He had to admit, that had been fun.

Tenebrae wasn’t a sadistic man, but the look on Valkyrie Cain’s face and the pain in Skulduggery Pleasant’s voice were just… delicious. He had been carrying that secret around with him for centuries, had come close to spilling it a few times before this. But he was glad he hadn’t. It was like an itch that you put off scratching – when you eventually did scratch, it was so much more satisfying.

His mood didn’t last, however. When he got to his office, Vandameer Craven wasn’t waiting for him as he had instructed.

Enough was enough. Tenebrae was sick of Craven and the ridiculous serenity that seemed to have washed over him overnight. He was sick of everyone treating the spineless worm like he was some kind of holy man with the ear of the messiah. Craven was still a Cleric, and Tenebrae was still the High Priest, and the natural order of things would be restored.

So Tenebrae sat behind his desk, his temper boiling the longer he was made to wait. When his door finally opened, he had to force himself not to jump up and throttle the man.

“Cleric Craven,” he said, “so good of you to grace me with your presence.”

“My apologies,” Craven said, bowing. “Our younger Necromancers are understandably nervous. They needed someone to reassure them that it was all going to be OK.”

Tenebrae frowned. “And that someone was you, I take it?”

Craven smiled. “I go where I am needed.”

“Take me to her,” Tenebrae said, standing up.

Craven raised an eyebrow. “Your Eminence?”

“Take me to the Death Bringer, Cleric. It’s time I spoke with her.”

“Ah, unfortunately, I cannot. She is to remain undisturbed.”

“I am the High Priest, Cleric Craven. You do not say no to me.”

Something flickered in the Cleric’s eyes, something Tenebrae had never seen in those eyes before, and then it was gone. “Of course. Once again, my deepest apologies. I will take you to her at once.”

Tenebrae stalked out of the room. Craven followed him through the corridor, struggling to match Tenebrae’s long stride. The satisfaction Tenebrae derived from robbing Craven of his newly acquired dignity was a petty kind of satisfaction, but it was satisfaction nonetheless, and it made the corners of his mouth want to lift in a smile.

Things got even better when they reached the bowels of the Temple. Tenebrae gestured to Craven to lead the way to whichever chamber held Melancholia, but if the Cleric thought this would mean that he could dictate the walking pace, he was sadly mistaken. Tenebrae walked so quickly that Craven had to virtually scamper ahead of him lest Tenebrae tread on the hem of his robe. More than once, Tenebrae managed to stand on the trailing material, and Craven’s head would jerk back with a strangled gag.

Finally, they came to a door, and the childish fun and games were over. Craven opened the door wide and Tenebrae swept by him. Melancholia St Clair lay in a hole in the ground, filled to the brim with mud. Her robes lay beside her. Her eyes opened to watch the two men enter. If she was surprised, it didn’t register on her face. She remained where she was.

“Melancholia,” Cleric Craven admonished. “The High Priest has entered the room.”

“I can see that,” Melancholia said. “Surely you don’t expect me to stand?”

“That will not be necessary,” Tenebrae said.

“Valkyrie Cain is here, isn’t she?” Melancholia asked. “And Skulduggery Pleasant.”

“Yes,” Tenebrae said. “How did you know?”

“I can feel them,” she said. “I can feel their energy. They are not happy, are they? She is angry, and scared, and hurt.”

“I would say that she is, yes.”

Melancholia smiled. “Glorious.”

“How are you feeling, my child?”

She looked at him. “I’m tired.”

“Are you hurt? This is a healing mud you are in, is it not?”

“It’s regenerative,” Craven said quickly. “It fills her with energy and—”

“I know what regenerative means,” Tenebrae interrupted. “And I was asking the girl.”

Melancholia closed her eyes and let her head loll back gently. “The girl has a name.”

Tenebrae paused. “What was that?”

Her eyes were still closed. “I said, the girl has a name. Melancholia. Death Bringer. You can use either one. But you can’t call me ‘the girl’.”

“I am the High Priest of this Temple, young lady. I can call you whatever I choose.”

One eye opened, and she squinted up at him.

“I asked if you were hurt,” Tenebrae continued. “I expect an answer.”

The girl sighed. “Sometimes I burn. It’s not nice. It hurts. The mud makes it feel better.”

“Burn? Why do you burn?”

“Because of my scars.”

“Ah yes, the scars. I’ve been meaning to ask about those.”

Craven stepped forward. “I can explain to you—”

“I want her to do it. Melancholia?”

“He carved symbols on to me,” Melancholia said. “It took months. It was painful. But it needed to be done. I was the Death Bringer, and I needed my power. It’s all worth it now. Every moment I spent screaming. It’s worth it.”

“Then it’s true,” Tenebrae said, turning to Craven. “You carved her up to loop the Surge, didn’t you? That’s why she needs to recharge constantly.”

“I did what had to be done,” Craven said primly.

Tenebrae grabbed him, shoved him back against the wall. “You arrogant fool. That level of power isn’t natural for her. There’s no telling what will happen.”

A fit of anger overcame the Cleric, and he struggled to break Tenebrae’s grasp. Were he so inclined, Tenebrae would have found such a display of impotent fury fascinating. As it was, all he felt was disgust. He released his hold, wiping his hands on his robe as Craven stumbled away from him.

“I did what had to be done!” Craven shouted. “I did what you didn’t have the imagination to do!”

“She can’t be relied upon,” Tenebrae said. “There’s no telling when she’ll be back to full strength. There’s no telling if she ever will. She is not the Death Bringer!”

Something came at him, something dark and terrible, and it hit him and Tenebrae spun head over heels through the air. He crunched into the wall and dropped to the stone floor. Agony raced from his shoulder across his chest. A collarbone was broken. Maybe a rib. Hissing in pain, he looked over at Melancholia, standing there, the mud dripping off her.

“I am the Death Bringer,” she said calmly. “I’m the one you’ve all been waiting for.”

His vision dimmed suddenly. “No,” he whispered, and then his life was dragged from his body.