Death Bringer (5 page)

Chapter 5
The Jitter Girls

alkyrie and Skulduggery backed away from the window.

The first Jitter Girl approached in that awful, messed-up, stop-motion way, moving slowly, her face blank. She reached the wall and vanished, and was suddenly inside the cottage with them.

Skulduggery's hand closed around Valkyrie's wrist. “Don't move,” he whispered. “Don't look at her.”

Fighting the urge to run, Valkyrie stayed where she was and kept her eyes down. The Jitter Girl flickered into her peripheral vision. Her heart thundered in her chest like hoof beats. The Jitter Girl paused, maybe to examine the porcelain figures on the sideboard. Valkyrie's hair was wet. Her jeans were damp and her top was sticking to her. She was aware of all of this as she stood perfectly still. One of the Jitter Girl's sisters moved slowly by the window.

The Jitter Girl passed behind Valkyrie, out of her line of sight. Valkyrie had never wanted to turn round so much in her life. Goosebumps rippled her flesh.

There was a mirror on the wall. Valkyrie could see Skulduggery and herself reflected on the edge of the glass. Her mouth was dry. In the mirror, she saw a pale hand slowly reaching for her own.

Skulduggery grabbed her, twisted her away, the air rushing as they hurtled through the broken window without finesse. They landed in the mud and scrambled up, a Jitter Girl on either side. The Girls grew as they came forward. Every flash made them bigger, made them older, made their hair paler and wilder. Their faces changed, from pretty and blank to contorted and tortured. Lines appeared on smooth skin. Mouths opened, lips cracked and white teeth became yellow, became brown, became blackened, and still they came forward.

Skulduggery's gun went off, again and again, the bullets passing through the flickering creatures. Valkyrie hurled fire, threw shadows, but the Jitter Girls, all three of them now, advanced impervious.

Skulduggery was yanked from Valkyrie's side. One of them had him, her fingers pressing into his clothes, sliding between his ribs. He screamed.

Valkyrie lunged for him, but slipped, splashing down in mud and muck, her hair in her eyes, calling his name. And then one of them was right in front of her, standing over her, her hand pressed against Valkyrie's forehead, pressed into her skin. Valkyrie screamed as the fingers melted into her skull, poked through her brain. White daggers of blinding light seared across her mind. Her body seized up and her jaw locked. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think. Images played in darkness as the little girl-monster wriggled her fingers. Images and memories, sensations and emotions, mixing up, matching up, latching on to each other, splitting off from each other, and still the little girl-monster played, curious, sifting through the insides of Valkyrie's mind like she was looking for something, searching for someone, and she found it, found it waiting, found it watching. Found it ready.

Valkyrie went away, and Darquesse wrapped her hand around the little girl-monster's wrist and she crushed it as she pulled the fingers from her mind.

Darquesse stood, still holding on to the wrist. The Jitter Girl screeched and contorted and jittered, but her arm remained in Darquesse's grip. Darquesse watched her, fascinated. She poured magic out through her fingers and the little girl-monster returned to her normal size and screamed. It was like no human scream. It was like no animal scream. It was the scream of a creature who had never felt the need to scream before. It was new, and raw, a freshly born thing of exquisite agony and sudden, overwhelming fear.

Darquesse dropped her. Another was coming, jittering across the mud, eager to play, and there was so much magic in Darquesse's veins, broiling and coiling and boiling inside her, that she just had to share it. The power leaped from her hand in a twisting, turning stream, crossed the distance between them and washed over the Jitter Girl, taking her off her feet. Unable to escape the flow, the little girl-monster squirmed and kicked and writhed in the mud, and Darquesse increased the intensity until she became bored of the screeches.

She turned to the last little girl-monster, who held her gaze for a moment before releasing Skulduggery. He fell, gasping. The Jitter Girl returned to her normal size and shape, regarding Darquesse with those wonderfully blank eyes, then moved to the box. Her sisters dragged themselves, in that flickering manner, to join her, and one by one they climbed back inside. Once all three were in, the top of the box closed over.

Darquesse turned back. Skulduggery Pleasant got to his feet, his exquisite suit covered in muck. His hat was in the mud somewhere, and the rain ran off his gleaming head.

“Hello,” he said. “I've been waiting for you.”

Darquesse smiled, walking towards him.

“You're very impressive,” he continued. “That's a kind of magic I don't think I've ever seen, and I've seen every kind of magic. You are quite the curiosity, aren't you?”

Darquesse could have turned his bones to splinters where he stood.

“Is she in there?” Skulduggery asked. “Valkyrie? Can she hear me?”

Darquesse said nothing.

Skulduggery's head tilted. “Are you going to let her come back? That's her body you're wearing. That's her face you're using. You can't keep her sleeping for ever. It isn't your time yet. This is still Valkyrie's time. She gets to walk around. She gets to live. Not you.”

She could see his consciousness. It formed a shell around his skeleton, a shell of multicoloured lights. It sparkled prettily. This shell was how he thought. This shell was how he felt. When he had pulled himself back together, all those hundreds of years ago, he recreated himself in a form that only she could see. She reached out and gently dug her fingers into the shell of light. Skulduggery gasped and went rigid. She turned her hand, twisting his consciousness, feeling and understanding how she could tear through it or pull it away, shred it to pieces or turn it to vapour. What she held, buzzing, between her fingertips, was life itself. It was a wonderful thing, a glorious thing. She released him and he staggered back, but she was already forgetting he was there.

She rose off the ground, into the rain-filled air, floating high above the cottage. She could see across the countryside from here, to the city in the distance. She wondered how easy it would be to turn the whole city to dust. Probably not that hard. Not if she focused.

Somebody rose up to meet her.

“I want Valkyrie back,” Skulduggery said. “Give her back right now. I'm not going to ask again.”

Darquesse smiled at him. She liked him, she really did. He was unique. She didn't want to kill him. Not yet. Not when there were still ways for him to amuse her.

Darquesse went away, and when Valkyrie blinked her wet hair was in her face and she was falling to the earth.

“Bloody hell!” she hollered.

Skulduggery swooped down, caught her, held her close as he descended.

“No need to shout,” he told her.

She clutched him tightly. “What's happening? How'd we get here?”

“You don't remember?”

“How I got into the bloody sky? No, I don't bloody…” She trailed off. “Oh, wait. I do. It was her.”

“Indeed it was.”

She sagged in his arms. “Great,” she mumbled.

They touched down. Valkyrie swayed on her feet a moment then nodded, and they walked over to the wooden box.

“So that's it, then?” she asked, a headache starting up behind her eyes. “She can just come and go whenever she likes? Every time things get too dangerous, am I just going to Hulk out, change into the person who's going to kill the world?”

“I don't think it's quite so simple,” Skulduggery responded. “From what I could see, the Jitter Girl literally had her hand inside your head. That would shake
anything
loose. And I know you don't want to hear it, but Darquesse did save us.”

Valkyrie folded her arms, shivering. “You're right. I don't want to hear it.”

“
You
saved us, then. Does that sound better?”

Valkyrie glared at him through the rain. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“Yes, you did. You
are
Darquesse, Valkyrie. Darquesse isn't a different person, no matter how many times we talk about her like she is. At its simplest level, Darquesse is a state of mind.”

“I'm sorry?”

“She's you, without your conscience, or your feelings. She's you without your humanity.”

“You're saying she's a mood swing?”

He shrugged. “Or maybe you are
her
mood swing.”

“Don't even joke about that.”

Skulduggery picked up the wooden box and they started back towards the cottage. “I'm not joking. The fact is we have no way of knowing if the person who we
think
we are is at the core of our being. Are you a decent girl with the potential to someday become an evil monster, or are you an evil monster that thinks it's a decent girl?”

“Wouldn't I
know
which one I was?”

“Good God, no. The lies we tell other people are nothing to the lies we tell ourselves.”

“You have an amazing ability to depress me sometimes, you know that?”

“I try my best.” Skulduggery gestured, and his mud-soaked hat rose into his hand. He gazed at it forlornly. “How are you feeling?”

“Headachy. But fine. Bad man got away.”

“Yes, he did.”

“He killed Paul Lynch and now the little old lady Lynch confided in. Somebody doesn't want us to know anything about the Passage. You think he was a Necromancer?”

“Even though dressing in black is in no way an indication – yes, I quite do.”

She nodded. “Me too. Plus, he had a ridiculous beard. I should probably ask Solomon about him.”

“I should probably help.”

“No hitting.”

“A small amount of hitting.”

Fletcher lunged out of thin air before them, his eyes wide, fists clenched, ready to fight. He looked at them, spun round, spun back again.

“Where are they?” he asked.

“Back in the box,” Valkyrie told him. “Did you find out anything?”

“China wasn't at the library,” he said, the rain flattening down his hair. “Nobody there could help me. How did you beat them?”

“With unimaginable skill,” Skulduggery said. “Valkyrie, I've got a two-hour drive back to Dublin where dry clothes await me.”

She nodded. “I'll be ready.”

He walked to the Bentley. Fletcher turned to Valkyrie, hands loosely holding her arms. “I didn't want to leave,” he said quietly.

She smiled. “I know.”

“You should have come with me.”

“Let's not ruin a nice moment by arguing, OK?” She kissed him.

He sighed, and instead of rain on her face there was sunshine, and instead of being outside a small cottage with a broken window they were behind a tree in her back garden. “Much better,” she murmured. Dripping wet and covered in mud, she took Fletcher's hand and they stepped out from behind the tree.

Her parents, cousins, aunts and uncles, friends and neighbours, people she'd known all her life and people she'd never met stood around the barbecue pit and stared, their chatter dying away.

“Uh,” said Valkyrie.

Chapter 6
China's Secret

n Monday morning, China Sorrows walked the weed-strewn gap that led to the Church of the Faceless. She entered without knocking, found the head of this little chapel on his knees with his eyes closed, praying. A small man who greatly resembled a weasel – Prave, his name was. She didn't know his first name and she didn't care. She'd been here only once before, and by the time she left she had blood on her hands and a gun to dispose of.

“Curiosity,” she said, and Prave's bulbous eyes snapped open and he jumped to his feet. “That's what brought me here. Who, I wondered, would be audacious enough to summon
me
to a squalid little house of worthless worship such as this? Surely, I told myself, it can't be this man Prave, this snivelling little toad-person with a penchant for bad suits and terrible shirts.”

“What… what's wrong with my shirt?” he burbled in a Yorkshire accent, his voice a nasal whine that triggered a primal urge within China's psyche to hit something.

“It's orange,” she told him. “It can't be him, I thought. The man has no backbone to brag about, no spine to speak of. Who, then? Who is pulling the strings of the weasel-faced toad-person? So it is curiosity that brings me here, Mr Prave. Unveil your hidden master or risk me growing bored. I do terrible things when I grow bored.”

Prave stared at her with those round, wet eyes of his, and China heard slow, measured footsteps in the other room – high heels on wood. China knew who it was instantly.

Eliza Scorn walked through, dressed in black trousers and a jacket. She had left her long red hair to fall round her face, framing those cheekbones, those lips. Many men had fallen in love with Eliza Scorn, and then instantly forgotten her when China walked into the room. That was only the start of the animosity between them.

“China,” Scorn said, smiling.

“Eliza. What a surprise.”

“Please. I bet you've known I was back for months, haven't you?”

“I may have heard talk.”

“And you didn't try to get in touch? We could have met up, talked about the old days, traded gossip. Who's alive, who's dead, who's about to die, that kind of thing.”

“My apologies, Eliza. I've been very busy.”

“Of course, of course, with the library. I must call round, see how it looks. How have you been? You're still as beautiful as ever.”

“As are you, my dear. I love your shoes.”

“Aren't they delightful? I saw them and just had to have them. Their previous owner wasn't too keen to let them go, but I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”

“Is that her blood on the left one?”

“And no amount of scrubbing will get it out, either. I hear you are still a treacherous heathen, then? Your back is still turned to the Dark Gods?”

“Both firmly and resolutely. I met some of them, a few years ago. Not very nice, to heathen and disciple alike.”

Scorn shrugged. “If the Faceless Ones deemed those disciples to be unworthy, so be it. We'll just have to make sure that the rest of us are worthy of their love the next time they return.”

“The next time? Oh, my dear Eliza, you're not going to carry on with this, are you? The Faceless Ones had their chance. They returned, and they were sent away again. It's time to move on. Time to take up another hobby, like crocheting, or serial-killing.”

“Nonsense. Their return, however brief, was a signal that it can be done. We just need better organisation.”

“And you are going to provide that?”

“Naturally. The Church of the Faceless is going to have to expand, of course. We can't be seen to be congregating in run-down old chapels like this. We need to appeal to a higher level of patron. Which is where you come in.”

“Now this should be fascinating.”

“We need your resources to get us started. Not just money, although we'll be taking that too, but your contacts. The people you know, China. They are what we want. They can get us what we need. It's going to be glorious, let me tell you.”

“Eliza, I don't wish to be rude, but… actually, no, I don't really care. Eliza, I came here today to find out who would have the audacity to summon
me
anywhere. If it had just been that weasel-faced gentleman cowering in the corner, he would be begging for forgiveness right about now. But as it's you, seeing as how we are such good friends, I will simply depart. It was lovely seeing you again.”

“Prave,” Scorn said, “why don't you step forward like a good little weasel, and tell China what you told me?”

Prave stepped up, coughed, brushed the dust from his knees. “A year and a half ago,” he said nervously, “you had just left here. I watched you go.”

There was a part of China that immediately tensed, but all she did was brush a strand of hair back over her ear, and wait patiently.

“You met Remus Crux outside,” Prave continued. “You were talking. He looked, he looked agitated and… I went out and hid behind the wall. I heard what he said, before you shot him.”

“Do you remember what Crux said?” Scorn asked China. “I bet you do. He said that you handed Skulduggery Pleasant's wife and child over to Nefarian Serpine. He said that you led them to their deaths.”

China looked at them both, and nodded slowly. “I see,” she said.

Scorn smiled again. “Look at her face, Prave. Isn't it a beautiful face? Isn't it the most beautiful face you ever did see? But beauty is so deceptive. Looking at her now, you'd never guess that she was calculating the most efficient way of killing us, would you? There's not a hint of that in those startlingly pale blue eyes. If we didn't know better, we'd still be gazing at her, falling in love all over again, and she could walk right up and stab us through the heart, and we'd never see it coming. All because of that beautiful face.

“But we do know better, don't we, Prave? We know better because I know China. I've known her a long, long time. We were inseparable once. We did everything together. We were so close we could practically read each other's minds.”

“Can you read my mind now?” China asked.

Scorn laughed. “I don't even need to, dear China, and I know you don't need to read mine. Blackmail is such an ugly, ungainly word, but these are ugly and ungainly times in which we live. You will do as I say,
exactly
as I say, or I will tell the Skeleton Detective your terrible, terrible secret. Do you agree to my terms?”

“I really can't see that I have any other choice, now do I?”

“No, you really don't.”

“Then I agree to your terms,” said China. “I'm usually the one doing the blackmailing, so at the very least it will be interesting to experience it from the other side.”

“I'm glad you're taking this so well.”

“Oh, dear Eliza, we are professionals, are we not? To allow something like this to get personal would be an unforgivable lapse of character. By the way, I was lying earlier. Those shoes are horrible on you.”

Scorn laughed, and shook her head. “Oh, China. I have missed you.”

“And I have missed you, Eliza. But don't worry. Next time, my aim will be better.”

Scorn clapped her hands. “Delightful! Delightful!” With her hands clasped over her chest, she walked from the room. “We'll be in touch, my love! And you'll remember the way it used to be – Scorn and Sorrows, together again! The world will tremble!”

China watched her go, then turned and left the church without even glancing at Prave. The moment she stepped into the open air, her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched.

China spent the next few hours sitting in her apartment, running through scenarios in her head. Her only option seemed to be to kill Eliza Scorn, but even this had its problems. For one thing, someone as resourceful as Scorn would certainly have found a way to release the incriminating information in the event of her untimely demise. For another, the actual physical act of killing her would not be easy. Scorn was a formidable adversary, and not one China would be confident of taking down on her own. The main problem in all of this was that China had a lot to lose, while Scorn had virtually nothing. This automatically put China in the weaker position. And if there was one thing China hated, it was a weak position.

Someone knocked on the door and China looked up, waved at the symbol carved into the doorframe. A section of the door turned translucent from her side, and she saw Valkyrie exchanging a few words with Skulduggery before he went into the library and she turned back, continuing to wait. Neither seemed particularly furious, so China deemed it safe to open the door.

“Hello, my dear,” she said, greeting Valkyrie with the warmest smile she was capable of. “Come in, come in. Let us talk of important things before Skulduggery disturbs us. You look as beautiful as ever.”

Valkyrie smiled in response and walked in, wearing her usual black. “You should have seen me yesterday,” she said. “Myself and Fletcher turned up at my sister's christening dripping with mud.”

“Irish weather is not kind to teleportation. How did you manage to explain it?”

“Sprinkler system, flower beds, a lost dog – it wasn't easy, but eventually we bombarded everyone with enough conflicting details that they figured it was easier to just let us get away with it.”

“Ah, the curse of maintaining a secret identity,” China said.

Valkyrie sat at the elaborately carved eighteenth-century table – what was commonly referred to as an antique, even though China was much older. “We went up against the Jitter Girls,” Valkyrie said.

China's eyebrow rose fractionally. “How did you escape?”

“Skulduggery and I managed to get them back in the box.”

“My word, that
is
impressive.”

“We're trying to identify the man who released them.”

“I am sorry, Valkyrie, I can't help you. The last I heard of the Jitter Girls, they'd been seen in New Zealand, but this was maybe ten years ago. I have no idea who would have had access to them since then. Of course, when I said we should talk of important things, that is not quite what I had in mind.”

Valkyrie laughed softly, and crossed her legs. “You want to know about Fletcher.”

“But of course. Some people watch television for their vicarious thrills. All I need do is talk to you. How
is
Fletcher these days? Apart from muddy?”

“He's grand.”

“Still annoying you?”

“Sometimes.”

“And how is this mysterious
other
person?”

Valkyrie's head dropped. “I wish I hadn't told you about that.”

“Oh, come now, you've barely told me anything. Today is the day when you reveal all, though. I can feel it. Do I know this person? Boy or girl?”

“Boy,” she said, then frowned. “Well, I don't know if you'd call him a boy. Male. Definitely male. I don't know what I'm… When I say there's someone else, I don't mean it's someone I'm going to dump Fletcher
for
, but… Doesn't the fact that there
is
someone else mean something? Doesn't it mean that my feelings for Fletcher aren't as strong as…”

“As his feelings for you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“But that was always going to be the case, was it not? That he would feel more deeply for you than you did for him?” China sat down. “I'm enjoying this immensely, by the way.”

Valkyrie looked quizzical. “Enjoying what?”

“I've never had any children,” China said, “and I haven't had a friend in centuries. To me, talking like this is wonderful. So tell me the truth now – have you committed the cardinal sin?”

“Uh, that depends,” Valkyrie said warily. “What's the cardinal sin?”

“Have you told Fletcher you loved him?”

“Oh,” Valkyrie said, sagging again. “Yes.”

“Oh my.”

“It was ages ago, but… I didn't mean it like that. Not really. But I said it, and he took it to mean that I'm
in
love with him. I haven't mentioned it since. I just… I don't know.”

“Are you playing with Fletcher's heart, my dear?”

“I'm trying not to.”

“And this other man?”

“I've no interest in a relationship with
him
, either,” said Valkyrie.

“Either?”

“Sorry?”

“You said you have no interest in a relationship with him,
either
. Implying that you have no interest in a relationship with him
or
Fletcher.”

Valkyrie looked startled. “I… That's not what I meant.”

“Is your relationship with Fletcher coming to an end?”

There was silence, and then, “I didn't mean it like that. I just meant… Oh, God, I don't know. I like having Fletcher. He's warm, and nice, and safe.”

“All good qualities,” China assured her, “in a puppy. You need someone smart, and strong, and capable. Someone assured. You need someone to challenge you. You need someone better than you. That's what love is, you know. Love is finding someone better than you are, and holding on for dear life.”