This one was elevated so that Valkyrie was almost vertical. She couldn’t see the mechanism that raised it to this position. She couldn’t tell if it was magical or mechanical. It was silent, though, and smooth, the result of thought and effort and ingenuity. This was the work of someone who liked to get straight down to business.

Professor Nye stooped low to get through the door of its laboratory, and once it was through it unfurled to its full gangly height. The surgical scrubs it wore were a deep red, and the leather apron was old and black. Like its counterpart in Valkyrie’s dimension, it wore a surgical mask and cap, so that only its small yellow eyes were visible.

“Professor,” its assistant said, hurrying to its side, “we have a new patient. Female, approximately eighteen years old. In good health.” The assistant’s name was Civet. He had assisted Kenspeckle Grouse back in the reality Valkyrie knew, before the Grotesquery had killed him one lazy afternoon. He’d been a goofy guy. Here, he assisted a murderous sadist.

“I can see all that,” said Nye in that curious, high-pitched voice, pulling the clipboard from Civet’s hand. “The only thing I can’t see is why she’s here.”

“Baron Vengeous sent her to us,” Civet said. “She was with the living skeleton and another man. The Baron wants to know more about her.”

Nye leaned in, its long fingers tracing lightly down Valkyrie’s arm. “This jacket is armoured,” it said, almost in wonderment. “I haven’t seen quality like this in … I don’t think I’ve ever seen quality like this.” It moved to the cabinets, taking out trays of instruments. “Remove her clothes,” it said. “I want every centimetre of this material examined.”

Civet nodded, stepped forward, and Valkyrie glared. “Touch me and die.”

Despite the manacles and the straps holding her down, Civet faltered.

Nye looked round, saw the distance between its lackey and Valkyrie, and pulled down its surgical mask in annoyance. Its skin was as pallid as the Nye that Valkyrie had known, but this one had not had its mouth sewn shut or its nose cut off, and so its ugliness was marginally less horrifying. “She intimidates you? She’s powerless, you cretin. She’s tied down. What exactly is she threatening you with?”

“She, ah, appears easily agitated.”

“And yet harsh words are the only things she can throw at you. Are you afraid of harsh words? No? Then remove her clothes before I remove your skin.”