Death Bringer. Derek Landy

She was lying on her back. Her body was numb. Unresponsive.

      She heard footsteps. The Warlock. Walking slowly. Dragging his feet. Getting closer. He came into view. His hair clung tight to his scalp. He was sweating. He held his hands away from his body, the fingers curled painfully. He looked weak. He looked drained. He looked hungry.

      With much effort, the Warlock straddled Valkyrie, sitting on her belly, a bent knee on either side. The wounds on his hands were trying to close, but they were too great. The Warlock didn’t move for the longest time. He was gathering his strength. Valkyrie tried to move, but she couldn’t. She tried to speak, but she couldn’t do that, either.

      The Warlock licked his dry lips, pulled them back off his teeth. He did that a few more times, and every time he did it, his mouth widened. His jaw clicked and cracked. His teeth darkened. He was getting ready to eat.

      In her mind, Valkyrie screamed and raged. She kicked and punched and fought. In her mind, she reached up and raked the eyes of the Warlock, gouging them from their sockets. She clawed the Warlock’s face, leaving bloody furrows in the skin.

      But her body did none of that. Her body lay where it was. The Warlock was going to eat through her flesh to her soul, and by the looks of it, Valkyrie was going to be alive when it all happened.

      She felt something. A tingle in her right boot. Her big toe. She could feel her big toe. She wriggled it, tried to get the feeling to spread.

      A finger now. The middle finger on her left hand. Tingling and buzzing. Pins and needles. Lovely pins and lovely needles.

      She could feel the Warlock’s weight now. Her hip buzzed, the buzzing travelling slowly across her waist. The Warlock knew none of this. The Warlock just sat there, licking his lips and widening his mouth. The teeth looked bigger, darker, stronger. They looked like teeth that could tear through bone and gristle.

      Valkyrie’s own lips were burning as sensation flooded back into them. Her nose was itchy.

      The Warlock’s mouth stopped widening. The process was complete. The Warlock was going to eat, before feeling returned to Valkyrie’s arms and legs. The Warlock bent down, the huge mouth wide open, and Valkyrie sat up and crunched her head into his nose. He gagged, dropped back a little, shaking his head, eyes closed, too stunned to react properly. She did it again, the pain exploding through her skull, and this time the Warlock toppled backwards. She shifted her hips to the side, managed to get to her knees, tried to run but collapsed. The Warlock roared in pain and anger. His hand closed around her ankle and he pulled her to him.

      Skulduggery grabbed him from behind, wrapping him up in a sleeper hold and hauling him to his feet. The Warlock’s huge mouth snapped and snarled.

      Valkyrie fumbled clumsily for the handcuffs she kept on her belt. Moving unsteadily, she fell against the Warlock. He tried to bite her, but she swayed away from him, grabbed an arm and clicked the handcuff around his wrist.

      The Warlock gasped as his magic was bound. His mouth shrank. Skulduggery threw him against the wall and stomped on his knee. The Warlock howled in pain as Skulduggery cuffed the other hand.

      Valkyrie’s knees gave out, but Skulduggery grabbed her, stopped her from falling.

      “I’m all tingly,” Valkyrie said.

      “I have that effect,” Skulduggery responded.

      “You won’t stop us,” the Warlock snarled from the ground. “My brothers and sisters will be coming for you.”

      “Lots of people are coming for us,” Skulduggery told him. “We’re very unpopular in certain circles. Evil circles, you know. But your brothers and sisters are very far away, and it’s going to take a while for them to even hear about this, so they don’t really concern us right now. The only thing we care about is finding Dragonclaw. If you can help us do that, we’d be willing to make a deal.”

      “You cannot bargain,” the Warlock said. “It is too late for that. Too late for you. I will be avenged.”

      Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. “We hit you a few times. Is there really a need to be avenged for a few slaps?”

      The Warlock managed a smile. “Look out for us,” he said. “We’re coming.”

      He contorted in pain, eyes screwed tightly shut. When he opened them, yellow light spilled out.

      “Uh-oh,” Skulduggery said. He scooped Valkyrie into his arms and they flew, the wind in her hair, landing behind the Hyundai as more light burst from the Warlock’s screaming mouth. Skulduggery pulled Valkyrie down behind cover and there was an explosion of blinding yellow light – and then nothing.

      Valkyrie blinked rapidly, trying to get her vision back. She felt Skulduggery stand up, and she did the same. “What happened?” she asked.

      “He’s dead,” Skulduggery answered. “Some kind of Warlock self-destruct thing. It must have been triggered the moment his powers were bound.”

      Her sight was returning to her, and she looked over at where the Warlock had lain. Now there were only his empty clothes.

      Skulduggery called the Sanctuary, then searched through the Warlock’s clothes while they waited for back-up to arrive.

      “Nothing,” he said. “No receipts, no ticket stubs, no clues.”

      “Warlocks, eh?” Valkyrie said, watching him.

      “Warlocks are dark sorcerers on a dark path. They eat the souls of their enemies to absorb their strength. I haven’t gone up against them in … a long time. I didn’t think there were any left.” Skulduggery picked up his hat and put it on. “During the war, Mevolent tried to form an alliance with them. He sent a squad of his best people to open negotiations, and they were never heard from again.”

      “And yet we just took down one of them,” Valkyrie said. “They don’t seem to be that tough. Apart from the nearly killing us bit. Do you think there’ll be more?”

      “Eventually. Not for a while. If we’re lucky. This is the second time Dragonclaw has got away from us, though. First the Jitter Girls, now a Warlock. He really is breaking all the rules.” Skulduggery looked up. “Still, maybe this will convince the Elders to take the Necromancer threat seriously.”

      Valkyrie frowned. “You don’t think they do already?”

      “Not really, no. Neither does anyone else. All the Sanctuaries around the world are either too busy with their own problems or they’re preparing to battle this oh-so-mysterious Darquesse. If the Death Bringer was seen as a threat, we’d have teams from twenty different Sanctuaries storming the Temple as we speak.”

      “Maybe that means the Passage won’t be a bad thing, then. Maybe it will save the world.”

      Skulduggery shook his head. “Paul Lynch had a vision of something that got him killed. This ridiculous Dragonclaw person isn’t covering up that trail for the fun of it.”

      “Then maybe the other Sanctuaries are just hoping that Lord Vile carries out his threat and kills the Death Bringer.”

      “Very likely,” Skulduggery said.

      Valkyrie hesitated. “Do you think he’ll come after me, like he told you he would?”

      “That was before,” Skulduggery said. “That was when everyone thought that you were going to be the Death Bringer. Now that we actually have one confirmed, all his attention will be focused on her.”

      “Lucky, lucky Melancholia. You’re sure about this, though?”

      “I’m sure. Killing you won’t help Lord Vile achieve his aim.”

      “Do you have any idea why he’s so keen to stop the Passage from happening?”

      “I don’t,” Skulduggery murmured. “It must be important, though, to bring him back like this. I thought he was gone for good.”

      “Guess