or something.”
“Stephanie,” her dad said, “this room is a war zone.”
“I panicked. Dad, it was a bat. A massive one. I woke up and it was fluttering around the room, and I fell against my desk. It landed on the floor and I tried to push the bed over it. Then it flew straight through the window.”
Valkyrie hoped it wouldn’t register with her parents that all the broken glass was on the inside.
Her father sagged as relief spread through him. “I thought something awful was happening.”
She frowned. “Something awful was happening. It could have got stuck in my hair.”
After enduring another few minutes of her parents worrying about her, and checking her feet to make sure she hadn’t cut herself, her mother helped her set up the bed in the spare room and finally said goodnight.
Valkyrie waited until she was sure they were back in their own bed before she sneaked out of the window. She let herself drop, using the air to slow her descent. Her bare feet touched wet grass and she hugged herself against the freezing cold.
“He’s gone,” Wreath said from behind her.
She turned. Wreath stood, tall and handsome in a pale kind of way, dressed in black. He was as tall as Skulduggery, and as calm, but they shared other traits too. They were both excellent teachers. Skulduggery had taught her Elemental magic and Wreath was teaching her Necromancy, but they both treated her as an equal. Not every mage she met did that. Another one of Skulduggery’s talents that Wreath shared was the knack of arriving in the nick of time, for which Valkyrie was particularly grateful. “What are you doing here?” she asked. She didn’t thank him. Wreath didn’t believe in thanks.
His eyes gleamed when he looked at her. “I heard Remus Crux had been sighted in the area,” he said. “Naturally, I assumed he was coming after you. It seems I was right.”
“And why didn’t you tell me this?” Valkyrie asked, her teeth chattering.
“Bait doesn’t needs to know it’s bait. Crux might have sensed a trap and that would have sent him scurrying back into the shadows.”
“I don’t appreciate being bait, Solomon. He could have gone after my family.”
“He doesn’t want to hurt your family. We don’t know why he’s after you, but at least we now know that he is.”
Wreath wasn’t offering her his coat. Skulduggery would have done that by now.
“I don’t want this happening again,” she said. “My town is off-limits to this stuff. China Sorrows can put up symbols and sigils to make sure he can’t get into Haggard. Tomorrow that’s what I’m asking her to do.”
“Very well.”
“Solomon, next time something like this comes up, I’m expecting you to tell me about it before I’m attacked.”
He smiled. “I’ll try to remember that. It’s quite safe for you to return to your house. I’ll keep watch until morning.”
Valkyrie nodded and positioned herself beneath the spare room window.
“Oh, and the skull?” he asked. “Are you close to retrieving it?”
“We’re meeting the seller tomorrow.”
“And you’re sure he has the one you’re looking for? You’ve been disappointed before …”
“This time it’s different. It has to be.”
He bowed his goodbye then tapped his cane to the ground and invited the shadows in around him. By the time they had scattered, he was gone. It was a Necromancer trick, similar to teleportation but with far less range. It used to impress her. It didn’t any more.
She swept her arms up and a gust of cold wind lifted her up the side of the house. She climbed through the window and closed it behind her then wiped her feet on the carpet to dry them. She scrambled under the bedclothes and lay there, curled up in a shivering ball.
She didn’t get much sleep.
Valkyrie thanked her and hung up, then opened the wardrobe and touched the mirror. Her reflection stepped out then crawled under the bed to hide while Valkyrie dressed in her school uniform and went downstairs. It had been over a week since she’d joined her parents for breakfast and she was anxious to enjoy their company. She was also determined that today was the day she’d get Skulduggery back.
Her parents talked about the broken window – her father was confident he could replace the glass himself, but her mother wasn’t so sure – and then her dad announced his plans.
“I’m taking a half-day,” he said. “I’m off to meet a few clients, take them out for a quick nine.”
Her mother looked at him. “A quick nine what?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “It’s a golf term. Men my age say it all the time. I wanted to take them to the football final on Sunday, but golf this afternoon will have to do.”
“You don’t play golf,” his wife pointed out.
“But I’ve seen it on television and it looks pretty straightforward. Hit the ball with the thing.”
“Club.”
“What could be easier?”
“Your hand-eye co-ordination isn’t the best though, and you hate long walks and carrying things. And you also regularly say that you think golf is stupid.”
“Golf is stupid,” he agreed.
“Then why would you want to take your clients golfing?”
“Primarily, it’s the outfit. The V-neck jumpers with the diamond patterns and the trousers with the socks pulled up.”
“I don’t think people wear those any more.”
“Oh.”
Valkyrie often thought her parents were ideally suited to one another. She doubted that anyone else would be capable of appreciating just how odd they really were.
She finished her breakfast and went back to her room to change into her black clothes. The
