“It burns for you, Valkyrie. I’m on fire. My mind is in flames.”

“Couldn’t we just be each other’s bit on the side?”

“You love me. I see it in your eyes.”

“I think you’re mistaking confusion for love.”

“I love you with everything that is me.”

“Remember when you were the strong, silent type? Could we go back to that?”

“It’s too late to go back. You’ve reawakened the old Caelan. Because of you, I remember who I used to be. Because of you, I can push the monster down.”

“And that is very much appreciated.”

“Before you, my life was in darkness. It was hollow and empty and cold. But you shone a light through the darkness. You led me home.”

“Yeah, I’m great. Could we stop talking now?”

“But I want to talk. I want to talk for ever.”

“I think you are…”

“You, Valkyrie, are my sweet agony.”

She held up a hand. “OK, I’m really going to have to stop you there. You say one more thing that sounds like it’s ripped from the pages of a really bad gothic romance and I’m out of here, are we clear? You’ll have talked yourself out of ten minutes with me. Is that what you want?”

Caelan shook his head.

“Good doggy. And never call me your sweet agony ever again.”

Chapter 11 - Alone at Last

Chapter 11
Alone at Last

elancholia listened patiently while the woman explained what all the charts meant. Two other Necromancers stood by the door, and Cleric Craven hovered nearby, as was his new habit. He seemed reluctant to let Melancholia out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time.

“The good news,” the woman said, “is that we have established a pattern. If our calculations are correct, you should start to feel strong again sometime in the next twenty minutes, and this strength should stay with you for anywhere between three and four hours.”

The woman had an annoying tendency to wait for some indication that Melancholia had heard and understood, so Melancholia gave her a nod. “Four hours,” she echoed.

“You may experience some dizziness and some fatigue during those four hours, and if you do, don’t worry about it. It should pass within moments.” The woman’s name was Adrienna Shade. She was powerful, and intelligent, and had risen quickly through the Necromancer ranks. There had been rumours that she was to be made a Cleric, a virtually unheard of promotion for one so young. Melancholia used to admire her. But that was before Craven’s experiment, before the Surge. Now Adrienna Shade meant nothing to her. Melancholia glanced around the room. None of these people meant anything to her.