She tore the sash from her dressing gown, looped it over his head from behind, and tightened. Dai gagged, fingers digging into his own neck as he tried to loosen the stranglehold. Valkyrie pulled him backwards, tightening the loop with vicious tugs. His heels kicked, pulverising the flower bed. Then he got his legs beneath him and he powered backwards, the back of his head crashing into Valkyrie’s face.

They both went down, the sash lost amid the mad scramble. Her face stung with that numb feeling just before the pain kicks in. She felt his hands on her, pulling her up. She slipped out of her sleeves, leaving him holding her dressing gown. She spun, her hands latching on to the back of his neck, and she jumped, driving a knee into his solar plexus. She held on, kept throwing knees, just like Tanith had taught her, never letting up, never giving him a moment to counter.

She touched down with her right foot and her ankle gave, and in that moment Dai moved. His left arm snaked over her shoulder, his hand clutching her back, and his right shot down and under her legs, all the way under, his hand grabbing the back of her shorts. Suddenly Valkyrie was being lifted and turned, and she clutched at him, but there was nothing she could do to stop him from tipping forward.

They hit the driveway, Dai on top, and for the second time in less than a minute, her breath left her. She lay there, groaning, eyes open and blinking. Dai looked at her, the black veins running beneath his skin.

“Nice try,” he said, and stood, brushed himself down. Valkyrie grabbed weakly at his ankle. He looked down at her hand, and slowly raised his foot. She lost her grip and her hand fell to the ground. He gave her a little smile, and stomped.

Valkyrie sat up, screaming, clutching her broken fingers to her chest, and Dai walked back to the car, got in behind the wheel, and reversed out of the driveway. Her screams had turned to sobs by the time he drove away.

63

THE CITY BELOW

he search for the Necropolis took them to Scotland.

Fletcher’s feet were sore. The night had been cold and he’d lagged behind Skulduggery and Wreath, finally giving up altogether and sitting down. He left the searching to the experts, and as long as he could keep them in sight, he could teleport to their side whenever they needed him.

Because of this he only heard snippets of the conversation. At first, silence had reigned. He knew the two men had never liked each other, and so he’d expected this. But gradually a conversation had sparked up, and he caught a few barbed comments every time he was close enough to listen in. They mentioned Wyoming once or twice, and the war – the old war, with Mevolent.