Читать книгу Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 10 - 12 - Derek Landy - Страница 49

Valkyrie’s throat was raw, her mouth haunted by the bitter aftertaste of the dried leaves she’d been given to ease the pain of the gunshot wound. Her leg was stiff, but numb, and already healing. She was so incredibly tired, though – like she’d already burned through a day’s worth of energy.

“It’s temporary,” she said to the room. “It’s temporary.”

And it was. It was temporary. Smoke’s corruption, it hit and overwhelmed and then it faded. She hadn’t lost him. Skulduggery wasn’t gone. Not forever.

She lowered her hands, looked at them while they trembled. She’d get him back. She didn’t give a damn what Lethe or the anti-Sanctuary wanted out of all this, but she was going to stop them and get Skulduggery back, and the corruption would fade and that’d be that. Easy. Simple. Straightforward.

She forced herself to breathe deeply, to calm down. Eventually, her hands stopped trembling.

“Can’t leave you alone for a second, can I?” Darquesse said, walking in.

Valkyrie ignored her, and carefully swung her injured leg off the bed.

“It’s true, then? He really has turned?” Darquesse asked, and sat on the bed beside her. “You must be terrified. Are you? You must be. You’re all alone now.”

Valkyrie experimented with putting some weight on to her foot.

“He shot you,” said Darquesse. “He actually shot you. Yes, he’s under the influence of a bad, bad man, but even so – that has to sting, doesn’t it? The fact that he is fully capable of hurting you? You’ve gone all this time thinking the bond between you was so strong it would survive anything … but he fails at the first real test of your friendship.”

“He hasn’t failed,” said Valkyrie.

“Tell that to your leg.”

“And our friendship has been tested before.”

Darquesse dismissed the notion with a wave. “You mean when you found out that he was Lord Vile? That’s nothing. He sinned. Sins are committed in order to be forgiven. But this … this was a real test.”

“Don’t you have someone else to haunt?”

Darquesse smiled. “Just you. So do you think he’ll go after Alice? Do you think he already has her?”

“He won’t. He told me.”

“You believe him?”

“Skulduggery wouldn’t lie to me.”

“So he’d shoot you, but not lie to you? Well, I suppose boundaries are important.”

“He doesn’t want me distracted,” Valkyrie said.

“Who’s distracted?” Reverie Synecdoche asked, walking in.

Darquesse moved out of the way and Reverie walked right by her.

“I am,” Valkyrie said. “Sorry. Just talking to myself.”

“First sign of madness,” Reverie said. “Can you stand?”

Valkyrie pushed herself off the bed. Her leg didn’t buckle, but Reverie was too busy making notes to notice her grimace.

“The scar should be gone completely in two or three days,” she said. “You’re lucky the bullet didn’t nick an artery, though. It could have been a lot worse.”

“Hear that?” Darquesse said. “You’re a lucky girl.”

Valkyrie stuffed her feet into her trainers and crouched to tie the laces. Her jeans were new. The old ones, bloodstained, with the left leg slit up the middle, were in a plastic bag somewhere, waiting to be thrown out or burned or whatever it was they did with ruined clothes here in Reverie’s clinic.

“I don’t know why she bothered, though,” Darquesse continued. “Wouldn’t it have been better to just let you die? I mean, it’s not like Skulduggery is not going to kill you. Your death is as inevitable as it is imminent.”

One of the nurses passed in the corridor and Valkyrie straightened and focused her attention on Reverie. “Clarabelle not working here any more?”

“Fine,” Darquesse sighed. “Ignore me.”

“Clarabelle?” Reverie said, finally looking up. “No, no. She’s busy being the worst bartender in the world. She stares into space half the time and for the other half cannot, for the life of her, remember what anybody ordered.”

“Everyone’s thinking it,” Darquesse said. “I’m just the only one brave enough to say it.”

“How are Scapegrace and Thrasher?” Valkyrie asked.

Reverie shrugged. “They come in here two or three times a year and I sew bits of them back on. Thrasher is still besotted, Scapegrace is still oblivious, and Clarabelle loves them both without measure. The pub’s quiet, but does OK. Thrasher is surprisingly good at bookkeeping, as it turns out.”

“I’m glad,” said Valkyrie, pulling on her coat. “I’m glad things are working out for them.”

“The doctor raises an interesting point, though,” Darquesse said, folding her arms. “About talking to yourself being the first sign of madness. Maybe you are mad.”

“By the way,” said Reverie, “I got a call from the High Sanctuary enquiring as to why you were not availing yourself of their medical facilities. I get the impression that Supreme Mage Sorrows would rather you spend your time where she can keep a closer eye on you.”

“I’m sure she would,” Valkyrie responded. “Thank you, Reverie.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” Reverie said, and Valkyrie shook her hand and limped from the room.

“Maybe you should ask her to take a look at your head,” Darquesse said, trailing after her. “Perform a brain scan or something. I just don’t think you’re playing with a full deck of cards, that’s all.”

Valkyrie limped on. Darquesse stayed right behind her.

“Let’s face it, you’re not exactly a poster child for mental health, are you? A great big chunk of who you are split off from you and killed 1,351 innocent people. You yourself murdered your own sister. And now look – you’re being haunted by the ghost of your own split personality.”

“You’re not a ghost,” Valkyrie muttered.

“No one else can see me, can they? They can’t hear me or touch me. So I’m either a ghost or a hallucination. I think it’d be better for you if I were a ghost.”

Valkyrie turned to her, glaring into the smirk. “You’re not a ghost and you’re not a hallucination. I know exactly what you are.”

“Oh, really?” Darquesse said. “Well then, what am I?”

“You’re a bit of her,” Valkyrie said. “You’re a splinter of the real Darquesse. What, you really think I wouldn’t have worked it out? You’ve been hanging around me for five years.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a stray thought she left behind,” said Valkyrie. “She abandoned you, and you don’t have the power to go after her. You barely have the power to exist.”

“That’s a cosy explanation,” Darquesse said. “I bet it’s more comforting than the idea that you’re going insane.”

“Maybe I can see you because we’re connected, or maybe it’s because I can see across the magic spectrum. I don’t know. But what I do know is that you’re flesh and blood. You’re not a figment of my imagination and you’re not a symptom of my insanity. You want to know how I know?”

“Dearly.”

Valkyrie punched her, snapping her head back, buckling her legs from under her.

“See?” Valkyrie said, looking down at her. “Real.”

Valkyrie left her there.

Around the corner and halfway down the next corridor, she pushed open a door and stepped in.

Fletcher lay sleeping, hooked up to an IV and a monitor. He was pale. His hair, distressingly, was sensibly brushed back from his forehead. He looked almost respectable, like someone who hadn’t known him had prepared him for his coffin.

Valkyrie realised her hands were shaking. She clenched her fists to stop it.

For five years, she hadn’t had to visit anyone in hospital. For five years, she’d been away from beatings and stabbings, from murders and plots. She hadn’t missed any of it, and yet she’d come back. She’d walked back into this world of violence and pain and death and suffering, and she’d done so fully aware of what could happen. She couldn’t explain why.

“Hey,” Fletcher said. He was smiling.

She walked closer. “How’re you doing?”

“Good.” His voice was weak. “But the knife did a lot of damage, so I have to stay very still for everything to settle back into place. I am so incredibly bored.”

“I’d say so.”

“How are you? I heard what happened to Skulduggery.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m OK. I’ll get him back.”

“I don’t doubt it. Who was it stabbed me?”

Valkyrie sat on the chair beside his bed. “His name is Nero. A Teleporter. I don’t know how he did it, how he followed you. I’ve never even heard of that before.”

“Me either,” Fletcher said, “and I’ve read practically every book written about Teleporters. Not that there are many. There are, like, four.”

“You’ve read four books?”

“I’ve changed,” he said, and smiled again.

“Thanks, by the way,” she said. “For coming to get us like you did. You saved our lives.”

“I’d blush, but I doubt I have enough blood for it. Besides, I didn’t have a choice. The call came in that Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain were in trouble and what was I going to do, ignore it? You were my first love. I had to go charging to the rescue.”

“My hero.”

“Yeah, I’m awesome. Hey, hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you look … sad.”

“I’ll be fine. Skulduggery being gone … it’s temporary. That’s all.”

“He’ll come back to you,” said Fletcher. “If anyone can snap him out of whatever it is that’s affecting him, it’ll be you.”

“Yeah.”

“How you doing, Val? Really?”

She looked away, then back. “Not good,” she said.