowed. “It’s great. Everything’s great.”

“Even your cousins?”

“Surprisingly, yes. I really have to go.”

“All right then. Merry Christmas.”

“Skulduggery?”

“Yes?”

Valkyrie hesitated, a jumble of words on her tongue. “I’m really glad we’re friends,” she ended up saying.

“Me too, Valkyrie.”

“Bye.”

She called Fletcher, and told him she couldn’t see him. He wanted to know why he couldn’t just pop over, present her with her gift, and vanish. She didn’t tell him she didn’t want to see him. She could lie about this on the phone – not face to face.

“Fine,” he said, sounding annoyed. “I won’t come over.”

“But tomorrow,” she said. “I want to go out on a date.”

“You what?”

“A date. I think we should go out.”

“Go out where?”

“I want to go dancing.”

His voice turned sceptical. “Seriously?”

“There’s a nightclub in Skerries that has a disco thing every
Christmas for under-eighteens. I just want to have a good time with you. We never get to do normal things, and we’re not going to live forever, you know? I think we should cram the normal stuff into our lives now, while we have the chance.”

“You OK, Val? You’re sounding pretty… morbid.”

“Will you take me dancing or not?”

He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine.”

“Also…”

“Yes?”

“Tomorrow, I think you should meet my parents.”

For the first time since she’d known him, Fletcher Renn was too stunned to speak.

Valkyrie put the phone down, undressed and touched the mirror. Her reflection stepped out, started putting on the clothes Valkyrie had just taken off, while Valkyrie donned her black outfit.

“You’re going to die,” the reflection said as it dressed.

“I know,” Valkyrie replied, irritated.

“You might never come back.”

“You know what to do if that happens.”

The reflection nodded. “Take over your life. Be a good daughter. Make sure our parents are happy.”

Valkyrie looked up. “What did you say?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You said make sure our parents are happy.”

“I said make sure
your
parents are happy.”

“You said
our.
”

“Oh. It must be another glitch. I was never meant to be used this much, as you know. Do you have any more instructions for me?”

Valkyrie looked at it. It would be an absolutely perfect copy except for the fact that she doubted her own face had ever looked quite so innocent. She put on her jacket, and went over to open the window. “Just stay up here for half an hour.”

“OK. Merry Christmas.”

Valkyrie slid out of the window and let herself fall. She landed gently and hurried away from the house.

She went down to the pier, checked the time on her phone, and looked around for whoever it was who was picking her up.

Valkyrie didn’t like the fact that the banshee apparently knew where she lived. Haggard was her safe place, her haven, and the times when her other life had encroached upon it disturbed her more than anything. Dusk had led a small army of the Infected here – it was on this exact spot that she’d finally managed to lose them. Remus Crux had visited Haggard twice
— the first time to arrest her, the second to try to kill her. Such invasions were unforgivable in her eyes.

She heard hoofbeats and turned as the great black Coach-a-Bowers materialised in front of her.

“Oh, hell,” she said.

The headless horses swung around as they slowed. The driver, the Dullahan, gave a last tug of the reins and the horses settled. Their bodies were sleek and muscled and beautiful. They were huge – their backs level with Valkyrie’s eyes – and steam rose from them into the cold air. Their heads had been severed halfway up the neck, and now that she was close enough Valkyrie could see that it hadn’t been a clean cut. She saw nicks and tears and false starts, evidence of uneven sawing. The wounds hadn’t healed over, but neither were they leaking blood.

The Dullahan didn’t climb down. He didn’t even give any indication that he knew she was there. Could he see her? Could people without heads see?

And then the carriage door opened and a single pale arm drifted out of the darkness within. The hand beckoned to her, the finger curling slowly.

Valkyrie stepped forward on unsteady legs, and reached up to take it.

T
he hand was cold to her touch. Another reached out, taking gentle hold of her wrist. Another hand then, closing around her sleeve, and another, and with every hand that held her, Valkyrie was pulled just a little closer to the open door. She put a foot on the step and rose up off the ground, and there was a sound, like a sigh, as the hands guided her inside.

Valkyrie’s breath left her. Her lungs filled with cold. Her blood slowed in her veins as her heart stopped beating. She no
longer felt the weight of her clothes against her skin. She sat back in the seat, a dead thing now, feeling nothing, and her mind became dull.