On Saturday morning, Valkyrie climbed through her bedroom window just as her reflection was waking up.
“You look dreadful,” it remarked, sitting up and looking at her.
“Cheers,” Valkyrie responded, throwing her coat into the wardrobe. She’d had two hours of sleep on Ghastly’s couch and was feeling drained. She sat down and pulled off her boots.
“Your parents are leaving for Paris in half an hour,” the reflection said. “Are you here to say goodbye?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Do you want me to return to the mirror?”
Valkyrie undressed and kicked her black clothes into the corner, then wrapped herself in her dressing gown. “I won’t be staying long,” she said. “I’m going to have a shower, kiss my folks goodbye and then I’m gone again.”
“So shall I stay here?”
“Hide under the bed, just in case Mum walks in.” The reflection did as she was told, and Valkyrie watched as it tucked a bare foot undercover. “You OK down there?”
“I am,” came the reply. “I have also found some of your missing underwear.”
“Good news all round then. Don’t make a sound.”
Valkyrie padded to the bathroom, locked the door and turned on the shower. She stepped in and sighed as the hot water hit her. Her head drooped and her eyes closed, and within seconds her hair was plastered to her scalp. She could feel the dirt and the grime and the sweat being washed away, and it felt good. She ran her tongue over her teeth again, testing the new one. It still felt too big and Valkyrie was afraid of probing too hard in case she pushed it out of place.
She washed her hair. Her muscles were loosening. She was starting to relax. She hadn’t realised how tense she had been, but she figured she could really do with a massage right about now. China would probably know who to call about that.
Valkyrie tried to think about what she was going to say to her parents and butterflies swarmed in her belly. She’d had to say what could have potentially been a final goodbye to them too many times over the past two years, and it wasn’t getting any easier.
Once she was finished, she stepped out of the shower and towelled herself dry. She heard footsteps pass the door.
“Morning, sweetie,” her mother called.
“Morning!”
Valkyrie cleared the condensation from the mirror and looked at herself. Her face was unmarked. No cuts, no bruises. The shower had revived her and she wasn’t looking so tired any more. She was confident there was absolutely nothing about her appearance that would cause her parents to worry. They’d be able to leave without even a hint of anxiety.
Provided, of course, that Valkyrie could say goodbye without acting like it was the last time she’d ever see them.
She took a deep breath, pulled on her robe and went back to her room. She dressed in jeans, T-shirt and a zip-up top, then pulled on a pair of trainers. She tried a few practice smiles, and when she was sure they’d be convincing, she clumped down the stairs with a scowl on her face.
“Someone’s grumpy,” her dad said as she entered the kitchen.
“Why can’t I go with you?” she whined. “Why do I have to stay with Beryl?”
“Because it’s a romantic weekend,” he told her. “It wouldn’t be very romantic with you tagging along, now would it?”
Valkyrie collapsed into a chair. “Why do you need romance in your life? You’re already married. Romance should be saved for people like me.”
Her dad frowned. “You’re not looking for romance, are you? You’re only fourteen. You should be thinking about other things. Like dolls.”
“When was the last time you saw me with a doll, Dad?”
“I know we got you one when you were a baby, but I’m pretty sure you laughed at it and beat it up.”
“I was a cool baby.”
Her mother walked in. “Des, where’s your passport?”
“Do I need it?”
“We’re getting on a plane. Yes, you need it. Where is it?”
“You said you had it. Last night, I asked you, and you assured me you had it.”
Valkyrie’s dad nodded thoughtfully. “I do remember that. However, I may have been lying.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Edgley…”
Her mother only ever called him by his last name when she was getting mad with him.
“It’s around here somewhere,” he laughed. “You just carry on with your packing and I’ll have found it by the time we have to go.”
“We’re going in seven minutes.”
He swallowed. “That’s no problem.”
Valkyrie’s mother sighed and walked out. Valkyrie called after her. “Mum, what age were you when you had your first boyfriend?”
“My first proper boyfriend?”
“Yeah.”
Her dad frowned. “Define ‘proper’.”
“Thirteen,” she heard her mother say. “Des, find that passport.”
“What do you mean by ‘proper’?” he called, but she didn’t answer. He turned to Valkyrie. “Things were different when your mother and I were kids. It was a more innocent time. We had to wait eighteen months to even hold hands. That was the law and we were happy.”
“I think you’re making that bit up, Dad.”
“Boys are horrible,” he said. “I should know, I was one.”
Someone rang the doorbell. While her father looked for his passport and her mother finished the packing, Valkyrie went to open the front door.
“Hello, Stephanie,” said Remus Crux.
She froze. He was wearing his usual slacks and blazer, but today he had finished off his outfit with a sickly little smile.
Her mouth went dry. She kept her voice low. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here.”
“I have a warrant for your arrest,” said Crux sweetly. “What, you didn’t think I’d be able to work out who you were and where you lived? If your quite obvious connection to the late Gordon Edgley wasn’t enough of a giveaway, there were a dozen vampires chasing you through the streets of this lovely little town last summer. I am a detective, Miss Cain. Working things out is what I do, and this particular mystery wasn’t exactly taxing.”
“My parents are here. You can’t do this.”
“You have a choice. Either I arrest you now or you tell me where the skeleton is, and where he is keeping the Grand Mage.”
“The Diablerie have Guild. Batu has Guild.”
“From what I’ve heard over the course of my investigations, there is no Batu. Valkyrie, no one is blaming you. You understand me, don’t you? Skulduggery led you astray. It happens all the time. None of this is your fault. But now you have to do the right thing.”
She glared at him. “You can’t come to my house and threaten me.”
“Are you going to tell me where he is?”
“No, I am not.”
“In that case you are under arrest.”
Valkyrie tried to close the door, but Crux caught it, held it open.
“Get away from here,” she said, her rage cracking her voice. “There are rules. You can’t demonstrate a power in front of civilians. My parents are civilians. If you take me away, you will be exposing all of us.”
He pressed his face through the gap. “You’re under arrest.”
She glanced around when she heard her mother approach, wheeling her suitcase after her, and when Valkyrie looked back, Crux was gone.
“Who was that?” her mother asked.
“No one,” Valkyrie answered quickly. “Wrong house.”
Her mother nodded, then saw a passport on the table beside her. She shouted up the stairs. “Desmond, I found your passport. Time to go.”
Valkyrie opened the door wide, like she was making room for her mother’s suitcase. She stepped out of the house and looked around, making sure Crux couldn’t be seen.
Her dad came down the stairs, picked up the passport and opened it. “This isn’t mine,” he said. “This belongs to an ugly man wearing a stupid expression.”
Valkyrie’s mother sighed. “Get in the car.”
“This is my anniversary gift to you,” he protested. “And that means I’m in charge.”
“Get in the car.”
“Yes, dear,” he mumbled, picking up his bag and shuffling out the door. He stopped to give Valkyrie a hug and winked at her. “You behave, OK? And be nice to your cousins. God knows someone has to be.”
He continued on and her mother came next, giving her a hug and a kiss.
“Beryl is expecting you for lunch,” she said. “It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”
For a single moment, Valkyrie managed to push all thoughts of Crux out of her mind. She looked at her mother and wished she could warn her of what might be coming.
“Hope you have a great time,” was all she could say, and she watched her parents throw their bags in the back of the car and reverse out of the driveway. Her dad was driving and her mum was waving. Valkyrie forced a smile on to her face and returned the wave until the car was out of sight.
Then she broke into a sprint.
It was a few seconds before she became aware of Crux behind her. She turned sideways, slipping between a fence post and a wall, to run across the grassy embankment that bordered a field of cauliflowers. She heard the fence rattle and glanced back in time to see him squeezing through.
Valkyrie left the embankment and ran across the field. Her feet were heavy, her trainers picking up great clumps of muck. It wasn’t easy keeping her balance, but she used to do this all the time as a kid – her friends and her, racing each other home from school and taking all the short cuts imaginable. There was a certain kind of rhythm required to traverse the deep cauliflower drills – a rhythm that Crux didn’t have. He had only crossed ten drills when a thick stalk snagged his foot and he sprawled into the dirt.
“You’re under arrest!” he screeched.
By the time he had pushed himself up, Valkyrie was halfway across the field. Running like this, with her feet so heavy and having to lift her knees so high, was rapidly draining her energy. She turned and ran up one of the drills, heading for a break in the hedge. She looked back and saw Crux go sprawling once again.
She reached the edge of the field and ran straight for the gap. When she was eight, she had tried this jump and had ended up waist-deep in ditchwater, her skin slashed by thorns and briars. But that was a long time ago.
She pushed at the air behind her to add distance to her leap, and landed on the other side, her tired legs stumbling slightly.
This field was mercifully free of cauliflowers, and Valkyrie ran diagonally across it. By the time she hauled herself over the gate to the narrow road on the other side, she was exhausted. She looked back, saw Crux jump the ditch and then stagger to a halt, bending over with his hands on his knees. He looked like he was about to collapse.
She scraped her feet against the ground, shaking loose the remaining clumps of muck, and took off, heading away from town. She needed somewhere quiet and isolated to hide, and then she’d call Skulduggery and get him to pick her up. She really wanted to be there when he got his hands on Crux.
She reached the part in the road where it split into two, heard an engine and looked back. A black van had stopped by the gate, just as Remus Crux was climbing over it. Even from this distance, Valkyrie could see the state of him – covered in muck from head to toe. He was saying something, gasping out his words probably, to whoever was inside the van, and then the side door opened and a Cleaver got out.
“Oh hell,” Valkyrie breathed.
Crux pointed and the Cleaver’s grey helmet turned to look at her.
She ran.
She knew Cleavers were fast, but she had never been chased by one before. He was like those athletes she’d seen on the Olympics, the 100-metre sprinters, and he got faster and faster as he came. She’d never outrun him, and if she tried to fight him, she feared he might use the scythe strapped to his back.
A tractor with a rotovator attached rumbled out from a nearby field. Valkyrie ran to it, relief washing over her. Cleavers were the Sanctuary’s police and army rolled into one, and she knew they would be more mindful of alarming civilians than Crux seemed to be.
The tractor stopped and the farmer got out. She knew him – he was a friend of her dad’s. He stepped between the rotovator and the tractor and tightened the chains that connected them. She checked behind her, but the Cleaver had disappeared.
“Heya, Steph,” the farmer said when he saw her, half smiling and half frowning at her filthy jeans and trainers. “What have you been up to?”
“Hi, Alan,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I’m just out for a run.”
“Ah, I see. Right then.” Satisfied that the chains were tight enough to stop the rotovator from swinging as he drove, he wiped his hands on his trousers. “It’s just you’re not exactly dressed for a jog, are you?”
“It was a spontaneous decision. Didn’t really think it through.”
“That’s what I said about marrying Annie,” he nodded. “Everything’s OK, is it?”
“It seems to be,” she said.
“Your folks away for the weekend?”
“They just left.”
“And you’re in trouble already?”
“What’s new there?”
“You got me. You’re sure everything’s OK?”
“Apart from the fact that I’m staying with Beryl for the weekend,” Valkyrie said, “yes, everything’s fine. You headed home? Give me a lift as far as Main Street?”
“What about your run?”
“Running’s overrated.”
“Climb aboard,” he said and the grin was just spreading across Valkyrie’s face when she heard the black van behind her. She went cold as it stopped and Crux got out.
Alan looked at him, at the muck on his clothes and the anger in his eyes, and then stepped in front of Valkyrie.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“You can get out of my way,” Crux snarled.
“Your van can get past my tractor. The road’s not that narrow.”
“Your tractor’s not in my way, simpleton, you are.”
Valkyrie couldn’t believe this was happening. This was against every rule she had been taught.
Alan looked at Valkyrie. “This guy the reason you decided on that run, Steph?”
“I don’t know him,” she lied. “Never seen him before.”
“Would you do me a favour, Steph? Would you call the police?”
“I’m a detective,” Crux snapped, stepping forward, and Alan hit him – slugged him right across the jaw.
“You stay away from the girl,” Alan said evenly as Crux retreated, his eyes blazing.
Valkyrie grabbed Alan’s arm, holding him back. “It’s OK,” she said quickly. “We should just go. Can we go? Please, I just want to go.”
“If I were you,” Alan said to Crux, “I’d get out of town now. I don’t ever want to see you back here. Do you understand me?”
Crux glared at him. As Alan turned away, Crux snapped his hand against the air. Alan slammed into the side of the tractor and collapsed on the road. Valkyrie screamed and darted to him, but there was a flash of grey and her arm was twisted behind her. She fell to her knees even as the shackles closed around her wrist, and before she could react, both hands were cuffed.
The Cleaver hauled her to her feet.
“You can’t do this!” she yelled as a second Cleaver knelt by Alan. He checked for a pulse and nodded to Crux.
“He’ll regain consciousness in a few minutes,” Crux said. “And hopefully, he’ll have learned a little lesson.”
“You attacked a civilian!”
“He attacked me. I have witnesses.”
“You used magic on him,” she seethed, “when his back was turned. You coward.”
Crux sighed. “I was doing my duty. If a civilian gets hurt or, heaven forbid, killed during the pursuit of a fugitive, then the blame lies with the fugitive.”
“Wait till Bliss hears about this.”
Crux took hold of the shackles and twisted them savagely. Valkyrie yelled in pain.
Crux leaned in. “You may think Elder Bliss will come to your aid, but he is a very busy man, and sometimes my reports get mislaid on the way to his desk. There is every possibility that he won’t even know you’ve been arrested.”
“You’re going to regret this,” Valkyrie said. “I swear to God, you’re going to regret this.”
“I doubt that,” Crux said as he marched her to the van and threw her in. “In fact, if your capture leads me to Skulduggery Pleasant, I might even get a promotion.”
He slammed the door, shutting out the sunlight.