They crashed through the undergrowth and tumbled down a small hill, Valkyrie managing to lash a kick into him as they rolled, and the moment she was able to she scrambled up, her right hand crackling.

The tattooed man froze in a half-crouch. “Ah,” he said.

“That’s a nice trick,” she said, “turning invisible. You do it again and I’ll fry you.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I got that.”

Her left hand dipped into her pocket, pulled out a few leaves and crammed them into her mouth. The pain dulled, and went away. She used to be so much better at this. She’d snap out a line and be all ultra-cool and her voice wouldn’t shake and her hands wouldn’t tremble.

Or maybe her voice had shaken, even then. Maybe her hands had trembled. Maybe she had just been better at fooling herself.

“You’re going to answer some questions,” she said, wiping some of the blood away. “You’re going to answer them or I’m going to light you up. My aim hasn’t always been the best lately, but I doubt even I could miss at this range.”

He gave a little shrug. “I believe in you.”

“What’s your name?”

“Shakespeare,” he said. “Gleeman Shakespeare. Though most people in the press call me Mr Glee.”

“Why do people in the press call you anything?”

Another shrug. “Oh, I like to kill people. As a hobby. I sign my name when I’m done.”

“So you’re a serial killer.”

“I guess I am.”

“You’re not the first one I’ve met.”

“I don’t doubt it. Would you like a handkerchief? For the blood? It’s clean, I promise.”

“Yeah,” said Valkyrie. “That’d be good.”

Glee produced a spotless white handkerchief from his back pocket, and tossed it over.

She held it to her nose. “Abyssinia sent you to keep an eye on things here, did she?”

“Oh, I’m not one of the chosen few who are lucky enough to hear the voice of the telltale heart,” Glee answered. “Naw, I get my orders the old-fashioned way, from people who aren’t internal organs.”

“So Lethe, then. Where are they keeping Savant Vega? Do they have him with them on Coldheart?”

Glee’s smile spread beneath his tattoo. “That’s on a need-to-know basis, and I am merely an underling, not privy to sensitive information such as that. Pardon me, can I stand? I’m not as young as I used to be and—”

“Stay right where you are.”

He sighed.

“So you’re saying you don’t know anything useful? At all?”

“Pretty much,” he replied. “You should probably just let me go.”

“Or I could let the High Sanctuary’s Sensitives poke through your thoughts.”

Glee pulled a face. “Really? They’d have to wear wading boots and come armed with blacklights. It is messy in there.”