“Life isn’t fair,” said Skulduggery. “In my experience, death isn’t so different.”

“What do you think Craven will do now?”

“Panic, presumably. This was his one power play. This was his big moment. I doubt he even had a back-up plan. He got away with seventeen Necromancers. Maybe they’re scattered, maybe they’re together, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. We’re going to round them all up before they slip out of the country.”

Valkyrie sighed. “Can’t we leave that to someone else? What’s the point of being part of the Sanctuary if we can’t assign some of the rubbish jobs to other people?”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“So that’s it? We’re done?”

“The Death Bringer is dead, the crisis is averted… It would seem like we have triumphed once again.”

“Yay us,” Valkyrie said, and stretched. “I’m tired.”

“Fletcher’s hanging around inside. He could take you home.”

“I’d prefer the drive, actually.”

“Is it because of the scintillating conversation?”

“That must be it.”

“This wasn’t the ending we wanted,” Skulduggery said.

“No it wasn’t,” replied Valkyrie. “It was the ending we got, though.”

“Yes it was.”

Chapter 41 - Home Sweet Home

Chapter 41
Home Sweet Home

aturday morning came and went, and Valkyrie slept through most of it. When she woke, she just lay there, looking up at the ceiling. She thought about Melancholia, and Wreath, and Moore, and about Fletcher and Caelan. All of it jumbled together this past week, becoming mixed up and messed up, one thing after another. She hadn’t had time to really dwell on recent events. That might have been a good thing.

She crawled out of bed, showered and dressed, went downstairs. Her parents were heading out that afternoon, but when she walked into the living room, her father was leaning over the basket, prodding Alice with his finger. “Hello, small person,” he said.

“Desmond,” her mum said from the couch, “don’t poke the baby.”

Her dad stopped, looked guilty, then leaned closer. “You may have won this round,” he whispered, “but I will have my—”

“And don’t threaten the baby, either.”

“I wasn’t,” he said, straightening up immediately.

“Just leave her alone. You’re annoying her.”

“I’m not annoying her. She doesn’t even know enough to be annoyed. She’s, what, a week old?”

“She’s three months.”

“She’s three months in our years, but how old is she in baby years?”

“Come away from her. Steph, could you pick her up? It’s time for her feed.”

Valkyrie went to the baby while her dad frowned.

“Why didn’t you ask me to pick her up? I was standing right there. Don’t you trust me? That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t trust me.”

“I do trust you,” her mum said. “I just don’t trust you a lot. Stephanie has safe hands.”