“There were survivors when I arrived,” he told her, fixing the femur to his hip in that convenient, yet obviously painful, way of his. “This was the last world the Faceless Ones reached and they took their time with it. I got to know a couple of people before they were killed and I was captured. It took me a while to learn their language, but from what they told me, this was once a world full of magic. Then, 300 years ago, the Faceless Ones appeared.”
“But the Faceless Ones were expelled from our reality thousands of years ago.” Valkyrie went down the stone steps to the bone she’d glimpsed earlier. This was his other leg, and she scooped up a handful of what appeared to be toes.
“Ah, but this isn’t where the Faceless Ones were exiled to,” Skulduggery said as she came back up. “The Ancients expelled them from our world and forced them into a barren dimension. But the Faceless Ones escaped and tore through the walls of reality to a universe teeming with life. Over time, they decimated that universe, killing everyone, destroying suns, laying waste to whole galaxies. And when they were finished, they moved on.”
She gave him the pieces of his leg. “To another reality?”
“One after another, snuffing each one out as they searched for their way back home. 300 years ago they arrived here, and could go no further. They’ve been looking for a way off ever since.”
“Oh my God…”
“And all this time we thought the Ancients had exiled them to where they could do no harm. Countless trillions of beings, Valkyrie, killed because of us.”
She didn’t respond.
“If you’re real,” he said, “I know what you’re feeling. Guilt, yes? A tremendous sense of awful responsibility for something you had no part of. That was my reaction when I first heard the story. I didn’t know what to do. Maybe send each reality a card, with a little apology? Then, when the Faceless Ones found us and killed the others and took me, I finally realised that nothing good could come from pointless remorse and I got over it. The constant torture proved to be a good distraction.”
“Are you…OK?”
“Not even remotely.” He paused, halfway through putting his leg back together. “They haven’t killed me, and they haven’t taken my magic away, because every day they hunt me. They take turns, I think, in inhabiting Batu’s body. They track me down, I fight back, they win easily and they tear me apart. Yesterday, for instance, they pulled off my legs and wandered off with one of my arms. They leave me overnight to put myself back together, so that they can hunt me down again with their pets the next day. It is, as you can imagine, oodles of fun.”
“Well, all that’s over now. We have half an hour before the portal opens again and we’re going through. Come on.”
He looked up at her. “I’m missing an arm.”
“So?”
“You wouldn’t say that if it were your arm. I’m not going anywhere without my arm. Fetch me my limb and I’ll go through the imaginary portal with you.”
“Well, you can help me look for it,” Valkyrie said and reached for him. Her hand hit an invisible wall. “What is this?”
“Something I’ve been working on,” he replied smugly. “I’ve had a lot of time with nothing to concentrate on but magic. The Faceless Ones have no problems getting through this little wall of air, but for figments of my imagination like yourself, it’s quite tough. I’ve also taught myself a couple of other new tricks.”
“So you’re going to sit here while I do all the work?”
“Indeed I am. If I were you, I’d find the body that used to be Batu’s. If the arm is anywhere, it’s there.”
“Yes, I saw it. It’s outside, down a couple of streets. We could walk there and still be back in plenty of time for the portal.”
“And if you run, you’ll get it to me sooner.”
Valkyrie sighed and left him while he finished putting his leg back together, and a muttered rendition of ‘Dry Bones’ followed her down the steps. She hurried out to the red sky and retraced her path, guided by her footsteps in the sand. She wished she had a pair of sunglasses to offset the glare. Her arms were rapidly turning red under the sun, and she wondered how she’d explain sunburn in September to her parents.
The body sat where she had left it, head down and lifeless. She ran her tongue over her lower lip while she debated the best way to go about this, and then she kicked it in the head. When it didn’t try and grab her, she bent down, pulled Skulduggery’s arm from its clutches and then her ears popped. She staggered, feeling the goosebumps ripple. The inside of her mouth was tight, dry skin and her beating heart was the drum it was stretched across. She stumbled over the body and fell, and now she was crawling. Her head was filled with deafening whispers.
The Faceless Ones were coming.
She glanced around and Fletcher looked away, embarrassed.
“How long do you think she’ll be?” he asked.
China didn’t answer. She didn’t do small talk. He shrugged and nodded then stuffed his hands in his pockets. He all but started to whistle.
If she bothered with idle conversation, she would have told the poor boy that this thing with Valkyrie was never going to go anywhere, not when Skulduggery got back. Valkyrie’s life revolved around Skulduggery now – she was caught in his orbit, and someone like Fletcher didn’t stand a chance.
Skulduggery and Valkyrie were meant for each other. China could see that now. They were meant to find each other, to form this bond and to affect each other’s lives. The best the boy could hope for, the best anyone could hope for, would be to stand in the wings and look on.
A crescent tattoo faded up on China’s wrist and began to burn, signalling to her that someone had breached the perimeter alarms she’d installed.
“Stay here,” she ordered and strode off across the yard.
They came around the corner of the farmhouse – a Sanctuary agent she recognised as Pennant and four Cleavers. At a nod, the Cleavers ran at her and China tapped the symbols on her forearms and flung her arms wide. A wave of blue energy struck one of the Cleavers with full force and knocked him back. The other three were ready though, and they twisted into the wave, the magic rolling over their uniforms.
This was no mere arrest, she realised as she dodged the scythes. From the way they were attacking, the Cleavers had permission to use lethal force and they weren’t being shy about it. She knocked her fists together and the red tattoos on her knuckles became visible. She ducked a swipe and punched. On impact, the Cleaver’s head snapped around and he crumpled and didn’t get up. She caught the next one in the gut and he doubled over.
