then Caelan was gone from Valkyrie’s side. There was a crash and she whirled. Moloch had Caelan by the throat, pressing him up against the far wall.
“You led them here,” Moloch snarled. “You led them to my home, you ignorant pup. I should rip your head off right now.”
Skulduggery had his hands in his pockets, seemingly unperturbed by the possibility.
“We forced him to bring us here,” Valkyrie tried.
Moloch tightened his grip and Caelan kicked uselessly, but then he released him. Moloch turned.
“Valkyrie Cain,” he said, wiping the spittle from his lips. “Two years ago you killed my Infected brothers. You led them into the sea, so I hear.”
“I jumped into the sea,” Valkyrie responded. “It’s not my fault they jumped in after me.”
“You misunderstand, young one. I’m thanking you. If they’d been allowed to turn, one of them would probably have gone on a rampage through the city, or been caught on camera, or been seen doing something. It would have been disastrous for us.
“Creating new vampires is an art form. The Infected have to be contained, trained, taught how to behave. They’re not zombies, for God’s sake. But Dusk views them as an army, not family.”
“He sent fourteen fresh vampires into the Sanctuary last night,” Skulduggery said.
“Is that so?”
“You didn’t hear?”
“I sleep late. What makes you think I’ll help you anyway? We’re not all tortured souls like Caelan here pretends to be. I don’t work with sorcerers. And I sure don’t work with Sanctuary agents.”
“You’ve been wondering how to solve a problem like Dusk for a long time. Every morning you’ve been waiting for an opportunity to come knocking on your door. Well, we knocked.”
Moloch considered. Behind him, Caelan stayed flat against the wall, staring at the back of Moloch’s head like he was boring a hole through it.
Moloch pulled back the rug, revealing a steel trapdoor. It was big and round, and looked heavy, but Moloch opened it without difficulty. Valkyrie and Skulduggery stepped to the edge and peered into the gloom.
“It’s where we keep them,” Moloch said. “You’d be surprised how many people living in these buildings want to be like us. Strength, speed, long life and no magic required. Just a bite. Or maybe you wouldn’t be surprised. Poverty, unemployment, no prospects, no self-respect – what else is there to aim for? The point is, being a vampire is just like any other attractive employment opportunity – there are a lot of people applying for a small number of places.
“So whenever we need more, we gather the applicants together, take a little bite and dump them down this hole. For two days they fight among themselves. Whoever is left at the end, once the infection is complete, joins the family.”
“And the rest are slaughtered along the way,” Skulduggery said.
“Darwinian in its simplicity, don’t you think?”
“How does this help us find Dusk?” Valkyrie asked.
“One of my potential brothers down there was not infected by us – he was infected by one of Dusk’s vampires. He saw their lair before he managed to escape and come here.”
She frowned. “How do we ask him?”
“You’re going to have to do that in person,” Moloch said, and moved. He crashed into Skulduggery, sending him hurtling off his feet. Caelan came forward and Moloch threw him across the room, then he grabbed Valkyrie.
“By killing those Infected,” he snarled, “you did us a favour. Thanks for that. But I can’t let that crime go unpunished.”
She raised her arm, but he was already pushing her and she cried out as she fell into the hole. She twisted as she fell, hands out against the darkness, dropping through another hole in the next apartment. She felt pressure on her palms as the floor rushed to meet her and she pushed against the air. Her descent slowed and she got her feet under her, landing in a crouch.
Dim light drifted from low-wattage bulbs, illuminating faded wallpaper, ratty carpet and not much else. She’d fallen from the thirteenth floor, through the twelfth, and now she was in the eleventh. Moloch had already closed the trapdoor above her, sealing her in. Valkyrie focused and tested the air, feeling movement around her. She was not alone.
She stepped back against the wall, saw a gap that had been knocked out of it and slipped through. There was another gap ahead, and through the murk she saw yet another beyond that. Every apartment on this floor was clumsily linked together, and by the looks of it, every door and window was bricked over.
No, she told herself, not every door. There would be one door, undoubtedly steel and locked from the other side, that allowed the last vampire standing to get out of here.
She just had to find it.
There was a snarl, somewhere to her left. A flurry of movement and a man darted into the light, and she pushed at the air and caught him just as he jumped at her. She spun, gripping the shadows and punching them into the chest of the woman coming up behind her. Then she ran.
She jumped through a hole in the next wall, straight into the arms of another Infected. His mouth was open, sharpened teeth diving for her throat. She slammed her forehead into his face and he howled in pain and dropped her. She staggered, dazed, knocking against a small table. Her hand found a lamp and she swung it into his head. The light exploded and darkness swarmed around them, but she was already pushing by him.
There were three Infected waiting for her. She clicked her fingers and set fire to a sofa, then sent it hurtling towards them. The Infected dodged out of the way and she ran by, through a door into a dark kitchen, out through the wall, tripping over herself and stumbling into the next apartment’s bedroom.
Something rushed her and for a moment she flew through empty space. The wall smacked into her and as she fell, she saw the man lunging at her again. She tried to push at the air, but he grabbed her wrist. He squeezed and the pain brought her to her knees. His other hand lifted her and he whirled, sending her through into the living room. She landed on a table, scattering whatever junk had been piled on top of it, and rolled off.
Another one grabbed her. Valkyrie jammed her forearm into his mouth as he tried to bite her, forcing his head back, and with her free hand she sent a half-fist into his throat. He gagged and fell away, and a weight landed on her. She went down and a fist cracked against her cheek and the world spun. She covered up as the Infected sent punches raining down on top of her, her coat sleeves absorbing much of the punishment. The others would be coming. If she stayed down for any length of time, they’d be all over her.
She clicked her fingers and thrust a handful of flame into the Infected’s face. He screeched and recoiled. She pushed at the air and he was flung back, crashing his head into the wall. She got up. Through the gloom she saw more of them running in. This wasn’t going to work. Skulduggery could have battled his way to the door, but she wasn’t Skulduggery. She needed a new plan.
“Stop!” she shouted.
Amazingly,
