she said at last.
“You think so?”
“You’re hitting all the right angles,” Panthea said, nodding.
“Well, your arms are phenomenal.”
“Yeah,” said Panthea, “but it’s hard to find clothes that fit.”
“Oh, God, I know.”
“I’m confused,” said Reign. “I thought you two were gonna fight.”
Panthea hesitated, then glanced at her boss. “I don’t think I can, Mr Reign. I like her.”
“Awww,” Valkyrie said, “thank you. I like you, too. I’m looking for a gym to train at here in Roarhaven – where do you go?”
“Fit to Fight, down on Ascendance Street.”
“Hey,” said Reign, “I go there. I don’t want her at my gym.”
Valkyrie and Panthea ignored him.
“Actually,” said Panthea, “I only work doors part time – the rest of my day I spend down there as a personal trainer, so …”
Valkyrie bit her lower lip. “Do you think you could fit me in?”
“Definitely.”
Reign stood up. “OK, what the hell is going on?”
“We’re flirting,” said Valkyrie. “This is what flirting is, Christopher.”
“Panthea, you can’t flirt with her,” Reign said, scowling. “She’s an Arbiter and a … a customer.”
Panthea frowned. “Is she a customer if she hasn’t even bought a drink?”
“You have a boyfriend, Panthea.”
“So what?” Valkyrie said. “I have a girlfriend. Doesn’t mean we can’t indulge in a little harmless flirting.”
“Yeah,” said Panthea, “lighten up, Christopher.”
Skulduggery finally stood. “This night has not gone the way I had envisioned,” he said. “Mr Reign – the whereabouts of Doctor Nye?”
“I don’t know,” Reign said, all trace of good humour having left his eyes. “I don’t know where that freak is, and I don’t care. If it did come up with the Splashes – and I’m not saying it did or that I’d even know if it did – then it took its money and it departed without leaving a forwarding address.”
“And how did you contact the good doctor in the first place?”
“I told you, I’m not a criminal. But if I were a criminal, which I am not, then I’d still have nothing to tell you because it would have come to me with the proposal.”
“I see,” said Skulduggery. “Valkyrie, do you have anything to add?”
“Yeah,” she said, and pointed to a man sitting at a table nearby. “That guy.”
The man paled instantly and sat up straighter.
“You’ve been pretty handsy with the wait staff,” Valkyrie said, walking over. “A little pat on the backside here, a little pinch there.”
He shook his head quickly.
Valkyrie loomed over him. “You think that’s a nice thing to do?” she asked. “You think that’s acceptable?”
The man cleared his throat. “I … I …”
“Stand up, please,” Valkyrie said.
The man hesitated, then stood.
“You mind if I give you a little pat?” she asked, and she slapped him, the heel of her hand crashing into the hinge of his jaw. He went up to his heels and toppled backwards, unconscious before he hit the ground.
“Aw, man,” said Reign. “You can’t do that. Panthea, she can’t do that to a paying customer.”
“The paying customer assaulted staff,” Panthea said without moving.
“If you see Doctor Nye, please let us know,” Skulduggery said, picking up his hat and walking to the door.
“Be sure to tip your waitress,” Valkyrie said to the rest of the patrons, joining Skulduggery on his way to the exit. Panthea came up behind her, handed over her jacket. Valkyrie slipped it on, gave Panthea a wink and left.
“That,” Panthea said once the door had closed, “was pretty badass.”
“You’re mad at me,” Valkyrie said as they left the bar.
“I’m not mad at you,” Skulduggery replied.
“I made the situation worse.”
“Reign didn’t know anything that could help us. We knew that was a possibility before we set foot in the place.”
“I nearly started a fight.”
“You did technically assault a man.”
Valkyrie scowled. “Not him. Panthea. I almost started a fight with Panthea. I wanted to. I wanted to smack someone.”
“You certainly managed that.”
She stopped walking. It was a cold February night. They were saying it might snow. “There’s something wrong with me,” she said.
Skulduggery turned to her. “Yes. You’ve got a serious case of humanity. I’m afraid there’s no cure.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Neither am I,” Skulduggery said, and put his arm round her, pulling her into his chest. “You’re coping as best you can with Alice’s situation, but you’re angry. Not with me, because no one could be angry with me, but with others. And yourself.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now? Alice’s ‘situation’?”
“What would you prefer to call it?”
Valkyrie didn’t know. She doubted she could find a pithy way to encapsulate the killing of her own sister and the subsequent damaging of her soul. She shrugged. “Alice’s situation is fine,” she murmured, sagging against him. “But how are we going to find Nye now? We found it back in September when we weren’t even looking for it – but now, when we need the bloody thing, it’s vanished off every radar we can think of.”
“We’ll
