The Dying of the Light Page 10

  “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.

  16

  THE NATIONAL BLACK BELT REVIEW BOARD

  ife as a Monster Hunter was not without its perks.

  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 now they were back in a small town in Ireland with a new set of targets – the Remnants. Even Gracious had looked apprehensive at the idea of taking on those sneaky little bodysnatchers. Vex and Saracen, of course, hadn’t batted an eyelid, and gradually their sense of calm had spread throughout the group, and the casual nature of the team returned. Unfortunately.

  “I remember my first girlfriend,” said Gracious as they prowled the town’s quiet back streets.

  “Stephanie is not my first,” Fletcher responded.

  Gracious ignored him. “A farmer’s daughter, she was, though back then nearly every girl was a farmer’s daughter. Or a farmer. She had hair as long as rope, and a nose. All her eyes were blue and she had a smile like a radiant hole in the ground, with teeth. God, she was beautiful.”

  “She sounds terrifying,” said Donegan.

  “Hush, you. I will hear no bad word spoken of your sister.”

  “Stephanie is not my first,” Fletcher repeated. “I really don’t need any advice.”

  “Lads,” said Gracious, “any words of wisdom for Fletcher here?”

  The others closed in.

  “Honesty is, honestly, the best policy,” said Saracen. “But when honesty doesn’t work, lie, and lie convincingly.”

  “Treat her right and with respect,” said Vex from up ahead. “Even when it ends, you want to remain friends.”

  Donegan pondered. “My advice would be to go for someone better than you are. Stops you from getting complacent.”

  “Grow a beard,” said Dai.

  Fletcher frowned back at him. “Sorry?”

  “A beard,” Dai said. “Women love beards. Grow one like mine. Mine is a manly beard.”

  “I suppose it is kind of … manly.”

  “I’ve had it since I was twelve.”

  “You must have been a very hairy child.”

  “The hairiest.”

  “Hold on a second,” said Donegan, waving around a forked branch. “My divining rod is picking up something.”

  “It’s not a divining rod,” Saracen said. “It’s a twig. You broke it off a tree.”

  “It does work, though,” Gracious said. “It’s not one hundred percent accurate, it doesn’t lead you straight to the source of magic, but it gets you into the general area.”

  “This way.” Donegan led them down a narrow alley. “Something’s close. Very close.”

  “How sure are you?” Vex asked.

  “Pretty sure,” Donegan called back. “This isn’t an exact science.”

  “It’s not even remotely a science,” said Saracen.

  “Aha!” Gracious said, picking up speed and passing Donegan. He pointed to two chocolate bar wrappers as they skipped along on the breeze.

  “I’m missing something,” said Fletcher.

  “One of the strongest urges a Remnant has once it takes a new host is to sate its appetites,” Vex told him. “It needs sensation. It needs to experience pleasure or pain. Food is an instant source of pleasure.”

  “So all these sweet wrappers …”

  “Classic signs of a Remnant possession. Look. More.”

  They followed the trail to a loose pile of wrappers beneath an open window. Fletcher peered in. A small office with a single desk and cheap trophies on a shelf.

  “A dojo,” said Saracen.

  Fletcher looked back. “What?”

  “A martial arts school. Looks like our Remnant might be an instructor.”

  They walked round the corner to the street entrance. It was an unimpressive building with a cheap sign showing a badly-drawn man executing a flying kick. Fletcher followed the others inside. They passed a framed photograph of a man with a ponytail in a black karate uniform. The name under it was Noonan.

  They pushed through another set of doors, entered the hall. Parents sat at one end while their kids stood to attention in the main space. The uniforms they wore were black and red. Only the man in charge, the one called Noonan, had a black belt around his waist.

  A teenaged student hurried to the top of the class and faced him. The student settled into a fighting stance, and at Noonan’s nod he stepped in with a right punch. Noonan moved, blocking with a quick exhalation, and then he pivoted, shouting out a “Ki-yah!” as his fist sank into the student’s side. The student dropped to his knees, wheezing.

  Noonan swung round to address the students and their parents. “A basic defence against a straight punch!” he announced. “Now I will demonstrate a defence against a knife attack!”

  He gestured to another student, and Fletcher saw the trepidation in the girl’s eyes as she picked up a rubber training knife and approached the mat. Noonan said a few words to her, the student nodded, and Noonan readied himself.

  A curt nod to the student, who stepped in with a wild slash. Noonan dodged back and kicked, his foot connecting with the student’s wrist. The knife went flying, and Noonan continued the technique with a series of whirling kicks that sent the student slamming back into the wall.

  “Is this guy always so rough?” Saracen whispered to a parent.

  The parent glowered. “Every time. He’s a bully and a thug.”

  “Questions?” Noonan said loudly. “No? No one? Our system speaks for itself, doesn’t it?” He laughed. There were a few uneasy chuckles from his students. “But anyone can do it, regardless of age or fitness level. I can teach any student to defend themselves and their loved ones. Would one of the parents like to volunteer for a demonstration? No? Are you a little nervous of being shown up in front of your kids?” He laughed again.

  Vex walked forward.

  “A volunteer!” Noonan said. “Give this brave soul a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen!”

  Everyone clapped. Fletcher joined in.


  “I’m just going to demonstrate some simple defences against a right punch,” Noonan told him. “I’ll go easy on you, don’t worry! Just take your shoes off and – no, just remove your shoes. Take your shoes off when you’re on the mat. Take them—”

  Vex strolled across the mat, his boots still on. Noonan’s smile became a little strained.

  “OK then,” he said. “Shoes staying on, are they? Well, seeing as how this is your first time, I can forgive that.” The anger in his eyes suggested otherwise. “Now then, sir, this defence is against a right punch, so—”

  Vex strolled by him and his left fist flashed out, struck Noonan right on the nose. Noonan stepped back, hands at his face, and Vex circled him unhurriedly.

  “Ow!” said Noonan. “No! I didn’t say begin! You can’t just begin without me being ready! Is it bleeding? Am I bleeding?”

  He took his hands away from his nose to show Vex, and Vex hit him again.

  “Ow! What are you doing? We weren’t doing the technique that time! Oh, God, I’m bleeding now, amn’t I? Now I’m bleeding!” Noonan wiped the blood from his nose and sniffled. “And they weren’t even right punches. Those were left jabs you threw. Stop walking. Stop walking, for God’s sake!”

  Vex stopped walking.

  “Thank you,” Noonan said, seething. “Now then, you’re going to throw a right punch, so put your left leg forward, and step through with the punch when I say begin, OK? Do you understand? Am I being clear?”

  Vex stomped on Noonan’s bare foot, and Noonan screeched.

  “You can’t do that! You can’t do that!”

  He hopped, clutching his foot, then lost his balance and toppled over. He glared up. “I see. You’re here to prove yourself, are you? You’re a tough guy, and you want to cheat? Any other night, I’d throw you out right now. But tonight is different. Tonight, I’m different. So, if you want to freestyle …” Noonan stood up. “Let’s freestyle.”

  Noonan started moving, bouncing on his toes, shifting his weight, weaving from side to side and forward and back. His right fist was up at his chin, his left lower and out in front. A classic fighting stance.

  Vex just stood there.

  Noonan snapped out a kick, whirled with another, jumped and spun with a third. All three of them were well out of range, though, and Vex just kept standing there. The unimpressed look on his face seemed to agitate Noonan almost as much as the foot stomp. Black veins started to rise as he lunged with a punch.

  Vex covered up and went to meet him, arms up and elbows out. Noonan’s fist crunched against one of those elbows and he howled. Vex grabbed him, drove him backwards, smacked his head against the wall. The crowd gave a horrified “oooh” and Noonan staggered. The black veins had vanished as quickly as they’d risen. Vex gripped the back of his neck with one hand, and led him into the office.

  Saracen stepped forward, turning to smile at the onlookers. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are inspectors from the National Black Belt Review Board, and we need to talk to Mr Noonan about his teaching methods. I’m afraid tonight’s class will have to be cut short. Thanks very much for your attention, and safe home.”

  Saracen bowed, then turned on his heel and walked after Vex. The Monster Hunters followed as the students and parents murmured among themselves and began to file out. Fletcher was the last one into the office, and he closed the door behind him. Noonan was sitting in his chair, his hands shackled, while some very intimidating men looked down at him.

  “Where are the others?” Vex asked.

  “Other what?” said Noonan. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I need some ice for my head. I think my hand is broken. And my foot. And maybe my nose.”

  Saracen sat on the edge of the desk. “Do you like being him? This man you’ve hijacked? He seems a tad petty, doesn’t he? I bet you’ve inhabited far more interesting people over the years than this loser.”

  Noonan glowered. “I’m not a loser.”

  “You’re a pudgy martial arts instructor with a quick temper and no control. You regularly hurt your students in order to show off and boost your own ego. You’re a loser, my friend.”

  “Take these cuffs off and I’ll show you who the real loser is.”

  “Don’t make this any more difficult for yourself,” said Vex. “Listen, we’ve seen worse Remnants. Some of them, they possess a body and their first instinct is to kill. To cause damage. But you? Your first instinct was to eat junk food. To experience. It looks like you really wanted to make this work.”

  Noonan nodded. “I did. I do.”

  “You’re probably tired of being hunted, right? Tired of being caught and locked away?”

  “Exactly!” said Noonan. “I just want to fit in now. I want to live.”

  “Like this?” Saracen asked. “Like a loser?”

  “I am not a loser!”

  “You really think you could keep this up? We know what you’re like. You’re a Remnant. You have no conscience. Sooner or later, you’d kill someone.”

  “No! Not this time! This time I’m going to have a proper life!”

  Saracen laughed. “I swear to God, I’d almost believe this guy.”

  “I’m telling the truth!” Noonan insisted. He looked to Vex. “I’m not going to kill anyone. Yeah, fine, I don’t have a conscience, but so what? Most of the really successful business people in the world are technically psychopaths. They don’t kill people, do they? I don’t have to, either. Let me prove it. Let me stay in this body, and let me prove it.”

  Vex frowned. “What? You want us to just walk away? We came here to track you Remnants down and lock you up again.”

  “Please,” said Noonan. “I can help you. The others aren’t here. They’ve gone on. If you leave me alone, I’ll tell you where.”

  “And how do we know you’re telling the truth?”

  “Have you seen any other Remnants? You haven’t, have you? You said it yourself, most of them start to kill people pretty soon after taking a new host. There haven’t been any murders in the area because they’re not here. Things are different this time.”

  “Different how?”

  Noonan hesitated.

  “I’m your only chance of getting what you want,” said Vex. “You either talk to me now, tell me what you know, or we take out the Soul Catcher and lock you away.”

  “Darquesse released us,” said Noonan. “She wants an army, ready to swoop in at her command. Only … only things have changed. We don’t think of her in the same way any more.”

  “Does she know this?” Saracen asked.

  “No,” said Noonan. “I don’t think so anyway. But she ordered us to lie low until, you know, she needs us. So they all went off.”

  “Except for you.”

  “We passed this town. I saw all the people. I couldn’t resist. I took a body. I realised, yes, I actually want a life without looking over my shoulder the whole time. So I took another body, and then I took this one.”

  Saracen frowned. “This loser is the best you could find?”

  “I am not a loser! I am a martial arts instructor! I am respected in my community!”

  “Calm down,” said Vex. “Look at me. You have one chance to stay in this body. Where are they headed? The other Remnants?”

  “East.”

  “That’s it?” Gracious asked. “East? That’s the best you can do?”

  “They’re looking for a town small enough to take over,” Noonan said. “Then they’ll settle down and wait.”

  “But you don’t know where? There are a lot of towns east of here. You want us to check every single one of them?”

  “I’m really sorry. I don’t know. Please … what are you going to do with me?”

  “You’re possessing a body without permission,” said Vex. “I’m afraid you have to come out.”

  “No. No, please, you said I could stay! You said it!”

  Dai took something that looked like an empty snow globe from his coat, and Noonan jerked away.

 
; “This is a new and improved Soul Catcher,” Saracen said. “China Sorrows herself etched a few sigils into it. Can you feel the pull? You can, can’t you? You can feel it dragging you in.”

  Noonan shook his head. He was sweating badly now. “No. Nope. No.”

  Dai pushed the Soul Catcher closer, and Noonan screamed.

  His throat bulged. Fletcher glimpsed darkness – dark claws, snapping jaws – rise up in Noonan’s open mouth. The Remnant tried to burst free, to dart towards Gracious, but it was caught in the globe’s gravity and sucked into it. The globe instantly turned black.

  Noonan collapsed in his chair. He began snoring.

  Vex lifted the Soul Catcher and peered into it. “At least we know China’s improvements work,” he said. “Now all we need is another few thousand of these and we’re set.”

  17

  A VOICE FROM THE DARKNESS

  old hands,” Cassandra said, and Stephanie scowled.

  This was ridiculous. Sitting round a table, holding hands, staring into a flickering candle. This was a bad seance in a bad TV show. She had Skulduggery on one side and Cassandra on the other, and across from her was the placid face of Finbar Wrong.

  She wondered how long they’d have to sit like this.

  After a few minutes, Finbar’s chin dropped to his chest. He was asleep. Again.

  Stephanie bit back the ridicule. If she said something and interrupted whatever the hell was happening, they’d probably have to start again. The best thing she could do was wait until everyone else at this table realised the stupidity of what they were—

  “Valkyrie?” said Cassandra. “Can you hear me?”

  Stephanie took a cautious look around. She wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Valkyrie’s ghost to appear, perhaps?

  “Valkyrie,” Cassandra said again. “If you can hear me, give me a sign.”

  Nothing. No ghost. No lightning strike. The candle didn’t blow out. Not one thing. Just as she’d thought.

  “I can hear you,” Finbar mumbled, without raising his head.

  Stephanie frowned. She was about to point out that Cassandra wasn’t talking to him when he muttered something else, then said, “Skulduggery? Where’s Skulduggery?”