Midnight Page 9

  Alice’s eyes widened. “Your house? Would I have my own bed?”

  “You’d probably have to, wouldn’t you?”

  Alice nodded quickly.

  Valkyrie grinned, and shrugged to her folks. “I think I could manage that.”

  “Yay!” Alice cried, thrusting both hands in the air and dancing.

  Melissa laughed. “Everyone sit. Hope you’re all hungry.”

  “I’m starving,” said Valkyrie.

  “I’m starving, too,” said Alice.

  Valkyrie sat at the table in her usual spot. It felt strange, especially with Alice settling into the chair beside her. But as soon as Alice was seated she hopped up again.

  “I forgot Sparkles!” she said, and ran upstairs.

  “Have you met Sparkles?” her dad asked, helping Melissa serve dinner.

  “I have.”

  “All her schoolfriends have them. They’re like that elf, you know, at Christmas, that comes alive when all the humans leave the room? Creepy little things. Expensive, too. You never had anything like that when you were a kid, did you?”

  “Nope,” said Valkyrie. “No elves. No fairies. I didn’t even have an imaginary friend.”

  “I did,” said Desmond. “His name was Barry. He was always getting me into trouble.”

  “I didn’t have time to have an imaginary friend,” Melissa said. “I had a very full social calendar, even back then. I’ve always had lots of friends, actually. Then I got married and they all kind of drifted away.”

  Desmond grinned. “That’s the effect I have on people.”

  “I know you’re joking,” Melissa said, “but you can be quite rude.”

  “It’s not me,” Desmond protested. “It’s Barry.”

  Melissa sighed. “Gordon was the same. A wonderful man, such a big heart, but completely oblivious.”

  “Yeah,” said Desmond, “we Edgley men are great.”

  There was a knock on the door and Desmond went to answer it. Melissa put a plate of food in front of Valkyrie. Roast chicken, roast vegetables, peas, and the most perfectly roasted potatoes.

  “Thank you,” said Valkyrie.

  “Um,” said Melissa.

  “Yes?”

  Her mum winced. “We should have told you. I thought it’d be a nice surprise, but I regret now not telling you.”

  “Not telling me what?”

  “That was a lie. I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise – I didn’t tell you because I thought you might say no.”

  “Say no to what?”

  Desmond came back into the kitchen and Skulduggery stepped in after him, his hat in his hand.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said.

  17

  Valkyrie frowned. “I don’t get it.”

  “We invited Skulduggery,” Melissa said.

  “You did?”

  Skulduggery tilted his head. “You didn’t know?”

  Valkyrie held up a hand to him. “Hold on, you.” Then, to her parents, “How did you invite him?”

  “We called him last night,” said her mum.

  “How do you have his number?”

  “You gave it to us, remember? In case you … weren’t in contact with us for any length of time.”

  Valkyrie narrowed her eyes. “You were only supposed to use it in case of emergencies.”

  “This is an emergency,” Desmond said. “A social emergency. We thought it was important that we all sit down and … chat. About things.”

  “Do you mind?” Melissa asked. “Skulduggery is such a big part of your life. We want to get to know him – and we want to get to know you. Does that make sense? Is that weird?”

  “It’s not weird, no, but it’s …” Valkyrie shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Skulduggery, take a seat.”

  “Thank you,” Skulduggery said. “I thought you knew.”

  “It’s cool.”

  “I haven’t been invited to dinner in about three hundred years, so I said yes without even bothering to check.”

  “People don’t invite you to dinner?” Desmond asked, putting a plate of food in front of him.

  “I don’t eat,” Skulduggery said, and Desmond nodded, and took the food away. Alice came down the stairs and Skulduggery activated his façade, turning to her when she ran in. “Hello.”

  “Hello,” she said.

  Skulduggery tilted his head. “Why are you so short?”

  “I’m only seven,” Alice said.

  “That’s no excuse. When I was your age, I was twice as tall as you. You should grow taller.”

  “I will, when I’m older.”

  “You’re not just being lazy, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Come over here.”

  Without hesitation, Alice crossed the room.

  “My name is Skulduggery,” Skulduggery said. “It’s a big word. Can you say it?”

  “Skuduggery.”

  “Skulduggery.”

  “Skulduggery.”

  “Very good. And you are Alice. We’ve met before, when you were even smaller than you are now. You were a baby the last time I saw you.”

  “Now I’m seven.”

  “That’s right. You’re a little girl now. It’s very good to meet you again, Alice.”

  “It’s very good to meet you.”

  “Are you joining us for dinner?”

  “Yes.” She turned to Valkyrie. “I can’t find Sparkles.”

  Valkyrie looked thoughtful. “Well, she does come to life when we’re not there, so she’s probably playing hide-and-seek with you. If you were a fairy, where would you hide?”

  “In the clouds.”

  “OK, but I don’t think the window’s open, so she’s probably still in your bedroom. Maybe in your bed? Under the blankets or—”

  “Or under the pillow!”

  Valkyrie clicked her fingers. “I bet that’s where she is!”

  Alice ran upstairs again.

  “I have questions,” Desmond said, as he and Melissa sat down.

  “Go ahead,” Skulduggery said.

  “Is this your actual face, from when you were alive?”

  “No,” Skulduggery answered. “It’s a random selection. Sometimes they repeat; sometimes they’re brand new.”

  “Do you have magic toilets?”

  Valkyrie sighed. “Dad …”

  “What? I just want to know if there are magical versions of everyday items. A magic toilet would be a good idea, wouldn’t it? Maybe the pee disappears before it hits the bowl.”

  “Des,” said Melissa, shaking her head.

  “What? I’m curious. If the pee disappears, where does it go? Does it evaporate or is it, I don’t know, transported to another dimension? When we spoke last night, you said you’d just got back from a parallel dimension. Is there an entire dimension that is just filled with our pee? Or is there a parallel dimension that is just like ours, but our pee is their rain? Every time we pee, are we peeing on millions of people?”

  “No, Desmond,” Skulduggery said. “That doesn’t happen.”

  Desmond nodded. “That’s probably a good thing.”

  “There aren’t magical versions of every household item. Sorcerers use the same things mortals do. We live side by side, after all.”

  “Not any more you don’t. You live in Roarhaven now.”

  “Not all of us,” Skulduggery said.

  Desmond leaned forward. “What about wands?”

  “We don’t use wands, Dad,” said Valkyrie.

  “Then how come they’re a thing? Why did they become associated with magicians?”

  “A few hundred years ago,” Skulduggery said, “some sorcerers did indeed use wands.”

  Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that.”

  “It was a passing fad,” he explained. “Embarrassing to all who witnessed it and, as it turned out, quite damaging. In much the same way that Necromancers use
an object to channel their power, sorcerers of different disciplines used wands to focus their abilities. Necromancers, however, need to use objects as their power is too unstable.”

  “How was using wands damaging?”

  “Magic is instinctual. As such, it’s affected by our moods. If a sorcerer panics, their control is diminished. Channelling their magic through wands meant they were unconsciously limiting their own potential. It’s called the Wand Principle.”

  “That makes sense,” Desmond said, nodding. “The Wand Principle. I like that.”

  Alice hurried in, Sparkles in one hand. She sat at her place. Nobody was eating.

  “Well, I’m hungry,” said Valkyrie, and picked up her knife and fork.

  “Please, all of you, begin,” Skulduggery said. “Don’t mind me.”

  The others started to eat. The food was everything Valkyrie had remembered.

  “So,” Melissa said, “what have you been up to for the last five years, Skulduggery? Stephanie told us that an ex-girlfriend of yours has been brought back to life. That’s an unusual situation.”

  “I suppose it is,” Skulduggery said. “Yes, Abyssinia and I have a history, but that was hundreds of years ago. A lot has happened for both of us since then.”

  “Wasn’t she just a heart in a box for most of that, though?” asked Desmond, his mouth full.

  “Well, yes, you’re right, which brings to mind some intriguing questions about how internal organs perceive the passage of time – but Abyssinia managed to communicate with people and entities telepathically while she was in there, so I think it’s fair to assume that she experienced at least some growth as a person.”

  “Still, anything involving an ex is bound to be awkward, especially one that you … um …”

  “K-I-L-L-E-D,” Skulduggery finished, glancing at Alice. “Yes, that brings with it its own unique complications. We still haven’t spoken, though, since she was resurrected, so I’m afraid I can’t give you a definitive answer.”

  “I don’t want peas,” said Alice.

  “Just eat a few of them,” Melissa said, before turning back to Skulduggery. “What are you working on now? Anything exciting?”

  “Just the usual,” Valkyrie said before Skulduggery could answer. “People with strange names doing strange things for strange reasons.”

  “Anything dangerous?”

  “No, not really. Not what I’d call … Skulduggery, what do you think? I wouldn’t call it dangerous. Would you?”

  “No,” said Skulduggery. “Not dangerous. Not at all.”

  Valkyrie nodded, and went back to eating.

  “It’s not exactly safe, either,” Skulduggery continued, “but dangerous is … I’ve always felt that it’s a word loaded with unhelpful connotations.”

  Valkyrie chewed faster, but Melissa was already asking a follow-up. “Just to clarify – how not-safe is it? Stephanie? Could you get hurt doing whatever it is you’re doing?”

  Valkyrie swallowed. “I could get hurt crossing the road, Mum.”

  “Which is why you were taught to look both ways.”

  “She still does that,” Skulduggery interjected. “She’s very good at crossing the road.”

  “Thanks,” Valkyrie said, giving him a glare before smiling reassuringly at her parents. “I’m safe. I’m taking care of myself. I’m not in any danger.”

  “What about this ex-girlfriend? Anyone that can come back from the dead sounds like she might be trouble.”

  “The High Sanctuary has people working on that,” Valkyrie said. “That isn’t what we do any more. We’re Arbiters now. We’re not sent out; we’re not assigned anything. We get to pick and choose the cases we work on. And I’m still easing back into things, remember? I’m taking it nice and slow.”

  Melissa put down her knife and fork. “Skulduggery, do you promise to keep our daughter safe?”

  Valkyrie closed her eyes. She knew what was coming.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Skulduggery said. “We have no way of knowing where a line of investigation will take us or how dangerous it will get. But you can rest assured that I will do my very best to keep your daughter alive. My very, very best.”

  Valkyrie’s parents looked at him.

  “So how’s Fergus and Beryl?” Valkyrie asked them quickly.

  Melissa hesitated, reluctant to move to a different subject. “They’re doing … fine, we think. We don’t really see them much. They’ve been having some trouble with the girls.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “Ah, it’s nothing. People change. They grow up and they grow apart. Even sisters. Even twins. Carol got a job in a solicitor’s office and she’s moved into her own apartment. She’s doing fine. I think she even has a boyfriend. Crystal is still living at home.”

  Desmond frowned. “She had a bit of a nervous breakdown,” he said. “She’s been to see a psychiatrist, the poor mite. She started thinking that Carol was an imposter. There’s a name for it, some kind of delusion …”

  “Capgras delusion,” Skulduggery said. “It’s a misidentification syndrome, commonly found in paranoid schizophrenics.”

  Or people whose sisters had been murdered and then replaced by reflections. Valkyrie looked down at her plate. “Is she OK?”

  “She’s got pills she takes,” Melissa said. “And she talks to her psychiatrist once or twice a week. She’s perfectly fine apart from … apart from when Carol’s around.”

  Valkyrie’s throat burned. “Maybe I’ll call in,” she said quietly.

  “I’m sure she’d like that,” Melissa said.

  Skulduggery’s phone rang. “I do apologise,” he said, taking it from his pocket. “Ah, it’s Temper. I’m afraid I’ll have to take this.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” Valkyrie said, whipping the phone out of his hand as she stood up. She walked into the hall and then out of the front door as she answered the call.

  “I have news,” Temper said.

  “Tell me.”

  “Valkyrie? Is everything all right? Is Skulduggery in trouble again?”

  “No,” she said, “he’s fine. He’s having dinner with my parents. I just … I needed to get out of there. What do you have?”

  “The chemist who makes Quidnunc’s serum – I found out his name. Gravid Caw. He’s got a house in Black Cat Drive. Don’t have a whole lot more on him, I’m afraid – if he’s a bad guy, he’s stayed clear of the City Watch.”

  “Gravid Caw, Black Cat Drive. Got it. Thank you.”

  “You want me to have someone haul him in for you to question?”

  “Naw, it’s OK. We only have a limited number of times we can do that before your City Guard buddies get annoyed at being used to pick up our suspects. Besides, we prefer to catch bad guys in their natural environment. It’s more fun.”

  Valkyrie went back into the house. “We have to go,” she said, handing the phone to Skulduggery.

  “Already?” her mum asked, standing. “You can’t stay a little longer? Even just for dessert?”

  “We really can’t,” Valkyrie said. “Mum, thank you so much for dinner. I haven’t had food that good in ages. Dad, thanks for asking about magic toilets.” She gave them both a kiss.

  “And thank you for inviting me,” said Skulduggery. “It was very nice of you.”

  Valkyrie hugged Alice. “I’ll see you on Thursday, OK? We’ll have the best day.”

  “I can’t wait,” Alice said, grinning.

  Valkyrie and Skulduggery left. The Bentley was parked at the corner. Valkyrie unlocked her own car. “Gravid Caw is the chemist. He lives on Black Cat Drive. Meet you there?”

  “Of course,” Skulduggery said. “Valkyrie, are you all right? Your parents called me after I’d arrived home yesterday evening. I wouldn’t have come if I had known I’d be interrupting.”

  “You weren’t interrupting.”

  “I know how much you were looking forward to spending some time with your family. Believe me, I understand.”
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  She smiled. “Thanks. But you’re never an interruption, you got that? Now quit being considerate. It’s weird, and it makes me want to laugh nervously and run away.”

  “You are an odd woman.”

  “Yep,” she said.

  18

  Even in Coldheart, a scream so full of terror was a curiosity worthy of further investigation, so Cadaverous hunted it down like he’d hunted all those idiotic co-eds through his house of horrors, finally turning a corner to see Razzia leaning over the barrier.

  “Are you throwing people off again?” he asked, walking up to her.

  She didn’t look round. “He’s the last one,” she said.

  “Did you get him to apologise?”

  “He got down on his knees and begged me to forgive him. He said he got confused in all the excitement.”

  “You didn’t forgive him, obviously.”

  “We let them out of their cells to attack Valkyrie and the skeleton. They should have known better than to attack me, too.” Her voice was low, her face expressionless. Then she brightened, her unhinged smile returning. “You should’ve seen the way he evaporated, Caddie. The moment he hit that energy field he just went zzaap,” and she clicked her fingers.

  “I’m sure it was lovely.”

  “It was, actually. Very pretty. I might write a poem about it later. What rhymes with evaporated?”

  “Not much.”

  “Maporated. Is that a word?”

  “Not a real one.”

  “It’s not easy being a poet.”

  “Stick to what you’re good at, Razzia. Extreme violence and making people uneasy in your presence.”

  She sighed unhappily, and took a crumpled ball of foil from her pocket. “I want to try new things, though. I want to stretch myself.”

  “You’re bored, aren’t you?”

  “Dunno,” she said, opening the ball. “I’ve never been bored before, so I don’t know what it feels like. I’ve always had someone to kill or hunt or torture. I don’t even view it as work, you know? Is it even work, when you’re doing what you love?”

  “It’s a vocation, is what it is. But even someone like you needs direction, and I don’t think you’ve been getting that lately.”