Skulduggery Pleasant_ Death Bringer - Derek Landy [157]
Valkyrie sighed. “How long before it starts?”
“Ten minutes.”
She opened the car door. “I’m going for a walk.”
“You better not be late.”
She grinned. “Would I do that to you?”
She got out, and the Bentley moved on. She crossed the street. There would be enough hand-shaking and polite smiles as it was – she didn’t need to turn up early and subject herself to more.
“Here she is,” said a voice from behind her, “the hero of the hour.”
She turned, watching warily as Solomon Wreath approached, his cane tapping the pavement. “Are we going to start fighting?”
“Why ever would we do that?” he asked, smiling.
“I’d say I’m not the Necromancers’ favourite person right now.”
“Oh,” he said, “that. That’ll pass, Valkyrie. You’ve got nothing to worry about – the Order poses no threat to you. Especially here in Ireland. The Temple is empty. The Elders say they’re going to tear it down, or convert it into something that could be used by the Sanctuary. I’d say such a move would be sacrilegious, but no one would care.”
“I certainly wouldn’t.”
“There you go.” He sighed, and looked at her. “How is our little Death Bringer, anyway?”
“Unconscious,” Valkyrie said, “and she’ll remain that way for a long time. Doctor Nye induced a coma. It was the safest thing to do, apparently. Her power was surging and looping and going nuts. She could have gone off at any time.”
“Gone off ?”
“Like a bomb, Nye said. Like a small nuke, in fact. All that uncontrolled magic just… exploding. Scary stuff. And all because of you and your friends.”
“Craven was not a friend.”
“I meant Necromancers in general.”
“Oh. Then yes, it was all our fault. But look on the bright side. Nobody died.”
Valkyrie frowned. “Lots of people died.”
“But nobody you like. Everyone at the Ball got up and walked away, didn’t they?”
“I suppose. Scapegrace got his head chopped off, though.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“You don’t have to. I don’t really like him, anyway.”
“See? Happy endings all round. Any word on Vile?”
Valkyrie shook her head. “He disappeared. Hasn’t been seen since.”
“Melancholia must have really thrown him about the place. O’Connell Street is in ruins.”
“Yeah,” Valkyrie said, “she must have.”
“Your friend Scrutinous has undoubtedly been working overtime to keep the truth of what happened out of the news reports.”
“Ruptured gas mains are terrible things.”
“Makes you wonder, though, with all that damage, why Vile didn’t just kill her.”
“He didn’t have to. He’d sabotaged her power. He didn’t need to do anything else.”
“But this is Lord Vile we’re talking about. He’s not the kind to leave jobs half done.”
Valkyrie shrugged. “Well, the next time I see him, I’ll ask him, OK? And what are you going to do now? Join a Temple in England? America?”
Wreath hesitated. “The Order isn’t too keen on taking me back, actually. Even though I’ve been exonerated of all wrongdoing, they feel my presence might tarnish their good standing in the rest of the world, or what there is of it. They’d rather everyone just forgot about the Passage for a few years. I don’t really see that happening, but Necromancers have a proud history of sticking their heads in the sand. No, Valkyrie, I’m basically going to walk the earth. Walk from place to place, meet people, get in adventures.”
“Like Jules, in Pulp Fiction.”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Cool.”
“Or I could stay here, and you could continue your lessons in Necromancy…?”
“I’ll keep practising on my own, thank you very much.”
“You might need this,” he said, and tossed her a black ring, identical to the one Melancholia had destroyed. “It’s empty, and waiting for you to pour your magic into.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Giving up power like that?”
She looked away. “You have no idea.”
The Bentley pulled up beside them. Skulduggery got out.
“Detective Pleasant,” Wreath said. “All’s well that ends well, eh?”
“I don’t want to see you around for a while,” Skulduggery said.