Valkyrie thanked her again and left the clinic, taking a tram to the High Sanctuary. For a fleeting moment, she entertained the idea that maybe she’d skip the meeting, get in her car and drive home. She quite liked the thought of forgetting about all of this and just living a normal life, her and her dog. The twenty-four hours she’d promised Skulduggery had ended that morning, after all. She didn’t owe it to him to do this. She didn’t owe it to anyone.

But she flashed her badge at the door to the High Sanctuary and walked in, leaving the sounds of the city behind her, along with fanciful notions of a quiet life.

The Room of Prisms had changed since she’d been here last. There were still those slivers of angled glass that dropped from the ceiling and rose from the floor like stalactites and stalagmites. Some of them met in the middle, forming thin pillars she had to slip between. The change had come at the far end of the room, where the steps rose to the ornate throne on which sat the Supreme Mage.

Another image from the vision blossomed in Valkyrie’s mind, this time of China Sorrows lying on the ground, blood staining a blouse that looked remarkably similar to the one she was wearing now, the one that went so well with the black, high-waisted trousers. Over that blouse she wore her chain of office, fitted with three glittering jewels. Her hair was black. Her face was perfect. Her eyes were closed.

Two bodyguards flanked her, standing to attention. On China’s left, a woman with a mask covering everything but her eyes. Her arms were bare and muscled, skin like dark chocolate. A weapon of some sort was strapped to her back.

To China’s right stood a man in an identical uniform – a sleeveless robe, belted at the waist. His head was uncovered, however. He was a handsome man, looked Indian. He had two metal discs hanging from his belt.

There was movement reflected in the angled glass, but Valkyrie had to look around a bit before she pinpointed the source. Tipstaff worked his way over to her.

“Detective Cain,” he said, keeping his voice low, “it’s good to see you. How are your injuries?”

Valkyrie’s shoulder throbbed dully. “Fine,” she said. “I got off lightly.”

Tipstaff nodded, looking suitably concerned, then he motioned to the throne. “You’ll have to forgive the Supreme Mage,” he said. “She will be with you in a matter of moments.”

Valkyrie looked up the steps. “What’s she doing?” she asked. “Power nap?”

The briefest of smiles on Tipstaff’s lips. “Ha. No. She is accessing the Whispering. A recent development, inspired by your travels in alternate dimensions, actually.”

She looked at him, waiting for an explanation.