Kingdom of the Wicked

Valkyrie edged forward, using the mirror on the opposite wall to look through into Stynes’ bedroom. She heard a curse, and there was movement in the darkness, and then the bedside lamp came on. She froze, adrenaline pumping through her, but all Stynes did was push the covers away as he sat up in bed. He was unshaven, pale. Sweating. He looked to be in pain. He groaned as he stood up. Valkyrie glanced at Skulduggery, mouthing the word Hide? But he just shook his head and so she stayed where she was, eyes on the mirror.

Stynes took a step, then doubled over.

“Oh, God …” she heard him mutter.

He straightened up with a scream so sudden it made her jump. His fingers curled like his muscles were being tightened on some invisible rack, and still he screamed. She’d never heard anything like it.

The lamplight shone yellow over his skin as thick black hairs pushed through, matting and knotting across his chest and back, his arms and legs. He fell to his knees, his legs changing shape, his bones lengthening and re-forming. He stared in horror and dismay at his hands as his fingernails fell to the floor and sharper, longer claws grew in their place.

“Help me,” he gasped. “Somebody help—”

He dropped to all fours, another scream twisting up from his core, wrenching itself from his throat as his jaw dislocated. It cracked and popped and started to balloon outwards, his skin stretching over his newly formed muzzle. Fangs split his gums and his scream turned to an animal howl of rage and pain.

Skulduggery held up three fingers. Valkyrie watched him count down – two, one – and then he stepped into the doorway, tranq gun rising. She took an extra moment to follow his instruction, too stunned by what she had just witnessed to operate with any speed, and so the wolf missed her completely when it came charging out of the bedroom.

Valkyrie fell back, falling in the darkness, trying to make out what was going on just a few metres away. Something broke and something fell and the wolf was snarling and Skulduggery was cursing, and all she could make out was a huge mass of fur on two legs. She looked at her empty hand, wondered where the hell her gun had gone. She swept her arm across the carpet, fingers tapping against something metal. She lunged, gripped the handle and stood, turned, finger on the trigger—

—and something knocked her backwards into the living room. She pushed at it, whatever it was, and Skulduggery clambered off her and the wolf leaped on him again and they crashed into the sofa, turning it over and falling behind it.

Valkyrie got to her knees, started looking around for that damn gun again.

Skulduggery yelled as he was thrown across the room. He hit the TV and glass broke, and he pulled the blinds from the window, and the wolf pounced, pinning him to the floor. It slashed, again and again, and Skulduggery cried out. In the moonlight Valkyrie could see the ferocity with which it struck, its claws tearing through his clothes, raking against his ribs.

She flicked her wrist and shadows wrapped round the wolf’s neck, hauling it backwards, but she could feel the sheer strength that fought against her and could do nothing to stop it from tearing free. Its yellow eyes found her.

She bolted, sprinting back into the bedroom, the wolf on her heels. She used the air to smash herself through the window, the glass jabbing at her clothes, but at least now she was outside, falling through space, and the wolf—

—the wolf slammed into her and she lost control of the air and they spun as they fell, the wolf snapping at her, its claws trying to cut through her jacket. The wolf hit the ground with a yelp and they separated, with Valkyrie bouncing away from it and rolling across the courtyard. The wolf stood, shook itself to clear its head, and by the time it looked back at Valkyrie she was already running.

alkyrie swept her arms up on either side and the wind lifted her. She cleared the wall easily and came down, stumbling a bit until she regained her balance. She ran across the road, used the air to take herself to a low rooftop and then to a higher one. She jumped a gap and climbed, reaching for a handhold. Grunting with the effort, she hauled herself up and rolled, came up in a crouch. She held her breath while her heart thudded, listening for sounds of the wolf’s pursuit.

She didn’t hear any. Instead, she heard music.

Staying low, she ran to the other side of the roof. A little bit further on, a line of people waited to gain entry to a brightly lit nightclub, their laughter mingling with the deep beats of the music that throbbed into the night. To a bloodthirsty werewolf cheated of its first meal of the evening, Valkyrie reckoned it would look like an irresistible invitation to feast.

And there it was, concealed in the darkness of the alley across the street. She glimpsed it moving slowly, slipping in and out of shadow. She ran to the edge of the roof and the wind lifted her high over the passing cars. She needed another buffet to carry her all the way across, but she landed on her feet right where she was aiming for. She hurried to the side and peered down. The wolf was directly beneath her. That tranq gun would have really come in handy from this position.

Her finger twitched. To use the shadows from up here, she’d really have to go straight for a killing blow. Anything less would just make the wolf mad, maybe spur it into slaughtering a few people. But she didn’t want to kill it. Not like this. Not if there were any other choices to make.

And then the wolf charged across the street.

Valkyrie cursed, flung herself after it, angling through the air until she was on an intercept course. A few people were screaming by now and she propelled herself to ground level, curled up right before she hit the wolf. The impact knocked the breath out of her and she sprawled across the road. She heard screams and shouts, glimpsed faces and saw headlights and then a bus hit the wolf and braked, veered, its back end swinging round and crunching into Valkyrie.

Once more she flew backwards off her feet, the world silent all around her.

She hit the ground. Noise rushed to her ears and she bounced and tumbled way too fast to stop. She was aware that her chin was tucked into her chest and her arms were covering her head.

That was good. It meant she wasn’t dead yet.

Her tumbling slowed and she used the momentum to push herself to her feet. The bus hadn’t tipped over, thank God. It was parked diagonally across the road, and there were people running about and shouting at each other. She was blocked from view, halfway down the dark street. Her thoughts were returning, too, the more her head cleared. She remembered fur, and fangs. Something growled ahead of her.

Oh, yeah. The werewolf.

She couldn’t see it. Everything between her and the lights of the nightclub and the bus melted into an impenetrable darkness. And that’s where the wolf moved. She shaded her eyes but it was no use. The glare was too strong. The darkness too thick.

The growling got louder. Closer.

Still dizzy, Valkyrie broke left, ran between two cars, heard the wolf bounding after her. She ran, away from the nightclub and the people, barely managing to keep herself from ricocheting off lamp posts. And then the wolf slammed into her. They rolled, the wolf and her, its jaws clamping round her right arm. The teeth didn’t penetrate the armour-weave of her jacket but still she screamed. The wolf shook its head and she kicked out, but it was crouched over her, too heavy to move.

Let me out, said the voice in her head.

Her arm was about to break. The wolf was going to rip it from her shoulder. The Necromancer ring was useless without the freedom to orchestrate the shadows. She tried pushing at the air but the pain clouded her mind. She couldn’t even breathe with the weight of the wolf pressing down on her.

Let me out.

The wolf released her arm, went for her throat, and she jerked to the side, grabbed the shadows, turned them sharp like knives and raked them across the wolf’s chest. It reared back, yelping, and she pushed at the air and it tumbled. It immediately righted itself and came at her. She threw herself backwards across the bonnet of a parked car. The whole car shook when the wolf crashed into it. Valkyrie scrambled up on to the car roof and brought the wind in to sweep her over the wolf’s head. She dropped behind a wall, started running again, saw Skulduggery in the moonlight, flying towards her.

She ducked and he flew past, collided with the wolf behind her. The wolf threw him back and Skulduggery rolled to his feet, the tranq gun in his hand, but he slipped on something in the darkness. He fell and the wolf leaped and something went skittering across the ground.

The tranq gun – mangled.

Fire flared and the wolf howled in pain, and Skulduggery came staggering out of the gloom. His hat was gone and his face was gone. His suit was shredded, and even in this light Valkyrie could see the deep grooves cut along his ribcage. He held his revolver in his hand.

The wolf growled. Skulduggery turned.

It ran straight at him, and Skulduggery brought his other hand up to steady his aim.

“Shoot,” Valkyrie cried out. “Shoot!”

But at the last moment Skulduggery dropped the gun and brought both arms down, his knees bending, and a wall of air slammed into the wolf from above, sending it to the ground. It tumbled and yelped and immediately Skulduggery straightened, swinging his arms towards the sky, sending the wolf spinning off its feet. As it was twisting and falling again, he stepped forward and punched, and a column of displaced air struck the wolf in the side and sent it hurtling back.

“Dart!” he yelled as he crouched. He touched one hand to the ground around his feet and it started to crack and buckle. He was almost thrown off as the section he was standing on shot forward like a surfboard, the ground warping and rippling beneath it like waves, and he hurtled towards the wolf as it recovered. Valkyrie grabbed the broken gun, wrenched the dart from the chamber and used the air to send it straight into Skulduggery’s outstretched hand. An eyeblink later, he collided with the wolf, stabbing the dart into the creature’s shoulder.

The wolf roared and lashed out and Skulduggery went flying, but the sedative was already taking effect. The wolf staggered, shook its head, stumbled against the wall. It looked at Valkyrie and moved towards her, could only manage three steps before its legs gave out and it crumpled. It lay there, tongue out, panting, limbs too heavy to move. Its eyes closed, its breathing deepened, and it went to sleep.

Skulduggery got to his feet. “Victory,” he said weakly.

When Ed Stynes woke up, he was strapped to a bed in a strange room with strange people looking down at him. Valkyrie almost felt sorry for him.

“Hi,” said the blue-haired girl beside her. “I’m Clarabelle. Will you be my friend?”

Confusion etched itself on to Ed’s face.

“Hi, Ed,” said Valkyrie before things got too weird. “My name’s Valkyrie. This is Clarabelle. Clarabelle’s a nurse, of sorts, and she’s going to be taking care of you.”

Clarabelle nodded. “I’m very good at medicine stuff. We had a patient, last week, who came in and I examined him and he had all the signs of bubonic plague, and I healed him.”

Valkyrie looked at her. “He really had bubonic plague?”

“Oh, yes. Well, Doctor Nye looked at him and said he just had a splinter, but I was the one who removed it, so … That still counts. Wait until you meet Doctor Nye, Ed. You’ll love him, if you love big tall scary things.”

Ed whimpered, and turned his head to Valkyrie. “What … what’s happening to me?”

“What do you remember?”

“I remember you. I remember … Oh, God, I remember wanting to eat you …”

“Yes,” Valkyrie said. “Well, the less said about that, the better.”

“I’m going mad, aren’t I?”

Clarabelle laughed. She had such a pretty laugh. “Oh, we’re all mad around here, Ed!” And then she skipped away.

Skulduggery walked in, wearing a grey trench coat over his shredded suit and a new face over his skull. He didn’t want Ed to freak out any more than absolutely necessary. “Hello, Ed,” he said. “Feeling better? You’re certainly looking better.”

“Who are you people?”

“We’re experts in this field,” said Skulduggery. “We want to help you.”

“Help me? I’m a werewolf.”

“I noticed. Hopefully, however, it’s just a phase you’re going through. Think of it as a sickness, if you like. A disease. Your dormant werewolf gene suddenly awakening is merely a symptom of the real problem, and while your situation is somewhat unusual, you’re not the only person to be afflicted. There are others, normal people like you, suddenly exhibiting unusual levels of power. But you’re one of the few cogent ones. Most of the others have been driven beyond sense. You can help us, I think. You just need to answer a few questions. Can you do that?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good man,” said Skulduggery. “Have you had anything unusual happen to you recently?”

“Yes.”

“And that was?”

“I turned into a werewolf.”

“Anything apart from that? Have you met anyone new? Have you been abroad, or visited somewhere for the first time …?”

Ed shook his head. “Everything’s been normal. It’s just been my life, the same as it’s always been. Well, apart from breaking up with my girlfriend a few months ago. Do you … do you think she put a curse on me?”

“She’s the one who ended it, wasn’t she?”

“No,” said Ed immediately. “It was a mutual thing. We both … it was decided that … we mutually agreed that she could do better, so …”

“In that case,” said Skulduggery, “I doubt she put a curse on you. Has anything else happened out of the ordinary? No matter how trivial it may seem?”

“No. Everything’s been normal. Apart from the dreams.”

Skulduggery’s head tilted. “Go on.”

“I was just … I started dreaming about a man, dressed in white. Argeddion, his name was. It’s unusual because I never remember my dreams, but Argeddion is as clear as day in my mind.”

“What did he want?”

“He had a gift for me. That’s what he said. He was so gentle, and warm, and he said he had a wonderful gift to give me. He appeared in my dreams for weeks, telling me to prepare for the Summer of Light, and then the last time I dreamed about him he held up his hand, and he was holding this bright, glowing energy, and he put it into my chest. Then he smiled, and said he’d be back for it later. I haven’t dreamed about him since then. Do you think that has anything to do with what’s happened?”

“Strange men giving you gifts of energy, and soon thereafter you transform into an extinct supernatural creature? I’d say it’s a distinct possibility, Ed.”

They left him in Clarabelle’s dubiously capable hands and made their way out of the Medical Bay. As soon as they were in the corridor, Skulduggery retracted his façade. His skull was still a little dirty from being thrown through the rubbish of Dublin City.

“How are the mortals in the observation ward?” Valkyrie asked.

“No change,” he answered. “Every conceivable test has been run on them and is being run again. So far, nothing. Not one clue as to what’s going on.”

“Will Ed be joining them?”

“He’ll be sedated, like the others. They already have a bed waiting for him.”

“But at least now we have a lead – even if it is just someone’s dream. Wow. When you say it out loud like that, it sounds very flimsy, doesn’t it?”

“That our only lead is a dream a werewolf had?” said Skulduggery. “Yes, I suppose as far as clues go, it’s not the most solid one we’ve ever had. But we work with what we’re given, and we really can’t afford to be choosy, not at this stage. With everything that’s been going on, we’ve barely been able to keep this out of the news. Sooner rather than later, the mortals are going to see something that cannot be explained away unless we put a stop to it. And this mystery man in Ed’s dream, this Argeddion, might be what we’re looking for.”

“Any idea what the Summer of Light is? Do you think he means this summer?”

“I don’t know. But if we’re going by the traditional Irish calendar, summer starts on May first, which gives us a week to figure it out.”

“The Summer of Light sounds nice, though,” said Valkyrie. “Maybe all of this is leading up to some really good weather, in which case we should probably let it happen so I can sunbathe.”

“What a marvellous idea. Let’s make that assumption.”

She noticed the way he was holding his side. “You’re hurt,” she said.

He looked at her. “We were attacked by a werewolf.”

“But you’re actually injured.”

“So are you.”

“But nothing major. Just bruises and strains and cuts, and I got a doctor to treat them. Your bones are damaged, Skulduggery. Why don’t you get someone to heal you? It won’t take long.”

Skulduggery straightened up as they walked. “Doctor Nye tortured my friends to death during the war with Mevolent. I’m not going to it for help.”

“Nye’s not the only doctor who works here.”

“But it is the only one who’d have the skill to repair my injuries properly. Besides, I’m not that bad. I’ll survive, just like you will.”

“You know, there’s a distinct possibility that you’re too stubborn for your own good. But hey, I’m not going to pressure you. You do what you need to do.”

She heard the smile in his voice. “Well, thank you for being so understanding. In return, I’m going to drop you home. It’s been a long few days, and you’re going to sleep in your own bed tonight.”

“Oh, thank God,” she said, sighing. “I haven’t seen my folks in ages. And Alice has probably learned to walk or something since I saw her last. She’s fifteen months old. What age do babies start walking at?”

“Depends on the baby.”

“How about a really advanced one like my sister?”

“Oh, then she should be walking any day now.”

Valkyrie grinned. They emerged from the Sanctuary and as they reached the Bentley, Skulduggery’s voice softened. “Did you hear her again? Darquesse?”

Her smile faded, and she nodded. “She wanted me to let her out. It’s been a year since she’s been in control and her voice is getting louder. We need a plan. Something to stop her if she takes over.”

He folded his arms on the roof of the car, and lightly drummed his gloved fingers. “You mean something to stop you,” he said at last.

“I’d much rather you stopped me than let me do what we both know I’m going to do. I don’t want to murder anyone, let alone my parents, or my sister, or you. If the time comes and I’m lost and Darquesse is in control—”

He held up his hands. “I’ll think of something. Trust me.”

Valkyrie glanced over at a limousine parked nearby, with two men in suits standing guard. As good a change of subject as any. “Do we have a visiting VIP or something?”

Skulduggery grunted. “Apparently we do. Here for a meeting with the Council. All very hush-hush and top secret. Only the Elders are allowed to know what they’re meeting about.”

“But Ghastly will tell us, won’t he?”

“Oh, I’d very much expect so.”

hastly had never been in this room before. It was the same concrete-grey drabness as every other room in the Sanctuary, but this one had a big table in its centre, shaped like a toad. It probably wasn’t supposed to look like a toad, it was probably supposed to resemble something grand and inspirational, but in Ghastly’s view it succeeded only in resembling a grand and inspirational toad, and that’s where he left the matter.

He sat on an uncomfortable chair to the right of Erskine Ravel, the Grand Mage. To Ravel’s left sat Madame Mist, her slender frame draped in the Elder robes they all wore, her face hidden by that black veil. They must have looked a sight. Grand Mage Ravel, looking like he should be wearing a tuxedo, flanked by a scarred man and a veiled woman. Ghastly wondered if any of the other Councils around the world looked half as odd as they did. He doubted it.

Right now, he was sitting across from representatives of two of those Councils, and they both looked perfectly normal, if perfectly solemn. Ghastly wasn’t even listening to what was being said. Small talk was not his forte. He’d had a boxer for a mother and a tailor for a father – what did he know of the small talk of politicians and bureaucrats? He waited impatiently for them to get to the point of their visit, and when they finally reached it, he wasn’t at all surprised.

“You’ve been having some problems with your sorcerers, we hear,” said Grand Mage Quintin Strom of the English Sanctuary. Like most Grand Mages, with the obvious exception of Ravel, he was grey-haired and lined and old. Still immensely powerful, though, and somewhat humourless.

“I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed,” said Ravel. “Our mages are all doing fine.”

Strom’s eyebrows rose slightly. He was a good actor. “Oh! In which case, I apologise. It’s just that we’ve had reports of disturbances in practically every corner of the country. You’re saying these reports are inaccurate?”

“I’m not saying that at all,” Ravel said smoothly. “But the problems are not our sorcerers.”

Strom nodded. “Ah yes, we heard that, too. Something is affecting the mortal population here, yes? Dreadful, dreadful business. If you need any help—”

“Thank you, but no,” said Ravel. “We have it under control.”

“Are you quite sure? I don’t mean to condescend, Grand Mage Ravel, but I have a lot more experience running Sanctuaries than you do, and there is no shame in accepting assistance when it is offered.”

“Thank you for clarifying,” Ravel said.

The man beside Strom cleared his throat politely. He was young and American, Ghastly knew that much. “Unfortunately,” he said, “things may not be so simple. The purpose of a Sanctuary is to oversee the magical communities and protect mortals from the truth. If even one Sanctuary fails in its obligations, the success of every other Sanctuary will amount to naught. To use a horribly overused phrase, the chain is only as strong as its weakest link.”

Madame Mist stirred. “And you are saying that we are this weak link?”

“Oh, heavens, no,” said the man. “All I’m saying is that this Sanctuary has had more than its fair share of crises to deal with. Given the pressure you’ve been under, even the strongest link will strain.”

“So you are saying we’re the weakest link,” said Ravel. “I’m sorry, but who are you again?”

“Bernard Sult,” said the man. “I’m a Junior Administrator for Grand Mage Renato Bisahalani.”

“And why are you here?”

“Sult’s here to help,” said Strom. “You know the American Elders, they always think they’re far too busy to take care of things personally. But what he says is true. It’s not something we like to talk about, but the fact is that Ireland has been the source of a great deal of anxiety around the world. It’s in our best interests, of course, to make sure you’re strong enough to withstand anything that comes your way.”

“We don’t need to be propped up,” said Ravel.

Sult shook his head. “I assure you, that’s not what we’re saying. But if everything that has happened here in the last ten years had happened somewhere else, say Germany, would you be confident in their ability to handle it alone? Or would you feel the need to lend some support?”

Ravel said nothing.

“The other Sanctuaries are worried,” Strom said. “They want reassurances that you are prepared and that you are capable. And so I am among the three they have elected to act as their representatives to—”

“I’m sorry,” Ghastly said. “What?”

Ravel was frowning. “They elected you? When? In what forum?”

“It was a private meeting,” Strom said, “where we all came together to voice our concerns.”

“Without inviting us.”

“We didn’t want it to seem like an attack. We wanted to voice our opinions, not intimidate you. During the meeting, the decision was taken to approach you with our concerns. Grand Mage Renato Bisahalani of the American Sanctuary, Grand Mage Dedrich Wahrheit of the German Sanctuary and I were elected, and it was decided that I should come here, representing the interests of the Supreme Council—”

Ravel laughed. “That’s what you’re calling yourselves? The Supreme Council? Well, that’s not intimidating at all, is it, Ghastly?”

“Sounds positively cuddly,” Ghastly responded. “So here you are, as the spokesman for the Supreme Council, to tell us what, exactly?”

“We’re not here to tell you anything,” said Sult. “We’re just here to offer our help should it transpire that you need it. As Grand Mage Strom was saying, the other Sanctuaries need reassurances.”

“That’s no problem,” Ravel said. “Go back and reassure them that everything is fine.”

Strom smiled sadly. “If only it were that easy. Erskine, we have been tasked with verifying, for an absolute fact, that you and your Sanctuary are ready for whatever happens next. And I have to say, this business with the mortals does nothing to boost our confidence in you. I gather a werewolf was on the loose last night. A werewolf. We fear, and again we mean no disrespect, that your relative inexperience shows through at times like these.”

Ravel nodded. “But I’m still not entirely sure what purpose the Supreme Council actually serves. You want reassurances, but don’t appear satisfied when we give them. What more do you want?”

“We need to verify your competence for ourselves.”

Ravel looked at Ghastly. “What does that sound like to you?”

“Sounds like they want to watch over us and tell us what to do. Which makes no sense, because as everyone knows, each Sanctuary is its own watchdog, answerable only to itself.”

“Times have changed,” said Strom. “We can’t take the chances we used to take. In the past six years alone you’ve had Serpine and Vengeous and the Diablerie trying to bring the Faceless Ones back. You’ve had Scarab’s attempt to murder eighty thousand people live on air. You’ve had a Remnant outbreak which threatened to spread across the globe and, only twelve months ago, the Necromancer’s messiah turned up with the intention of killing three billion people. If this Darquesse lunatic really does start her Armageddon here in Ireland, that’s seven world-changing events one after the other. How do you expect us to react, after all that? The Sanctuaries are afraid that one of these days your people aren’t going to make it in time.”

“Before you protest,” said Sult, “let me ask you a question. If you didn’t have Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain on your side, would we even be alive to have this conversation right now?”

“Detectives Pleasant and Cain work with the full support of this Sanctuary and its mages,” Ravel said quietly. “It’s a team effort.”

“You support them, but they do the work,” said Sult. “And they’re not always going to be around, or they’re not always going to be quick enough. They’ll make a mistake. They’ll slip up. And when they do …” Sult trailed off, and Strom continued for him.

“Administrator Sult’s point is merely that you can’t put the security of the world on the shoulders of two people. Sooner or later, it’s going to crush them. We’re simply offering you support, Erskine. If we feel your Sanctuary is strong enough, then that is what we’ll report back and the matter will be forgotten.”

“And if you don’t feel that we’re strong enough?” Mist asked.

“Then we’ll help you. We’ll supply you with Cleavers, with sorcerers should you need them. There is also, I suppose, the option of sharing responsibility.”

Ghastly fixed him with a look. “Meaning you’d take over.”

“No, of course not. We’re here to help, for God’s sake. We don’t have an ulterior motive.”

“And if we don’t want you here?”

Strom looked hurt.

“I’m afraid we’d have to insist,” said Sult. “And I mean no disrespect when I say this, but the Supreme Council has been granted certain powers of veto and authority that I’m sure we can discuss at greater length later on.”

“Certain powers,” Mist said, “that were not agreed upon by us.”

“This is true,” Sult admitted. “If you want to deny us access, that is your right. However, such a move could cut you off from the rest of the world. You’d be isolated. Alone. With no one to call on for help should you need it.”

“That sounds like a veiled threat, Mr Sult.”

“I apologise. I only meant to stress the seriousness of the situation.”

“I think we’re beginning to grasp it,” said Ravel. “We’ll need to discuss your … proposal before giving an answer.”

“Of course,” Strom said, and both men got to their feet. “We have sorcerers and Cleavers standing by, ready to help in a purely supportive capacity, but we can only keep them in place for seven days. After this day next week, our offer of assistance must be withdrawn.”

“And then?” said Ghastly.

“And then we’ll have to take more decisive measures.”

Strom and Sult bowed slightly, and walked from the room.

“So not only do we have a threat,” Ghastly said when they were gone, “now we have a deadline, too.”

Ravel sank back into his chair. “This is going to be trouble.”