Seasons of War, page 18
“The mortals have weapons we don’t.”
Mulct laughed. “Mortal weapons! Little more than spears and rocks! Valerie, you seem like a fine girl, and, to be one of Mevolent’s chosen few, I’d say you’re a fearsome warrior. But you’re young, so allow me to reassure you, as an ugly old man who’s been around a few years – victory is already ours. That world is already ours. Half those billions are already dead, and the other half are our slaves and they don’t even know it yet.”
“What the hell’re you two gabbing about?” Hapathy growled, staggering up beside them with a crate pulling at his fingers.
“How easy it’ll be to conquer the world of the mortals,” Mulct said, helping him lower it. “There. That the lot of them?”
“Unless any more crates have grown out of the splinters in the cart, yes. We’ll need to load the empties, though.”
Mulct winced. “Could you manage that? Only I got that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing. The thing I got. With the lady. The baker.”
“What thing?” Hapathy asked, frowning. “What baker?”
“The lady baker,” Mulct said, glancing at Valkyrie and blushing. “Me and the lady baker. The thing. I told you.”
“You told me nothing. You’re just trying to get out of work.”
“I told you!” Mulct said, getting angry now. “About the lady baker! And me! Me and the lady baker! I told you! I bloody well told you!”
“Ohhh,” said Hapathy. “The lady baker. Yeah, yeah, I remember. You better be off, so, or you’ll be late. Lady bakers don’t like to be kept waiting.”
Mulct glowered at him, then turned to Valkyrie, and smiled. “Would you mind helping this eejit load up the cart and take the empties back to the storehouse? I can’t trust him to do it himself, you see.”
“You go on,” Valkyrie said, smiling. “I’ll help him out.”
“Much obliged, Valerie. Much obliged.”
Off he went, and she looked at Hapathy and Hapathy looked at her, and he tried smiling. “Well,” he said, “let’s go, then.”
She hadn’t spent any time alone with Hapathy before. Mulct was a different prospect. She had her issues with him, but get him talking about anything other than mortals and he was fine, easy-going company. Hapathy was infinitely surlier.
She was not relishing the awkward silences to come.
They loaded the cart with empty crates and Valkyrie sat beside Hapathy as he took the reins. The two old horses did their duty without complaint, and most people had the good sense to step aside the moment they saw them approach. Those who were slow got shouted and cursed at by Hapathy until the path was clear. Valkyrie just raised her face to the sun and thought of Militsa.
They got to the storehouse and took the crates into the stifling gloom. By the time they were done, Valkyrie had built up a good sweat.
“Well,” said Hapathy, “thank you kindly for the help, there.”
“Sure thing,” she said. “And now I hear a bath calling my name.”
He frowned. “You hear baths speak?”
“It’s an expression. It means I want a bath.”
“Oh. Right.”
“See you tomorrow, maybe.”
He nodded to her, and she walked for the door. He was close behind her. Very close.
She sensed movement and something dropped past her eyes. Without thinking, her right hand shot up, fingers curling around the wire just as it tightened over her throat.
Hapathy dragged her backwards. Valkyrie’s legs kicked as she tried to stay upright. The wire bit into her neck, bit into her fingers. Blood ran down her arm, ran down her sleeve. The only sound she could make was little more than a gurgle. Couldn’t breathe.
She got her feet under her, but Hapathy abruptly changed direction and she was being dragged again, across the room. Her free hand clutched uselessly at whatever she passed. The pain in her fingers was white-hot. They were going to come off. Her fingers were going to come off.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a wooden beam. She twisted, got a foot to it, and sprang off. Hapathy grunted, couldn’t take her sudden weight. They fell. On impact the wire loosened.
Valkyrie tore it from her throat and sucked in a breath as she squirmed round and sank her teeth into his neck. He screamed, tried to push her off. She tasted blood. Holding her ruined hand close to her chest, she reared up and crunched her forehead into his face. He wriggled and shoved and she fell sideways. He rolled over, whimpering, on to his hands and knees. Valkyrie was already standing.
She lashed a kick into his ribs as he tried getting up. Something cracked and he howled. She kicked him again and he scuttled backwards, one arm out to keep her away. She ignored it, went to kick again.
It was a trick. He had a knife in his other hand and when she stepped in he lunged, his face contorted in hate behind all that blood. They tottered back, the blade trying to get through her suit. He stabbed at her torso, realised it wasn’t working and went for her head instead. Valkyrie looped her good arm over his, held the blade tight to her side while he did his best to pull it back. It was all she could do to hang on. Her right hand was useless. She just needed a moment to focus.
Hapathy slammed her head against the wall. His knife hand was free. He slashed at her and the blade opened up her cheek. She tripped over something and went down and as he loomed over her all she could do was kick frantically upwards. Purely by chance, her boot connected with his jaw and he took a step and fell to his knees.
She lay there, panting for breath. She didn’t want to look at her right hand. The pain was excruciating and she could feel her fingers hanging off. She raised her left hand. Lightning hit Hapathy and flung him to the far side of the room.
“Skulduggery,” she muttered, getting up and stumbling to the door. “Skulduggery.”
Saracen took her to the nearest healer. When the receptionist told them they’d have to pay to be put on the waiting list, Saracen kicked down the office door and dragged the healer out.
“Her hand,” he snarled. “Fix it.”
“There’s a list!” the healer squealed. “I can see your friend in four days!”
Saracen grabbed the healer’s head, turned it towards Valkyrie. “Look at her fingers,” he said. “You think they’re going to still be there in four days? Fix them.”
The healer whimpered, and shuffled forward, and cupped Valkyrie’s hand in both of his. She resisted the urge to latch on to his power and do it herself, and endured another few moments of pain before his hands started glowing. Once they did, the pain faded almost immediately.
As he fixed the cut on her cheek, she flexed her hand. “Thank you,” she said.
The healer got to his feet and smoothed down his jacket. “Emergency medical procedures cost twice the usual—”
“Send the bill to Mevolent,” said Saracen, and escorted Valkyrie back to the gaol.
When they returned, Hapathy was still in the chair in which he’d been dumped, but he wasn’t wearing any shackles.
“Uh, what’s going on?” Valkyrie asked.
Skulduggery turned to her. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”
“I really don’t think I can be blamed for this,” Hapathy said. “I believed you when you said you were Mevolent’s people. That can’t be my fault, can it? It was your lie. My only crime was believing you.”
Valkyrie frowned. “You’re with the Resistance?”
“Yes.”
“So … what? You’re undercover? For how long?”
Hapathy frowned. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Undercover,” Dexter said. “A double agent. A spy.”
“Oh,” Hapathy said. “I’ve been a spy for the last twelve years, more or less – passing information back to the Resistance, warning them of upcoming raids, stuff like that.”
“Is Mulct a spy, too?” Skulduggery asked.
“No, but it’s important if you’re … what did you say? Undercover? It’s important if you’re undercover to work alongside someone who won’t shut up. I’ve found that Mulct talks so much that by the time people get to me they don’t care to ask me any questions.”
“I have a question,” Valkyrie said. “Why’d you try to kill me?”
Hapathy winced. “I’m very sorry about that, I really am, but, like I said, I believed you when you told us you were delivering Serpine to Mevolent. I just couldn’t let you take him.”
“Your loyalty warms my heart, my friend,” Serpine said from his cell.
Hapathy frowned at him. “I don’t give a damn about you. I just couldn’t let Mevolent ask you any questions. From all the stories I’ve heard, you’d tell him every last thing you knew to save your own life.”
Serpine didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he shrugged, and said, “Still.”
“So what was the plan?” Valkyrie persisted. “Kill me, then work your way through us all?”
“Yes. I would have just come straight here to kill Serpine, but I knew the lady with the sword was keeping an eye out.”
Serpine scowled. “You’d have killed me?”
“To stop you from talking.”
He grunted. “I don’t like you any more.”
“Are there any other spies in the city?” Skulduggery asked.
Hapathy nodded. “Some, but I don’t know who they are. It’s safer that way.”
“Does the Resistance have any Teleporters? We need to get to Tahil na Kurge.”
“Why? What are you …?” Hapathy’s eyes widened. “You’re here to kill Mevolent, aren’t you? That’s wonderful! That’s amazing! Can you do it?”
“We wouldn’t be here if we couldn’t.”
“I’ll set up a meeting!” Hapathy said, delight spreading across his face. “It’ll take a day or two, but I can take you back outside the walls and you can meet the Resistance leaders. They’ll be thrilled to hear this!” He turned to Valkyrie. “Once again, I am so incredibly sorry for trying to kill you.”
“No need to apologise,” she said, sighing. “Everyone tries to kill me eventually.”
Never was sitting on Omen’s bed and Omen was pacing. Actually pacing.
“They said I had an easy life,” he said. “No, no – a blissful life. They actually said that. They said I’ve been coasting along all this time, pretty much riding on Auger’s coat-tails. Carefree! That’s something else they said! They said my life was carefree!”
Never frowned. “They do know you were right there with us at the naval base, right?”
“I thought they did!” Omen said, raising his hands to the ceiling. “But it seems I was wrong! I think they block out anything to do with me whenever Auger’s involved, that’s what I think. ‘Both of your sons have been involved in foiling a plot to take over the world!’ ‘One of our sons, you say? How proud we are of our Chosen One!’”
Omen collapsed into the chair.
“That was good,” said Never. “I like how you mimed the voices with your hands.”
“Did I? I didn’t even notice.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “It wasn’t very good. None of this is Auger’s fault, though.”
“I know,” Omen said wearily. “I’m just angry.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just … I think this is the first time you’ve admitted that your folks can be irritating.”
“Is it?”
“Whenever I’ve brought it up in the past, your natural instinct has always been to defend their honour. This is good. This shows you’re growing as a person.”
Omen sat up straighter. “Like, I wouldn’t want you to think they’re bad parents, or anything.”
“Stop,” said Never. “Do not make excuses for them. You’re always making excuses. Take this opportunity, take this conversation, to vent those frustrations. It might even be good for you.”
“I’m not sure I know how.”
“You were doing fine a second ago.”
“A second ago, I didn’t realise that that’s what I was doing.” Omen rubbed his face. “OK. Let’s see. My parents are … not perfect.”
“Good start,” said Never, nodding her approval.
“They can be overly … harsh. And, I suppose, dismissive.”
“OK.”
“And sometimes I think they don’t love me.”
Never didn’t say anything.
“But I’m probably wrong,” said Omen. “In fact, I know I’m wrong. Of course they love me. They might not like me, but they’re contractually obliged to love me.” He gave a weak laugh.
“Continue,” said Never.
“They’re just so focused on Auger that they’ve forgotten I matter. Or maybe I don’t matter to them. Maybe it’s that simple. I don’t know.”
“Pretend I’m your therapist,” Never said, lying back on the bed. “Tell me about your parents.”
“I think I’m supposed to be the one lying down,” Omen pointed out.
“I’m a tired therapist. I’ve had a long day of telling people to tell me things. Your parents, Mr Darkly.”
Omen took a breath, and blew it out. “They’re disciplined,” he said. “Disciplined and intelligent. And ambitious. They’re kind of the opposite of me.”
“This is true,” said Never, her eyes closed. “Keep going.”
“Emmeline knew she was born to be the mother of the Chosen One. Her family had heard the prophecy and they’d figured it out, knew it would be one of the daughters. It was, obviously, Emmeline, and when she met my dad she told him that they were destined to be together, so, of course, they got together. They were immediate, like, celebrities.”
“Ah, the glitz and the glamour of sorcerer celebrities,” Never said, her eyes still closed, “where only a few people in the world even know you exist.”
“Yeah, well,” said Omen. “They were talking to me about building up Auger’s brand, you know? But I think they put even more effort into building up their own brand. The fabulous Darkly family – starring Emmeline, Caddock and Auger. Featuring Omen, sometimes.”
Never smiled a little at this.
“I think they’re freaking out,” Omen said. “This is … What do you call it when you project your feelings about something on to someone else? What’s that called?”
“Projection,” said Never.
“That’s it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“They’re projecting their own insecurities on to me because I’m the easy target, and it stops them from having to focus on themselves. That’s what they’re really scared of. They’re terrified of being suddenly irrelevant, of nobody caring who they are or what they think. They can probably see their careers about to slip away because they’re so, like, closely identified with the Darkly Prophecy that, when it’s over, they won’t have anything left.”
Never cracked open one eye. “And so what are you going to do about all of it?”
“I don’t know,” Omen admitted. “Not much, I expect. They’re my parents. What can I do?”
“True dat.”
“I could run away. Maybe I should run away, change my life, do something that means something. Something that changes things.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Like invent something?”
“Probably not.”
“You’ve never been much of an inventor.”
“I’m not sure where this inventing thing started.”
Never sat up. “You could write a play about your life.”
“Would you go and see it?”
Never lay back down. “Don’t like plays.”
“This is pointless anyway,” said Omen. “I’m not going to do anything. I’m going to complain to you until you tell me to stop, then I’m going to go back to my life and continue as normal, and pretend that my parents actually care.”
Never leaped up. “You’re depressing me,” she announced. “I come here to chat and gossip and laugh at you, not to hear serious stuff about serious things.”
“Sorry.”
She looked at him. “You don’t have to apologise to me,” she said. “Now come on, hug it out.”
“What?”
She opened her arms. “Hug. Every great therapist ends their sessions with a hug.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“Hugging is important, Omen. You’re never fully dressed without a hug. Come on. Just one.”
Omen grinned, came forward, and, right before they hugged, Never teleported away.
Omen stood there, arms out, embracing nothing but air. “Uncool,” he said.
There were only a few places Sebastian could hang out these days. His house – which was now occupied by a pregnant god; with Bennet and the others – where he’d be plagued by questions about the pregnant god in his house; or up on a roof somewhere, all alone with his thoughts – which usually revolved around the pregnant god in his house.
Eventually, he decided to accept his fate, and just went back to the house with the pregnant god.
Darquesse stood by the mirror in the hall, turning, examining herself from different angles. She was showing now. It didn’t look like she was pregnant, though. It was like she’d eaten too many pies in one sitting.
Sebastian missed pies. He missed food. He also missed going to the toilet. The simple things in life.
“You could go back to it,” Darquesse said.
He realised she was looking at him. “Sorry?”
“You could go back to your life,” she said. “You just have to take off the suit you wear and you can walk away from all of this.”
“I wish you wouldn’t read my mind.”
“I know you do.”
He sighed. “Anyway, I can’t walk away. I have a mission.”
“Your mission was to find me and bring me back. You’ve done that. Your mission is over.”
He shook his head. “It’s more complicated than that. At least I … I think it is.”
