Skulduggery paused. “No. I think she’ll be defeated. I think you will be instrumental in bringing about her downfall. But it won’t be without its costs.”

She shifted in her seat. “I don’t like this conversation.”

“I didn’t think you would. But it’s something we need to acknowledge.”

“Why? It’s a thought we’re both having, and now we know we’re both having it, so fine, it’s there, it’s out, we’re discussing it, let’s never discuss it again.”

“One or both of us may not survive the next few days.”

She whacked his arm. “What the hell, Skulduggery? I told you we didn’t need to discuss it further! I know this! Don’t you think I know this? But I don’t want to talk about it! It upsets me! It makes me angry and sad and makes me want to cry! I don’t want to think about living in a world where you’re not in it, all right?”

“All right,” he said. “All right.”

Valkyrie looked away, tears in her eyes once more.

“Although I was kind of assuming you’d be the one who didn’t make it,” he muttered.

She whirled. “What? Why am I the one who dies?”

He shrugged. “It seems like the kind of thing you’d do. I’d find a way to cheat death at the last second, but you … you’re just not that bright.”

“I … I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

She folded her arms. “I’m not talking to you any more. I don’t know why I ever talk to you.”

“Maybe you tried talking to yourself, but you were starved of intelligent conversation.”

Valkyrie glared. “I find it incredibly worrying that the only way you know to take my mind off my troubles is to insult me.”

“I find it really funny.”

“I know you do.”

They got to Roarhaven, parked and walked to the Medical Wing. Valkyrie was immediately whisked away, brought to a secure room with a half-dozen Cleavers standing outside.

Melancholia St Clair lay in bed, hooked up to IVs and beeping monitors. Her hair, previously so lustrous and healthy, was lank and spread out over her pillow like a dull blonde halo. Her eyes were closed. Her pale skin was marred by a curious network of pink, raised scars, sigils that Vandameer Craven had carved into her entire body in order to capture her Surge.