Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 1 - 12. Derek Landy

not some mindless drone, Valkyrie. Everything you see around you? All this death and madness and mayhem? The end of the world that’s about to happen? That’s all my work.

      “When I was a young man, Trope Kessel told me all about the gateway, and I knew I had my chance. I brought the Diablerie back from nothing, and they were only too eager to accept me as their leader. For I had vision, and I could get information no one else could.

      “Sorcerers would tell me their biggest secrets – do you know why? Because I’m a mere mortal. Because they are far too arrogant to think that a mortal could pose a threat to gods like them.

      “I was in their homes dozens of times before I killed them, drinking their tea and chatting and feeding their cats while they were away. The sheer domestic mundanity of it was appalling.

      “Even you and the skeleton were fooled. I didn’t know precisely where the gate would open until you brought the boy in to find it for me. Thank you for that, by the way.”

      A wave of dizziness swept over her and Valkyrie stumbled. The knife jabbed, but her coat protected her. Batu was smiling as he closed in.

      She kept away. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

      “Magic,” he said. “My father was a sorcerer. So was my brother. But not me. I just didn’t have that spark, you know? But now, finally, it’s my turn.”

      She shook her head. “You’re either born with it or you’re not. You can’t be given magic.”

      “There are ways around everything.”

      Valkyrie saw the glint in his eyes and she suddenly understood. “You’re going to offer yourself as a vessel.”

      “Oh, you are clever.”

      “You’re going to let a Faceless One take you over.”

      “And then I’ll be brimming with magic that ordinary sorcerers would never even dream about. They’re not gods, Valkyrie. They’re as pathetic as the people you left behind in your old life. But me? I’ll be a true god.”

      “But it won’t be you. Your personality will be wiped clean. Even your body will be changed. You’re not ever going to know what it’s like to use magic.”

      “I’ll know,” said Batu softly. “There will be some part of me that stays, some part of me that joins with the Faceless One. I know it. I’m strong, you see? I was born without magic. I’ve had to be strong. My will is iron. I’m not going to be simply erased – not like the others.”

      Valkyrie frowned. “You’re offering up the rest of the Diablerie as vessels too.”

      “I didn’t want the Dark Gods wasting their time by seeking out suitable candidates. I just decided to make it easy for them.”

      He came in again. Ignoring the pain from the cut, she smashed her elbow into his face, then grabbed his wrist with both hands and twisted.

      Batu rammed his shoulder into her. They crashed back against the wall and he got his hip against her and flipped her to the floor. He was an old man, but he was strong, and fast. Refusing to let go of the hand with the knife, she kicked at his leg and it buckled. She spun on her back and jammed her boot into his other leg. He collapsed on top of her and she raised her knee to meet his face.

      The knife clattered to the ground and she rolled out from under him, kicking the weapon out of his reach. He spat teeth and blood and she moved to kick.

      But he was faster than she’d anticipated. He hooked her kick to the outside and over his shoulder, and he rose and grabbed her jacket and she was lifted off the ground. He carried her backwards and slammed her on to the table. Valkyrie grabbed the Sceptre with her left hand and he grabbed her wrist, keeping it away from him. Black lightning turned a part of the ceiling to dust.

      She turned the Sceptre towards him, but his hand moved from her wrist to the Sceptre itself, and once again, he diverted her aim. A section of wall crumbled.

      Batu pressed against her, forcing the black crystal around. It glowed and spat lightning, hitting the corner of the table. The table collapsed and they fell, but their positions didn’t change. Batu was still on top, and the Sceptre was now pointed directly at Valkyrie.

      His face was frozen in a mask of hatred and determination. “End it,” he muttered through clenched and bloody teeth. “Save yourself the pain of watching the world die.”

      She hit him in the ribs with her free hand and he grunted. She hit him again, but his grip didn’t weaken. She tried pushing at the air, but nothing happened, and then she felt the gold ring on her finger.

      The ring was bound. It had to be.

      She curled the tip of her thumb against it. It was tight, but it moved, down her finger, and then she flicked it off and immediately felt the air against her palm.

      She clicked her fingers and summoned a flame that burned fiercely into Batu’s side. He screamed and thrashed and dived off her, trying to smother the flames on his shirt. He scrambled up and fled, out through the hole in the wall.

      Valkyrie turned over and got up. She had a massive headache and there was blood running down her face, but she seemed to be otherwise OK. She went to Tanith and moved her on to her side, into the recovery position they’d been taught at school, and once she’d done that, she realised that she wasn’t holding the Sceptre any more.

      She looked back, scanning the ground desperately, but it wasn’t there. Batu had taken it. Cursing, she ran through the hole after him, catching a glimpse as he disappeared into the trees.

      Valkyrie tore after him.

      

       atu led that wretch of a girl through the trees and then changed direction, keeping low. She had broken his nose and some of his teeth, and his left side was badly burned, but he couldn’t afford trivialities like revenge. Not now. He hid and watched her pass, then dug a shallow hole and dropped the Sceptre in it. He covered it with earth and leaves and doubled back.

       When he reached the yard and saw the massacre, he laughed.

       A dozen Cleavers were already dead. They littered the ground, an ill-made carpet of broken bodies and blood. The Faceless One, its clothes burned and torn and hanging in shreds, its face blank and smooth and terrifying, walked slowly through them.

       A trio of Cleavers lifted into the air, and their bodies folded back on themselves and caved inwards. Their remains dropped, forgotten about. More Cleavers, their grey uniforms splattered with the blood of their colleagues, attacked with unceasing determination, but the blades of their scythes merely bounced off the skin of their enemy.

       Batu turned as Murder Rose ran up to him and gripped his arm. “What have you done?” she raged. “You told us these marks would protect us! You said they’d shield us!”

       “They are not shields,” Batu said, his voice calm despite the exhilaration he was feeling. “They are invitations.”

       Rose stared at him, and then turned and sprinted away. Batu watched her disappear into the trees.

       A torrent of impossibilities flowed after her, making the trees creak and sway. He heard her scream, and then there was silence.

       There was one more god out there, and Batu went to find it.