“That’s it?” Stephanie asked, frowning.
“Well,” Finbar said, “there was a bit more action with the Fiery Phoenix and some mechs, but I don’t think you’d be interested in any of that unless you’re a big anime fan. Are you?”
“I meant,” Stephanie said, “is that it as far as Valkyrie’s concerned?”
“Oh,” Finbar said. “Yeah, it is.”
“Then I must be missing something. You had a dream where you were fighting Godzilla and you heard Valkyrie talking. You’re not saying it’s a premonition, are you? Because there’s no such thing as Godzilla, and you’re not a Power Ranger.”
“Not a premonition, no. But I think Valkyrie was trying to communicate with me.”
“How do you know it wasn’t just another part of the dream?” asked Stephanie.
Finbar answered her frown with one of his own. “Because I’m a psychic. I know the difference. I usually know the difference. Sometimes I know the difference. I’m sure it was her, that’s what I’m trying to say.”
“But Valkyrie’s gone,” said Stephanie. “If you heard her voice, that was Darquesse.”
“But why would Darquesse be asking for my help?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” said Stephanie. “Maybe it was just part of the dream.”
“It was part of the dream,” Finbar said. “And it was also Valkyrie trying to communicate.”
“How sure are you?” Skulduggery asked.
“Relatively,” Finbar said.
Skulduggery took Finbar’s arm. “Come with me,” he said, leading him out of the lobby.
“But my Doc Martens …”
“You can pick them up in a minute.” Skulduggery pushed open a door, made sure the room was empty, and closed it once Finbar and Stephanie were both inside. He pulled out his phone, dialled and put it on speaker.
Cassandra Pharos answered. “You just can’t stay away from me, can you?”
“Be warned, Cassandra, you’re on speaker.”
“Oh, phooey.”
“I’m here with Stephanie and Finbar.”
“Good morning, Steph. Finbar, what has you up this early on a weekday?”
Finbar frowned. “It’s a weekday?”
“Valkyrie came to him in a dream,” Skulduggery said. “She said ‘help me’ and disappeared.”
“I see,” Cassandra said. “Finbar, it was really a communication? You’re not getting confused again, are you?”
“I’m sure,” Finbar said. “The TV wasn’t even on this time.” He glanced at Stephanie. “Last time I thought someone was contacting me, it was William Shatner.” He looked back at the phone. “But this time I’m sure, Cassie. It was her. It was Valkyrie.”
“How would Valkyrie even know how to possess someone?” Stephanie asked. “If the dream was real, how do we know it’s not someone pretending to be her? Either a Sensitive or Darquesse herself? Maybe they want to lie to us or distract us or just spy on us. We don’t know it’s Valkyrie. Valkyrie’s gone.”
“I’m not entirely convinced of that,” said Cassandra. “There is a possibility that Valkyrie could merely be subdued, in the same way that Darquesse was when Valkyrie was in control. If that’s the case, it’s entirely reasonable to assume that she’s diverting some of Darquesse’s power to contact us without Darquesse even being aware of it.”
“But Valkyrie doesn’t know how,” Stephanie said.
“She knows everything Darquesse knows,” said Skulduggery. “And Darquesse learns, adapts, and acquires new abilities at a remarkable rate.”
“Is this what you think,” Stephanie asked, “or what you hope? You’re all acting like Valkyrie is still there to be saved. I’m here to tell you, as the only one who could possibly know, that there is no Valkyrie any more. I know how strong Darquesse is. She would have swallowed Valkyrie whole.”
“Is that what you think or what you hope?” Skulduggery murmured. She glared at him as he spoke into the phone. “If it is Valkyrie, and I’m not saying it is, how do we use that to help her?”
“I don’t know,” said Cassandra. “There are two distinct viewpoints within her mind, and yet they’re the same personality. Theoretically we could push one aspect down, suppress it, using some of the techniques we employed with Argeddion. But we’d need some very powerful Sensitives to do it.”
“This is insane,” said Stephanie. “If we go after her with the intention of subduing her, she’ll kill us. We agreed on this, Skulduggery. We agreed that if I had the shot, I’d take it.”
“If we have no other choice.”
“We don’t.”
“We have this,” he said. “This is a choice. If that is Valkyrie, she’s reaching out to us.”
“You’re putting the world in danger for someone who’s already gone.”
“I’m not giving up on her unless I absolutely have to.”
“Even if it works, what then? Darquesse is pushed back down into the dark corners of Valkyrie’s mind. So what? She’ll rise to the top. She’ll emerge. She’ll take over. Just like she’s done before. If she can be saved, then the only way to do it would be to do what was done to Argeddion. Push everything down. Repress everything, and rewrite her personality. Give her a new mortal identity and send her away where she’ll never bother anyone ever again.”
“She could be right,” Cassandra said quietly. “That might be the only way to save Valkyrie’s life.”
Skulduggery didn’t answer.
There was the opportunity to travel, for one – though as a Teleporter, travel was pretty much Fletcher’s thing anyway. But then there were other perks, too, like being part of an internationally recognised and respected team of adventurers. Although they weren’t quite as recognised and respected as Fletcher had been led to believe. Most of the sorcerers they spoke to around the world had only a passing notion of who they actually were, being more familiar, in fact, with the books they wrote than their actual real-life escapades.
Gracious O’Callahan – the short, strong one with the muscles and the T-shirts – and Donegan Bane – the tall, dapper one with the skinny jeans and the skinny ties – spent most of their time signing autographs and posing for photos while Dai Maybury stroked his beard and looked on with envy and Fletcher was ignored altogether.
The reason they’d got as far as they had in their search for the renegade sorcerers had nothing to do with the Monster Hunters at all, and everything to do with the two men who accompanied them. Dexter Vex, he of the chiselled abs and the scuffed boots, and Saracen Rue, of the winning smile and the designer suits, had a reputation that all but guaranteed straight answers to their many questions. The Dead Men were taken seriously wherever they went.
And