“I hate sulking.”

“You’re very good at it.”

“Thank you. I didn’t think it’d be this easy – going back to being friends, I mean. It’s a pretty big thing that just happened, isn’t it? There’s a part of you that’s… evil.”

“Yes.”

“Just like there’s a part of me that’s evil.”

He tilted his head. “You think we’re different from everyone else?”

“Aren’t we?”

“Every human being who has ever lived has the same potential in them for good and evil. Mortal or sorcerer, it doesn’t matter. Power has a way of bringing out the worst in people. Mevolent. Serpine. Hitler. Lord Vile. Darquesse. We’re all the same.”

“You just put me on a list with Hitler.”

“You’re going to start sulking again, aren’t you?”

“Hitler, for God’s sake.”

“Power corrupts, Valkyrie. You’re better off learning that now, so you can prepare for later.”

“But Hitler.”

“We may need to focus here.”

“Right. Yes. OK. Turn round.”

“Are you going to throw something at me?”

“What? No, I’m getting out of bed.”

“Ah,” he said, and turned.

She swung her feet to the floor, stood up and adjusted the sheet, then walked out of the room. “So what are we dealing with? Is Lord Vile your subconscious, or is it your old Necromancer power with a mind of its own?”

Skulduggery followed her on to the landing. “I think it’s both, to be honest.”

“Was he hiding inside you this whole time?”

“It certainly looks that way. I didn’t see him, of course. When you can turn to shadow, it’s easy enough to find places to hide, even in a skeleton. It’s all very unsettling, to be honest.”

She went into the bathroom while Skulduggery waited outside.

“And did you notice that he’s terribly unruly?” he asked through the door. “He completely ignored my commands.”

Valkyrie dropped the sheet and got in the shower, talking loudly over the water. “So how do we stop him? Do we just send you to a psychiatrist or something?”

“Excuse me?”

“Hey, it’s your subconscious that’s attacking people.”

“I don’t need therapy.”

She turned her face up to the showerhead. “Have you ever tried it?”

“Talking about one’s feelings defeats the purpose of having those feelings,” she heard him say. “Once you try to put the human experience into words, it becomes little more than a spectator sport. Everything must have a cause, and a name. Every random thought must have a root in something else. This is all missing the point.”

“But if you can confront your inner demons—”

“I did confront my inner demon. I punched him in the face and he exploded.”

Valkyrie had to laugh. “But now he’s back.”

“Of course he’s back. He’s resourceful. He is my inner demon, after all.”