“And no,” Skulduggery said, “it’s impossible. He’d need Vile’s armour, which he doesn’t have.”
“But if he did, and he revived this thing, what would it do? Would we be able to stop it?”
Skulduggery hesitated for a split second. “The threat the Grotesquery would pose is a little bigger than that. Theoretically, it would be able to summon the Faceless Ones back to this world by opening a portal through realities.”
“A portal?” Valkyrie said, a little doubtfully.
“Yes, but the Grotesquery would have to be at full strength to do it and that’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“A heart had to be provided for it, but the only one suitable was the heart of a Cu Gealach.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Cú na Gealaí Duibhe,” China said, “to give it its full Irish title. They do still teach you Gaelige in school, yes?”
“Yes, it means … it’s Black Hound of something, right?”
“Almost. Hound of the Black Moon. Terrible creatures. They’re virtually extinct now, but they were ruthless, savage things.”
“Ruthless, savage things,” Skulduggery said, “that were only ruthlessly savage for one night every few years, at a lunar eclipse. So no matter how much power Vengeous pumps into that thing, the Grotesquery will not be strong enough to open a portal until the Earth, moon and sun line up, which won’t be for another—”
“Two nights,” China said.
Skulduggery sagged and his head drooped. “Well, that’s just dandy,” he muttered.
Later, on the motorway back to Haggard, Valkyrie turned to Skulduggery. “So,” she said, “a legendary battle, eh?”
Skulduggery turned his head to her. “I’m sorry?”
“The battle between you and Vengeous, the legendary one. What happened?”
“We had a fight.”
“But why is it one of the most talked-about battles of the war?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe people had nothing else to talk about.”
“China said you were badly injured. Is that why you don’t like him? Because you were injured?”
“I don’t like him because he’s evil.”
“So it’s got nothing to do with him injuring you?”
“It’s because he’s evil,” Skulduggery said grumpily.
They stayed on the motorway for another five minutes, then took the slip road. The roads became narrower and curved between darkened fields and lone houses, and then orange streetlights appeared on either side and they were driving into Haggard. They reached the pier, and the Bentley stopped.
“Tomorrow’s going to be a big day,” Valkyrie said.
Skulduggery shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. If we can keep Vengeous out of the country, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“And if we can’t?”
“Then we have a whole lot to worry about, and I’m going to need you rested and alert.”
“Sir, yes sir,” she said, raising a mocking eyebrow. She opened the door and got out, and moments later the Bentley’s tail lights disappeared into the darkness.
Valkyrie stood beside the pier for a moment, watching the dark sea churn at the rocks and play with the small boats moored nearby. She liked watching the sea. Its power made her feel safe.
Back when Valkyrie Cain’s name had been Stephanie Edgley, she didn’t know much about life outside of Haggard. It was a small town, tucked into the east coast of Ireland, and things there were always so quiet and peaceful and so, so dull.
That all changed when Nefarian Serpine murdered her uncle. Gordon was a bestselling novelist, a writer of horror and fantasy, but he was also a man who knew the Big Secret. He knew about the subculture of sorcerers and mages, about the quiet little wars they had fought. He knew about the Faceless Ones – the terrible dark gods, exiled from this world – and the people who wanted them to return.
In the days that followed, she had met the Skeleton Detective and learned that she had a bloodline that could be traced back to the world’s first sorcerers, the Ancients. She was also faced with taking a new name. Everyone, Skulduggery had told her, has three names – the name they are born with, the name they are given, and the name they take. The name they are born with, their true name, lies buried deep in their subconscious. The name they are given, usually by their parents, is the only name most people will ever know. But this is a name that can be used against them, so sorcerers must take a third name to protect themselves.
And so Stephanie Edgley became Valkyrie Cain, and she started on the road to becoming an Elemental – she started to learn magic.
Valkyrie sneaked behind her house, stood directly beneath her window and concentrated. Until a few weeks ago, she had needed a ladder to climb up to her room, but every lesson with Skulduggery gave her more control over her powers.
She took her time, felt the calmness flow through her. She flexed her fingers, feeling the air touch her skin, feeling the fault lines between the spaces. She felt how they connected, and recognised how each would affect the other once the right amount of pressure was applied …
She splayed her hands beneath her and the air rippled and she shot upwards, just managing to grab the windowsill. She still missed it occasionally, but she was getting better. She opened the window and, grunting with exertion, pulled herself through. Moving as quietly as she could, she closed the window behind her and turned on the light.
She ignored the girl who sat up in her bed, the girl who was an exact replica of herself. She went to the door, put her ear to it and listened. Satisfied that her parents were sound asleep, Valkyrie shrugged off her coat as her replica stood up.
“Your arm,” it said. “It’s bruised.”
“Had a little run-in with a bad guy,” Valkyrie answered, keeping her voice low. “How was your day?”
“School was OK. I did all the homework, except the last maths question. I didn’t know how to do that. Your mum made lasagne for dinner.”
Valkyrie kicked off her boots. “Nothing strange happened?”
“No. A very normal day.”
“Good.”
“Are you ready to resume your life?”
“I am.”
The reflection nodded, went to the full-length mirror and stepped through, then turned and waited. Valkyrie touched the glass and a day’s worth of memory flooded into her mind as the reflection changed, the clothes Valkyrie was wearing appearing on it, and then it was nothing more than a reflected image in a mirror.
She sifted through the new memories, arranging them beside the memories she’d formed on her own. There had been a careers class in school. The teacher had tried to get them to declare what they wanted to be when they left school, or at least what they’d like to study in college. Nobody had any idea of course. The reflection had stayed quiet too.
Valkyrie thought about this. She didn’t really need a regular career after all. She was set to inherit Gordon’s estate and all his royalties when she turned eighteen anyway, so she’d never be short of money. Besides, what kind of career would interest her outside of magic? If she’d been in that class, she knew what she would have answered. Detective. That would have garnered a few sniggers around the room, but she wouldn’t have minded.
The