Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 1 - 12. Derek Landy

had come off and Jack looked at the holes where his eyes should have been.

      “I don’t like being used,” Jack said.

      “If I’d apologised before, would you still have kicked me off the roof?”

      “Probably.”

      “Figured as much.”

      Sanguine struck out with his leg, his boot cracking into Jack’s knee. He rolled up and launched himself forward, forced Jack against the wall, driving in punches. Jack’s hat fell.

      Sanguine punched and Jack ducked. Sanguine’s knuckles hit the wall and he howled. Jack shoved him away, giving himself enough room to manoeuvre, and he jumped and kicked, and Sanguine went sprawling.

      “You can’t beat me, Yank,” Jack snarled.

      “Yanks are from the North,” Sanguine muttered, getting up. “I’m a Southern boy.” He came forward again and Jack ducked and dodged, flipping himself sideways. Sanguine growled in frustration. Jack smacked him and gave him another kick in the head, and once more Sanguine hit the ground.

      Jack looked down at him. “So where is he? Where’s Vengeous?”

      “Ain’t here right now,” Sanguine said, not trying to get up.

      “It’s just you and him, is it? You and him and that thing?”

      “We got vamps too. You know Dusk?”

      “Met him in London once. He didn’t realise the rooftops was my patch. We got into a bit of a scuffle, you might say.”

      Sanguine sat up and groaned. “Well, I’d love to watch you two kill each other, but he ain’t around either. He’s off on one of his vendettas, goin’ after a girl in Haggard.”

      “You used me, Sanguine.”

      Slowly, Sanguine reached out, picked up his sunglasses and got to his feet. “You came all the way to Ireland to berate me, that what you did?”

      “I came here to find out what you’re up to.”

      “And then what?”

      “If I don’t like it? I’ll stop it.”

      Sanguine’s sunglasses were back on and he laughed. “That critter out there, that’s what we’re up to. You wanna stop that? You go right ahead, my ugly little friend.” The ground at Sanguine’s feet started to crumble. “Go back to London, Jack. You can’t do anythin’ to hurt us here. We’re too strong, buddy. What could you possible do to upset our plans?”

      Sanguine grinned, and he lowered into the ground and disappeared.

      

      alkyrie checked that her parents had gone to the reunion and the house was empty, then she walked outside and waved. The Bentley drove up, Skulduggery got out, and together they lifted the reflection’s body out of the boot and carried it into the house and up the stairs.

      They positioned the reflection in front of the mirror and then let it drop gently forward. It passed through the glass, slumping to the mirrored room within. After a moment, the reflection stirred and stood up. It turned to them, its face placid and blank. Valkyrie fought down an irrational feeling of guilt for what they had put the reflection through. She started to imagine that it had a reproachful look in its eyes. She reached out, touched the glass and the reflection’s memories swarmed into her mind.

      She clutched her chest and took a step back. “Oh God.”

      Skulduggery steadied her. “Are you OK?”

      “I just remembered what it was like to be shot.”

      “Was it fun?”

      “Amazingly, no.”

      She stood up straighter. The reflection in the mirror was normal now. “I’m all right. I’m good.”

      “Then I shall leave you. You’re going to have to walk to the golf club, I’m afraid. But don’t worry, we’ll be watching.”

      “What if I go to the reunion and Dusk doesn’t fall for the trap? Then we’re all just wasting our time.”

      “This is the only option we have, Valkyrie. Are you going to wear a dress?”

      “Are you sure I can’t go like this?”

      “He’ll be cautious enough as it is. You have to appear completely unaware.”

      “Fine,” she growled. “A dress.”

      “I’m sure you’ll look lovely,” Skulduggery said as he left the room.

      She called after him. “If anyone starts a sing-song at this thing, the world can fend for itself, all right?”

      She heard his voice as he walked down the stairs. “That’s fair.”

      Her eyes narrowed. The reflection’s memories had mixed with her own, sidled into position like they always did, but there was something else now. A feeling. She shook her head. The reflection was incapable of feelings. It was a receptacle, a thing that absorbed experiences, ready to be downloaded. There were never any feelings, any emotions. Valkyrie wasn’t even sure if this new thing was an emotion. It hovered in her mind just beyond her reach. Whenever she focused on it, it scattered.

      No, it wasn’t an emotion, but it was something. Something she couldn’t pin down. A black spot in her memory. Her reflection had hidden something from her.

      This, Valkyrie thought to herself, is probably not a good sign.

      There were more here than she had expected. They filled the function room almost to capacity – people talking and laughing and shaking hands and hugging. Aunts and uncles and cousins of every degree, adding to the cacophony of chatter that came at Valkyrie like a wall of sound, slamming into her the moment she opened the door.

      Most of these people she didn’t know – she’d never seen them before, and would never see them again. It didn’t exactly fill her with regret. She doubted she was missing out on anything spectacular.

      Her dress looked nice, she had to admit. It was black and pretty, but she couldn’t get comfortable. If Dusk did fall into the trap and try to attack, she’d regret not wearing trousers and boots, she knew she would.

      “Stephanie?” She turned. The man was in his forties. His comb-over was neither subtle nor successful.

      “It is Stephanie, isn’t it? Desmond’s daughter?”

      Valkyrie drew a smile on to her face. “Yep,” she said. “It’s me.”

      “Ah! Wonderful!” the man said, grabbing her into a hug that lasted two uncomfortable seconds. He released her and stepped back. The sudden movement had dislodged his comb-over. Valkyrie thought it polite not to mention it.

      “Last time I saw you, you were knee-high to a grasshopper! You must have been, I don’t know, four? You were tiny! Now look at you! You’re beautiful! I can’t get over how much you’ve grown!”

      “Yeah, nine years’ll do that.”

      “Bet you don’t remember me,” he said, wagging his finger for some unknown reason.

      “You’re right,” she said.

      “Go on, have a guess.”

      “I have no idea.”

      “Go on, rack your brains, try to remember!”

      “I